TITLE: Life on the Edge II: Double-Edged Sword 
AUTHOR: Kate Rickman 
classification: S, A, MSR 
rated: R 

Summary: How Scully came to make a deal with the devil. 

*** 

Two thirteen AM. 

Scully squinted at the clock in the darkness as she rolled over, 
rubbing her tummy. A deep ache formed in the small of her back 
and radiated outward, a burning, crampy pain that plagued her 
often these days. She shifted uneasily on the mattress, trying to 
find a comfortable place. 

Mulder stirred beside her. Mulder, her husband. She still reeled 
from the cosmic turn of fate that had upended her nice, tidy life and, 
least of all, turned her and Mulder into husband and wife. Dan 
Quayle would be wringing his hands in distress if he only knew about 
their twisted version of the nuclear family. Lucky Dan. 

Scully turned to face Mulder, pulling her knees up slightly. The 
pain eased to a dull ache. Better. She punched the pillow beneath 
her head into an acceptable cushion and nestled her head into it, 
reaching for sleep. 

He slept peacefully, one arm thrown over his head. 

Lucky Mulder, she thought enviously. She grimaced, rubbing the 
skin that stretched tightly across her swollen belly, massaging 
the tight muscles that cradled the child she had carried within 
her for the past eight months. 

This child was the bigger cosmic wrinkle. 

The day they released her from...that place...she had gratefully 
returned home with Mulder to find that her home had become his home 
during the many months of her absence. She had expected to feel 
disoriented upon her return but she hadn't--she felt safe and at 
peace. She had expected the situation between her and Mulder to be 
awkward. It wasn't--they fit back together like a two-piece puzzle. 
They had settled in, living together without question, eating at the 
same table, sleeping chastely in the same bed. She had imagined that 
simply being free to return to her old life would be enough. It was 
not enough. Maybe it was the onslaught of new hormones, maybe it was 
the life-altering trauma, but she definitely had changed. 

Now she wanted more. 

The curtains fluttered on a cool breath of wind. Somewhere in the 
distance, a dog barked sharply. Mulder stirred, rolling in his sleep, 
reaching for her. She sighed as his hand slipped through the valley 
between her belly and her breasts; she closed her eyes as he 
snuggled against her, holding her tight against his chest. 


The first time she had drifted to consciousness, a full month after 
her abduction, she had noted the bright white lights, then the 
antiseptic smell, and finally the way sounds echoed sharply from 
the walls. She groaned and heard the echo bounce back at her. 
"Mulder," she called instinctively, forcing her eyes open. 

A white-shrouded woman looked at her over a pleated face mask. 
Impassive. Curious. Detached. 

Nauseous, Scully leaned over the side of the bed and retched, a 
small amount of stomach fluid splattering onto the floor. She was 
rather pleased to see that she'd soiled Impassive Nurse's shoes 
before the darkness swallowed her again. 

The next time she surfaced from the drug-induced abyss, it was night. 
She lay alone in a small room, lit by a weak light near the floor. 
Her tongue was dry and a foul taste filled her mouth. When she sat, 
her stomach rolled but did not erupt; she breathed deeply, waiting 
patiently until the nausea subsided. Listened. She heard only 
the sound of her own breathing in the silence. 

After a moment, she eased her bare feet onto the cold floor, swayed 
and caught herself with both hands around the bed's railing. Mulder. 
She must find Mulder. On wobbly legs, she crossed to the door and 
opened it, looking up and down the vacant hall. 


Two forty-three AM. 

Scully passed the clock as she padded back from the bathroom. 
She slowly shifted her weight onto the mattress, trying not to wake 
Mulder as she climbed back into their bed. 

His eyes drifted open. "Hi." 

"Hi." She lowered herself carefully to the mattress, facing him 
beneath the sheets. 

He reached up with one hand and stroked her cheek softly. 

She closed her eyes and let the sensation roll over and through 
her. It felt so right. "Mulder, love me." The words spilled 
from her heart to her lips. 

"Always, Scully. You know that." He rolled into his back. 

With a little sigh of frustration, she propped herself on one 
elbow and looked down into his face. What is the proper etiquette 
for asking the father of your child to consummate his marriage to 
a very pregnant wife? She clarified her intentions with gentle 
fingertips across his chest, tracing the line of one erect nipple, 
tongue following fingers across the tiny bead. 

He moaned softly at her touch. 

She rubbed her face in his delicious fragrance, tasting his skin, 
nibbling her way across the lightly-furred muscle of his chest, 
nestling her face against his neck. 

His pulse pounded strongly beneath her lips. 

She worked her way up his chin, rough with nighttime stubble, 
and brushed her lips against his, lightly. "Love me, Mulder," 
she repeated. 

"I do, Scully, " he agreed, "I will." He reached for her, 
pulling her toward him. She let the sheet fall from her shoulders 
and moved heavily into his arms, throwing one leg over his. 

He stroked her thighs--lush with the bloom of motherhood--where 
they twined with his, sliding his hand lightly up and down her 
silky skin. Then he hesitated, his strong fingers splayed across 
the tender flesh behind her knee. 

Scully placed her hand over his and encouraged it to glide upward, 
to the place where her thighs met below the hard swell of her middle. 
She followed it with the sole of her foot, bending her knee, turning 
her knee outward. He stopped, studied her face carefully. 

She dipped her head, giving permission with her lips. Please. Now, 
Mulder. 

He groaned, opening his mouth beneath hers. He brushed his hand 
against her moist curls, dipping first one and then two fingers into 
her warmth, stretching her, stroking her there. 

Lights sparkled behind her eyes. Scully felt wave after wave of 
pleasure flow from his fingers through her body. She opened herself 
farther to him, willing him to reach in and take her heart with his 
hand. Fire licked down her arms and legs Her fingers tingled. Then 
her world exploded into a maelstrom of bright white light, 
the harsh sound of her breath and his, and the throbbing of her 
heartbeat racing out of control. Scully gasped, bit her lip, and held 
tightly to Mulder. She arched her back like a cat's, shaking in his 
arms. 

Unbelievable. She had never been this sensitive, so quick to fall 
over the edge. 

"Well, well." Deep, throaty, satisfied. 

She rested her forehead against Mulder's, mixing her breath with his. 


On her first day of conscious captivity, Scully had found Mulder 
unconscious behind door number three. 

The Smoker stood over him, cigarette between his lips, 
scrutinizing the display on a palmtop computer. "Miss Scully," he 
said without looking up, "I wondered when you would join us." 

Mulder lay naked on a table under strong white light. A dark pattern 
mottled his pale skin. Monitors beeped nervously around him while 
fluids flowed into one arm through thin tubing. 

Scully stepped closer, fighting the panic that threatened to overwhelm 
her. She traced her finger along a darkened vein snaking through his 
skin. She had seen this before. A blood-borne, carbon-based matrix 
aggregated in the bloodstream and slowly restricted blood flow, 
effectively smothering the victim. It would be a terrible, painful 
death. Skinner had been similarly afflicted, and nearly died of it. 
Fear welled in her stomach. 

She looked from Mulder to The Smoker to the little computer in his 
hand and back to Mulder again, scanning the monitors urgently. 

Pulse, respiration--too high. O2 Sat--the level of oxygen in the 
blood--too low. The heart monitor trilled as a series of spikes ran 
across the screen. 

Shit. Scully lunged at The Smoker, who stood to one side, watching 
her watch Mulder. She stumbled a bit on shaky legs, grabbing his 
wrist. "He's going to arrest, you bastard." A chunk of ash fell 
onto her arm then onto the floor. 

He smiled impassively, ignoring the imminent medical emergency, 
reaching out to whisk the unseen ash from her arm instead. 

She recoiled from his touch, turning to Mulder, digging frantically 
through the medical supplies stored to one side of the gurney. 
Syringes, needles, gauze, falling unnoticed around her. All useless. 
Nauseous again, she watched Mulder grasp blindly at his chest with 
one uncoordinated arm. 

"Do something," she screamed into The Smoker's face as bile rolled 
into her throat. 

The Smoker scanned the palmtop computer in his other hand. He 
thoughtfully entered a few numbers then looked at Mulder to gauge 
the effect. 

Mulder's head snapped back. A gurgling sound rose from his chest. 

Scully bent and emptied the meager fluid from her stomach onto the 
pristine tiled floor. 


Two fifty-seven AM. 

Scully found no words in her tangled brain to express her feelings. 
Instead, she shyly slipped her hand beneath the sheet that covered 
Mulder to the waist, sliding her hand down until his breath caught 
in his throat and he gasped for air. "Ahhhhh, Scully..." he started 
to say before the words devolved into a groan. He whimpered as the 
warmth of her hand left him and she lifted the sheet, throwing it 
aside. 

Scully started to move over him but stopped, profoundly awed 
by the expression filling his eyes as he looked at her. 

Passion. Respect. Love. Friendship. Desire. 

Supporting herself with one hand at either side of his shoulders, 
she closed her eyes, solidifying the moment in her memory. She 
wanted to remember it clearly for the rest of her life. Her eyes 
fluttered open, a wide grin spreading across her face in response 
to the grin she saw spreading across his. 

Mulder reached up and cupped the ripe breast swaying above his face, 
testing its weight gently with his hand, rubbing his thumb across 
the rosy nipple. He urged her forward with a caress of her back, 
moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, then took her 
into his mouth and suckled as gently as their child would do. 

"Ahhhhhh..." her breath escaped in a long rush. The moist heat of 
his lips around the tender, swollen nub rocked her world to the 
core. Her toes curled and her head spun as blood slipped through 
her veins like fine champagne, its tiny bubbles popping in her head. 
Her arms wobbled beneath her. 


Scully's legs had wobbled beneath her as she stood in that room, 
watching The Smoker toy with Mulder's life, suddenly understanding. 
The computer. He was doing this to Mulder with the *fucking* little 
computer. Aggregation of the matrix subunits in his blood was not 
random, it was controlled...by computer. An icy chill gripped her 
body and she could barely breathe as she considered the ramifications 
for Mulder and AD Skinner. 

The Smoker calmly exhaled a long stream of smoke then looked over at 
Scully. "Obedience training. A substantial improvement on the 
remote training collar and so much more discreet, don't you think?" 

"Do something, damn you," she gritted between clenched teeth, her 
fingers digging into her palms as she imagined them digging into his 
throat. 

"I could kill him, of course. Just a twist of the proverbial switch 
will do it." He dropped the butt of his cigarette onto the floor, 
stepping on it to illustrate his words. 

Mulder thrashed once, then stilled. The spikes on the heart monitor 
unraveled, spewing an uneven tangle of blips across the screen. 

"Anything." Desperation dripping with poison. 

The wild beeping of the monitor fell to a steady tone. 

The Smoker studied her face carefully for a moment, then entered a 
few more numbers into the palmtop computer. Satisfied, he inclined 
his head toward the attendant who had slipped unseen into the room. 

The steady screech of the heart monitor drilled its way through 
Scully's head. She watched the attendant pull a crash cart into 
the room and ready the paddles. She held her breath as he applied 
the current to Mulder's chest. She gripped her arms so tightly that 
her fingers went numb as she scanned the heart monitor for any sign 
that Mulder had responded to the shock treatment. 

The monitor chirped, then warbled, then settled down to a steady 
series of peeps. 

"What do you want me to do," she whispered between icy lips. 

"Keep him out of our business." 

"You know I have little control over Mulder when it comes to his 
search for the truth." She glanced at the object of their 
conversation, relieved to see that the black web beneath his skin 
had begun to deconstruct and fade. 

"You underestimate yourself, Miss Scully. I think Mr. Mulder will 
be extremely receptive to suggestions by the mother of his child." 


Three eleven AM. 

"God...Scully." He whispered her name reverently as he his 
fingertips fluttered lightly down over the swell of her belly. 

Pushing Mulder gently into the mattress, she straddled him and 
lowered herself, joining their bodies. She slipped over him 
easily as if it hadn't been years since she'd known a man in this 
way; he fit her perfectly as if he had been made just for her. 
She was surprised to find that his warmth filled her in another 
place, one she'd only recently discovered was empty. She sighed 
from the heart and settled onto him, sliding down until her belly 
rested against his. 

Mulder caressed the mound that held their child reverently with 
both palms, over and around, tickling her skin as he went. 
Cupping her weight gently in his hands, he whispered "I don't want 
to hurt you." 

Scully caught her bottom lip between her teeth and shivered, heat 
rising through her body in waves. "You could never hurt me." 

He leaned up and kissed the lower curve of her belly, whispering 
"I love you" against her skin. 

She smiled, loving the sound of his voice, the smell of his skin, 
his touch, and his strength deep within her. "You, too, Mulder." 
She fell into his eyes, dark and open, honest and passionate. She 
drowned in his love for her as she moved on him, rocking her hips. 

"Ack." A sharp pain jabbed through her middle. 

"Did I hurt you?" Mulder froze and looked up at her, concerned. 
" I hurt you." 

No. Never. A special smile formed on Scully's lips. She rubbed 
the side of her tummy. "He kicked." She winced again. A soccer 
player for sure, their son. "Look." An odd lump distended the 
smooth curve of her swollen midsection. 

Mulder followed her touch with his fingertips, lightly rubbing the 
lump. It retreated deeper into her body. "Maybe he's jealous of 
Mom's divided attention." 

Mom. Her heart jumped at the sound of that word. She watched the 
rapture spread over his face as she shared her body with him, 
heard the soft formless words, helpless sounds that rolled from 
Mulder's throat. 

Scully's insides tightened, tingled, went numb. She felt herself 
losing control as she rode him, the cool night air soothing her 
overheated skin, his pulsing hardness searing her from within. 
Then time froze. She hung suspended, craving release, reaching, 
but not quite able to grasp it. 


"What?" Her voice had been deathly quiet as she struggled to 
understand the meaning of The Smoker's words. He couldn't had said 
what she thought she'd heard him say...or could he have just told 
her that she was pregnant with Mulder's child? She shook her 
head. 

"*Doctor* Scully, I'm surprised. Didn't you notice the changes in 
your body, the swelling and the tenderness?" 

She willed herself to breathe. "It's not possible." 

"You've heard of in vitro fertilization, I'm sure." 

"Yes, but...." She lay a hand lightly over her abdomen and 
imagined she could feel something growing beneath its flat surface. 
The knowledge hit her solidly. My God. Slapped in the face with a 
gift...and it hurt like hell. 

"Mulder's child." She dared to say the words out loud. 

"Yes. It was a simple matter." 

"Why should I believe you?" 

Wordlessly, he handed her autoradiographs of the child's genetic 
typing along with her genotype and Mulder's on separate sheets of 
film. 

She held them to the light, comparing one with the other, back and 
forth. A perfect match. She glanced at the older man, who appeared 
to be fully engrossed by the computer in his hand. Was there any 
reason why she should--could--trust the duplicitous old bastard? 
For all she knew, these films could show the genotypes of Fred, 
Wilma, and Pebbles Flintstone. Yet, despite her fear and doubt, 
thrill fluttered in her belly. 

She wanted to believe. 

"I have no reason to lie to you, Miss Scully." He sensed her doubt. 

She turned her back to him, looking out the window. Rain lashed 
against the glass, small rivulets of water pooled then trickled 
down the pane. 


Three eighteen AM. 

Mulder groaned loudly and stiffened, arching his back. 

Scully felt the heat flow up and around her heart, instantly igniting 
her own release. Colors of the aurora borealis exploded in her head 
as she followed Mulder over the edge. She drifted dreamily in the 
warm afterglow for several long minutes before settling gently to 
earth, exhausted. 

She stretched lazily, reaching high above her head, willing the mass 
of their child to settle back down into her belly where he belonged. 
Her entire body tingled with life. Her belly--their child--tingled 
with life where it swelled between them. With great effort, she 
managed to open her eyes. 

Still flushed with passion, Mulder lay, eyes closed, on the bed 
beneath her. Beaded perspiration pooled then ran down the sides 
of his face. "I am a lucky man," he whispered without opening his 
eyes. 

She ached to press her lips against his but could not bend 
forward that far. Instead, she kissed her fingertips, laying them 
lightly against his cheek. 

He smiled, took her fingers in his hand, and pressed his lips to 
her palm. "You are incredible," he said reverently, opening his 
eyes and looking at her with such deep love that it made tears 
well in her eyes. 

"I am the lucky one." Scully reached for him, sliding her hands 
up his arms as he reached up for her. 

He carefully lowered her to the mattress, holding her like fragile 
porcelain, gently urging her to one side where she would be most 
comfortable. Stroking the damp tendrils of hair away from her 
face, he brushed his lips against the moist warmth of her skin, 
sending little shivers of pleasure up and down her body. 

Scully pulled her knees up a bit as Mulder slipped behind her. 
His breath tickled her ear as he snuggled into her, holding her 
loosely but securely in the circle of his arms. 


"Our deal, Miss Scully," The Smoker had resumed his line of 
reasoning," is a trade--the baby for Mulder's silence. Simple." 

Simple. Not simple. Not simple at all. 

"You have the power." Confident. 

"What about those things you put in him. Isn't that enough?" 

"Insurance." A cloud of smoke rolled over her. "We never 
underestimate the blind force of a zealot, Miss Scully." 

She turned, stroking the skin on Mulder's arm, still a bit pale but 
showing no trace of the carbon matrix that had formed beneath it. 
A glance at the monitors showed his vital signs to be within normal 
limits. 

"It will be our little secret." Smug. Victorious. 

"We have no secrets, Mulder and I." 

"Really? I would think that you do." 

She glared at The Smoker, cursing his insight. 

He answered her look with a cloud of smoke. 

"He has a right to know." 

"Perhaps." He took a long drag on his cigarette, filling his 
chest with fumes. "But would you be able to control him then?" 

No. Mulder would go ballistic with anger. His zealous pursuit of 
The Smoker and his kind would only intensify. 

"Do I have those things in me, too?" 

"No." 

"How do I know you're telling me the truth?" 

Pause. "You don't." 

Shit. She had turned and looked out the window at the rainy night. 


Three twenty-nine AM. 

A bolt of twisting agony tore through her midsection, jolting her 
awake. "Aaaaaaagh!" 

Mulder stiffened behind her and sat up, rubbing her arm 
sympathetically with one hand. "What's wrong?" Worried. 

Scully gritted her teeth, willing herself to breathe, trying to focus 
through the flashing bright lights and jumbled images that swarmed in 
her head. "Pain." She forced the word between her lips. Pain 
beyond anything she'd imagined. Searing, twisting pain that 
threatened to tear her in half. 

Mulder rolled from the bed awkwardly, falling to the floor, stumbling 
over himself as he climbed to his feet. "Is it time?" 

"Too. Early." She gasped the words between waves of pain. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Nooooooo." A thin wail as the pain released her. She gulped for 
air, rolling onto her back. Hot wetness spread between her legs. 

 
           The End 

Find the rest of the series here: 
 http://www.geocities.com/mulderscreek/fics/lifeonedge.html