Title: Surprises
Author: Angela W.
Category: Alternative Universe
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. These characters are the property of 
Chris Carter and 1013 Productions.
Timespan/Spoilers/Notes: A year or so ago for some reason I -- despite being 
a confirmed MSR shipper -- took it upon myself to write a DRR fic. It was 
called "Who's Your Man" and, oddly enough, several people liked it and asked 
for a sequel. So here it is. These stories fit in, vaguely, with an 
alternative universe of fanfics I occasionally write in which the X-Files 
were never reopened after they were closed at the end of season one and 
Mulder and Scully married shortly after that. For M&S, this story would be 
set in season one. For Doggett and Reyes, it's pure alternate universe; he's 
never been married or fathered a child before in this realm and she was 
assigned as his junior partner immediately after graduating from the FBI 
Academy.

Summary: Doggett and Reyes, engaged to be married, get a big surprise. Told 
in first person from Monica's POV. Scully makes a brief appearance near the 
end of this, but it's mostly DRR.


***

"My place or yours?" John murmurs in my ear as he leans over my shoulder to 
drop some papers on my desk.

John Doggett is my fiance. He's also a senior agent in the violent crimes 
unit of the FBI, while I'm a junior agent in the fraud and embezzlement 
division. Up until three months ago, we were partners stationed in North 
Carolina. They moved him to headquarters first and he must have pulled some 
strings -- he denies it, but I have my suspicions -- to get me moved up 
here, too. We don't work in the same division any more, nor do we live 
together. As long as we're not part of the same unit, the FBI actually 
doesn't care how we conduct our personal life, but my very conservative 
Catholic parents would have synchronized nervous breakdowns if they 
suspected John and I had jumped the gun on our honeymoon activities. So we 
maintain separate apartments, and will continue to do so until our wedding 
six weeks from now. Hence his question as to whose bed we'll be sleeping in 
tonight.

"I really think I'd rather us just have dinner together and then go home 
alone," I reply, keeping my voice low. "I'm exhausted."

He's quiet for a moment then says, "Sure, whatever you want. Meet me in the 
lobby at six. Call my cell if it needs to be later."

I nod, but he's already striding briskly out of this office and into the 
corridor, greeting another agent in passing. This is the second time this 
week I've refused John's suggestion that we spend the night together and I 
think it's beginning to upset him. It's not that I don't love him and desire 
him; I do, more than anything in the world. It's just that I've been feeling 
extremely tired and somewhat pukey for the past few days. I don't know if 
it's the pressures of trying to fit into a new work environment while also 
planning a long-distance wedding or if I've actually caught some sort of 
bug, but all I want to do lately is sleep.

We meet at six and head over to a Mexican food restaurant. It's the only 
place I've found in the Washington area that serves authentic Tex-Mex 
cooking. Tonight I've got an absolute craving for the kind of food I grew up 
with.

"John," I say as I eat, "I don't want to give you the idea that I'm losing 
interest in our, uh, physical relationship. I just haven't been feeling well 
these past couple of days. Between the new job and constant discussion of 
wedding-related issues on the phone with my mother, I'm under a lot of 
stress."

"I know, Monica," he replies. "I also know I tend to a bit. . .voracious in 
my appetites. But, you know, we *can* spend the night together without 
having sex, if you want. Couples do that occasionally."

"I appreciate the offer, but tonight I think I'd rather just go home and go 
to sleep alone."

"Okay."

********

The next morning I wake up and immediately get hit by a wave of nausea much 
stronger than the mild indigestion I've been feeling almost constantly for 
the past few days. I run to the bathroom and make it to the toilet just in 
time to lose the entire contents of my stomach.

As I'm sitting there on the cold tile floor. I began to put the pieces 
together. I've never had an entirely regular menstrual cycle, but it rarely 
varies by more than five or six days from month to month. It should have 
started sometime last week and it has yet to arrive. I've been exhausted 
lately. It's morning and I'm sick which is, I guess, a pretty good 
definition of morning sickness. I think it's very likely that I'm pregnant.

John and I aren't idiots; we're college-educated adults. We've used a condom 
every time we've made love, but I'm well aware that condoms aren't the most 
effective form of contraception available. Because John is already over 35, 
we want to start a family as soon as possible after our marriage, so I 
didn't bother to go on birth control pills. Why bother to mess with my 
hormones when I was going to be *hoping* to conceive within a few months? 
But it looks like we may have jumped the gun on our baby plans.

As soon as I can move, I pull on a pair of sweats and an old T-shirt without 
even botherting to shower. Then I head to the nearest drug store and buy a 
home pregnancy test. Less than an hour later, I've confirmed what my gut had 
already told me; I'm going to be a mother.

My first instinct is to call John immediately, but I hold off. I'm barely 
going to have time to take a quick shower and make it into work on time and 
he's probably already on his way to the office. This isn't the sort of thing 
we can discuss in a rushed cell phone call; I need to tell him in person. 
Luckily tonight's Friday and we can have the whole weekend together unless a 
case intervenes.

John calls me at lunch time and says, "How are you feeling?"

"Better," I lie. "Why don't you come over to my place for dinner tonight?"

"Just dinner or dessert as well?"

"We'll see," I say, trying to inject a teasing note into my voice. The 
reality is, I feel even less like having sex now that I know I'm pregnant 
than I did when I thought I was just coming down with a bug, but I'm craving 
his strong arms around me.

*******

I'm not in the mood to cook or eat, but I've promised to feed my man, so I 
stop on the way home and pick up a deli meal of roast chicken, potato salad 
and rolls. When I get to my apartment, I change and set the table. Shortly 
thereafter, there's a perfunctory knock at the door and then John walks in.

"Smells good," he says.

"John, we have to talk," I blurt out. I'd been meaning to wait until after 
we'd eaten to tell him he's already on the way to becoming a Daddy, but I've 
had this knowledge bottled up inside me for the past twelve hours. I can't 
stand it any longer.

"Okay," he says slowly. "I think I've got a pretty good idea of what you're 
going to say."

"You do?" I ask. He must be an even better investigator than I thought if 
he's already figured out that I'm pregnant.

"You're having second thoughts, aren't you, Monica? You're only 26 and 
you're not sure you're ready to get married quite yet, especially to a man 
who's pushing 40 and wants to start a family almost immediately. You want us 
to postpone the wedding. Am I right?"

"No!"

He looks startled by my vehement denial. "I guess that was just my anxiety 
talking. I'm glad you still want us to get married. If it's the baby thing, 
we can wait awhile if you really want."

"No!" I holler again. I'm aware that I'm being irrational, but I can't help 
it. Must be a hormone surge or something.

"Okay, then, we won't wait."

"We already *didn't* wait. I'm pregnant, John!"

For just a moment, he looks dumbstruck. Then the biggest, most glorious 
smile I've ever seen on a human being lights up his face. He lets out a 
rebel yell that can probably be heard across the Potomac and spins me 
around. Then he kisses me, so long and deep that I practically swoon from 
oxygen deprivation.

"I thought I was *already* the happiest guy on the planet, Monica. But this. 
. .this is fantastic! Wow! When did you find out?"

"Just this morning."

"Are you sure?"

"The pregnancy test looked pretty darn positive. Plus I'm a week past even a 
late start for my period and I've been pukey and exhausted and irritable 
lately. And we both know that condoms aren't the world's most effective form 
of birth control."

"So I can toss them, right?"

"Huh?"

"The condoms. No reason for us to bother with them any more, is there?"

"No, I guess not."

"Good."

"You seem to be taking this awfully well. Doesn't it bother you that we'll 
become parents barely seven months after our wedding?"

"Nope. Seems like good timing to me. We're already officially engaged, with 
the church booked and a date set. The wedding's barely a month away, so it's 
not like you'll be an obviously pregnant bride."

"Yes, but. . ."

"Monica, are you upset about this?"

"Yes. No. I don't know," then, as if I haven't confused the poor man enough 
already tonight, I burst into tears.

"Shh!!" John murmurs, settling down on the couch with me in his lap. "It's 
okay, baby. Really it is. I know you wanted to do things in the proper order 
-- wedding first, pregnancy second -- but  this sort of thing happens all the 
time, to all kinds of people."

"I know, but I didn't think it would ever happen to me! I've already got so 
much going on. . .adjusting to the new job and planning for the wedding. Now 
I'm pregnant on top of all that."

"Monica, you're not thinking of. . .I mean, you're not considering. . .?"

He apparently can't bring himself to speak the word. Neither can I. Not in 
relation to my own baby; conceived *in* love, even if *out* of wedlock.

"Oh, God, NO! Of course not, John! I'm Catholic, after all. I mean, I guess 
not a particularly devout Catholic, or I wouldn't be in this situation, but 
way too Catholic to do *THAT*."

"Okay," he says. "Then try to stop worrying. Have you been to a doctor yet?"

"John, I just found out today. Of course I haven't been to a doctor yet! 
I'll call on Monday and make an appointment. My mother is going to kill me; 
either that or have a heart attack."

"No, she's not," John says calmly. "When you call her -- a week or so after 
we've returned from our honeymoon -- to inform her that she's going to be a 
grandma, she'll be thrilled."

"My mother's not stupid, John. If I give birth to a full-term baby seven 
months after wedding, she'll figure things out."

"I'm sure she will," he replies. "But, in addition to not being stupid, your 
mother's not vindicative, either, Monica. We've been engaged for four months 
already, so she'll know that we didn't get married simply because we found 
out you were pregnant. And she may be disappointed when she realizes we 
conceived prior to the wedding, but I really doubt -- once we're officially 
married and she's holding a grandbaby in her arms -- that she's going to 
disown you over it."

"I suppose not," I admit with a sigh. "I'm overreacting, aren't I?"

"I don't think so," he says softly. "As you said, you've got a lot going on. 
Preparing for a baby *and* a wedding, while working a demanding full-time 
job, is a lot. Plus I'm sure there's weird hormonal stuff going on that I 
can't even begin to understand."

I laugh softly. "I love you, John."

"I love you, too, Monica. And I love the fact that we're having a baby, even 
if the timing is a little wonky. Can I make a request, though?"

"Sure."

"Let me spend the night here tonight and tomorrow. I promise I won't 
pressure for sex if you're feeling exhausted and nauseous. I just want to be 
with you and our baby."

"I'd like that," I say with a smile.

******

The weekend passes uneventfully, unless you count my mad dashes to the 
bathroom every morning and my demand that John go out and find me a burrito 
at 11 p.m. Saturday night. I call a doctor first thing Monday morning and 
schedule an appointment for the following week.

On Monday I eat  lightly, but about mid-afternoon I feel the now-familiar 
urgent need to puke. I leave the bullpen, hurry down the hall and make it 
into the ladies room. However, I don't get as far as the toilets, losing my 
lunch in the sink.

I'm clucthing the counter and running water when another female agent walks 
in. I glance up and give a grateful smile. It's Dana Scully; we went to the 
Academy together.

"Monica?" she asks with surprise. "I didn't realize you were back at 
headquarters. I thought you were down in Georgia or someplace."

"It was North Carolina and I was, for over a year. I've been back for only a 
couple of months. But what are you doing here? Aren't you still teaching at 
the Academy?"

"No, I'm working in a small investigative unit called the X-Files, with an 
agent named Fox Mulder."

"Spooky Mulder? The guy with all the interest in UFOs and vampires and 
stuff? I bet that's a blast!"

She laughs. "It is, actually, but you're the first person to have that 
reaction. Most other agents offer me condolences. . .or call me 'Mrs. 
Spooky'."

"So, any chance of you and this Mulder guy becoming Mr. and Mrs. for real? 
I've heard he's a hottie."

Dana blushes bright red. "We're partners, Monica. The FBI has rules 
prohibiting that sort of thing. You know that."

"Sorry," I say with a sheepish smile. "I broke that rule myself, so now I 
think every female agent with a good-looking male partner is hoping to get 
married to him."

"You got married? To the guy who was your partner in North Carolina?"

"We're not married yet," I say, holding up my left hand so she can see my 
engagement ring, "but it's set for next month. And, yes, we were partners 
when we worked in North Carolina."

"What did they do to you when they found out you and your partner were, um, 
personallly involved?"

I shrug. "The bureau chief in Raleigh hollered at us for about an hour and 
then they transferred us to different divisions up here. John's with violent 
crimes and I'm with fraud and embezzlement. It probably hurt both our chance 
for promotion, at least in the near future, but we're okay with that. I 
mean. . .it's worth it. He's worth it."

"Wow," she says. "Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"Are you okay? You look a little pale."

"If I tell you something else, will you promise to keep it yourself?"

"Sure."

"I'm pregnant."

"Oh. Is that why. . .?"

"No," I say shaking my head vehemently. "That's not why we're getting 
married. We've been engaged for four months already and I just found out I 
was pregnant last week."

"Congratulations, again, then. That is . .I'm assuming this is something you 
both want?"

"Yeah," I reply. "I mean, we didn't deliberately set out to conceive prior 
to the wedding. That part is a little embarrassing, because college-educated 
adults aren't supposed to have 'surprises' like this. But we'd planned on 
starting a family almost immediately, so it's okay."

"You're a lucky woman, Monica. I mean that. Even in this day and age, most 
women want marriage and kids, in addition to careers. Sounds like you've got 
it all."

"Thanks," I say again. "I really need to be getting back to work, but maybe 
we could have lunch one day later this week? I'd love to hear about your 
work on the X-Files."

"Okay," she says with a smile. "I'd like that."


Author's e-mail addy: tapw63@hotmail.com