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Title: The Eyes of a Child Summary: A Mulder returns story, with a twist. I am choosing to ignore the latest development in Season 8 (TINH). Scully is still pregnant, however, and the baby is definitely Mulder's. Prologue Midnight Mass Dana Scully sat in the last row of pews as the service continued. She had slipped in moments after it had started, smiling apologetically, her cheeks flushed with cold and embarrassment, as she passed the ushers manning the doors and quickly found a seat. The familiar sounds and rhythms of the Midnight Mass soothed her, and with a long sigh, the tenseness slowly left her body. One hand made its now habitual journey to the swell of her belly, slipping through the folds of the opened, long coat she still wore. The baby fluttered against her fingertips, and she soothed it gently, absently. She followed by rote, responding automatically, her hand rising in the age-old gesture to cross herself, kneeling on the prayer bench when necessary. She rose and shook hands with the family in the pew in front of her for the Kiss of Peace. As her gaze moved about the large church, nearly filled to capacity, taking in the beautiful stained glass windows depicting various scenes from the Bible, she thought about her mother. About the disappointment her mother had not been able to contain at her decision not to attend Mass at her mother's church. At her mother's well-intentioned invitation so that she would not be alone on Christmas Eve. Her mother did not understand she wanted to be alone. No one else understood either. Both Skinner and Doggett had separately inquired as to her plans for the evening, and upon hearing that she had none, had tried to convince her to join them. She had declined both times, over their voracious protests, finally having to resort to a raised voice, which had stunned them both into silence, and left her feeling slightly ashamed. They had at least left her alone, which had been her intention, albeit achieved rather roughly. As if that were not enough, Frohike had phoned, speaking in a hushed voice on her cellular, asking her if she would like to drop by the Lone Gunmen's place for some non-alcoholic eggnog and home-baked shortbread cookies. Her earlier anger had dissipated, leaving her melancholy and sad, and at Frohike's invitation, she had nearly burst into tears. It was with supreme effort that she had declined, pleading fatigue. He had accepted her refusal, and then expressed immediate concern, which she had hurriedly assuaged, before wrangling a promise from her to allow he, Byers and Langly to drop by the day after Christmas. The Lone Gunmen had become more to her since Mulder's disappearance. She was not quite ready to term them as friends, although she could not as yet think of a better word to describe their newfound relationship. Their devotion to researching any and all possible leads to finding Mulder ran almost around the clock, and she knew she could count on them at any time to aid her if the need arose. Their quiet awe in learning she carried Mulder's baby had touched her, as did their constant mothering and sometimes unnecessary but well meaning helping hands. Mulder. Where are you? Scully sighed again, blinking back the sudden moisture in her eyes as she thought of him yet again. As if in response, the baby surged against her hand almost painfully, and she had to smother her gasp, looking around her to see if anyone had noticed her odd behavior. Fortunately, the pew she sat in was empty, and the people in front of her were too engrossed in the homily to pay attention to a lone pregnant woman. When she was hard at work on a case with Doggett, it was easy to slip Mulder to a back corner of her mind, although she often thought about what he would do in certain situations that arose. It was at quiet times like this that he eased into her consciousness, her very being, and it was all she could do not to close her eyes and drift in the memories. She had been so lost in remembrance that she had not realized the Mass was coming to an end. She did not join the long line of parishioners waiting to partake of the Communion, and instead slipped out of her pew on the other side. With quiet careful steps she approached the bank of votive candles and knelt on the bench provided. She lit candles for her father and Missy, saying a brief prayer for each. After a long moment spent staring at the flickering flames of hundreds of lit candles, she reached for the wick once more. Her hand trembled, and she had to steady it with her other one to light it and bring it to a fresh candle. A candle for Mulder. Scully looked up at the statue of The Virgin Mary, and a lone tear slid down her cheek. She whispered one word. "Please." Three Weeks Later X-Files Office Scully's hand reached for the doorknob, a little surprised that the door was closed. It jiggled, but did not turn. Her eyebrow arched. Not only closed, but locked as well. She had actually beaten Doggett to the office. Juggling her briefcase, she fumbled for her keys and unlocked the door, pushing it open with a nudge of her foot. Once inside, she flicked on the lights and headed over to Mulder's desk, dropping her briefcase on the tidied surface. She shook her head slightly. When would she stop referring to it as Mulder's desk? With a shrug, she told herself, never. It was Mulder's desk; she was just using it until he got back. Until, not if he came back. She sat down in her chair and reached out to turn her computer on, gaze wandering over to Doggett's much messier desk. Lack of neatness was one thing her temporary partner shared with Mulder. An unflagging determination to solve each and every case was another. A sound at the door had her lifting her head. Doggett strode in, his hands full. "Morning, partner," he said. He waggled the white paper bag in his hand. "Brought you breakfast. A whole wheat bagel with preserves, and a glass of milk." That said, he used his elbow to shove a pile of folders on his desk aside, and put the bag down. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and hung it on the back of his chair before plopping onto it to dig inside the bag. As he handed her the wrapped bagel and container of milk, Scully recalled the other thing he had in common with Mulder. His protectiveness towards her. She smothered a sigh; he really did mean well. It just got to her sometimes, because ever since he had learned of her pregnancy, it had multiplied. Buying her healthy foods, asking her if she needed to put her feet up. It was sweet, but annoying. It was also painful, for she wished it were Mulder who was doing all those things for her. There was a tiny kick within her womb, and the motion dragged her from her melancholy. "Good morning," she replied finally, accepting his offerings. "You didn't have to buy me breakfast. Thankyou." "I know I didn't," he responded, lifting a huge powdered jelly donut from the bag. "I wanted to." He took a large bite of the donut, and Scully watched as powdered sugar rained down to fall on his desk. Doggett swiped half-heartedly at the crumbs, uncaring as he brushed them onto his pants. She stared enviously at the steaming cup of coffee he lifted next, watching as he took an experimental sip. She had to smile when he pulled back with a muttered curse. It was obvious he had burnt his lip. He had looked up at the right time, and caught her smile. He returned it, before saying unnecessarily, "It's hot." His smile widened into a grin. "Jealous?" He knew how much she craved a cup of coffee. She had never been a huge coffee drinker, but she loved a cup in the morning. She had seen him watching her a couple times, heading to the coffee maker with her mug, and then returning empty-handed, shaking her head. "Extremely," she replied, smiling again, for she had sworn off coffee, even decaf, for the duration of her pregnancy. Her closest vice was the occasional cup of herbal tea. She moved her briefcase to the floor beside the desk and then unwrapped her bagel and took a bite. The preserves, a blend of blackberries and raspberries, she thought, had her taste buds humming. Thankfully her morning sickness had end ed with her first trimester. Although, she thought sarcastically, her "morning sickness" had encompassed the entire day. Now she only had to worry about spicy foods and heartburn. She snorted to herself. What only? How could she forget that the father of her baby, as proven by genetic testing, was missing and purportedly in outer space and that she rarely got more than five hours of sleep a night, and those were the good nights? Or that the pregnancy itself was a mystery? Enough, she told herself. She had been dwelling on that thought far too much lately. As she ate, she contemplated the man sitting across from her. Doggett wasn't Mulder, no one could ever come close, but somehow he had gotten to her. Not sexually, although she could admit the man had absolutely beautiful eyes, maybe not even as a friend, but definitely more than just a partner. It had taken her a long time to get over her mistrust of John Doggett, but as they worked more and more on cases together, and he had listened and talked to her as an equal, she had gradually let down a little of her guard. She supposed things had started to change back in Utah, after he had rescued her from that cult. Cutting a slug the cult believed to be the Second Coming of Christ out of your partner's back had to rank right up there with the worst of nightmares. And Scully had no qualms admitting Doggett had rescued her. If he had not doubled back to that house and snuck inside, she was certain that slug would have killed her, no matter what the cultists had believed. When she had admitted to him in the hospital a few days later that she had been wrong in pursing the case without him, she had seen something in his eyes. A sort of unity. She had still kept things hidden from him, though, finding it difficult to trust someone she believed to be Kersch's watchdog. Her admittance to yet another hospital during the investigation into the Ibogan Temple Cult, fearing she was miscarrying. Her pregnancy itself. As she took another bite of her bagel, she mused to herself that she was glad her pregnancy was no longer a secret. To Doggett, anyway. She had yet to switch to maternity clothes, not wanting prying eyes around the Bureau cracking Baby Spooky jokes, but she knew the time was coming soon when she would have to cave in and buy some. There were only so many inches the waistbands of her pants and skirts could be let out. Fortunately she had always been big on blazers, and they helped to hide her burgeoning belly. It was the lack of just such a blazer that had led to Doggett's discovery of her secret, the day after New Year's. Although she had spent the holiday with her mother, forcing herself to partake of the somewhat elaborate feast her mother had prepared, her mom had phoned to say she was dropping by that morning, to bring her some leftovers. When the knock had come at her door, she had been lying on the couch, wearing a somewhat clingy tee shirt and sweatpants, her hair scraped back in a messy ponytail. Sure it was her mother, she had opened it without checking the peephole. It had not been her mother. John Doggett had stood there, casually dressed, and holding a pink- flowered Poinsettia. His eyes had dropped from her stunned face to the bulge that was her baby, clearly revealed by the tee shirt. What had followed had been difficult. Once he had gotten over the initial shock of the evidence plainly before him, his eyes had narrowed in anger. She had actually taken a step back in fear, seeing the flush on his face. His body had been coiled tightly, like a spring, when he stalked past her into her apartment. She had taken a deep breath, slowly closing the door, before turning around to face him. His mouth had opened and closed several times, as if he were searching for the right words, or perhaps curbing the wrong ones. "Agent Scully," he had said. "When were you planning on telling me you were pregnant?" He had begun pacing, while she still stood by the door. "Don't you think this was information I needed to know? What if something...what if something else had happened to you?" She had felt shame, knowing he was right. At the same time, she still wished she had been able to keep it a secret a little bit longer, to protect the baby. And because Mulder did not know about his child. She had found herself apologizing yet again. Doggett had settled down pretty quickly, telling her he understood in a way why she had not told anyone. She had quietly informed him that Skinner was the only other person to know, besides her mother. Who had shown up just then. After introducing them, he had left, telling her he would see her at work the next day. She had thanked him for the Poinsettia, and for his concern, and bid him goodbye. Her mother had commented that he seemed like a nice man, and she had agreed. He was a nice man. Doggett's voice jolted her from her reverie. "Hey, Dana, you all right?" he asked, and Scully looked up to see him watching her with concern, a sprinkle of sugar on his lips. "Just thinking," she replied, and saw him relax back into his chair, taking another sip of his coffee. "John," she called softly, and when he looked up again, she gestured at her own lips, making a wiping motion. There was a ringing sound next, and at first she looked at the telephone on the corner of the desk before realizing it was her cellular. Which was in her briefcase. She bent, a little awkwardly, huffing out a breath at the tightness in her midsection, and reached in the side pocket to pull it free. She straightened with relief. Pressing 'send' and holding it to her ear, she briskly said, "Scully." She heard Frohike's voice saying, "We need to meet," and then a dial tone. She clicked the phone off, aware of Doggett's curious gaze, and putting the cellular down on the desk, reached for the other phone. She dialed Skinner's extension, and when Kimberley's chipper voice answered, said, "Good morning, Kimberley. It's Agent Scully. I need to speak to AD Skinner, please." She waited tensely, staring at Doggett, who was now leaning forward in his seat, watching her intently. Moments later she heard Skinner's brisk greeting and spoke. "Sir, it's Agent Scully. I need to go to the specialist's now, so I will be out of the office." It was a prearranged signal, one they had worked out a couple of weeks after the incidents in Arizona, with Gibson Praise and the Alien Bounty Hunter. She was telling him to meet her at The Lone Gunmen's hideout as soon as possible. She listened to him give the answering response, informing her he would leave in ten minutes. She thanked him, hung up the phone and told Doggett, "We have to go now." Without a word he stood up and slipped into his jacket as she gathered her briefcase, tucking her cellular back inside. He waited until she walked through the door and then followed, pulling it shut and locking it. Their strides were quick and even as they made their way to the parking garage. The Lone Gunmen's Lair Although Doggett had in a sense worked with the Gunmen, and even spent some time with them at her place, he had yet to be granted access to their inner sanctum. This would be the first time. Scully couldn't resist watching him as he observed the extreme security measures the paranoid men employed. His facial expressions changed many times, from exasperation at the numerous locks on the door and their caution on admitting the two of them to amazement at the variety of equipment housed within. He did refrain from commenting, however. Scully saw that his silence gained him bonus points in the Gunmen's eyes. Frohike was all solicitousness, taking her arm and leading her to a stool, asking her if she were hungry or thirsty. He offered her everything from milk and cookies to a full course meal. To appease him, she asked him for a glass of water. He hustled off to do her bidding, while she watched Doggett watching Langly re-set all the locks on the door. There was as yet no sign of Byers. Doggett then began wandering around, peering at computer screens and perusing maps and radar photos scattered about. He found an issue of their paper and picking it up, started to read. An occasional twitch of his lips or a raised eyebrow signaled he had found something interesting. Or amusing. At the brisk knock that came then, all eyes turned to the surveillance camera's monitor. The grainy black and white image was that of AD Skinner, looking tensely at the door. Scully watched as Langly hustled over and opened the numerous locks and chains to admit her superior. Skinner stepped inside, eyes scanning the room until he spotted Scully, sitting on one of the tall stools at the long table that took up a majority of the room. His gaze next landed on Doggett, who had dropped the paper and moved to stand just to her left, leaning on said table. Skinner nodded a greeting, raising one eyebrow in silent inquiry. Scully responded with a slight shrug and a lift of her eyebrow, indicating she did not yet know what was going on, nor the need for urgency. Byers came out of one of the other rooms, impeccably dressed as always, nodded at Skinner and greeted her softly before he walked around the table. He sat beside Scully, to her right, in front of one of the many computer monitors. Frohike, after bringing Scully her water, had sat in front of another monitor, which was to Byers' right. Behind Skinner, Langly re-engaged all the locks and then moved past the AD to stand behind Frohike. Both Byers and Frohike began tapping at their respective keyboards. Byers turned his head to look at Scully, but his words were to everyone. "As you know, we have been intercepting data about UFO activity ever since Mulder disappeared. One of us has been monitoring this data at all times. Early yesterday morning, around six am Eastern Standard Time, or three am Pacific Standard Time, the systems we've hacked into went haywire, with most of the activity being centered in the Pacific Northwest, or more specifically, Oregon." Scully's heart immediately started to race when she heard the word Oregon, and she left her stool to lean over Byers' shoulder and stare at his monitor, although she could make little sense of what was displayed there. Her voice only wobbled slightly as she asked, "Bellefleur?" At his affirming nod, she continued in a somewhat harsh tone, "Why didn't you contact me yesterday?" Frohike broke in to comment, "We didn't have anything to tell you yesterday. Once we realized where we were looking at, we started doing what Mul...doing what Mulder called some funky poaching. Turns out there were several John Does and one Jane Doe admitted to the local hospital this morning." Byers took over again, eyes and tone somber. "The description of one of the John Does closely matches Mulder's." Bellefleur Hospital The flight had been interminable. Naturally they had flown into a storm front, which had caused major turbulence, and the need to wear their seatbelts. Never a good flyer to begin with, Scully had whiteknuckled the armrest, her teeth clenched for most of the flight. Her thoughts however had been entirely on Mulder and the news received from the Gunmen the day before. The drive from the Portland Airport to the Bellefleur Hospital that had followed their flight had been passed in tense silence. Despite her urgent and desperate need to get to Bellefleur and see if the John Doe was indeed Mulder, there had still been arrangements to be made. Scully had wanted to depart immediately for Dulles Airport to find any flight that would get her to her destination. To Mulder. Ever since Byers had said that one of the John Does looked like Mulder, she had become convinced it was him. Skinner had been the voice of reason. Taking her arm and leading her gently aside, he had convinced her to go home and pack, while he phoned Kimberley to make arrangements for flights to Oregon for the three of them. She had thanked the Gunmen and left him to it, Doggett dropping her off at her place to get her things together while he did the same. Kimberley had tried to use their FBI status to get them on a flight, but still the earliest had been the next day, departing at 7:00 am. After learning that bit of news, Scully had spent a nearly sleepless night, waiting for the dawn, with her packed suitcase ready by the door. And now here they were, so close to Mulder, and hampered by another delay. This time it was a hospital bureaucrat who had insisted on verifying their FBI credentials before allowing them to see any of the Doe patients. Scully barely refrained from snarling at the officious little man, who in her opinion vastly overrated his own importance. Again it was Skinner who took charge, flicking a look at Doggett, who gently led her away to calm down. If she weren't so damn anxious to see Mulder, she would probably be offended. Right now though, she couldn't find the energy. She nodded at Doggett, to show him she was fine, and consoled herself by pacing up and down a small patch of hospital corridor, her low-heeled pumps making a rhythmically hypnotic clicking sound. So hypnotic in fact, that she was unaware when Skinner first called her name. It was not until Doggett touched her arm that she came out of her fugue, and looked up to see Skinner walking towards her, concern on his face. She managed to smile faintly to show that she was all right, tugging the sides of her blazer straight, ready to face what was in store. She was nervous however, and a little afraid that her hopes would be brutally dashed. As if sensing her unease, the baby kicked, jabbing her painfully in the kidney. She rubbed at her side, hoping neither man would notice. "Everything is settled," Skinner said, joining her and Doggett. "We apparently 'check out'," he added with no small measure of sarcasm. He grasped her elbow lightly and began to steer her down the hallway, towards the elevator. "We need to go to the third floor." Once they were on the elevator, Skinner spoke again. "There were three men and one women found comatose in the woods outside Bellefleur," he explained. "Several people had reported strange lights, and due to…due to all that's happened recently, the police were sent out to check." The elevator binged as it reached its destination, and when the doors opened, both Doggett and Skinner gestured for her to exit first. She did so, with Skinner quickly moving to walk at her side. He continued speaking. "None of the patients have regained consciousness yet, and each have been subjected to a battery of tests." Scully opened her mouth, but was forestalled by Skinner, who answered her unspoken question. "They will have the results made available to you as soon as possible, as well as the reports on their conditions when they were first brought in to the emergency department." A few moments later they were at the nurse's station. Skinner had removed his ID wallet as they approached, and now held it out to the nurse manning the station. "Walter Skinner, with the FBI," he introduced himself. "This is Special Agent Dana Scully," he said, with a nod at her, "and Special Agent John Doggett," and another nod at Doggett. "We're here to see the three John Does and Jane Doe." The nurse, a pretty blonde who wore an enamel angel pin with the name Kris written on it, had given his badge only a cursory glance. She rose from her seat and came around from behind the station, saying, "Yes, sir. I have been advised you are to have full access to the four patients, as well as all medical records pertaining to each patient. If you'll follow me," she continued and headed to the left down the hallway. Scully found her steps suddenly dragging. Her body was vacillating between hot and cold, and there was a leaden feeling in the pit of her stomach. She swallowed back a rush of nausea, and had to take several deep breaths to slow her suddenly racing heart. All the way here she had been so sure it was Mulder. She did not think she could handle it if it were not. Doggett, who had immediately sprung forward after Skinner and the nurse, seemed to realize she was not hard on his heels, and turned back. His eyes widened, his jaw tensing, and he hurried back to her, hands out as if worried she were going to faint and he would need to catch her. Which was a distinct possibility, Scully thought. And a degrading one. She reached out with one hand and leaned on the pale yellow cement wall, bending slightly at the waist. She took more deep breaths, slowly and deliberately, and the feeling faded. "Dana?" came Doggett's low voice. "Are you all right? Is it...is it the baby?" She could sense his hands hovering at her shoulders, and managed to shake her head in the negative. One last deep breath, and she straightened. "I'm all right," she replied, and was glad her voice sounded strong, even if she was not. "Just felt a little nauseous." She was not going to tell him of her fear that it was not Mulder. "It's passed. I'm fine." He studied her for a moment longer and then backed up a step, allowing her some space. She smiled her thanks, and they walked together towards Skinner and the nurse, who had stopped in front of a door about twenty feet down the hallway. Scully could see that Skinner was watching her with a frown on his face. Once they reached Skinner she assured him with a look that all was well, and he gave her a tiny nod in return. The nurse said, "The three John Does are in this room here, and Jane Doe is in the room next door. I'll get someone to bring you their files." With that, she smiled briefly and headed back to the nurses station. Skinner reached out and opened the door, holding it for Scully to walk through. She did, feeling the pulse in her neck beating wildly. She kept her composure, and was the calm, collected Agent Scully as she surveyed the room. It was a large, square-shaped room, with four beds, three of which were curtained. The fourth bed, to the right of the door, was empty. Scully walked over to the first bed just inside the door to the left. With a whisking motion, she moved the curtains aside. The blankets were drawn to the man's neck, but she could immediately see it was not Mulder. She did recognize him however. It was Billy Miles. Her sharp intake of breath alerted Skinner and Doggett that something was wrong. They had remained by the door, as if they wanted to let her be the one to find Mulder, but both moved quickly to her side at the sound. "What is it, Agent Scully?" Skinner asked tensely. "Do you know this man?" She nodded jerkily, still staring at the comatose man. Although she had recognized him, he did not look quite the same as the last time she had seen him, nearly six months ago. His face was still boyish, but with sunken cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. There was also a grayish cast to his skin. It was apparent he had been through an ordeal. She wanted to examine him, but not until she saw the other two men. The fact that Billy Miles had gone missing at the same time as Mulder, and was believed to be another abductee, seemed to be a very good indicator that one of the other men might be him. "Scully?" Skinner questioned, his voice a little louder. She realized she had not answered his question, and turned away from the man lying in the hospital bed. She met his eyes briefly, nodding, and said, "It's Billy Miles." She did not explain any further; fully aware both men had read all the files on Bellefleur. They exchanged glances, and then looked back at her. Scully saw what looked like hope blooming in Skinner's eyes. Doggett's face was inscrutable. She brushed past them to move to the next bed, which was along the same wall as Billy Miles' bed, beside the window. She pulled that curtain aside as well, and saw a man she recognized only from pictures, having never met him. Ray Hoese, Theresa Hoese's husband. He was also another one of the people who had gone missing around the same time as Mulder. "Ray Hoese," she identified with a nod at the man lying on the bed. He too was pale and gaunt. The sound of her heels became a loud booming noise in her head as she moved to the bed directly across from Ray Hoese's, and time seemed to slow. Her hands were cold again, but did not shake as she grasped the material of the curtain in her fist. Her first tug did not dislodge it, and she had to go up on tiptoes to get better leverage. She yanked, the small grunt she gave signifying her effort, and it finally slid across the tracks on the ceiling. She was suddenly afraid to look. She started at the foot of the bed, staring at the bump of the man's feet under the covers, and slowly moved her eyes up. Peripherally she could see dark chestnut hair. She forced herself to look at the man's face. Mulder. Spots danced before her eyes, and her knees started to buckle. A choked sound escaped and she had to grab onto the railing of the bed to avoid collapsing to the ground. Oh, dear God, it was Mulder. Skinner was there quick as lightening, gripping her upper arms tightly, supporting her weight. "Easy, I've got you," he said, pulling her into a semblance of a hug, her back pressed to his chest. She leaned gratefully into his warm hardness and tried to steady her erratic breathing. Distantly she heard Doggett asking if he should get help, and then Skinner said quietly, "No, she'll be all right. She's just had a big shock." Her legs had finally stopped their trembling, so she straightened, sliding out of Skinner's embrace. She glanced at him, seeing the worry in his eyes, and felt her cheeks redden. Despite their closeness over the last few months, she was still embarrassed to have reacted that way, and had witnesses to it. "Thank-you," she said quietly, and with a deep breath, turned back to Mulder. Like Billy Miles and Ray Hoese, Mulder's face was grayish-tinged, and gaunt looking. The circles under his eyes were deep and nearly black. Although he did not have a beard, he was not quite clean-shaven; stubble graced his cheeks and jaw. She could see no scars at this distance, and moved to stand by his head, leaning over to peer more closely at him. Lifting one hand, which was trembling only slightly, she touched his cheek. She had expected his flesh to be cool, and was surprised to find it pleasantly warm. She let her hand rest there for a moment before removing it reluctantly and stepping back, wanting nothing more than to crawl onto the bed and curl up around his still body. She knew she could not, not now. She forced herself to look at him clinically. Also like the other two, he was hooked up to a heart monitor, and she listened to the reassuring blips that indicated his heart still beat strongly. As well, there was an IV in one arm, and she could see a Foley Catheter bag peeking out at the bottom of the bed. There were no other tubes or wires that she could see. He smelled of antiseptic and hospital, and had obviously been washed upon his arrival. The blankets were drawn to his neck too, concealing the rest of his body from sight. Suddenly frightened by what they might be hiding, she stepped forward again and pulled the covers down to his waist. He was wearing a standard hospital gown, so all she could really see was his arms. She let herself gently stroke the one nearest to her, feeling the baby-fine hairs brush against her fingertips. She could locate no lumps or scar tissue, nor she could visibly see any scars, but the muscles of his upper arm felt lax when she squeezed them. Skinner coughed slightly from behind her, and she paused in her examination of Mulder to look over her shoulder at him. When he saw he had her attention, he said, "I'll see about getting those records for you. I assume you're going to do a full examination?" After her nod, he turned slightly to Doggett and said, "I think you should contact the Bellefleur police, see what you can learn from them. Maybe suggest they search the woods again, and post some sort of watch over the next few nights. There could be more abductees returning." Scully watched the two of them leave the room, and then grasping the edge of the curtain, drew it closed around the bed. This time she lowered the bed rail for better access, and pulled the covers down to Mulder's feet, baring them. Her belly brushed against the mattress as she moved, and with wearing lower heels now due to her pregnancy, she almost wished for a step stool. She stared at his long, skinny feet, and for some reason the sight of them had tears springing to her eyes. Swiping impatiently at them, she told herself to get a grip. Leaning forward a little, she studied his feet and legs with her eyes as her hands palpated and examined from his toes to his groin, brushing the gown aside as she moved upwards. Her fingers encountered the bullet scar on his left thigh. Sagging slightly, her eyes drifted shut and she was assailed by a painful memory — Mulder lying on the ground, the blood-splattered white cross behind him. Forcing her eyes open, Scully blinked several times and took a deep breath, pushing the memory aside. Skirting his groin, she tugged the gown back down to cover his legs, and reaching behind his head, untied the strings holding it closed. That done, she pulled at the gown until she had bared his chest and stomach. High on his left shoulder was another bullet scar, from when she had shot him to prevent him from shooting Krycek so long ago. His ribs were clearly visible, and there was more evidence of muscle loss in his upper body. As well, she can see the faint lines along one side of his ribs from Mulder's encounter with the Beast Lady. She can see no new scarring or bruising anywhere on his body. She moved a little closer to the head of the bed, stretching so that she could run her fingers through his hair. It was coarser than normal, and quite a bit longer than he normally wore it. Her fingers encountered the scars from the unauthorized brain surgery performed on him at the Defense Department, and she was unable to tell if there had been further surgeries or procedures done there. Next, she gently thumbed each of his eyelids open, noting that both pupils were equal. She quietly cursed the lack of a flashlight to check if they were reactive to light. She paused for a moment, her thumb still holding one lid open, before letting it slip closed. It had been odd to look into his hazel eyes and not see the intelligence and humor that normally shone there. As far as she could tell, this was definitely Mulder, as she had believed the moment she saw him, and there was no indication of what could have caused him to be in such a condition. With a shuddery sigh, she let her hand return to his hair, stroking through it. "Mulder?" she whispered. "It's me, I'm here." She had not really expected any response, but could not help the desolation that swept through her body when there was none. Feeling the tears rise to her eyes again, she blinked them a few times, not wanting to give in to the fear that was rapidly filling her heart. What if Mulder's condition was permanent? One Week Later Georgetown University Medical Center Scully sat up slowly in the hard-backed hospital chair in Mulder's new hospital room, the ache in her lower back making her groan quietly. The small table in front of her was covered with the copies of the reports and the results of the tests done on Mulder in the hospital in Bellefleur. She had gotten one of the nurses, Kris she thought the blonde woman's name was, to photocopy them once she had finished reading his file. She had also requested and received copies of the files for Billy Miles, Ray Hoese, and Theresa Hoese, whom she had later identified as the Jane Doe in the room next door, for comparison. She had read all of their files numerous times, and still nothing jumped out at her that would explain the comas. Upon Mulder's and the other found abductees arrival, once they had performed the standard examination in the ER, the doctor had ordered a CT scan, an EEG, a tox screen and a Chem20 blood test. All four of them had been severely dehydrated, as well as showing a heightened white blood cell count, but there had been no signs of recent trauma to the head or brain. It was baffling, and more than a little frightening. Something had caused them to be this way, she just didn't know what. Or how to find out what. Her gaze flicked to the empty bed, neatly made and awaiting Mulder's return from his latest test. Once he had been admitted at Georgetown University Hospital, three days ago, the round of tests she had ordered during her consultation with the doctors had begun. Despite the reports from the Bellefleur hospital, she had wanted the tests that had been performed there run again. As well, first thing the following morning, Mulder was to be seen by the hospital's top neurologists. The baby kicked within her, and she rubbed at the spot almost absent- mindedly. An increasing pressure on her bladder indicated the need for the washroom, and with a sigh, Scully rose carefully from the seat, her back protesting once more. She felt light-headed for a moment, her hands going out to grip the edge of the table for support, eyes closing as she rode out the feeling. With intense shame, she realized her dizzy spell was due to the fact that she hadn't been eating very well ever since Mulder had been found. All her focus and energy had gone into dealing with getting him transferred from Bellefleur back to Washington. Back home. And in dealing with the shock that he had actually returned. As well, Skinner had returned to Washington after only two days in [Damn it, Dana. You know better than this. You cannot jeopardize this baby or yourself. You need to be strong and healthy, both for the baby, and for Mulder.] Scully grimaced as the voice inside her head stated what she already knew, and had almost let herself forget. More shame pounded through her. She released the table and opened her eyes, standing still for a moment. The dizziness was gone. With careful steps she made her way to the tiny bathroom that adjoined the room and used the facilities. Her face in the small mirror above the sink was pale, and lined, the circles beneath her eyes prominent. Even her hair did not have its normal luster, the titian strands appearing almost lank. She grimaced again, and after splashing some cold water on her cheeks and patting them dry, decided to go to the cafeteria and sit down and eat. And to put everything else aside for a brief time, despite her concern and her fear. She passed the table covered with reports without a second glance, and strode with determination down the hall to the elevators. The elevator seemed to take forever, and she once again was lost in her thoughts. Therefore, when the doors finally opened, she stepped forward to enter it without looking, watching her feet as she stepped carefully over the lip. And walked straight into someone, who grasped her arms and said, "Scully?" She had already begun to apologize, when the voice, and the use of her name, registered. "Frohike?" she asked, raising her head and looking in shock at the diminutive man who was clutching a package to his chest. For the longest time the Gunmen had continued to call her Agent Scully until she had finally asked them to please call her Dana. Only Byers did, Langly and Frohike had chosen to call her Scully, as Mulder had. She had automatically stopped, and his free hand shot out to stop the elevator doors from closing. She had called the Gunmen from "Are you here to see Mulder?" she asked. Before he could reply, she continued, "He's not in his room right now, and I was...I was just going down to the cafeteria to get something to eat." Frohike released the door and took hold of her elbow, drawing her further inside. "I'll join you then, if that's all right with you?" he asked. "Um, yes, that's fine," she replied, smiling faintly at him. At her affirmation, Frohike reached out and pressed the button for the ground floor. Scully noticed the package he held yet again, and wondered what it could be. Plain brown wrapper, shaped somewhat like a videotape cassette...oh, dear. Had Frohike brought Mulder another one of those movies he claimed were not his? She couldn't bring herself to ask him, and resolved to just ignore the package. For now. A few seconds later the elevator lurched to a stop and the doors opened. Frohike held the doors open while she exited, and then scurried to join her, his hand once again going to her elbow. She was not used to this attentiveness from anyone, other than Mulder, and the occasional attempt from Doggett or Skinner, and tensed briefly before forcing herself to relax. Frohike did not seem to notice, and she was glad. She would never intentionally hurt his feelings, and she knew her pulling away would have been seen as a sign of rejection. Rejection that would have been different than the kind she had made in the past to his leers and sexual innuendos. Which had ceased immediately once he had learned she was pregnant. Oddly enough, she actually missed that side of him. They walked this way through the extensive main lobby, following the signs that directed them to the cafeteria. After making their selections, hers consisting of a tuna fish sandwich on whole wheat, a bowl of vegetable soup, and a carton of milk, Frohike's consisting of a Pepsi and a hamburger, he insisted on paying. She acquiesced without complaint, thanking him softly, which made him blush with pleasure, and found them a table by one of the windows. Frohike carried the tray, the package tucked beneath one arm, and after putting the tray down on the table, sat across from her. The package went on the chair beside him and then he immediately dug into his hamburger, loaded with the works. Scully started more slowly, unwrapping her sandwich while waiting for her soup to cool a little, for it was still steaming, and opening the milk carton. She saw Frohike almost beam with approval as she drank the milk, and tamped down the surge of annoyance that flickered. His concern was sweet, really, she just sometimes felt smothered by all her 'little mothers'. She felt a brief pang in her heart as she tried to imagine Mulder in the same situation. Would he hover, or let her lead? [Hover] she decided, and had to stifle her sigh of despair. Their conversation was light as they partook of their meal, but once Scully had pushed her almost empty soup bowl aside, Frohike began with, "So how is he?" Scully met his eyes, somber behind the huge lenses of his glasses, and said softly, "The same." Saw him blink rapidly, as if trying to keep tears from forming, and looked away to give him a moment. He cleared his throat, and then coughed, and she returned her gaze to him. "There's been no change at all. I've been able to compare the results of the tests they have run so far here with those run in Bellefleur, and they are identical." She could think of nothing else to say, and looked down at the table. The silence grew awkward, and when she finally raised her head, it was to see Frohike watching her sadly. He blinked, his eyes enormous behind the lenses of his glasses, and then jumped to his feet, saying, "I'll take care of this," while grabbing for the tray. Frohike dumped their trash and put the tray with the others waiting to be washed and returned to the table. He hovered as she rose from her chair; watching her carefully, seemingly ready to leap forward and save her if she were to falter. A moment later his hand was back at her elbow to guide her out of the cafeteria. When they got back to Mulder's room, he still had not returned. Frohike looked at her worriedly. "Do you think there's something wrong?" he asked, his voice low and gruff. Scully had been wondering the same thing herself. Mulder had been gone for quite some time. But she did not want to further worry the little man, and managed to sound calm and unperturbed. "No, I'm sure everything's fine. They must be really busy, that's all." Frohike alternated between pacing one small stretch of tiled floor and standing in the doorway, nervously shuffling his feet for a while before finally turning to where she was once again sitting at her little table, going through the medical records for yet another time. "Um, Scully, I'm going to get going. Is there anything you need, anything I can get you?" Scully had managed to put the repetitive sounds of his footsteps out of her head, and was a little startled when Frohike spoke. Her head shot up, and with pregnancy-related clumsiness, she knocked some of the files she had been studying onto the floor with one hand. "I'm sorry?" she almost gasped, her other hand going to rub at the side of her belly's bulge, where a tiny foot had jabbed her. Then his words registered, and she sighed, "Oh, Frohike." She shook her head at the mess she had made, and rose from her chair to kneel down to clean it up, saying, "Thank-you, Frohike, I'm fine. I'll give you guys a call if I learn anything new, okay?" He was on his knees as well, across from her, quickly picking up most of the papers before she had managed to get more than one. He took that one from her hands and placed the whole pile on the table before rising to help her from the floor. At her smile of thanks, he smiled back and gave her an odd, courtly little bow. "Take care of yourself, Scully. Don't work too hard, okay? You need your rest too." "Yes, Doctor Frohike," she returned, still smiling, and watched as he grinned and then left the room. Before she could sit down again he was back, holding out the brown paper-wrapped gift, a sheepish expression on his face. "I forgot this," he explained. "Maybe they'll let you bring a VCR and TV in here to play this for him," Frohike said. "It's a tape of the highlights of all the Knicks games since he's been..." His voice trailed off, a sad smile replacing his sheepish grin, and then with another little bow, he left. Missing. Her mind routinely and involuntarily supplied the word, having had the same thing occur in most of the conversations involving Mulder for so very long now. She had almost stopped flinching at it too. With a sigh, she resumed her seat and her reading. And yet another vigil for Mulder. Three Days Later Georgetown University Medical Center When Mulder finally woke up, Scully was totally unprepared. After a late and lonely lunch in the hospital cafeteria, she returned to his room and stood beside his bed for a few minutes drinking in the sight of him. It was a small pleasure she allowed herself at least once an hour whenever she was there. Sometimes she indulged her need to touch him, and let her hands sift gently through his hair, or softly stroked her hand up and down the arm that was unencumbered by the IV site. Only once since he had been transferred to GUMC had she let herself climb onto his bed and curl her body as much as she was able around his still form. She hadn't been able to get as close as she would have liked, her burgeoning belly had pressed against his arm and hip, making it difficult for her to put her arm around him. But she had managed, and had slept with him until the nurse had come in to check his vitals and IV. During the months of his absence, her only chance to look at him had been via a dog-eared photograph of the two of them on some case God knows where that she had found in his desk drawer the morning she had put his nameplate away. She had assumed an agent from the Crime Scene Unit had taken it, and sent it to Mulder, who had never shown her the picture, but had kept it in his desk as a memento. It had been well worn when she found it, but now it was even more tattered, although thankfully his features were still clear. She had even slept with it under her pillow for a while, but had finally stopped in fear of damaging it beyond repair. Her eyes competently checked his IV line and ensured the leads to the heart monitor had not been dislodged before she settled herself into the comfortable recliner-style chair the evening shift nurses had presented to her one night, surprising and touching her beyond belief. The nurses on all the shifts had started to follow the current trend of mothering her once they had learned she was pregnant, and also seen how dedicated she was to their patient who lay comatose in his bed. Thus they had found her a better chair then the hard, plastic ones present in every patient's room in the hospital. Scully sighed as the muscles in her back slowly released, and draped the blanket they had also given her, along with the two pillows which were currently wedged behind her to support her back and neck, over her lap. She let her eyes drift shut, although her mind was still busy. The battery of tests, which included the ones she had ordered and a few she had not thought of, had been re-run twice here at GUMC, and still nothing out of the ordinary showed up. The specialists that had seen Mulder were completely baffled as to why he remained in a coma, and even why he was in one in the first place. They had no advice or suggestions left to offer her, and one had suggested Mulder be placed in a chronic care nursing home. Despite her misgivings about that, Scully was starting to believe it would have to become a reality. Technically he was not ill, the coma not withstanding, and the hospital would not keep him indefinitely when his bed could be given to someone who was, and she could admit to herself that she was incapable of caring for him. At least not without help. A private nurse was a possibility, but she did not know how she could afford to pay for one, as one would be needed 24 hours a day. She was hesitant to inquire as to what kind of coverage the Bureau had in that type of situation. And even though she had full Power of Attorney regarding Mulder, she had not yet taken the time to investigate his financial status or private insurance coverage. She told herself it was time she did so. Scully shifted slightly to lie more on her left side and heaved out another sigh. She knew it was a matter that had to be dealt with, and soon, but right now she just wanted to lie there and relax, and be glad that Mulder had been returned. Her eyes were heavy, for despite the fact that he was back, she still had trouble sleeping, waking up several times each night, both to use the washroom due to the increased pressure on her bladder, and from nightmares about what had been done to him while he was gone. She let them slip closed, yawning as she did, and drifted to sleep. It was the changed sound of the heart monitor that first intruded into her slumber, but she was trapped deep in the arms of Morpheus, and was slow to respond, mumbling and shifting on her makeshift bed. The excited tones of two nurses slowly filtered in, and she swam upwards into consciousness, blinking blurry eyes and staring in confusion at the commotion by Mulder's bedside before she registered that something was different. Scully pushed at the stubborn blanket, clinging to her like a greedy lover's embrace, and finally succeeded in shoving it to the floor, rising awkwardly with a groan. On somewhat shaky legs she approached the bed, and one of the nurses shifted to the side to make room for her. What she saw had her heart pounding furiously, so hard she thought it would burst free of her chest. Mulder was awake. Scully said his name soundlessly, staring in shock. His head was moving on the pillow, looking all around him, seemingly taking in the machines and equipment that surrounded him, and it was a second or two before he turned towards her. Finally he did though, and Scully felt her knees buckle when his gaze met hers. It was like looking into the eyes of a child. There was no sign of the intelligent, knowing man who had been her partner, and for too short a time, her lover. The nurse grabbed her and held her steady, softly asking if she was all right, but Scully was unable to respond, focused entirely as she was on Mulder. Her breaths were shallow and quick, while her heart still beat double-time, and she had a death grip on the bedrail, her knuckles white from the strain. Mulder was regarding her solemnly, blinking slowly, and when he spoke, it was his voice, but he sounded younger and so sweet and innocent, and she imagined she was hearing the voice of the little boy he had been long ago. He asked, "Are you my mom?" Oh dear God. Georgetown University Medical Center The soft click of the door closing brought Scully out of her study of the dark, polished surface of the large table before her, and she glanced about to see that she was the only one still seated. In fact, she and Skinner were the only two occupants of the room. Scully gave Skinner a small, tight-lipped smile and murmured her thanks as he pulled back her chair and offered her his arm for assistance in rising. The smile was merely a polite, automatic response to his gentlemanly behavior, with no reflection on her true feelings, which were a jumbled mass of confusion at the moment. Once she was up, she released her grip on his arm and he pushed the chair back in for her. He then lifted her coat and helped her into it before shrugging into his own. Their eyes met briefly, and she saw the tenderness and compassion in those brown orbs behind the lenses of his glasses. She realized then that she had never adequately communicated how much she appreciated him coming with her today, or even the tremendous support he had offered her not just in the days since Mulder had been found, but also for the months he had been missing. She would have to rectify that, as soon as was able to do so in more personal surroundings. They were in a small conference room located in the wing of the hospital that housed the offices of the non-medical personnel that were employed there, as well as those of the Doctors who were on staff. She had asked Skinner to join her for the meeting with the two doctors who had spent most of the previous day and a half testing Mulder, not wanting to be there alone. She was immensely glad she had done so, and that he had unhesitatingly agreed to accompany her. She was still reeling from the report by the doctors, Dr. Sarah Cross and Dr. Andrew Speers. Although they had no explanation of why or how, they had concluded after rigorous testing that Mulder had the mental capacity somewhat similar to that of a child approximately 6 or 7 years old. Scully flashbacked to that moment when she had realized there was something very wrong. That moment when she had heard him ask her if she was his mom. She had stood there and gaped at him, unable to speak, until the nurse had said her name in a hushed, worried tone. The sound had brought her out of her fugue, and after clearing her throat, she had managed to answer Mulder with a gentle tone, automatically adjusting her words as if she were speaking to a child. "No, sweetie, I'm not your mom. I'm..." Here she had hesitated. What could she tell him? She had settled on a version of the truth. "I'm your friend, Dana." "Day-na?" he had repeated, accentuating and over-emphasizing the first syllable, just as her nephew Matthew did. And for a moment she had heard Matthew's sweet, baby voice calling for his auntie as he had on her last visit to San Diego, back in the summer. [Dana?] A male voice intruded in her memory, and Scully blinked in startlement, slowly focusing on the man before her. Skinner was watching her with concerned eyes, and his hand gripped her elbow as if he expected her to fall to the floor in a faint. Which was a distinct possibility she realized, for her knees did feel weak. She opened her mouth to tell him she needed to sit down, but her lips only moved soundlessly. "Dana?" Skinner said again with more urgency. "Scully, are you all right?" His other hand came up to grasp her shoulder, and he gently pushed her backwards until she felt the edge of a chair hitting the backs of her knees. She sank into the chair with relief, and found herself clutching Skinner's hands. "I'm...okay," she said finally, and fought the incredible urge to weep. "Are you sure?" he asked, now crouching before her. "Do you need some water?" She shook her head. "I just want to go home." Her voice was thick with unshed tears, the words faint. She knew she could not handle going to see Mulder, as she had originally planned, not right now. Maybe later. "I'll take you there," Skinner said soothingly, and helped her from the chair. She let him guide her through the hospital and outside to his car, paying very little attention to her surroundings or her companion. Skinner even leaned over her as she sat unmoving in the passenger seat and efficiently snapped her seatbelt in place. Her eyes ached with unshed tears, so she let them slip shut. Maybe she dozed, or maybe she just fazed out, she wasn't really sure, but the next thing she knew, Skinner was once again saying her name. She opened her eyes to see him sitting almost sideways in the driver's seat, one arm braced on the steering wheel, the other outstretched towards her with his hand resting gently on her leg. A quick glance out the side window showed that they had arrived at her building. "Dana?" he asked questioningly, and then added unnecessarily, "We're here." Scully almost smiled at the way he continually vacillated between the use of her first name and her surname, and nodded at him. She occasionally called him 'Walter' when they were not in the office, but it still sounded awkward in her ears. 'Sir' came much more easily to her lips. "Thank-you, sir," she said then, and fumbled at her seatbelt. "Do you...would you like me to come up with you?" A polite way of asking if she was going to make it up there under her own power, she knew, even with the word 'like' in place of 'need'. Despite her avowal to thank him in more personal surroundings, and by that she did not mean the inside of his car, she did not want company at this time. "I'm fine," she said softly, using the two words that had often made Mulder grit his teeth in anger. She grit her own teeth then, on the pitiful sigh that almost escaped at the thought of Mulder. She was now feeling enormously guilty for not going to see him after the meeting with his doctors, and as she took a slow, deep breath, she made a mental promise to him to do so later that afternoon. Feeling a little steadier, she turned her head to meet Skinner's gaze head-on, and said with all sincerity, "I want to thank-you for coming with me today. I don't think I could have handled hearing...hearing about Mulder like that by myself." She looked away briefly, down at her clasped hands, and continued, "I realized earlier, after the doctors had given their report, that I'm going to have to make some decisions, difficult decisions, regarding his future, and the future of...of his child." She unclasped her hands, and let one smooth over her rounded belly in small circles, a gesture meant to soothe both mother and child. "I think I knew all along in the back of my mind that I might have to, even before Mulder woke up and asked me if I was his mother, but it became more tangible hearing their words." Her voice had grown fainter with each word, and at the end was almost a whisper. Skinner patted her leg gently. "I am here for you if you need anything at all, Scully," he intoned, the concern apparent in his voice. "Anything." He paused, and then spoke again, his next words coming hesitantly, almost awkwardly. "Do...do you think he will get better, Scully? From the sounds of it, the doctors hold little hope he will ever...I'm not even sure if 'recover' is the right word." Hope was the only thing she had left. Hope, and the baby in her womb. "I don't know, Sir," Scully replied quietly. And she really didn't know. No one knew. Could it be a side effect of whatever had been done to him? If so, was it temporary or permanent? Her heart ached at the thought that it could be permanent, and she once again had to fight back the tears that rose in her eyes. She flicked a quick glance at Skinner and whispered, "Thank-you again, Sir." With that, she fumbled the door open and exited the car. She saw that he was watching her sadly as she carefully closed the door, and then turned and headed up the path to her building's front door, very conscious of his eyes on her back. Once she had pulled the heavy glass doors open and stepped inside, she looked over her shoulder to see the car slowly pulling away from the curb. She checked her mailbox by rote, and with heavy steps, made her way to her apartment. Mulder's Apartment The elevator door opened with a grinding thud, and Scully stepped out as quickly as she was able, looking at it askance. Shaking her head slightly, she continued down the hall towards Mulder's apartment. Her tennis shoes made slight squeaking sounds on the worn, hardwood floor as she made the same trip she had made hundreds of times in the last seven years. After Skinner had taken her home, she had tried to lie down and take a nap. But her mind would not stop thinking, and she had given up on the idea of resting. Instead she had first fixed herself a salad before tackling the laundry she had ignored in the turmoil of the last week. Once that had been done, she had still felt restless. So she had decided to come to Mulder's apartment. As she lifted her key to open his door, she mused to herself that once upon a time it had rarely seen any use. Now she used it on a not quite daily basis. Mulder's apartment had become her sanctuary. The lock turned easily, and within seconds she was inside. She shut and locked the door behind her and made her way to Mulder's fish tank, putting the mail she had collected down on the desk to look at after. The fish food was where she always left it, on the shelf above the tank, and she watched as the fish swam eagerly about in circles awaiting the flakes. Her mind drifted back to that morning where she had awoken disoriented and achy, with Mulder's shirt clutched in one hand, to find John Doggett regarding her with what she had presumed was amused scorn. She had hid her shame and embarrassment with bluster, attacking him with her unproven assumptions that he had bugged her phone line and followed her there. He had remained unflappable, which had pissed her off to no end. For a little while after that awkward encounter, she had only come to the apartment to feed the fish and gather Mulder's mail and newspapers, wondering if her actions were being observed. But eventually the stale mustiness and the dust got to her, and one late night when she had been unable to sleep, she had spent hours cleaning the entire apartment, even tackling the science experiments growing in his fridge, and doing his considerably large load of laundry. And had later fallen fast asleep on his still unmade bed. The bed was no longer unmade now, nor were the rooms dusty. She came by not only to immerse herself within her sanctuary, but also to clean it on a regular basis. She washed the sheets weekly, because she slept there more often than not, and kept the fridge stocked with juice and some of her favorite healthy snacks. The fish taken care of, Scully looked briefly out the window at the street below, scanning for suspicious cars or observers, and then smiled ruefully to herself. Old habits died hard. Then again, maybe she had a right to still be on alert. Mulder's disappearance, or abduction, as she was sure he would term it if he were able, was still unexplained, and as much as she hated to think about this fact, so was her pregnancy. Those gloomy thoughts sent a pang through her heart, just as the baby chose that moment to give her a particularly sharp kick. She rubbed her hand over the spot and looked down at the rapidly expanding bulge. "Hey, in there," she said softly. "Take it easy on your Mommy, I still use all those organs." The first time she had spoken to the baby, she had felt embarrassed, and slightly ridiculous. Yet there had been a response, like she had read about in baby books - a surge of motion in her womb, of vigorous kicking and rolling. So now she did it all the time. When she was alone, of course. Once again the baby indulged her with some creative somersaults, which made her smile, a little wistfully. The only person she had shared these movements with was her mother. She wished she were able to share them with Mulder. Tears came to her so easily now, lately she had started bawling when she saw those long-distance commercials on TV, and now was no exception. They blurred in her eyes, and she reached up with one hand to swipe them away, sniffling a little. Desperate for something to do, for something to pull her out of her melancholy, Scully picked up Mulder's mail and moved over to sit down on his couch. The familiar sounds of the leather creaking as she made herself comfortable caused a small smile to flit across her face. She divided the mail into two piles - one for discarding, which was where the majority of it went, and one to keep, to which she placed the two utility bills that had arrived. After tossing the unnecessary mail in the garbage can beneath the kitchen sink, she poured herself a glass of orange juice and returned to her seat on the couch. Her drink went on the coffee table, and then she picked the bills up again, running one finger absently along the edges, thinking back again to when Mulder had been missing for only a few weeks. His landlord had approached her during one of her visits, and informed her that Mulder was behind on his rent. Angered that she had not thought about it at all, she had hastily written the man a cheque to cover not only the back rent, but the next month as well. It had been a hit to her account, and she'd had to transfer money from her savings to cover the funds. It had also been a hit to reality. Mulder's rent and utilities had never occurred to her at all. But fortunately the Gunmen had coincidentally brought up the topic a few days later, and informed her of an account Mulder had set-up over a year before, in case of emergences. The Gunmen had unanimously decided the upkeep of his apartment qualified as an emergency, and had handed over the means for her to access the account, for Mulder had meant it as an account for the both of them. There had been a substantial amount, and it had shocked her, even though she had always suspected Mulder might have inherited money from both his parents. It had eased her mind as the months passed, and she had used it for only his rent and utilities. Scully leaned forward and put the envelopes back down on the coffee table, exchanging them for her juice, which she downed all at once. A huge yawn that had her jaw cracking escaped, and with a quick glance at her watch, she decided a little nap before going to visit Mulder was in order. She toed of her tennis shoes and shifted on the couch, laying her head down at one end and swinging her legs up, moving onto her side. One hand cupped the mound of the baby, while the other hand groped for and found the Navajo blanket draped over the back of the couch. She threw it over her legs and belly, and closed her eyes. Moments later she was sound asleep. Georgetown University Medical Center The trip down the hospital hallway was rapidly approaching the familiarity of Mulder's apartment building hallway. Her shoes made the same squeaking noises here that they had made there too. She had not bothered to change out of the comfortable loose clothing she had put on for the trip to his apartment, he would not care what she was wearing, and today, neither did she. Her nap there had lasted a little longer than she intended, but at least she felt rested, and more capable of coping with her visit with Mulder. She was still not over the shock of the doctor's report from that morning, but she had had some time to let it sink in. She had not yet figured out what to do though, despite their recommendation of a chronic care home. She sighed softly, that was becoming the most likely option, unfortunately. Scully hesitated outside Mulder's room, smoothing the edges of her jacket back over her protruding belly so that they hid it rather than emphasized it, and took a deep breath. She could not explain why, but she felt uncomfortable displaying her pregnancy around him. She wasn't even sure if he would understand what it meant, for the doctors had not yet determined his level of comprehension. She was a little hesitant about trying to find that out, worried about what she might discover. With a slight shove, the wooden door opened and she was walking inside. Mulder...Fox, for he did know his name was Fox William Mulder, and had shown no signs of disliking his appellation like his adult self had, was awake and watching a cartoon. It was one she had watched with Matthew on a few occasions, so she was able to identify it as Arthur. He glanced from the TV bolted up on the wall to her, still standing just inside the room, and gave her a solemn smile. "Hello, Day-na," he said, and returned his attention to the program. "Hello, F-Fox," she replied, finding a smile for him. The name did not come easily to her lips, so conditioned was she to calling him 'Mulder'. "How are you?" she continued, and moved closer to his bed, taking in the fact that his IV had been removed, and the heart monitor was no longer present. "Fine," he replied, this time without looking away from his show. Scully saw that the chair the nurses had presented to her had been pushed in one corner of the small room, and as it was quite heavy, decided to use the smaller visitor's chair off to one side. She dragged it over, next to the bed, and sat down, once again smoothing her jacket over her belly. She scrutinized his features as he continued to watch the cartoon, his adorably mussed hair, his larger than normal nose, his full, pouty lip - familiar and loved, yet at the same timmme, now somewhat of a mystery. They were the features of the man she loved, of her work partner of 7 years, but they no longer housed the brilliant mind that had challenged and provoked her. He was a child in a man's body. And he was engrossed in a cartoon in the way he once would have been in an X-File. Which allowed her to continue with her study, without fear of interruption or being caught in the act. His cheeks were no longer stubbled; in fact she could see the faintest of razor burns. She wondered how the nurses had explained the necessity of shaving to him, and whether or not he had questioned them with child-like curiosity or just accepted it with undisturbed calmness. As he had accepted her reply that she was a friend to his question about whether she was his mom. A thought struck her, and had her heart rate increasing. Did he still have some of the memories of the Mulder he had been? She would have to pose the question to his doctors. Maybe they would be able to determine if it were so. She recalled how he had also accepted the introduction of Walter as another friend without qualm the day before. As of yet, she and Skinner were the only two people to have seen him since he had awoken from his coma. She had asked the Gunmen to wait a little while, because she had hoped Mulder's condition, if it were an actual 'condition' and not a side effect of whatever had been done to him, was only temporary. She was still holding onto that hope, although it was becoming fainter each day. Mulder...Fox...laughed then, drawing her attention from her thoughts. It was a childish giggle, high and almost girlish, and sent a pang through her heart. He looked at her, as if sensing her eyes upon him, and tilted his head to the side in a gesture that was so like her Mulder, not this boy Fox, that she almost gasped his name, the name she had always called him by. "I like this cartoon, Day-na," he told her, his lips still quirked in a smile. "I've never seen it before, but it's pretty good." Scully managed to find another smile in reply and said softly, "That's good. I like it too." Satisfied with their brief conversation, he resumed watching the TV, and she resumed her musings. She thought about what he had said, that he had never seen the cartoon before, and wondered if he had memories of the cartoons he had watched as a child, in the early 1960's, and if had compared this one to those. He did not seem troubled, just as he had not about anyone or anything else around him. There were more unanswered questions then there had been before, and she was still no closer to knowing what to do about them. Three Weeks Later Bakersfield Chronic Care Home Scully was lucky enough to find a parking space near the front door of the nursing home and zipped neatly into it, putting the car in park and shutting off the engine. The weather had turned surprisingly cold the past week, and had been very windy and wet for the last two days, making her visits to Fox [Mulder] a little more difficult. He had been in the chronic care home for just over a week and a half, and she had so far managed to visit him each and every day. Although some of those visits by necessity, had been rather short. It was disheartening because he did not seem disturbed by that fact. He greeted her each time with enthusiasm, but never professed disappointment when she had to leave, or questioned why she could not stay longer. And today was going to be another short visit. She was on her lunch break, and would be stretching it as it was, with the drive from and back to the Hoover Building cutting into her time. Skinner had pulled many strings for her, she did not know how, but she was very grateful to him, but there had only been so much time he could give her. Kersch had closed the investigation into Mulder's disappearance, despite the fact that the hows and whys had not been answered. She had been warned by Skinner, who had been extremely angry about having to be the deliverer of such a message, that if she did not return to her work on the X-Files, she would no longer be employed by the FBI. As much as she had wanted to march into Kersch's office and tell him where he could shove it, she could not. Mulder's emergency fund would not last forever, not with the cost of private care, and she needed to keep her job. Fortunately their caseload had been very light, and she had not been required to go out of town. She did not know how much longer that would last though, until she was on desk-bound duty in another month. Scully sighed as she pulled the keys from the ignition, tucking them into the pocket of her trench coat, before reaching for the bag on the seat beside her. It contained some books she had picked up for him, because one of the things he had expressed an interest in was reading. Not surprising was the subject matter. Space. The doctors had performed several aptitude tests on Fox...[Mulder], her mind insisted again, and it had been determined that not only could he read, but that he was at a higher level than expected. He was reading at a fourth or fifth grade level, so she had purchased books in that age group. Making sure her grip on the bag was secure, Scully opened the door, gasping when the wind yanked it from her grip on the door handle. A rush of cool air filled the car, and she struggled to get out of her seat, her increasingly large belly in the way. The hand that had been holding the door gripped the door's edge and she used that to lever herself out, after first making sure her feet had secure purchase on the wet pavement. Her coat billowed in the wind, her hair whipping into her face, and she nearly lost her hold on the bookstore bag. With a curse, she got free of the car, batting her coat down, and shut the door. Ducking her head, she half-ran, half-walked with an awkward waddle up the path to the front door, while one hand clutched the bag to her stomach and held her coat shut. The receptionist looked up with a look of surprise, for Scully had also brought a rush of wind inside with her, but it quickly turned to a moue of sympathy as she took in Scully's appearance. "Terrible weather, isn't it, Miss Scully?" She was known already. Most likely because she came at least once a day, if not more, and often stayed for several hours, but possibly because Mulder's case was quite unusual. Scully nodded, and after straightening her coat, headed down the hallway that would take her to the wing in which Mulder's room was located. She was there in minutes, and by habit, knocked on the door before entering the room. Fox was not alone. He was lying on a mat on the floor, his physiotherapist gently guiding one of his legs through passive range of motion exercises. Although they had no way of proving or disproving their theory, she and the doctors believed that wherever Mulder had been, he had not been free to move about, and had more than likely been kept motionless, and possibly restrained. The muscle deterioration was quite severe, hence the need for physiotherapy to restore it. At this time, he was currently unable to walk. He was able to move his head quite easily, and his fingers and toes, but he could not squeeze with any strength, nor lift his own arms and legs. He just managed to be able to turn the pages of a book. The physiotherapist, whose name was Mary Anne, was extremely confident that with time and intense therapy, he would regain full motor function. Scully hoped so, as much as she hoped his mind would recover. Mary Anne had looked up when she entered and smiled her greeting, as Scully had shrugged out of her trench coat and laid it on the back of a chair. Fox had turned his head and smiled too. Scully made sure the maternity sweater she wore covered her belly and walked over to join them by the mat, maneuvering around his wheelchair, which was parked to one side. It was another struggle to lower herself to the ground, but she managed. She let out a sigh of relief as her backside connected with the carpeted floor, and tucked her legs to the side, leaning on one hand. "Hi, Fox. Hi, Mary Anne," she said, and smiled into Fox's hazel eyes. "How are you today, Fox?" She had to hide a grimace as the baby gave her a sharp jab just under her ribcage, and shifted about, trying to encourage the baby to settle into a new position. It worked this time, for which she was thankful. It seemed her baby could be quite stubborn. Just like its father, she thought, and then shook her head slightly to banish the sadness that had arose. "Okay," Fox replied. Nothing more. Scully managed to keep the smile on her face, though it slipped a little. It was painful to sit there with his seeming lack of interest, especially as she had to go out of her way to come her for this visit. Sometimes she wondered if it was even worth the effort, and then immediately felt ashamed for thinking that way. She was, although not by any legal definition, his only family. Mary Anne interrupted her thoughts with a cheerful, "That's it for now, Fox. Let me get an orderly, and we'll get you set-up for your lunch, okay?" With that, she rose gracefully from the floor, and left the room. Scully watched her go to get an orderly. While Mulder had lost some weight during his absence, it was still difficult to lift him, particularly as he was almost dead weight. And while she was certainly quite strong for her own size, she did not think she would be much help in lifting him. As well, her pregnancy had thrown her off balance on more than one occasion. She took the opportunity to show Fox the books she had bought for him, pulling the bag closer and pulling the small stack out, and was heartened by the excitement that shone in his eyes. "I'll come back later and read one with you, okay?" she asked, and was rewarded with a beaming grin. "Great!" he exclaimed. Mary Anne returned then, with an orderly Scully had met a few times, named Thomas. They easily lifted Fox, and sat him in his wheelchair, which was then rolled to the table by the window. Scully accepted the hand Mary Anne offered, and got to her feet, thanking the woman quietly. She brought the books over to the table for Fox to look at while he waited for his lunch. She sat down to his left, and together they paged through one of them. When Thomas returned with Fox's lunch, Scully rose from her seat, and said, "I have to go now, Fox. I'll see you later on, okay?" She ran her hands through his silky soft hair, and he nodded against her hand. "Okay, Day-na," he replied. "See you later." He actually looked up from the book for a second and smiled at her. Her heart felt a little bit lighter as she left to go back to work. Bakersfield Chronic Care Home Fox watched Mary Anne [Nice lady] as she slowly bent his leg at the knee and pushed it forward. It did not hurt, but he was tired and bored. He knew he had to do his exercises, but could not understand why. So he did them and did not complain. Out loud, anyway. Inside his head he complained. He also talked inside his head all the time. It was easier in his head. [Done yet? No. Hungry. Time to eat? Not yet. Want to watch cartoons. Want to look at pictures. Want to see Day-na.] But sometimes, talking inside his head made his head hurt, or made him tired. Thinking did that too, so he tried not to think very much. And when the talking made him sleepy, he closed his eyes and floated away. Mary Anne placed his leg back down gently, and then he felt her hands on his other leg, one around his ankle, and one underneath his leg, below his knee. Sometimes if she touched his knee, it tickled, and made him laugh. Mary Anne hadn't tickled him at all today. She started to lift and lower his leg, and he sighed a little, trying to help move his leg like she had asked him to. There was a soft knock at the door. [Day-na?] The door opened and Day-na walked in. His friend. As she came near, Fox smelled cold air and peaches. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. [Yummy.] Fox opened his eyes and rolled his head to the side to see her. It made him happy that she was here, so he smiled. [Red. Pretty.] Day-na came to visit him a lot, and he liked it. He had another visitor, besides Mary Anne and Thomas-the-orderly and Katy-the-nurse, a friend named Walter, but he liked Day-na the best. Most of the time Day-na sat with him and read him stories, or watched cartoons with him. Those were the best times. But other times she was very quiet, and seemed very sad. When she was sad, sometimes he saw pictures of her in his head, and he didn't know what they meant or why he saw them. She looked different in the pictures, and she was almost always with a tall man with dark hair. A man he did not know. In some of the pictures she looked sad, or scared, which made him sad and scared too. The pictures also made his head hurt. He rolled his head to the other side and watched as Day-na sat down. She looked funny and made a noise when she reached the floor. "Hi Fox, Hi Mary Anne," she said, and smiled. [Really pretty.] "How are you, Fox?" Day-na asked, and then made another face. She moved around a bit on the floor. [Day-na hurt? Day-na sad.] He was bored and tired and sad now too, but he did not tell her that. He knew it would only make her sadder. He said only, "Okay." Mary Anne bent his leg and moved it again, and then spoke in her happy voice that she always used when she was talking to him. A lot of the nurses used happy voices when they talked to him. So did Walter, and Day-na sometimes, when she seemed the saddest. "That's it for now, Fox. Let me get an orderly, and we'll get you set-up for your lunch, okay?" [Lunch. Hungry. No more exercises. Glad.] Day-na watched Mary Anne leave the room, and then Fox saw her reach for the bag she had brought with her. He got excited, he just knew it was a present for him. She pulled out some books, and he felt a funny thumping inside, right over his belly. He wished he could sit up and touch the books. "I'll come back later and read one with you, okay?" Day-na said, and her voice sounded happy. She looked happy too. Which made him even happier, and made the thumping inside him go faster. He smiled as wide as he could and said, "Great!" He loved when she read stories to him. The sad/scary/hurting pictures never came while she was reading. The door opened again, and he turned his head again to see Mary Anne and Thomas-the-orderly. Thomas-the-orderly was nice too, and called him 'Sport' when he helped him into his wheelchair or in the bathtub. [Up. Up. Up. Like flying] Thomas-the-orderly and Mary Anne lifted him and put him into his wheelchair, resting his feet on the metal steps, and then Thomas-the- orderly wheeled him over to the table, where he ate all his food now. At first they had made him eat in bed, and he hadn't liked it. Things got spilled on him, and once he had got burnt by something hot. It had made him cry. Day-na came over and sat down at the table with him, bringing the books with her. She took one from the pile, called 'The Best Book of Spaceships', and opened it so that they both could see it. They paged through it slowly, mostly just looking at the pictures, until Thomasthe-orderly came back with his lunch. Day-na stood up then, and said, "I have to go now, Fox. I'll see you later on, okay?" She lifted her hand and patted him on the head. [Tickles. Soft. Nice.] Fox nodded his head, and wished she would keep touching him like that. "Okay, Day-na," he replied. "See you later." He looked away from the book and smiled at her. She looked really happy when he did that, and it made him feel good. Almost as good as getting the books, or when she had touched his hair. Day-na walked away then, and Thomas-the-orderly moved the books out of the way as he said, "Hey Sport, I'll just put your books over here while you have lunch. We don't want to get anything on them, do we?" [That would be bad.] Fox shook his head, and watched as the books were moved aside and the food tray was placed in front of him. It smelled good, and he felt his mouth water. [Hungry. Really hungry. Thirsty too.] He remembered he was supposed to say thank-you when someone gave him things, and then felt bad for a moment because he had not said thank- you to Day-na for the books. He hoped he had not made her sad. "Thank-you," he said. Thomas-the-orderly smiled at him and said, "You're welcome, Sport." And then everything else was forgotten as Thomas-the-orderly helped him eat. X-Files Office Scully tapped her foot impatiently as the otherwise empty elevator descended to the basement, looking at her watch once again. Traffic had been heavy coming back from Bakersfield's, and she had had to make a quick stop at the cafeteria, to grab a salad and a carton of milk to take back to the office. That had been somewhat of an ordeal. One that had her cursing inside for forgetting to pick something up outside the Bureau. She had been keeping her excursions about the Hoover building to a minimum, and surprisingly enough, Skinner had taken to coming down to their office instead of calling them upstairs for meetings. She wondered idly if he had heard some of the rumors, and was trying to somehow shield her from them. Now that she was well into her sixth month, and despite the generous cut of maternity clothing she had chosen, her expanding waistline, not to mention her bustline, was often noticeable. It had not helped that she had left her trench coat in the car, having taken it off for the drive back, due to the newest side effect of being pregnant – hot flashes. The eyes she had felt on her had been speculative and in some cases, snide and cutting. There had been mutterings and whisperings as well, but she could not make anything out, thankfully. She had wanted to run out of there, but had also known that was the worst thing she could do. After paying for her lunch, she had strode out with her head high. And her insides a mass of jello. The baby had reacted to her inner turmoil with a series of jabs and rolls. She had noticed that the baby often reacted to her moods, and particularly more so when she was tense or upset. Scully had waited for the privacy of the elevator to cup her hand over the mound of her belly and stroke it with gentle circles. As always, the gesture had helped to comfort her. Finally the elevator reached its destination, and binged quietly as its door opened. She stepped out and walked quickly down the dim hallway. Scully knew John would have covered for her if anything had come up, and did not begrudge her the extra time she took to visit Mulder, but she still felt guilty for it. The door was open, which made it easier, as her hands were full, and John had his chair spun around facing her as she walked in. She saw immediately that he looked perturbed, his lips a tight line, and his eyes narrowed. The sight had her steps slowing slightly, and her hand tightening on the tray she carried. "John..." she started to say, to apologize for the delay, when he interrupted. "Dana, I got a call from the hospital in Bellefleur," he said without preamble. "Theresa Hoese came out of her coma." Scully dropped the tray. The clatter as the hard plastic hit the floor was quite loud, and both she and John jumped. He recovered more quickly however, and seconds later was rescuing her lunch, the salad in its protective container a little bedraggled, but still edible, and the milk carton amazingly had not split open. She stood there stunned, watching bemusedly as he cleaned up for her, still hearing a faint echo of his words..."out of her coma"... "Dana?" John's voice, concerned. "Scully?" Spoken a bit louder. Scully blinked. "Huh?" John put everything down on the desk and took her gently by one elbow, leading her to her chair. [Mulder's chair]. She sank into it, staring at him, and finally found her voice. "I'm...okay, John. I was just ...a little surprised." To say the least. They had been checking with the Bellefleur Hospital several times a week since Mulder had been brought to Washington, and there had been no change in the three abductees who had returned with him. Nor had there been any other returns. She had begun to think that Mulder coming out of his coma had been a fluke. "I was too," he said honestly. "The call came in over an hour ago, but I couldn't reach you on your cell." The words were not spoken with censure, just as a statement of fact. They both looked over at her desk then, where her cell phone was lying. Scully thought back to how her cell phone had once been like an extension of her hand, because it was a connection, sometimes the only connection, to Mulder. How in the early days of his disappearance she had been afraid to let it out of her sight, worried she would miss the call that said he had been found, or that he would be lying hurt or abandoned somewhere and trying to reach her. These days, since he had been found, and she knew she would no longer hear his voice when she answered it, she was not as fanatical about carrying it with her. And to be honest, she occasionally forgot it completely. Scully said nothing about the fact that she had not had it with her, nor did John say anything further. "Did they say anything else?" "Just that she woke up early this morning, and asked to see her baby," John replied, stepping back now that she seemed to be all right, and moving to sit down in his chair. "I spoke to Skinner, and he was going to have Kimberley arrange our flights out." He looked at his watch and continued, "I'll give her a call, see if everything's booked." With that, he picked up the phone that sat at the edge of his desk, close to hers, and dialed the extension. Scully sat there and watched him, her thoughts whirling. Theresa had asked about her baby. So it would seem that she had her memories, or at least some of them, and was not mentally incapacitated as Mulder was. What the hell did it mean? Why was Mulder the way he was and Theresa Hoese was seemingly normal? It wasn't fair. [Life rarely is fair], said that little voice, the one she hated, and tried to ignore. But it was persistent, and cutting. [Maybe Mulder will be like that for the rest of his life. And yours.] The phone being returned somewhat noisily to its cradle silenced the voice, and Scully was grateful. She looked at John, who was shaking his head. "Flight's been booked, but Kimberley got pulled into a meeting with Skinner and Kersch, so she never got a chance to let us know," he said, his voice tight. Scully couldn't summon any anger. It was not Kimberley's fault. It wouldn't surprise her to learn Kersch had done it deliberately, though how he would have learned about Theresa Hoese was a question. "When do we leave?" she asked. "We need to be at the airport for 3:30," he said. "Why don't you head home and pack, and I'll swing by and pick you up at 2:30?" "Okay," Scully replied, and rose from her seat to gather her briefcase and her cell phone. "Thanks, John. I'll see you in just over an hour." He nodded, and she left the office as he was gathering his own things. Walking towards her car in the underground garage, Scully was remembering how she'd told Fox [Mulder] she would come back later and read him his new book. They would be gone for a couple days at least, and she wondered sadly if Mulder would even realize how much time had passed when she was finally able to visit him again. She sighed as she climbed into the car, reaching for the seat buckle and locking it in place. He probably wouldn't, for time really seemed to have no meaning to him, other than when he was hungry. She turned the key in the ignition and headed home to pack for another trip to Bellefleur Hospital Their flight had been delayed, the rental car company had screwed up, the weather was miserable, and Scully had not eaten since breakfast that morning. But finally they had arrived. She looked at John, walking slightly ahead of her as they approached the main doors of the Bellefleur Hospital, and surreptitiously rubbed at her temples, at the headache that was steadily increasing in nature. She felt nauseous as well, her legs shaky, and despite the urgency that was tugging at her to get to Theresa Hoese's room, she knew she had to get something inside her stomach. The juice and peanuts she had eaten on the plane had not been enough. John pulled the heavy door open and stood aside to let her enter first. She did so, managing a faint smile of thanks, and once they were both inside, he started immediately for the reception desk several feet away. Scully grabbed his arm, halting his progress, his head turning to meet her gaze, and before he could speak, said, "John, I need to get something to eat. I missed lunch, and the airplane snack is not sitting well." The slight look of irritation he wore was rapidly replaced by concern. He spun around quickly, his hands coming up to grasp her arms, just above the elbow. "Are you all right? You should have said something, we could have stopped at a restaurant on the way." "It wasn't that bad, but the car ride must have made it worse," she said, a little defensively. It was true though, the headache had come on midway between the airport and the hospital. "I'll get something from the cafeteria." "Let's go then," he said, and released one of her arms, leaving the other one in place as they walked down the hallway, following the signs that directed them to the cafeteria. He carried the tray for her as well, and purchased her lunch, buying himself only a coffee. She was a little uncomfortable eating while he watched, sipping at his coffee, and downed her sandwich and orange juice rather quickly. Once she was done, and the tray and its garbage disposed, John took her elbow again, and they made their way back to the main lobby, where he went to find out Theresa Hoese's room number. Scully rubbed slow circles over her belly, the food having awoken the baby. He returned moments later and stated, "Same room number as our last visit." They made the walk to the elevators in silence, Scully suddenly as nervous and nauseated as she had been when they had been on their way to find out if one of the John Does was really Mulder. What would Theresa Hoese tell them? The doors binged quietly when they opened, and Scully jumped slightly, having been focused on the ground and lost in thought. "Dana, you okay?" John asked. Scully nodded her head, embarrassed, and entered the elevator, John at her heels. Thankfully two other people stepped in as well, and she was saved from having to talk. When the elevator stopped at the third floor, John stepped forward and held the door for her again, touching her elbow lightly as she walked past him. His faster strides caught up to her before she had gotten very far down the hallway, and although he did not take her arm to guide her this time, she was very conscious of him close behind her. They showed their badges at the nurse's station and John informed the nurse, coincidentally the one they had previously met, Kris, that they were there to see Theresa Hoese. He also inquired her as to the status of Ray Hoese and Billy Miles, and was told that there had still been no change in their conditions. He thanked her, and they started down the hall. Scully felt a nervous fluttering in her stomach as they neared the hospital room, and her hand came up to rub at it, just below the bulge of her belly. Her steps faltered for a brief moment, until she told herself to buck up. Her spine straightened from the slump she had allowed it to fall into, and the remainder of her steps were steady. John knocked at the door and then pushed it open, indicating to Scully that she should go first, which she did. She took a deep breath, and let her eyes sweep the room. As before, only one bed was occupied, by Theresa Hoese. The younger woman was awake, sitting propped up by pillows, and she was staring curiously at them. Scully saw dawning recognition in Theresa's eyes, and stepped closer, saying, "Mrs. Hoese, I'm Agent Scully, and this is Agent Doggett." Her gaze swiveled to Doggett, who was standing just behind Scully, and then returned to her. "I...I remember you, Agent Scully," Theresa replied. "You came to my house with Agent Mulder before...before we were all taken." Scully's heart gave a little jump at the mention of Mulder, and she had to clear her suddenly dry throat before speaking again. "Do you...do you remember being taken?" she asked cautiously. "I remember standing in this circle of bright light, with Ray and Billy and a bunch of other people," Theresa replied, her face scrunching up a little. There was also a frown on her face, and sadness in her eyes. Scully understood then that Theresa was aware her husband had also been returned, but that he was still in his strange coma. She hesitated, and then asked, "Did you see...Agent Mulder?" Theresa nodded her head. "He was the last one to come. The man who had taken me there stepped into the light just after Agent Mulder, and they stared at each for a long time, and then..." Her voice trailed off, and Scully realized she had been unconsciously leaning forward as if she were going to snatch the words out of Theresa's mouth. She straightened up again, and prodded gently, heart hammering furiously. "And then?" "I woke up here," Theresa replied softly. Bellefleur Motel Scully sat listlessly in the parked, but still running car, while John was inside collecting their room keys. Those words of Theresa's, "I woke up here", were playing in a continual loop in her head, adding layer after layer of defeat onto her already over-burdened soul. John had taken over after she had stumbled back from Theresa's bed with a mumbled thank-you, and gone out into the hallway, desperately craving some air. He had joined her not long after, and by then, she had regained some of her composure, able to ask the nurse Kris for a look at Billy Miles and Ray Hoese's charts. As she had told them on their arrival, there had been no change in either man, but Scully had wanted to see for herself. A thought was fluttering at the edges of her consciousness, but she was not yet able to grasp it. Something about their charts... The car door opened noisily then, bringing with it a rush of cold air that chilled her to the bone, and John slid into his seat. She had not noticed him exit the small motel office, and barely contained her nervous start. He handed her a key, attached to a diamond-shaped, white plastic key ring reading 21, and said, "Mine's number 22, right next door, but not connecting." He reversed out of the small driveway and then drove a few hundred meters to the low one-storey building that was to the left of the house/motel office, pulling their rental car into a parking spot in front of what she assumed were their motel rooms, killing the engine. He hadn't refastened his seatbelt, and was out of the car before she had barely registered the fact that they had stopped again. Scully unbuckled slowly, for her fingers did not want to cooperate, and opened the door. She heaved herself out of the car with a sigh, before he could come around to help her out, and saw him halt the motion that would have brought him around the back of the car to her door. He instead popped the trunk and lifted their luggage out, calling out for her to go ahead, that he had them. She nodded, unsure as to whether he saw the gesture or not, and carried on anyway. Her eyes took in the features of the motel, which was located on the outskirts of Bellefleur, and was not the place she had stayed at with Mulder on her last trip here. Mulder. She remembered with stunning clarity the night she had gone to him, shivering from an as then unknown malady, and he had held her in his arms, tenderly and protectively, and with a kind of reverence. She could not have handled it if she and John had stayed at the same place. As weak as the thought made her seem, she knew it were so. That memory was replaced by a picture of Mulder earlier that day, at lunchtime, his sweet smile as he looked at the books she had brought him. It reminded her of how she had told him she would be back to read one to him. And instead she was here, hundreds of miles away from him, chasing a dead end. Defeat rolled through Scully in waves, and she staggered suddenly, one hand going out to the scarred wooden surface of her room door to support herself. She was so damn tired, and so damn scared. She heard two muffled thuds, and imagined their luggage being dropped on the ground, and then John was beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, gasping, "Dana? You okay?" Scully tried not to cringe, but was not successful. At his next words, she knew John had mistaken the motion as a shiver, and was thankful. She had not meant to offend; she had just not been prepared for him to try and enfold her in an embrace. He said, "Come on, let's get you inside. You're cold." She allowed him to move her aside and to take the key from her hand, his arm falling from her shoulders. He opened the door and she moved past him before he could help her again, going over to sit down on the edge of the double bed with a sigh of relief. The next thing she knew, her large carry-on bag was on the floor by her feet. She must have blanked out for a second; she had not even realized he was gone. John's concerned face was in her field of vision then, as he crouched down in front of her. "Dana? You going to be all right?" he asked. "I'm just really tired, John," she told him, feeling that overwhelming urge to cry, and hard on its heels, the need to be held. How contrary of her, for moments ago, she had shunned his touch, although he had not known it. Somehow he read her though, and tentatively lifted his hands and pulled her into a loose embrace. Their contact was very light, only her forehead resting against his chest, and his arms around her shoulders. But it helped. After a long moment, Scully pulled back, and seeing the concern still on his face, summoned a small smile to reassure him. "I'm really okay, John. I'd just like to get home." And see Mulder, she added silently. He did look a little more relieved, and said softly, "I know you do. I'm just sorry that seven a.m. tomorrow was the earliest flight I could book." He rose easily to his feet and added, "Get some sleep, Dana." "I will," she replied, equally as soft. "Thank-you, John." "No thanks are necessary, partner. Good night, Dana." With that he turned and headed to the door. "Good night." She got up from the bed, having had to almost lunge forward out of the too-soft mattress, and closed and locked the door behind him. The temptation to just crawl into bed was great, but years of disciplined routine had her digging out her pajamas and her make-up bag. She changed quickly, neatly folding her clothes and tucking her undergarments in the bag she always brought with her for such things, and headed to the bathroom. Nighttime ablutions were performed, and within ten minutes of John's departure, she was sliding into cold sheets, huddled on her side to get warm. Not surprisingly, she fell asleep within moments. And also not surprisingly, her sleep was disturbed by dream after dream. All of them about Mulder. ...Mulder in that horrible tortuous chair/device in a dark, dank chamber that she knew was a spaceship... ...Mulder's head rolling on the hospital pillow as he awoke for the first time, looking at her and asking, "Are you my mom?" .. ...Meeting with Mulder's doctors and hearing that he had the mental capacity somewhat similar to that of a child approximately 6 or 7 years old... ...Giving birth alone, without him by her side... ...Watching him grow older and older in appearance, although his mind never matured with his body... Scully tossed and turned through the night, and was never more grateful for a sunrise. Bakersfield Chronic Care Home Fox lay in the muted darkness and stared at the glow of the nightlight, the one that Day-na had brought for him after he had told her that sometimes he didn't like the dark. His hands trapped along his sides under the weight of the blankets, which were pulled to just over his belly, and he wished he could pull them up over his head. [Cold. Scared.] Now that he had the nightlight, the almost-dark mostly did not bother him, but he had just had a very bad dream. Staring at the nightlight helped make the scariness go away. He didn't remember very much about the dream, only how it had made him feel. [Cold. Scared. Alone.] He knew he could push the call bell that was right near his hand and someone would come in his room. But it would not be Katy-the-nurse or Thomas-the-orderly, because they only worked when it was not time for him to sleep. He liked the other nurses and orderlies just fine, but he didn't want one of them. [Day-na ] He wanted Day-na. He wanted to feel her fingers run through his hair as she whispered to him and smiled her really happy smile, the one she only gave to him. He wanted her to tell him it was all right and there was nothing to be afraid of. He wanted her to read a story to him until he felt safe again. He wanted her to stay with him until he fell asleep. [Sad.] Fox had to blink rapidly, feeling the wetness in his eyes. He tried to think why he was sad, and let his eyes close. A picture popped in his head. It was of Day-na, sitting by his mat showing him some books she had brought for him. The picture changed, and this time Day-na was sitting at the table in his room, turning the pages of one of those books. If he thought really hard, even though it made his head hurt, he could hear her talking to him. [I'll come back later and read one with you, okay?] His eyes popped open again. That's why he felt sad. Day-na had not come back to read to him. He felt that same wetness in his eyes again, hot and stinging, and knew they were tears. [Why? Day-na mad?] He tried to think harder, to try and remember if he had done something wrong, something to make her mad, and had to scrunch his eyes tight when his head started to boom. [Hurts.] Fox opened his mouth to gulp in air, and pushed away his thoughts. [Better.] The pain was soon gone, and Fox sighed. His sigh turned into a yawn, and he rubbed his cheek against his pillow. [Tired.] Sleep came, and with it, more dreams. ...Mary Anne smiling at him as she moved his leg in a back-and-forth motion, telling him it would make his muscles strong. She was very pretty when she smiled, and he thought about how pretty Day-na looked when she smiled, and like magic, Day-na was walking into his room. She had brought him books... ...Thomas-the-orderly sitting at the table with him after taking away his supper tray, and then opening the book from Day-na and reading to him. He was smiling because he was happy, but he was thinking that Thomas-the-orderly was a good reader, but not as good as Day-na... ...Day-na was sitting on a black couch with the dark-haired man, and they were clinking bottles together and then drinking from them. The dark-haired man smiled at her, and she was smiling back. They both looked happy... ...The dark-haired man was in a forest, and it was nighttime. Only Day-na was not there with the dark-haired man this time...and now the dark-haired man was him...He/Fox was not scared, he/Fox was looking for something. He/Fox walked into a circle of bright light, where other people were standing. And he/Fox and all the people were gone... Fox jerked awake, feeling hot and cold all at once, and this time he reached for the call bell, pressing it over and over again. Bakersfield Chronic Care Home Scully headed slowly down the hallway towards Mulder's room, tired in spirit and body. She had gotten John to drop her off at home from the airport, telling him she would not be in the office until Monday, and had taken only a few minutes to tote her luggage inside and change into more comfortable clothing before leaving to come see Mulder. What she had really wanted to do was lie down and take a nap, not having slept well the night before, and unable to rest during the flight home, but she had not been able to get Mulder off her mind. She mused to herself that she probably should have offered to do their report for Skinner about the trip to Bellefleur, but could not summon the energy to care. She hadn't even phoned Skinner herself, which before would have been one of her first priorities, leaving that for John as well. She shook her head slightly, disturbed by this funk she seemed to be in, and her lack of caring about almost everything. Her focus lately was on the baby and their health, and Mulder, in that order, and that was all. Just as she was about to reach for the doorknob to open Mulder's room, she was hailed. "Miss Scully! Miss Scully!" She dropped her hand, turning her head in the direction the voice was coming from, and saw one of Mulder's favorite nurses, Katy, hurrying towards her, waving her hand. She stepped away from the door and moved a few steps in Katy's direction. "Oh, Miss Scully, I'm glad I caught you before you went in," Katy said, a little breathlessly, as she reached Scully. Normally smiling, the nurse's sober face alarmed Scully, and she sucked in a breath. "Why? Is something wrong? Did something happen to Mu...to Fox?" Her voice had risen at the end , and she realized she was clenching her fists, down by her sides. She forced them open, and took a deep breath. Katy replied, "Oh, no, I'm sorry, Miss Scully, nothing's wrong." She bit her lip then and after huffing out a breath, continued, "Well, that's not exactly true. He's physically all right, but he's been very moody and uncooperative today. He even gave Mary Anne a hard time, and he's usually so good with his physical therapy. The night nurse told me he had a rough night as well, buzzing her several times because of bad dreams." Scully was a little confused as to why Katy seemed so concerned about Mulder's behavior. He had had rough days before, and had told her he had bad dreams sometimes. It certainly wasn't unusual for a patient to become frustrated, or difficult at times. And Mulder had often been both of those, on many an occasion. It would stand to reason that his younger self would be as well. She said as much to Katy. "That's true," the young nurse replied slowly. "But it's more than that. Thomas mentioned that yesterday evening after his dinner, Fox said he couldn't wait until you came to read him his story." She paused again, and then said, "I think he may be angry with you because you didn't come back." Though Katy had said the words without reproach, or condemnation, Scully felt them like little bullets tearing into her heart. Guilt crashed through her, and her shoulders sagged. The tears that were always so close to the surface welled in her eyes, and she ducked her head down to hide them from Katy. She knew that there had been no time to stop at the Home to see Mulder before she left, and phoning in to have someone leave him a message had seemed so cold at the time that she had decided not to. She had also assumed, wrongly it was now obvious, that he would not have remembered, or noticed she had not come back. Despite her guilt, she felt a small surge of pleasure, or perhaps it was solace, that Mulder had actually missed her. He had never seemed to before, which had hurt more than she could say, even though she knew it had never been a deliberate action on his part. Realizing that Katy was still standing there, Scully took another deep breath, blinking to clear her eyes, and looked up. An explanation was not necessary, but Scully felt compelled to tell Katy why she had not returned as she had told Mulder she would. "I was unavoidably called out of town for work," she said. "In the future if a similar situation arises, I will call and have someone speak to Fox." Smiling a little tightly, she added, "Thank-you for telling me, Katy." Katy nodded and then surprisingly reached out and touched her on the hand briefly, her expression sympathetic. "It'll be all right, Miss Scully. He's just feeling hurt, and maybe a little neglected." She made a surprised 'o', and quickly added, "Not that you neglected him, Miss Scully, that's not quite what I meant to say. It's just he doesn't understand, and we didn't know what to tell him. He seems very attached to you." She paused again, and when she spoke, appeared to be choosing her words carefully. "I have to say even though his behavior is a negative reaction, it's certainly a change...almost as though he is becoming...maybe more aware?" Her voice trailed off. Almost exactly what she had been thinking. Her voice sounded hopeful when she replied, "I hope you're right." She glanced at his door and then back at Katy. "I'm going to go see him now, and try and explain why I couldn't come back yesterday. Thank-you again, Katy." Katy smiled in response, and headed back to the nursing station. Scully watched her for a moment, and then moved to Mulder's door. She took a deep breath and entered to meet the lion in his den. On first glance Mulder [Fox] was not immediately visible. After shutting the door softly behind her and advancing slightly, Scully took a second look around the room, spying him sitting in his wheelchair by the far window. His back was to the room, and she almost missed the quick dart of his head as he checked to see who had come in while she was giving herself a quick once-over, ensuring her pregnant belly was adequately covered. But catch it she did, and when he did not say hello, stiffened slightly at his obvious attempt to ignore her. She forced herself to relax, knowing he would easily pick up on her tension and discomfort, and her guilt as well. Like all children seemed to be, he was quite adept at reading the other people around him. She sighed, nervously toying with the hem of her cardigan, and walked over to join him at the window. The table was close by, so she grabbed one of its chairs and dragged it with her, placing it to his left. "Hello, Fox," she said, and sat down. Her knee just barely brushed his leg, and he jerked away from the contact, still staring forward out the window, refusing to meet her eyes. She was wounded by his action, and had to suck in her breath to hide her distress. Frustration warred with her understanding. She knew that he had felt hurt by her not coming back, and that his reaction was normal for a child his age...[and on occasion for Mulder as an adult] her mind added, but it was still difficult to face. She was unsure how to proceed. Scully decided to plunge right in. Her voice was soft and even, and she kept her words simple. "Fox, I know you're not very happy with me, but aren't you going to say hello?" She reached out and laid her hand lightly on his leg, the one he had moved to avoid her touch a moment ago. He moved it again, although not very far because of his lack of strength and muscle loss, but she was persistent. She kept her hand where it was. And was rewarded by him turning his head to stare at her. She recognized the look on his face. Petulance. She had seen it on Mulder's face more times than she could count when she had argued with him or challenged one of his findings. But back during those times she had recognized, and refused to accept, the accompanying behavior for what it was, peevishness and bull-headed stubbornness. And she had either argued back, or sometimes even walked out on him. She could not do that now. Before she could speak, Fox did, his voice querulous. "You were supposed to read me a story. Why didn't you come back?" Scully felt a little pang in her heart, and blinked rapidly to stop the tears that threatened. Tiredness and sorrow compounded on the defeat and distress from the day before, and part of her wanted to yell out, 'I was trying to learn more about what's wrong with you, or maybe even a way to help you'. More words he would not understand. Instead she replied with, "I know I was, Fox, but I had to go to work for something very important, and I just wasn't able to come here. I'm very sorry that I wasn't able to read you your story. I'd like to make it up to you now, if you'll let me." There had been a pout on his face, his lower lip jutting out almost sulkily, and his hazel eyes had been sad, but at her words, the frown slowly slid away. He tilted his head to the side, his mouth twisting as he seemed to consider her offer. His look grew sly. "Will you read me all the stories you brought?" Surprised, Scully actually laughed. Relief washed through her. "How about we read a couple now, and save some for later?" At the word later, his eyes narrowed a little, and he asked suspiciously, "Later when?" Scully realized he thought she was going to leave again, and squeezed his leg. "Fox, I'm going to stay with you until bedtime, if that's all right with you." His face lit up. "Will you tuck me in?" For some reason those words struck hard. She remembered saying them to Ahab many times when her father had been home on leave, and the comfort that had come when Ahab had brought the blankets to her chin, and stroked her hair until she fell asleep. She fought back tears, thinking that she had always imagined hearing those words from her own child one day, before she had learned she was unable to bear children, and now she was hearing them from the father of the miracle baby inside her. It was not right, and as childish as it sounded, it was not fair. What had They done to him? And how the hell was she going to help him, if she could not find that out? "Day-na?" Fox's voice registered, sounding worried and scared. Scully blinked, and managed a small smile. "Of course I'll tuck you in, Fox," she told him. "How about I get a book? Do you know which one we should read first?" "The Best Book of Spaceships," he said promptly. "It's by my bed." Scully had to put both her hands on either side of her chair to push herself off, grunting just a little at the effort it took to get up, and walked over to Fox's bed. As he had said, the book was on the little night table to the left of his bed. She picked it up with one hand, and with the index finger of her other hand, traced the picture of the rocket on the hard laminated cover. It was the book she and Fox had been looking at before she had returned to the Hoover building and the news that Theresa Hoese was out of her coma. With another, tinier sigh, she returned to Fox's side, resuming her seat beside his wheelchair, and scooted her chair a bit closer. She laid the book in his lap, and leaned against him, putting her right arm around his shoulders, her left hand opening the book. Fox turned his head towards her, bumping her chin, and smiled at her, before tucking his head in the hollow of her shoulder, snuggling into her, his nose in her neck. He made a sniffing noise that tickled her skin, said, "You smell pretty," and turned his head again, to look at his book. Scully sat completely still for a long moment, shivers racing through her from the feel of his hot breath on her neck, reminded of how Mulder had often snuggled his head in that same spot, tickling her with his nose and trying to blow in her ear. Tears sprang to her eyes, and her breath hitched in her throat. Oh, God she missed him so. The baby kicked then, just as Fox said, "Day-na, read, please." She sniffled back the tears and cleared her throat. "Yes, sir," she said, hearing his giggle, and turned to the first page. Bakersfield Chronic Care Home Fox had been staring at the outside world ever since Thomas-the-orderly had taken away his almost full lunch tray. He was not hungry, and he did not feel like doing anything, except maybe sleeping because he was really tired. But Thomas-the-orderly had not helped him into bed, he had sat him in his wheelchair and pushed it over to the window. [Angry. Sad. Lonely.] He sighed. [Tired.] There was a noise at the door and he couldn't help turning his head to see who was there. He did it quickly though, so they wouldn't see him looking. He saw red hair and knew it was Day-na. [Glad?] [Mad!] Pictures came in his head so fast he had to shut his eyes tight because they made it hurt and his stomach feel funny. The bad-funny that made him want to be sick, not the good-funny that made him laugh. Pictures of Day-na with the dark-haired man, and they both looked angry. [Me?] It confused him, and his head started hurting more, so he did what he always did when the pictures hurt, he pushed them away. Fox could hear Day-na's footsteps and then out of the corner of his eye he saw a chair being put down beside him. He still did not look at her, only stared outside, and she said hello to him. Her knee touched him, and he pulled away quickly. [Angry.] Day-na made a sad noise, and he wanted to look at her, but he remembered that he was mad at her, and didn't. Part of him wanted her to go away, and the other part was really happy that she was here. Confused, he kept staring out the window. "Fox, I know you're not very happy with me, but aren't you going to say hello?" Day-na said to him, and then he felt her hand touch his leg, the leg she had bumped before. He tried to move away, not able to go very far, but her hand stayed. Why wouldn't she leave him alone like she had yesterday? [Lonely.] Fox turned his head to look at her. "You were supposed to read me a story. Why didn't you come back?" After asking the question he felt like crying, and struggled not to, his lower lip poking out with the effort. Day-na looked like she wanted to cry too, and that made him feel sad and sorry. He watched her blink her eyes a few times, and had to blink his own eyes too. "I know I was, Fox, but I had to go to work for something very important, and I just wasn't able to come here. I'm very sorry that I wasn't able to read you your story. I'd like to make it up to you now, if you'll let me." Fox knew that sometimes sorry was just a word people said because they were supposed to, not because they were. He turned his head sideways a little to look at Day-na's face, and saw in her eyes that she really meant it. He scrunched his face up, thinking about how much he wanted her to stay, and that maybe she would read to him, and maybe take him for a walk, or they could even just sit together and watch TV. He thought about the books she had brought, and how when Thomas-the-orderly had read one to him it hadn't been the same. He got an idea, one that made him want to smile, and said hopefully, "Will you read me all the stories you brought?" Day-na laughed, and Fox felt the happy feelings in his stomach, the ones that made him squirm. She said, "How about we read a couple now, and save some for later?" Some of the happy feelings went away, and he started to feel scared that she was going to leave again. "Later when?" he asked, thinking maybe he wasn't scared, but mad instead. Day-na's hand on his leg gave him a little squeeze, which felt really good, like a tickle but more too, one he felt all over, and she told him, "Fox, I'm going to stay with you until bedtime, if that's all right with you." [Glad! Glad! Glad!] "Will you tuck me in?" he asked Day-na. Maybe if she stayed while he was asleep, the scary/strange dreams wouldn't come, and he wouldn't have to press the call button for the nurse. And lie there waiting for her to come and say there was nothing to be afraid of, only her voice didn't sound like she meant it. He had wanted to tell Day-na about the dreams, but thinking about them was making the glad feelings go away, so he tried to forget the dreams, and watched Day-na. She looked sad again, and like she was far away. He didn't like when she was sad, it made him feel sad too. "Day-na?" he asked, and his voice sounded all wobbly, almost like when he cried. He felt a little better when Day-na smiled at him, even if it wasn't his favorite smile. "Of course I'll tuck you in, Fox," she told him. "How about I get a book? Do you know which one we should read first?" [Glad! Happy. Not lonely.] "The Best Book of Spaceships," he said quickly, and tried not to wiggle in his wheelchair with his excitement. "It's by my bed." It was the first book she had showed him of the ones she had brought, and even though he had wanted to read it really badly, he had said no both times when Thomas-the-orderly had asked him if he wanted to read it. Fox turned his head so he could watch Day-na go over to his night table and get the book, and saw her touching the cover with her finger, like he did. He wondered if she pretended she was inside the rocket too. [Whoosh! Up. Up. Up. To touch the stars.] When Day-na came back, she moved her chair real close to his wheelchair, and put the book on his legs. She put her arm around his shoulders, almost like a hug, and used her other hand to open the book. Maybe he would ask her for a whole hug after the story. Her arm on his shoulders felt warm and soft and safe, so Fox turned his head to look at her. He bumped her chin by accident, but she didn't look mad, and he smiled at her. He could only smell her a little bit, and he liked to smell her, so he put his head down by her shoulder, letting his nose poke into her neck. He closed his eyes for a second sniffing a big sniff, and saw a picture of the dark-haired man [Me?] with his nose in Day-na's neck, and it did not make his head hurt. It was a nice picture, and made him feel good. "You smell pretty," he told Day-na, and looked at his book again. Day-na did not move, or say anything. [Waiting. Why?] Squirming inside, Fox said, "Day-na, read, please." Finally Day-na said, "Yes, sir," and he giggled as she reached for the first page. 3:30 pm They had spent a pleasant hour sitting by the window, reading "The Best Book of Spaceships" not once, but three times, at Fox's pleading insistence. With the addition of his puppy dog look, Scully had been powerless to resist, and to be honest, she had enjoyed their closeness as they had sat together. When Mulder [Fox] had first awoken from his coma and she had discovered he was essentially a child in a man's body, she had been very uncomfortable touching him in certain ways, ways that now seemed inappropriate and...wrong. She had limited herself to holding his hand, ruffling her fingers through his hair, and occasionally pressing a kiss on his cheek. While she still was not ready to accept the fact that his condition was permanent, she had in a sense come to terms with it for now, and allowed herself to be a little more natural around him. Thus she touched him as she would her nephew Matthew. And waited until she was home alone in her empty bed to remember the ways she had touched him for too short a time before he had gone away. Remember, and dream. Oh, did she dream. Every night. Very vividly, and in full Technicolor, with sights, sounds and tastes, that had her waking breathless and wanting. That left her lying awake waiting for the night to end. Scully managed to contain her sigh, and looked down at Fox's dark head as she pushed his wheelchair along the hallway back to his room. He had been pretty quiet during the last leg of their walk, which she had desperately needed after sitting so long in the not exactly luxurious chair by the window, and if she was not mistaken, he could probably use a nap. So could she. Her legs were tired from the combination of walking and pushing the wheelchair, not to mention the fact that while Fox may not have regained all the pounds he had lost, he was certainly no lightweight. As well, the baby had been doing the rumba on her kidney for the last little while, and her lower back was aching. This was where the father of the baby offered to rub the mother's back, she thought with a slight bitterness, and sighed again. She still could not allow herself to relax enough or to lower her guard and ask such a thing of Skinner, despite their newfound closeness, nor the Gunmen or Doggett, and she could not expect her mother to drop everything and come over every time her back hurt. Which was nearly on a daily basis. So she suffered alone. One particularly strong twinge had her halting in her tracks, and bringing a hand up at an awkward angle to rub ineffectually at the spot. No matter how she twisted her body, she could not reach it properly. "Day-na?" came Fox's voice, sleepy and questioning. "How come we stopped?" Scully dropped her hand and straightened, tugging at her cardigan in her now habitual gesture to cover the belly her contortions had exposed. "Well Fox, my back was itchy, and I stopped to scratch it," she told him. She hated lying to him, hated the fact that she felt it necessary to hide her pregnancy from him, but still could not bring herself to explain it to him. When she told Mulder about their baby, she wanted to tell Mulder the man, her partner and lover, not Fox the boy, her surrogate child. She was really hoping that 'when' would be soon. "I'm tired," he said, not quite whiningly. So am I, she thought, and bit back a sigh of frustration. "I know you are," she said evenly. "We're almost there." With that, she resumed pushing the wheelchair, although the speed had decreased significantly. Just as they reached Fox's room and she was maneuvering his wheelchair to the side so that she could open the door, she felt a light touch on her shoulder. "Hi, Miss Scully," she heard, and identified the voice as belonging to Mary Anne, the physiotherapist. Scully paused and turned to face the physiotherapist. "Hello, Mary Anne," she said, raising an eyebrow in question at the woman. "Our session today didn't go very well, and when I heard that you were here and Fox seemed to be in much better spirits, I thought we'd give it a go," Mary Anne explained. She stepped past Scully and crouched down in front of Fox. "Would that be okay with you, Fox?" Fox lifted his head from where it had been bobbing against his chest and yawned in her face, making no effort to cover his mouth. He did remember to say, somewhat sheepishly, "Sorry." He looked at Scully and then back at Mary Anne, his lower lip poking out and his eyes pleading once more. "I'm really tired," he said, and it was audible in his voice. Mary Anne smiled at him, patting his knee, and said, "That's okay, Fox. Why don't I get Thomas and we'll get you in bed for a nap, and we'll give it a shot afterwards?" Scully watched as Fox again looked at her, as if for approval, and she said, "That sounds like a good idea, doesn't it Fox? Maybe I can take a nap while you do too, what do you think?" "You're not leaving, Day-na?" he asked. "I told you I'd stay and tuck you in, remember?" she asked softly, and was unable to resist the urge to run her hand through his hair, turning what would have been a caress into a playful ruffle. "I'm glad," he almost-whispered. He turned to face Mary Anne again and said, "Okay, after mine and Day-na's nap." Scully closed her eyes tightly on a wave of sadness as she remembered the last 'nap' she and Mulder had shared, a few days before he flew to Bellefleur and briefly out of her life. Mary Anne rose then, saying, "I'll be right back, you two," and Scully opened her eyes again, thankful to note that the physiotherapist had apparently missed her little trip down memory lane and was already headed down the hallway towards the nurse's station. "Let's..." her voice was husky and low, and she had to clear her throat before continuing. "Let's get you inside, huh?" She opened the door to his room and with only a little difficulty, got the wheelchair and Fox safely inside. By the time she had pushed the wheelchair to his bed, Mary Anne had returned with Thomas. The two efficiently lifted Fox from the wheelchair and had him situated in his bed within minutes. Scully fussed with his blankets as he watched her sleepily. His struggle to keep his eyes open was obvious. Scully smiled at him and whispered, "It's okay, you get some rest. I promise I will be here when you wake up." He nodded slowly, his eyes intent on hers, and whispered back, "You promised." When she reached out, bending awkwardly and holding in a wince, and touched his cheek reassuringly, he let his eyes close, and snuggled into his pillow. Scully straightened slowly, one hand bent behind her and supporting her back, and turned around to see Mary Anne watching from the opened doorway. The physiotherapist motioned her over, and when Scully reached her side said softly, "Could I talk to you for a few minutes?" Her eyes darted from Scully to the figure lying in the bed and back, a clear indication she did not want the conversation overheard. Scully nodded, and the two stepped out of Fox's room. "Is something wrong?" she asked. "No, not at all," Mary Anne said quickly. "I'm sorry to give you that impression. I noticed you wincing and rubbing your back there by Fox's bed, and I saw you doing the same when you were returning from your walk. Is it bothering you?" Scully arched her eyebrow in what she hoped gave her face the 'what, are you kidding?' look, and then chuffed out a half-laugh, half-moan. "It's killing me." "The reason I'm asking is that I'd like to offer you a back rub, if you don't mind my presumptuousness. I'm also a registered masseuse." If Scully had been a demonstrative person, she would have kissed Mary Anne. As it was, she gave her a beaming smile and a heartfelt, "Please!" Mary Anne laughed, and said, "Come on this way." Scully hesitated slightly, looking at the closed door, biting her lip. What if Fox woke up, and she wasn't there? "Thomas will keep an eye on him, don't worry. We'll tell him to come get you right away if Fox wakes up," Mary Anne said gently. Scully nodded slowly, the lure of a relief from the ache in her back to great to resist. Fox had been very tired, and with his troubled sleep of the night before, he would probably nap for at least an hour. He would be just fine. "Let's go," she said, and followed the therapist down the hallway. Mary Anne led her to a small lounge around the corner from the nurse's station. It contained two couches with a low coffee table in front, one kitchen-sized table with chairs by a window, and in one corner, a bed-like examining table that reminded Scully of those found in a Physiotherapy clinic. "You don't have to get changed," Mary Anne said as she indicated that she wanted Scully to go over to the bed/table. "But you'll be more comfortable if you take your sweater and shoes off." Scully nodded and toed her shoes off, nudging them aside. She hesitated slightly before undoing the buttons that held her over-sized cardigan closed over her belly, glancing up through the curtain of her hair at Mary Anne. The therapist had taken a crisp, white sheet from a cupboard against the wall, and after snapping it open, arranged it on the bed. Once it was to her satisfaction, she reached under the bed and pulled out a rubber-coated step stool. She looked up and smiled at Scully, who was standing with her arms folded over her stomach. "Climb up," Mary Anne said, and held out a hand to assist her. Scully took it, feeling awkward, uncomfortable, and just a little bit ungainly, and placed one foot on the stool. Her center of balance had shifted in the last couple weeks, due to her ever-burgeoning belly, and she was grateful for the hand Mary Anne had offered, wobbling slightly. Once she was settled on the bed, lying on her left side, her right leg drawn up and resting on a pillow Mary Anne had provided, the therapist began. She started with gentle strokes, using the palms of her hands, rubbing at Scully's lower back. "How far along are you?" she asked softly. Scully, who had let her eyes slip shut at the first stroke of Mary Anne's hands on the aching back, popped them open again. Even though it had been silly to think no one had noticed, the lack of questions or even curious glances had lulled her into believing it was so. She had become used to not talking about her pregnancy, or displaying her belly, here or at the Hoover Building, except for the occasional inquires from Skinner or Doggett in the privacy of their offices. Besides, there was no way the therapist could have missed what was practically under her nose. "I..." she started to say, and could not find any more words. Mary Anne had not stopped her motions at all, although they slowed a little when she leaned forward to meet Scully's eyes for a moment, an apologetic expression on her face. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," she said. "You don't have to say anything at all." She moved back out of sight, hands now moving in slow, firm circles, and continued, her voice a soothing prattle. "I could tell your back was really bothering you, and wanted to help you. I usually give some of the staff members massages, and this is no trouble at all. You looked like your back was really bothering you when you were pushing Fox's wheelchair." Scully sighed harshly. She was so tired of keeping everything bottled up inside. Her relationship with her mother had been a little strained since she had shared the news about both the baby and Mulder's disappearance, and while they now talked every few days, she found it difficult to share many of her thoughts and feelings with her. Her mom had accompanied her to her second ultrasound, the one with her new doctor, thoroughly investigated by the Gunmen after her experience with Dr. Parenti and his clinic. They had both cried. Scully had clutched the still picture of the baby in her hand all the way home, and then tucked it carefully away in the scrapbook she had started. But she went alone to all her other appointments, and sat in the waiting room trying not to stare at the expectant women with their significant others along with them to share in the experience. Wishing Mulder was there with her, to crack jokes in her ear and to tease her about her slowly emerging waddle. Mary Anne hit a particularly sore spot, and the pain pulled Scully from her thoughts. She flinched away, gasping out a low, "Ooooh." "Hmmmm...hang on, Miss Scully," Mary Anne said, and switched the motion of her hands, becoming more soothing and less aggressive. Scully relaxed back into her touch, loosening her tensed shoulders. This time the sound that came from her mouth was a moan of relief, drawn out into an almost giggle as she realized it also tickled a little. As Mary Anne moved upwards in slow measure, the tension continued to ooze from Scully's body. She was not quite ready to go to sleep, but she was definitely feeling tranquil and at ease. Remembering the therapist's question, she quietly said, "Almost seven months." "You look wonderful for seven months," Mary Anne said. "Aside from your belly, and that cute little duck walk you've got going, I wouldn't have been able to tell that you were pregnant." She paused for a second and then said, with just a hint of questioning interest, "You hide it well." Scully was not sure what to reply to that. She settled for a non- committal 'hmmmm' sound. While she was sure the woman's motives were purely good intentioned, spiced with a healthy dose of curiosity, she was not going to share any of the details with her. It would come out sounding like some Elizabethan tragedy with a science fiction twist, or an over-dramatized, clichéd soap opera plot. "When are you going to tell Fox?" Mary Anne asked then, fingers digging into her shoulder with just the right amount of force. Not quite painful, but not a soothing caress either. "He's going to notice sooner or later." She paused for a second as she worked at a rather tight knot where shoulder became neck, and her next words were almost an echo of Mulder's nurse, Katy. "We, and by we I mean Thomas and the day nurses and myself, have all noticed a change in Fox over the last couple of days. He is more alert, and certainly seems more aware of his surroundings and the people around him, and he is also showing more of an interest in his world." "I know," Scully said softly. How could she not? She thought about it every time she saw him, and even the times when she did not. The subject was never far from her mind. She was a little disconcerted to be discussing it with his physiotherapist however, thinking it was something to be talking about with his doctor. Mary Anne's next words were an explanation of sorts for her interest. "It may seem like I'm prying...in fact, I know I am...but I'm concerned for Fox's welfare, just as I am sure you are. Everything affects him, no matter how big or small, which in turn affects his health and his healing. A prime example would be his unwillingness to participate in his exercises today because of how he felt about what he probably perceived as your abandonment of him." Scully could not help tensing up then. She could not feel any guiltier than she already did, but still the words rankled, and were like salt on an open wound, even if they had not been meant in censure. How strong did she have to be? She wanted to cry the question to the Heavens, but was frightened of what the answer would be. She knew her burden would soon to be too great, if Fox [Mulder] did not get better before she had their child, and was frightened too of what would happen then. Everyone had a breaking point, and she feared she was fast approaching hers. Something was going to have to give. Soon. Scully sighed then, the relief and pleasure she had been receiving from Mary Anne's capable and skilled hands was being unwrought by her dangerous and damning thoughts. She needed to talk to someone, to ask for help, something she had always found difficult to do. She just couldn't do this alone anymore. Mary Anne must have felt that she had spoken too candidly, or that she had perhaps hurt Scully's feelings, for she suddenly said, "I hope you didn't take offense, Miss Scully. I actually hadn't meant to talk to you about Fox while I was trying to help you relax and ease your pain. I'm sorry if I went too far." Scully craned her head back to meet the therapist's gaze. "It's all right, Mary Anne. I know you're just thinking of Fox, and I appreciate your caring. I'm quite sure not everyone would be this involved or interested in a patient's care, particularly someone whose job it is to help heal his body, not his mental ailments." She couldn't hold her head that way for too long, and was forced to lower it again. "Believe me, everything you have said has already been on my mind, I just don't know what to do about it yet. I do know I can't hide this baby forever, and am trying to think of the right way to tell him." "I think that's a good idea, Miss Scully," Mary Anne said, and then gave her shoulder one last squeeze. "How are you feeling now?" Mentally exhausted, Scully thought. She consulted her body, and realized that it felt much better than her mind. "Much better," she said. "Thank-you very much." "I'm glad I could help," the therapist said, and helped Scully up into a sitting position. She checked that the footstool was beneath Scully's feet and said, "Okay, all set." Scully felt for the stool with her toes and then stood, Mary Anne's hand moving to her elbow to guide her down to the ground. Once there she located her shoes and carried them over to a chair to sit down and put them on. Mary Anne tidied up the exam bed, discarding the sheet in a conveniently located laundry bin, and then waited for Scully to rise to her feet. They walked out of the lounge, Mary Anne holding the door open for Scully, and headed down the hall together to Fox's room. Thomas was just coming out when they got there, and when he saw them, he shook his head with a smile. "Still out like a light," he said. Scully thanked them both, and entered quietly. There was a more comfortable looking chair by the bed, and she smiled at the thoughtfulness of the gesture, knowing it was Thomas who had brought the chair. She sank into it gratefully, propping her chin on one hand, and watched as Fox slumbered on, his face relaxed and peaceful. She tipped her head back onto the cushioned edge of the chair and let her eyes closed, listening to the soft, even breaths coming from the bed. Her free hand came up and settled onto her belly, rubbing it in slow, easy circles, soothed by the gentle rolling motions within. Sleep snuck up on her minutes later. 4:50 pm Fox stretched in the bed, as much as he was able, feeling his toes and fingers wiggling beneath the blankets. He kept his eyes closed for the moment, his mouth opening wide in a jaw-cracking yawn, and then felt a tickle in his nose. He scrunched up his nose and sniffed, and knew right away that Day-na was nearby. [Smells pretty.] He turned his head to the side, popping his eyes open, and there she was. Sleeping in a chair next to his bed, a blanket thrown over her. Fox managed to lift himself up onto one elbow, and stared at her. Her neck was bent all funny, and he thought it was going to be very sore when she woke up. She didn't look as tired as she had after their walk, her face all smooth and not crinkly, and he was glad that she had gotten to nap like he did, and that she hadn't left. Even though she had said she would be there when he woke up, he had still been worried she would have been gone. He sighed happily. [Glad.] As he looked at her, his eyes got a little blurry, and his head started to hurt. So he let them slip shut again, and lay back on his soft pillows. And then a picture was just there, like a movie in his mind. The picture was of Day-na, and he knew he was sitting beside her, even though he could not see himself. They were on a black couch, and he was looking down at her as she slept, her head almost resting on his shoulder. Fox saw his hand come up and touch her in the picture, touch her cheek and push some of her hair away from her face. Fox gasped, and forced his eyes open, his breaths coming all noisy and rough, coming up on his elbows once more to stare at Day-na. [Don't understand!] He could feel a fast thumping in his chest, and it almost hurt. At the noise he made, Day-na's eyes opened too, and she sat up with a gasp of her own, her hands pushing at her blanket. "Fox, what's wrong?" she asked, and her voice was shaky and funny. Not funny ha-ha, but funny scared. He tried to tell her, but couldn't find the words. The picture was gone, and he couldn't remember what it had been about any more. He was still making those sounds, his mouth hanging open. [Help.] Day-na got up, her eyes scared, and leaning against his bed, put one hand on his cheek. The other hand began running through his hair, while she made soft, shushing sounds. "It's okay, Fox. Calm down. Everything's okay. Take nice, slow breaths." [Safe.] Her hand on his cheek felt good, warm and soft, and the other one in his hair was making him feel a lot better. He let himself fall back onto the pillows again, and tried to do what Day-na had said, take nice, slow breaths. "That's it, Fox," Day-na said. "Nice and slow." He nodded at her, and she smiled. Not her really happy smile, the one that made his tummy feel all squiggly, but not a fake smile either. He smiled back. "Can you tell me what happened, Fox?" Day-na asked softly. "Did you have a bad dream?" Her hands were still on his cheek and hair, and her eyes didn't look scared any more, just a little worried. [Dream? All mixed up.] "No...don't think...not a bad dream," Fox said, shaking his head. He was trying to remember what had made him all scared, and couldn't. "I..." A sound came from his door then, and Thomas-the-orderly walked in. He had been whistling softly, but when he saw them, his eyes got big and he rushed over. "Is something wrong?" Day-na stood up straight and moved back a bit, her hands gathering her sweater in her fists, her arms crossed over her tummy like she was cold, and said, "I think Fox just had a bad dream, Thomas. He's okay now." "That right, Sport?" Thomas-the-orderly asked him, and walked past Day-na to lean over his bed and ruffle his hair. "All better now?" He then turned to Day-na and said, "It's almost his dinnertime. I need to get him cleaned up." Day-na nodded and asked, "Do you need any help?" "We can handle it, can't we, Sport?" Thomas-the-orderly asked him. "Sure," Fox said back, and smiled him. Day-na bent to pick the blanket up from the floor and folded it neatly, laying it on the chair she had been sitting on. "Thank-you for the blanket, Thomas," she said, and Fox looked from her to Thomas-theorderly, who nodded at her. "Fox, I'm just going to stretch my legs while Thomas is getting you ready for dinner, okay? I'll just be outside for a little bit." "Okay, Day-na," Fox said, and watched her walk to the door. Once there she turned a bit and waved at him, and then walked out, closing the door behind her. Thomas-the-orderly helped him sit up, and pulled the wheelchair closer to the bed. "Okay, Sport, you remember this part? You're going to push with your arms while I lift you, and then we'll move to the chair, okay?" He put Fox's arms in position, so that his hands were on the mattress on either side of him. "Ready? 1, 2 and go!" [Push. Up. Moving. Down.] "There you go, Sport. Let's get you to the bathroom and then set you up at your table." When they were finished in the bathroom and Thomas-the-orderly had pushed the wheelchair back out into the room, Fox couldn't help searching for Day-na. A part of him was still worried that she would not come back. But she was there, standing by his window looking out. [Pretty.] [Very sad.] She turned when she heard them come out of the bathroom, and her mouth smiled. Her eyes did not. "All cleaned up?" she asked, and came over to where Thomas-the-orderly had parked his wheelchair, at the table. "He's all set," Thomas-the-orderly said, and looked at his watch. "Dinner will be here in about ten minutes, okay, Sport?" He patted Fox on the shoulder and started out of the room. He stopped halfway to the door, and turned back. "Oh, Miss Scully, I took the liberty of ordering an extra dinner for you." Fox looked at Day-na, who had another funny look on her face. He hadn't seen it before, and was not sure what it meant. He knew it wasn't a scared or sad face though. He heard her make that sighing sound, the one she made when she couldn't decide if she was going to cry or be happy, and then she spoke. "That's very kind of you, Thomas," she said. "Thank-you so much." The orderly smiled and left the room, and Day-na moved over to pick up a book from the stack by the window. "How about we read another story until dinner comes?" Fox nodded eagerly, and waited for her to sit next to him again. He would get to smell her real close, and maybe she would put her arm around him like she had before. 9:40 pm Scully lifted her arms up over her head to their fullest extension, her fingers meeting and clasping, and leaned side to side slightly, feeling the pull in tight, sore muscles that had been sitting in almost the same position for too long. She wished she were able to bend and touch her toes to stretch out her legs, but that particular ability had gone by the wayside in the last month with the ever-expanding girth at her middle. She was actually thankful that so far she could still see her feet. Even though her doctor had told her that her weight gain was perfectly normal and on track for this stage of her pregnancy, she had the occasional thought, particularly when attempting to rise from a seated or prone position, that she was quite large. The reason for her most current discomfort rolled his head on his pillow so that he faced her once again, the sheets rustling quietly as he moved. She could see that his eyes were open, watching her. "What's wrong, Fox?" she asked softly, and lifting up partially from the chair, grasped it's arms in her hands and dragged it closer to his bed. That way she could touch him easily, her arm hooked over the bedrail, her hand stroking his blanket-covered arm with a feather-light touch. "Can't sleep," he muttered sulkily. Scully wondered if her continuing presence was disturbing him enough that he could not relax and fall asleep, or if perhaps their activity after dinner had wound him up too much. She had read him his new favorite book, "The Best Book of Spaceships" again, and after that they had watched a cartoon, before Mary Anne had returned for his exercises. He had been in far more of a cooperative mood, and the session had gone well, and afterwards they had taken another walk. Just not as long as their first one. They had then worked on a 500-piece puzzle Thomas had dug up for them until it was time for Fox to get ready for bed. Once more she had excused herself from the room and walked the hallways while Thomas had gotten Fox cleaned up and in his pajamas. "Too much excitement?" she asked next, a gently teasing smile on her face. Fox jerked his head quickly in a negative shake. "Was fun," he stated emphatically, but with tiredness there as well. His lips twisted into a frown. "Just..." his voice trailed off. "Just what, sweetie?" she asked, leaning forward, a little worried now. Was he sick, or in pain, and didn't know how to tell her? "Are you...is something wrong?" Fox shook his head again. "Just can't sleep. Too many...too many thinks in my head." Thinks? For a moment Scully was baffled, and then she realized he had merely used the wrong tense, that he had meant to say 'thoughts'. "Oh," was all she said for the moment, remembering with a pang that Mulder had often been unable to sleep when his mind just refused to let go of things. She also remembered how she would lie down with him and gather him into her arms, and talk softly while rubbing his temples in tiny circles or stroking his hair until he slept. And how sometimes sleep often became the farthest thing on both their minds. Scully sighed; she did not want to remember those times right now. Those memories belonged at home in her bed with Mulder, not here with the man-child he had become. "Do you want to talk about the 'thinks'?" she asked him, and both saw his headshake and heard his quiet 'no'. An idea formed, and she got up from the chair with an unnoticed heave, hands going to the bed rail. She lowered it, aware of Fox watching her with curious, sleepy eyes, and said, "I'll lie with you until you fall asleep, okay?" Providing comfort not only to Fox, but to herself as well, having been denied such a thing for so very long now. "Okay." Softly spoken, but with relief too. "Can you roll over on your side?" she asked, gesturing for him to turn in the direction that would have him facing away from her. So that she could maneuver her body in a way that kept her belly from touching him. For although she had decided to tell him about the baby, it was not going to be tonight. "Uh-huh," was his quiet reply, followed by little grunts as he did what she had requested. Once he was settled again, Scully climbed awkwardly onto the bed, glad it was at its lowest setting. She did not pull the covers down; she was going to lie on top of them. It would be easier to get out of the bed when he did fall asleep. She rested her head on her folded arm, on the corner of pillow he had left her, keeping her lower half angled away from him, and lifted her free hand to run through his hair. He made the same snuffling, not quite a snoring noise she had heard from Mulder many times before, and moved his head against her fingers, encouraging her to keep playing with his hair. Her lips quirked in an almost-smile, and she did, feeling his body sink into the mattress as he relaxed. The baby, who had been quiet for the last hour or so, began his or her nightly routine of slow, rolling moves. With her one hand soothing Fox and her other hand tucked in support under her head, she was unable to do what she would normally do at this time. Which was to cup one hand around her belly to enjoy it to the fullest, and to caress the miraculous being within her, or lie flat on her back with her tee shirt or pajama top rucked up so she could also watch in amazed awe as she felt each and every movement. Her eyes were heavy, as was her body, but she could not let herself fall asleep. She had to stay awake to go home as soon as Fox had drifted off. But for now, until he did, she would lie there and pretend that everything was all right. Bakersfield Chronic Care Home Scully snuggled back into the warm weight behind her, still more than half-asleep, and felt the heavy arm that was draped over her waist, a hand resting on the bulge of the baby. She was dreaming. In the dream, she and Mulder were together again. Sleepy and satiated in her bed, bodies flushed with the aftermath of pleasure. He was fully healed now, having been found in the woods of Oregon, dehydrated and weak, but otherwise fine. Healthy. His brain fully intact, all its functions completely normal. They were spooned together, her back to his chest, his arm around her and his hand cupping their baby. He was whispering sweet nothings in her ear, saying her name softly, telling her how happy he was about the baby. He interspersed his low rumblings with little kisses anywhere he could reach, sometimes sucking on her ear lobe. There was a very real snuffling noise near her ear, and then the feel of lips moving along the skin of her neck, almost nibbling. It made her shiver. She squirmed too, pushing herself more firmly into the strong body against her back, sighing softly. It felt so good. The sound of a low voice husking, "Scuh-leeee," sent arousal dancing through her body and had her dragging her eyes reluctantly open. Scully blinked rapidly in stunned surprise. She was not at home in her familiar bed dreaming very familiar and comforting dreams, but perched somewhat precariously on the edge of a hospital bed, Fox's hospital bed, with her bladder straining and her pulse racing. She realized two other things at once, which pushed out the thought that Fox had just called her 'Scully', not 'Day-na'. Fox's arm was around her middle, his hand touching her swollen belly, his body flush against hers. His entire body, from his head tucked in her neck to his knees behind hers and his long legs stretching past her feet. And one part of his body was more exuberant then the rest of him. A morning erection - a common, and for Mulder at least, usually a daily occurrence - not necessarily indicative of any amorous feelings or intentions, was pressing quite firmly into her backside. For the briefest of milliseconds she relished the contact, not moving at all, her eyes closing again, and inhaled deeply of the essence of Mulder, layered with the scent of hospital. Until the almost perverted nature of the act struck her hard. Although he looked like Mulder, felt like Mulder, smelled like Mulder, he was not her Mulder. Scully pulled quickly away, her back screaming in protest, and rolled awkwardly off the bed and onto her feet. The same blanket that had been tucked over her while she slept in the chair earlier was now puddled on the floor. Obviously someone had come in to check on Fox during the night, and decided not to disturb her, but instead to cover her with the blanket. She wished whoever it was had disturbed her. As much as she had enjoyed lying on the bed with Fox to help him sleep, and was glad it had worked, she had not meant to spend the night, or to wake in such an uncomfortable position. Her actions must have disturbed Fox, for his sleep-filled and somewhat grumpy voice said, "Day-na?" She spun around to face him, and in her confusion and distress over the difficultness of her awakening, made no move to cover her belly. In fact, it was not until Fox spoke his next words did she notice that she was no longer wearing her cardigan, and saw that it was on the chair. She vaguely recalled tossing it there at some point in the middle of the night after rousing slightly to the knowledge that she was very warm. "Day-na, how come your tummy is so fat?" Fox asked. He was propped up on one elbow, and had tilted his head to one side as he stared at her belly amply displayed in the v-neck styled tee shirt she wore. Talk about the innocence of a child. Baldly stating his curiosity without regard for her feelings. Scully glanced down at her belly a little self-consciously, one hand coming up to rub it gently. While she hadn't exactly thought out how she was going to tell Fox that she was going to have a baby, this was definitely not a way she would have chosen. She sighed and brought her other hand up to comb through the tangled mess of her hair, unable to think clearly enough to explain her pregnancy in simple terms. The baby kicked then, a direct hit to her bladder, and she felt the pressing need for the facilities once more. "Fox, I need to use the washroom," she told him. "I'll be right back, okay?" Fox nodded and dropped back down onto his pillow, his mouth opening in a wide yawn. One that had her yawning in just as wide a manner as she turned and headed towards the bathroom in Fox's room. Once in there she quickly relieved her bladder and then turned the taps of the sink on to wash her face and hands. While waiting for the water to warm up, she looked at herself in the mirror. It was as she had imagined. Hair wild and disarrayed, slight bags under her eyes, and smudged mascara as well, and a hint of shell shock still visible on her face. And a flush of embarrassed pink on her cheeks. Her mind recalled the feel of Fox's morning erection poking her rear end, and she had to admit she was thankful for her belly intruding. She was not sure if he would have questioned her about what was happening to his body, and if he had, how she would have replied. Crisis averted? She hoped so. For now, at least. During her training in medical school she had dealt with male patients who had presented with morning and other erections during examinations, and she had certainly witnessed some of Mulder's, and those of past lovers, but she had never had to deal with a young boy experiencing them. Words would have been difficult to find, to say the least. Feeling the hot water on her fingers, she ducked her head down and splashed her face a couple times before soaping her hands and rinsing off. Her teeth felt furry, so she grabbed the tube of toothpaste that was there and squeezed some onto her index finger. The scrubbing she gave her teeth was not the greatest of jobs, but it was better than nothing. She dried off with the hand towel hanging on the metal ring to the right of the sink, re-hung it, and taking a deep breath, exited the bathroom. Even from the distance of the bathroom doorway, she could see that Fox appeared to have gone back to sleep. Her shoulders relaxed at the brief respite, but quickly tensed up again when his eyes popped open as she neared the bed to collect her sweater. "Day-na? How come you're fat?" he asked, with all the persistence of a bull terrier, or Mulder with a puzzling X-File. Sighing, Scully shrugged into the cardigan and after removing the blanket from her chair, folding it neatly and laying it at the foot of Fox's bed, she sat down. Here went nothing. "Well, Fox, I guess I start by telling you I'm not really fat. The reason my tummy is this big is because there is a baby growing inside of me." She smiled at him, seeing how his hazel eyes had grown as big as saucers, and stroked one hand over the swell of the baby. "As the baby grows, it needs more room, so my tummy starts to stick out and look like it's fat." "There's a baby inside of you?" Fox said, his voice full of awe. "Really?" "Really," she answered, and her smile widened. He seemed fascinated more than anything else, and it made her wonder why she had been so afraid of this moment. The baby surged against her hand then, quite strongly, and she couldn't help the gasp that escaped. "Day-na?" Fox said worriedly. "What's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong, Fox," she hastened to tell him. "The baby moved, that's all." "Can...can I feel it too?" Warmth suffused Scully. Oh how she had longed to hear those words spoken by Mulder. Only it was not Mulder. The feeling of happiness that had been upon her ebbed slightly, but she rose from her chair anyway to climb carefully onto the bed. Fox shifted over and lifted his arm, where it hovered uncertainly until she took it gently within hers and brought it to her belly. She placed it palm down on the spot where the baby had just kicked and laid her hand down on top of his to hold it steady. Nothing happened at first, and she had to close her eyes at the sensations that were swamping her body. His big, warm hand on her stomach, his smell in her nostrils, the knowledge that his body was just inches from hers. If she could forget that Mulder had the mind of a child, they were just two parents-to-be sharing a moment with their unborn baby. Fox squirmed a little, his lower lip jutting out in that familiar pout, staring down at her belly as if willing it to move, so Scully applied a bit more pressure. They were rewarded by a rolling surge, which was followed by a pretty strong kick. Fox sucked in his breath and lifted his head to meet her gaze, his eyes filled with wonder, a huge grin on his face. Exactly how she had often dreamed he would look when he felt their baby move for the first time. "Wow," he breathed. "Does it do that all the time?" "Not always, no, but quite a lot," she told him, wanting to pull him into an embrace, or to feel his lips pressing gentle kisses along her belly which housed a growing life. She did not move however, just regarded him as steadily as she was able, her eyes damp at the corners with the beginnings of her tears. "Usually when I'm trying to sleep," she told him a moment later, in an attempt to lighten her somber mood. He giggled, and indeed the sound of his laughter did make her smile. The door opened then, admitting a nurse Scully remembered meeting several days ago, a tall, dark-haired woman named Ciara. Scully moved Fox's hand gently away from her stomach and placed it on the mattress, getting slowly to her feet. "Oh!" Ciara said, and then stated rather unnecessarily, "You're up." She advanced into the room, heading over to the bed. "The last time I looked you were both sound asleep. I tried to wake you last night, Miss Scully, but you were under quite deep, so I decided it wouldn't harm anyone if you were to stay." "I was very tired," Scully said, and fiddled with the buttons of her cardigan, the ends once again in both hands and drawn closed over her belly. "I need to get going now anyway." She turned back to Fox, who had a slight pout on his face again, and said, "I need to go home and get ready for work, Fox. I won't be able to come at lunchtime, but I will be here after your dinner, okay?" She reached out to touch the arm that lay on the mattress. "I'm going to bring a new friend too. Her name's Maggie, and I think you'll really like her." She had decided she was going to call her mother after arriving at work and ask her to come to visit Fox, which she knew her mother would do without hesitation, and then she was going to arrange to have the Gunmen and Skinner start visiting on a regular basis. She knew she could not maintain her current pace of coming every day, if not a couple times a day, and if he was entertained by other visitors, he might not feel her absence as greatly, or so she hoped. Fox frowned a little and then nodded. "Okay, Day-na." Scully hesitated, feeling embarrassed in front of the nurse, but leaned over and kissed Fox on the cheek. "Later, okay?" she whispered. "Okay." She was at the door when he spoke again. "I will miss you," he said. Surprise, distress and pleasure swelled almost as one. Scully turned and with a tremulous smile, said, "Me too." She got out the door and nearly to her car before the tears came. 5:50 am That sweet scent, the one that belonged only to Scully, teased at his senses, and he tightened his arm around her middle in reaction, feeling a surge of blood rush to his groin. All he could think of was the woman he was spooned around, her back to his front, and how glad he was to be back with her again. He refused to remember his time away from her, was glad that the memories were hazy and dark and hard to hold on to, flitting through his consciousness like fireflies in the night. He nuzzled her neck, at the spot just below her ear that always made her shiver and moan his name in husky, sexy tones, and was rewarded by Scully pushing her rear end into his lower body. His very happy to see her lower body. He groaned, "Scuh-leeee," into the flesh of her neck. There was movement on the bed suddenly, shaking him from his peaceful slumber. Fox startled awake, his head fuzzy with sleep and...dreams. The dark-haired man...but it was him...lying on a bed, wrapped around Day-na, kissing her neck, whispering her name. [Scuh-leeee?] Pain flashed in his head, and he pushed the thought that he was the dark-haired man and Day-na was Scuh-leeee out of his mind, shutting his eyes again. There was another pain too, kind of like when he had to go to the bathroom really, really bad, only it was also kind of different. He did not understand it. He thought someone was there in his room, and blinked a few times, trying not to think of his pains. He lifted his head up a little from the pillow. [Day-na ] She was there, standing by his bed, her back to him, making funny breathing noises. "Day-na?" Fox called out, moving up on one elbow to see her better. He was not sure if something was wrong with her, and it scared him a little. When he looked at her now, he forgot about the pain in his head and in the other place, his private place, as Thomas-the-orderly called it. When he said her name, Day-na turned around quickly, and the first thing he saw was her messy hair. The next thing he saw was her big belly in her tee shirt and no sweater. It stuck out a lot, and looked funny. "Day-na, how come your tummy is so fat?" he asked, turning his head sideways to look at her from a different way. Nope, she was still fat that way too. Day-na looked at her big belly too, and lifted one hand to rub at it. Did she have a tummy ache? Sometimes when he ate too much, his tummy got bigger and hurt too. But that must have been a lot of food to get that big. Her other hand came up and touched her hair, like she was trying to fix it. It looked all right to Fox, still such a pretty red, just not as neat like it always was. She sure seemed to like things all neat, because she was always fixing his hair too, and wiping his face when he got food on it. "Fox, I need to use the washroom," Day-na said then. "I'll be right back, okay?" [Okey-dokey ] He nodded instead of saying that, and with a big yawn, lay back down on his pillow, hearing the soft sounds of her footsteps as she walked away. He squirmed a little as he lay there, he had to go to the bathroom too, and his private place was still not right, but he tried not to think about it. He was not finished being sleepy yet either, so he let his eyes close again, and rubbed his cheek against the soft cotton of his pillow. The sound of a door opening just reached his ears. He knew it was Day- na coming out of the bathroom, so he didn't bother looking, until she got closer. Once her steps were by the bed, he popped his eyes open, to see her near the chair she had been sitting on the night before. She looked like she was trying to be quiet, and he thought she was going to leave and let him sleep some more. She hadn't answered his question yet, so he asked it again. "Day-na? How come you're fat?" He lifted himself back up onto his elbow, and watched as she put her sweater on and then folded up the blanket that had been on the chair and laid it on his bed. She sat down in the chair real slow, like it was hard for her to get down into it. "Well, Fox, I guess I start by telling you I'm not really fat. The reason my tummy is this big is because there is a baby growing inside of me," Day-na said, and moved her hand over her belly. "As the baby grows, it needs more room, so my tummy starts to stick out and look like it's fat." [Baby? Inside?] Fox was amazed. He had never really thought about where babies came from before, and had only seen the ones on TV and cartoons. Those ones were already crawling and making silly baby noises. "There's a baby inside of you?" he asked her. "Really?" He looked from her face to her belly, trying to imagine a baby inside there. Even though he had thought Day-na's belly was big, he didn't think a whole baby would fit in there. It looked like it would be awful squished. Still, he didn't think she was telling a joke; she looked too happy about it to be trying to fool him. "Really," Day-na answered, and her smile got even bigger. It made him smile. Until she made a scared/funny noise, looking down at her hand on her belly. "Day-na?" Fox said, and his voice was all wobbly. "What's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong, Fox," she told him quickly. "The baby moved, that's all." She didn't have that look anymore, so he relaxed, though his tummy felt a little funny. He was also very curious about the fact that she could feel it moving inside her. "Can...can I feel it too?" he asked. Day-na rose from the chair with a grunting noise that made him want to laugh, and moved onto his bed. He wiggled over closer to her, lifted his arm to put his hand on her belly, and then froze before he actually touched her. [Scared?] Day-na took his hand and put it down right in the biggest part of her belly, keeping her hand on top of his. It felt weird. Kind of hard, like the big rubber ball Mary Anne brought sometimes for his exercises and helped him roll back and forth on the floor. Not soft like he had thought it might be. [Move, baby.] He wiggled on the bed, staring at Day-na's belly. But nothing happened. It wasn't fair, he wanted to feel the baby move. Day-na pushed down on his hand a little, which made his hand press onto her belly. He thought it would hurt her or the baby and was about to pull away when he felt something. [WOW!] He didn't know how to describe it. It was like water or jello or something sloshing around, but different too. He did not have the words. And then it kicked him! Fox couldn't help the funny noise that came out of his mouth, and looked up at Day-na to see if she had felt it too. He felt like laughing, and smiled as wide as he could at her. "Wow," he breathed. "Does it do that all the time?" He could see why she jumped and made funny noises. It made him think of how his tummy sometimes moved when he had ate too much, as well as getting big, and how he didn't really like how that felt. Day-na didn't seem to mind though. "Not always, no, but quite a lot," Day-na said. She got that sad look on her face again, and Fox thought her eyes looked wet too, like she was going to cry. He tried to think of something funny to say, to make her tears go away, and couldn't. Day-na sighed a little and then said, "Usually when I'm trying to sleep." By the way she said the words Fox knew she wasn't mad about it, kinda like she was teasing, or maybe trying not to be sad. He imagined her trying to sleep with the baby sloshing around in her belly, and he couldn't help giggling. Day-na smiled then too, a really happy smile, and his tummy did that funny flipping thing again. [Glad.] Fox heard his door open, and looked up to see the night nurse, the one he liked, not the one who wasn't very nice to him when he had his bad dreams, coming into the room. Day-na moved his hand off of her belly, and got off the bed, and he was sad for a moment. He liked feeling the baby moving inside and hoped she would let him feel it again. He didn't really listen as Day-na talked to the nurse with the pretty name and wished they would hurry up. He really had to pee, and he was starting to get hungry. Day-na was looking at him again, so he lifted his head. "I need to go home and get ready for work, Fox. I won't be able to come at lunchtime, but I will be here after your dinner, okay?" She touched his arm lightly, and her hand was so soft. "I'm going to bring a new friend too. Her name's Maggie, and I think you'll really like her." A new friend? Day-na and Walter were his only friends besides Mary Anne and Thomas-the-orderly, and Walter didn't come too much, so maybe a new friend would be all right. He hoped she would read to him like Day-na, but not his favorite book. That one was just for Day-na and him to read. And if he didn't like her, he just wouldn't talk to her. Easy as pie. He wasn't sure what that meant, but he'd heard Arthur say it on TV when he had to do something. He nodded slowly and said, "Okay, Day-na." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, whispering, "Later, okay?" and his tummy flip-flopped again. He decided he liked when she kissed him. "Okay," he said, and watched her walk towards the door. He remembered that she had said she wouldn't be coming until after dinnertime, a long way away from now, and was sad. "I will miss you," he called to her. Day-na stopped at the door and turned to look at him. She said, "Me too," in her wobbly voice, but he knew somehow that it was a good kind of sad, not a bad one. After Day-na had left, Ciara came over with a big smile and said, "How are you this morning, Fox?" "I gotta pee." The smile didn't go away, but it got a little smaller. "Can you wait for me to get the orderly?" "Hurry." He watched as she ran from the room, wishing the day would hurry up too. Scully's Apartment Scully trudged wearily down the hallway and stopped before her door, hand digging in her pocket for her keys. She yawned widely, her eyes slipping shut momentarily, and finally grasped the cool, round metal of the Apollo 11 key chain to tug the keys free. Unlocking the door took two attempts, as her eyes threatened to cross with their exhaustion and made concentrating on the keyhole a challenge, but finally the door was open. Once inside, she dropped her briefcase on the floor, uncaring as to where it landed. She shut the door, re-locked it and slid the deadbolt home before shrugging out of her trench coat and tossing it on the back of the couch. Her shoes were kicked off and left to lie where they had fallen, like the briefcase and coat had similarly been discarded. She did not bother with turning on the small lamplight on the table by the door, she was not staying up and did not care if there were any messages or not, or whether the mail she had tucked into the outer pocket of her briefcase had not yet been sorted. She was going to bed. With a tired sigh she headed straight towards her bedroom, walking easily in the familiar darkness of her home. Once in her room she did turn on the lamp on her night table, more out of habit than necessity, and slowly stripped out of her clothes, sighing again as the waistband of her maternity pants was carefully eased away from her belly. She rubbed at the imprints on her skin as she walked naked to her bathroom, too exhausted to care about covering up with a robe, and was rewarded by a kick against her hand, which made her smile. "Hey, baby," she whispered softly, smoothing her hand in small circles over the spot last graced by a tiny fist or foot. "Take it easy in there." Flicking the light switch on, she grimaced at the flood of brightness and quickly completed her bedtime routine, emptying her bladder in what she hoped would be the only time that night, although she was not holding her breath on her chances, brushing her teeth and hair, and cleaning and moisturizing her face. Her last, and the most pleasurable item of this routine was rubbing lotion on her belly before donning either a nightgown or one of the tee shirts she had stolen from Mulder's apartment, and sliding into the cool sheets of her bed. But while pleasurable, each of those times was also poignant and bittersweet. For the hands that warmed and rubbed and stroked the lotion into the taut skin of her belly with a gentle touch were her own, and not those of her lover, and the father of her child. Scully closed her eyes and imagined it was Mulder now as she sat on the edge of her bed. That she rested in the cradle of his legs, her back to his chest, that it was his hands working the lotion over and into her skin with such care and tenderness. That she heard his voice murmuring his awe at the motions of their baby beneath his hands. The shrill ring of her portable phone tore her from her fantasy. Her eyes snapped open as her hands scrambled to pull her robe on before fumbling to her feet and over to her dresser. She reached out and picked up the phone, pressing the 'Talk' button. "He-hello?" she stammered, her heart pounding furiously. "Oh, Dana, it's Mom. I didn't wake you did I?" Dismay and regret, rolled with concern. "Um...no, Mom, sorry," she sighed into the receiver, walking back to the bed and sinking back down onto the mattress. "I was just getting ready for bed." She moved about awkwardly until she was lying on her side, the phone held to her ear with one hand, and the other cupped around the baby, who apparently had been stirred up by the gentle massage of moments ago and was now performing lazy somersaults. "That's good, honey. You looked exhausted tonight." Thanks for the boost, Mom. She thought the words but did not say them, for it was true. She knew she had looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes and yawns she had not been able to hide. She was actually a little worried about what the doctor was going to say at her next pre-natal check-up at the end of the week, and was preparing herself to hear what she had already admitted to herself – that she needed to slow down. And introducing her mother to Fox tonight had been the first step towards exactly that. "I know, Mom," she said into the phone, and then listened with half an ear as her mother took on a slightly lecturing tone and prattled on about her health. Not that she didn't appreciate her mother's love and support, or agree whole-heartedly with her, but her mom was reiterating actions she had already decided on, and she just wanted to go to bed. Her mind wandered. After leaving the nursing home very early that morning, still a little shell-shocked at her abrupt and unusual morning, to say the least, she had gone home and showered and dressed, and gotten to work earlier than had been normal lately. A surprise for John, who had nearly dropped his coffee when he walked into the office and saw her at her desk, already started on the paperwork that had been piling up through the week. She had taken a nice stroll at lunch, after a wonderful fresh fruit salad, and then called first her mother and then the Lone Gunmen to ask them about taking turns visiting with Fox. The call to her mother had been the more awkward of the two, her mother hadn't been able to grasp the severity of Mulder's dysfunction, and had asked questions Scully hadn't had the answers to. However, her mother understood a lot better now, after having spent several hours in his child-like company. Her mother's voice kicked in again. "Dana, I don't know how you've done it this past few weeks. I wish you had called me sooner to help you with Fox." Scully really didn't have a reply, so she made a non-committal sound, and hoped her mother would not press. Thankfully she didn't. "I'm just glad you finally did call me," her mother continued. "And I am quite willing to visit Fox as often as you'd like. In fact that's another reason I called. I was wondering if it would be all right if I went to see him at lunch time?" "Mom..." Scully had to stop for a second to sniffle, feeling her eyes well. Silly hormones. "Thank-you." "You don't have to thank me, honey. I love him too." Scully blinked, the tears miraculously frozen by her mother's words. "Mom, I never..." her voice trailed off again. Their relationship had been so new, so fledgling, before Mulder had been taken, that she had never told her mother, and afterwards it had just been too painful. "Dana, honey, you didn't have to. I could hear it in your voice and see it in your eyes," her mom said softly, her voice now a little on the emotional side. "I saw it in his too." Those simple words had the dam bursting. Tears formed and spilled down her cheeks, and she allowed them to run unchecked. "Oh, Mom, I don't know if I can do this," she wailed softly. "You can, Dana. I know you can," her mother said with surprising fierceness. "You're strong, and you'll be strong for Fox, and for that baby inside you." "But it's so hard, Mom," she said, gripping the phone tightly in her hand, the other still cupped around her belly. The baby, sensing her distress, was moving fitfully about, and her back was aching. She wished her mom was there with her, instead of miles away in her own home where Scully had dropped her off after their visit with Fox. She could use the comfort of her mother's arms around her, and knew she would readily supply a backrub. "I know, baby. I know," was her mother's soft reply. "I'm here for you whenever you need me, and from what you've told me, you have a very caring partner and boss willing to step in and lend a hand. You just have to learn to ask for their help, baby." It was true. John and Skinner both, not to mention the Gunmen, would do anything for her, at the drop of a hat. She just had to say the word. But that was the problem. Saying that word was very difficult for her. "I'm trying, Mom," Scully said, swiping at her cheeks with the hand that had been holding her belly. She sniffled again and stretched to grab a Kleenex from the box on her night table. She rubbed her eyes and then her nose, and put the used tissue aside to throw away later. "I love you, Mom." "I love you too, Dana," her mom said. "Now you get some sleep, okay?" "I will." "I'm going to visit with Fox at lunchtime, and then how about I take you out for dinner after work and we'll go see him again after?" "Okay, Mom, that sounds wonderful," Scully said, and taking a deep breath, realized her heart felt lighter. "I'll call you tomorrow. Good night." "Good night, baby." Scully pressed 'end' and laid the phone down gently on her night table before rising to don a pair of panties and one of Mulder's tee shirts. Sadly she had washed it several times since 'borrowing' it, and she could no longer smell him on the soft, worn cotton. It still comforted her though, to be wrapped in something that had once been wrapped around him. Turning the lamp off and throwing the covers back, she climbed into the bed, enjoying the coolness of the sheets on her overly warm legs, another side effect of her pregnancy. Her head sank into the soft pillow, her eyes sliding shut, and a yawn had her jaws cracking. She was so tired. Her mind was immediately filled with a jumble of images – some of Mulder and she, some of Fox. For some reason she pictured the two of them, and this time she was not sure if it was Fox or Mulder, lying on the narrow bed of the nursing home. His low voice husked, "Scuhleeee..." in her ear. The thought that she had indeed heard his voice saying her name that way earlier in the morning was whisked away on the wings of sleep. Scully's Apartment In fact, nearly a week passed by before Scully's memory was tickled once more. The alarm on her clock radio blared extraordinarily loud one weekday morning, pulling her from yet another pleasant dream where she and Mulder were once again wrapped together in replete bliss. His lips were buried in her neck, and as she arched her head back to provide him better access, he growled, "Scuh-leeee." As she reached out with one hand to smack the offending clock into submission, the word echoed in her head, and she had a vague notion that she had heard her name spoken in that bedroom voice not too long ago. That what had pulled her from her sleep that morning at the nursing home had been his use of her last name. Waking further, her hands knuckling the sleep from her eyes, she decided it was a fanciful thought, brought on by her continuing desperate hope that Mulder would awaken any day now as himself, and not as the boy he had become. She sighed and sat up slowly, feeling the pressure on her bladder increase substantially with the change in position, and pushing the thought away, got herself in gear. Within minutes she had relieved the ache in her bladder, brushed her teeth and climbed into the shower. She sighed gustily as she rolled her neck under the hot jets of water pulsing from the massager she had attached to her showerhead, letting it pound away the ache in her sore muscles. She must have slept funny, for not only was her back aching as usual, but her neck too. She only allowed herself a minute of this pleasure though. She wanted to get into the office early so she would not feel as guilty for taking a longer lunch to spend with Fox, something she had not been able to do recently. The days since she had brought her mother to visit Fox for the first time had passed relatively smoothly, with Skinner and the Gunmen taking turns visiting him as well, so that he was rarely alone. Except for the times when it was necessary, for his physiotherapy, and any other medical examinations, and during the night. He had adjusted surprisingly well, with only a few minor outbursts when he realized his Day-na had not come to visit him, but rather someone else, and had been placated fairly easily until she did arrive. It had been an enormous relief to Scully, for she had been extremely worried that he would not take well to the introduction of more 'friends' and a lessening of her visits. It had also sent a brief pang through her heart as she had thought about how easily she had been replaced in his affections. Until she had been able to recognize that it was not a deliberate action to hurt her on his part, but merely a sign of perhaps his maturity, and his growth emotionally. Scully smiled to herself as she rinsed her hair. Fox had taken a very strong liking to her mother, and looked forward to her visits as much as he did her own. Scully had managed to see him every evening other than the Friday past, when she had gone for her pre-natal check-up, and had spent almost the entire weekend there, with short breaks provided by her mother and the Gunmen. As she had expected, her doctor had been concerned about her general health, telling her she looked a little run-down, and that she had actually lost a few pounds, as opposed to gaining them. He had advised her to slow down, again as expected, and sent her for a blood test, to check her iron levels, as he had thought she might be anemic. She hadn't been thankfully, but he had reiterated his instructions rather sternly for her to slow down, and to watch her diet and to get more rest. Scully looked down at her belly, watching the soapy water streaming over her rounded flesh, and lifted one hand to stroke the bump softly. A gentle kick was her reply, and she smiled, saying, "I'm trying, baby. You just have to be patient with your mommy, okay?" Another kick, a bit more strongly, and this time she laughed. "Okay! I'll try harder!" She then shook her head, musing wryly to herself how Mulder would smile if he could only hear her now, talking to...She froze in mid-thought. The chances of that seemed impossibly slim. With an angry curse she stuck her face full into the stream of water, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. This kind of negative thinking would only serve to bring her down, and was not healthy for her or for the baby. One last quick rinse and she was done. She climbed carefully out of the shower, her sense of balance completely skewered now with the shifting bulge of her belly, and wrapped a fluffy bath sheet around herself for a moment to chase away the chill brought on by the cool air due to the bathroom door she had forgotten to close. Halfway through her morning routine, Scully heard the faint shrill of her cell phone, coming from somewhere in her living room. Having a vague recollection of tossing her trench coat, with the cell phone in one pocket, over the back of the couch, she stuffed her arms into the sleeves of her terrycloth robe and – she refused to admit she waddled already – moved quickly down the hallway. It had rang four times before she pulled it free of her coat and hit 'Send', gasping, "Scully," into the receiver. She was greeted by a burst of static, followed by a tinny rendition of John's voice. "Dana, it's John. The hospital in Bellefleur called." There was another burst of static, as he apparently paused, and Scully sucked in her breath sharply. "What did they say?" she asked, her voice rough, and her hand clutching the phone tightly with fingers gone cold. Since Theresa Hoese had awoken from her coma, they had asked that they be updated about any changes to any of the three returned abductees as soon as possible, regardless of the hour. "Ray Hoese came out of his coma half an hour ago." Scully swallowed, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment, her pulse pounding in her neck. "I'll be in the office in 45 minutes," she said, after a moment's silence. "Thank-you, John." She disconnected before he could say anything further, and laid the phone back down on her coat before turning and heading back to the bathroom to finish getting ready, moving almost on autopilot. Depending on what time they could get a flight, for even though they had learned nothing from speaking to Theresa Hoese, there was no way she was not going out to Bellefleur to speak to Ray Hoese, she might still be able to get to see Fox, if even for only a few minutes. She was glad she had not told him she was coming at lunchtime, having intended to surprise him by bringing a special treat, McDonald's, for this way she would not have to disappoint him. She made a mental note to call the Nursing Home and inform them of the change in plans, for she had to advise them in advance when she was going to provide a meal, so that they did not prepare one that would only be wasted. She also wanted to call her mother and see if she could visit Fox at lunchtime instead of in the evening. Fifteen minutes later she was impeccably dressed, in a fashionable and well-cut maternity pant suit, her hair blow-dried and tamed into a straight bob, longer than she had worn in the last year or two, with a light coat of make-up applied. Scully slid into her trench coat, tucked the cell phone back into her pocket, grabbed her briefcase and keys, and headed out the door. Bakersfield Chronic Care Home Scully smiled at Fox as they sat looking out his window, and couldn't resist the urge to ruffle his hair. The action made him duck his head almost shyly, and giggle slightly, which made her smile widen. She was so relieved he had taken the news that she had to go away for a day or two so well. His easy acceptance assuaged her guilt for having to do so, and at the same time, caused a measure of self-pity. A stray thought flickered through her mind - was this how a mother felt when she realized her baby was growing up and didn't 'need' her anymore? Probably, she told herself, and sighed internally. Fox was now talking softly to himself, another Mulder habit that had been hard to face at first, but had slowly become somewhat end earing, the index finger of one hand tracing the rocket ship on the cover of 'their' book, so she took the moment to just drift in her own mind. She recalled the events of earlier that morning after the phone call from John about Ray Hoese. After reaching the office in the avowed 45 minutes to find that John had stopped on his way in and picked up fresh muffins, she had eaten the simple and welcomed breakfast with him before going up to see Skinner. Within a half hour their 302 had been approved and they were waiting to hear about their flight details from Kimberley. An early afternoon flight was the soonest, so after speaking with Skinner, John had offered to pick her up at her apartment. She had thanked him, left the Hoover Building, and headed straight for the nursing home, where she had since been for the last hour. She had indeed surprised Fox, as she had originally planned to do at lunchtime, and they had gone for a short walk through the halls of the nursing home. She hadn't had to push the whole time, for Fox had been quite eager to show her his newly acquired skill - propelling the wheelchair forward under his own power, and he had been full of boundless energy. Which had been a bit of a blessing, for she was not. When they had returned from their walk it had been snack time, and a plate of fresh fruit had been waiting on his table. They had shared it, eating messily with their fingers and Fox giggling at being able to 'play' with his food. The scene had brought about a memory of Mulder teasingly shoving food in her mouth one late night a few weeks before his disappearance in Oregon, and the furious eruption of passion on her couch that had followed afterward. A trip to the bathroom had been required to gather her composure. Once they had cleaned up, Fox had asked her to read 'their' book, and she had readily complied, pushing his wheelchair over to what had become their favorite spot, by the window. The baby was restless, and she brought the hand that had been around Fox's shoulders down to rub her belly gently. A moment later Fox's hand was sliding beneath hers, his circles a little bit rougher but still loving, and she looked up to see him regarding her stomach with that same awe that had been there the first time he had felt the baby move. He touched her belly quite frequently now, more comfortable in the past week without first asking permission, and often drifted to sleep with his hand resting atop it. She moved her hand to help him move his with slower, gentler circles, and a moment later his head was nestling into her shoulder. They sat together like this for long minutes, Scully actually letting her eyes slide shut in a semblance of a catnap, until Fox spoke, startling her with both the sound of his voice in the quiet, and the topic. "Day-na?" he asked. "Will the baby look like you?" Scully held silent for a moment, wondering where his question had come from all of a sudden. "It might," she replied slowly, finally. "You look like Maggie," was his next sentence, after a pause. A picture of her mother popped in her head, and the voices of relatives who had commented on that same fact, although she herself had never really seen it. True she and her mother were both of a small stature, and had blue eyes, but she had always thought she took more after Ahab then her mother. "Do you think so?" she asked, still not sure where he was going with the conversation. "Uh-huh," he answered, nodding his head against her shoulder. Another pause, and then, "She's your Mom, right?" A flicker of an idea as to the whys of this particular topic was forming in her head, and her heart rate sped up a little. Beyond those first words he had spoken to her when he had come out of his coma, asking her if she was his mom, they had not talked about his parentage at all. He had never asked, and she had never brought it up, afraid to have to be the one to tell him that his parents were dead. When she had introduced her mother to Fox, she had merely said the name 'Maggie'. "Day-na?" he prompted. "She's your Mom, right?" "Yes, Maggie is my mom, Fox," she said softly. I am not ready for this, she thought silently, a little panicked. "Oh." Just that one word, without inflection. She was not sure what to make of it, or of what else she could say. He was staring fixedly at her belly, possibly avoiding her gaze as she looked down at him, and his hand continued to smooth over her belly, chasing the bumps and ripples as the baby moved. "Will your Dad come to visit me?" he asked after a long, and to Scully, awkward silence. She had to clear her throat before replying, feeling it suddenly clogged with tears as the next picture in her head was of Ahab the last time she had seen him, in her apartment. "No, Fox, he won't be visiting you. He...uh...he isn't with us anymore." "Is he dead?" Fox asked next. She wondered how the concept of death had entered his mind, and whether he understood it as the question implied he did, and then she thought of how precocious he had begun to seem lately, and how extremely intelligent he had been as an adult. It would probably stand to reason that he had been a very intelligent child as well. "Yes, he's dead," she said huskily. "Are...are my mom and dad dead too?" This time his words were a whisper. Oh God. She really did not want to do this. But she had to; she would not lie to him. "Ye-," again she had to clear her throat in order to continue. "Yes they are, Fox." Once again his only reply was a whisper, "Oh." Unable to see his face, or to hear much in his voice, she lifted her hand to touch his chin and tip his face upwards, to hers. There was some resistance, but he did meet her gaze. His hazel eyes were sad, and liquid with tears. The ones that had been gathered in the back of her throat sprang to her eyes, and she blinked to clear them. "Oh, Fox..." she started to say, and was interrupted by the door opening. They both jerked in surprise, and Scully quickly swiped a hand at the tears, seeing out of the corner of one eye that Fox was knuckling both of his, before turning to look at the door. Mary Anne was entering, carrying the exercise mat that Fox used for his physiotherapy. She hesitated slightly when she saw them, and said a quiet hello. Scully flicked a glance at her watch, and was surprised at how much time had passed. She had to leave, and was loathe to do so. She was not sure how he was feeling, and worried about how he would be. And, she was ashamed to admit, she was also a little relieved that their conversation had to be halted. For now, because she had a feeling it was not finished yet. "Fox," she said softly, after a brief smile to Mary Anne who had continued on into the room, "I have to go now. For work, like I told you." He nodded, sniffling a little. "I know," he mumbled, once more looking down. "S'okay." "Hey," she said, and touched her finger to his chin, again lifting his head so their eyes could meet. "I'll be back tomorrow night at the latest. And Maggie's going to come at lunchtime today." He smiled a little at this, and she felt just the slightest bit of pressure lifted from her heart. "I'll miss you." "Me too," he whispered, and surprised her by leaning forward and giving her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Touched, and very moved, her wacky hormones had tears rising anew, for a different reason this time. "Thank-you," she whispered, and kissed his cheek in return. She rose slowly to her feet, running her hand slowly and wistfully through his hair, and said, "I'll see you tomorrow, Fox, okay?" "See you," he echoed, and manfully maneuvered his chair around so that he could watch her leave. She did so quickly, saying a quiet good-bye to Mary Anne, and telling the physiotherapist she would be back later the next day. 11:50 am When Fox heard the knock at his door, he lost interest and forgot to help Mary Anne with the exercise they were doing, turning his head towards the door. His leg fell to the mat with a thud, which he barely noticed, too busy waiting for whoever had made the knock to come inside. He hated doing that kind of exercise anyway, because they made his legs hurt, and was glad when he heard Mary Anne say, "I guess that's it for today, huh Fox?" [That's it!] Oh, yeah, he was supposed to answer people when they talked to him, it was rude when he didn't. "Okay," he said quickly, looking at her for a second and then back to the door again. "I think that's Maggie!" The door opened then, and Maggie's head poked inside. "Is it all right to come in?" she called, and he saw her eyes looking around the room. When she saw him, she smiled, coming into the room a bit, and he grinned back. [Glad.] "It's okay to come in, Maggie," he called out, and sat up all by himself. Mary Anne patted him on the shoulder and said, "Great work, Fox." She squeezed his upper arm, and he made a fist with his hand and tightened his arm like she had shown him to make the muscle stick out. She laughed and tickled his ribs real quick. "You've been holding out on me, huh Mr. Muscles?" Her smile and the nickname told him she was joking, and that she was happy. He nodded, feeling very proud that he hadn't needed help to sit up that time. He hoped that soon he wouldn't even need any at all, for anything. Maggie came over, took off her coat and put it on one of the chairs at his table, and then pulled the chair out and sat down. "Hello, Fox. Hello, Mary Anne," she said. She also put a small purple-colored bag down on the table. [What is it?] Fox studied the bag, trying to see if he could guess what was inside. He wondered if it was a present for him. Maggie had brought some puzzles and the game Junior Scrabble the last time she had come to visit, but this bag didn't look big enough to hold another game or puzzle. She brought treats sometimes too, from a place she called the bakery, but those came in a little box tied with string. "Hey, Fox, I'm going to go get Thomas and we'll get you in your chair, okay?" Mary Anne said, touching him on the shoulder. He moved his eyes from the bag on the table and looked at Mary Anne, who was smiling at him. "Okay," he said, and watched her leave before looking back at Maggie again. Maggie said, "How are you today, Fox?" [Manners.] "I'm okay," he told her. "How are you?" Maggie had been teaching him about manners. Manners were talking to people when they talked to you, and asking them how they were. Manners were also saying please and thank-you and you're welcome. There were more manners, but those were the ones he remembered. He told her he was okay, because he was, even though he had been feeling sad before, from when he and Day-na had been talking about moms and dads, and when Day-na had left. He also missed Day-na, but knew she would be back as soon as she could. And he was happy that Maggie was here now. "I'm fine, Fox. Thank-you for asking," Maggie said, and her smile told him she was proud that he had remembered his manners. [Did good!] Mary Anne came back in, Thomas-the-orderly with her, and a few minutes later he was sitting in his wheelchair. Before Thomas could push him to the table, he put his hands on the wheels and did it himself. "Whoa, Sport, look at you!" "Hey, Mr. Muscles, good for you." "Oh, Fox, that's wonderful." All three of them spoke at the same time, and Fox sat there with a big smile on his face, glad that he had surprised them all, and that they were happy too. Thomas came over and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "I'll be right back with your lunch, Sport," he said, and Fox nodded. [Hungry!] "Great!" he called after Thomas. "I'm starving!" Maggie and Mary Anne both laughed, and then Mary Anne picked up the exercise mat. "I'll see you later, Fox," she called, and he waved to her. "Bye, Mary Anne." He watched her leave his room, and then turned back to Maggie. She had gotten up and turned her chair back around so that it faced the table. She sat down again and pulled the purple bag closer to her. Fox sat up a little straighter, hoping to see what was inside. Maggie smiled at him, which she seemed to do a lot. "It's my lunch," she told him. "I thought I'd eat with you today." [Boring.] "Oh," he said, and his shoulders sagged back down. Maggie laughed softly. "Don't worry Fox. There's a treat in there for both of us too." [Treat?] He sat up straight again, wiggling in his chair, staring at the purple bag some more. Maggie brought really good treats. But he knew she wouldn't let him have the treat until after he ate his lunch. And he had to eat it ALL too. Thomas came back in, carrying his lunch tray, and Fox's stomach made a grumbling noise. Maggie laughed, and he giggled. In a few minutes everything was arranged in front of him, his napkin tucked in under his chin. Maggie got her lunch ready too, and he tried to see what kind of sandwich she had. She saw him looking and said, "It's peanut butter and jelly, Fox." "Really?" "Yes, really. I like them very much," Maggie said. She then leaned forward, like she was going to tell him a secret, so he moved his head closer to hers. "Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were always Dana's favorite, did you know that?" [Mine too!] "Maybe when she gets back and the weather is a little nicer, you and Dana and I can have a picnic lunch outside. I'll make peanut butter and jelly for us all, okay?" "I'd like that," he said, trying to picture them outside on the grass, sitting down and eating their sandwiches. "So would I," Maggie said. "And I think Dana would too." She then folded her hands together in front of her on the table, and he brought his hands in front of himself too. She said a few words with her eyes closed, what she called a grace, and then it was okay to eat. Once everything was eaten and she had cleaned up both their messes, Maggie reached inside her purple bag. Fox started wiggling again, and leaned forward to try and see. "No peeking!" Maggie laughed, and he smiled and sat back in his chair to wait for the treat. She pulled out a plastic container with a blue lid, and the plastic was kinda fuzzy, so he couldn't see what was inside. She unsnapped the lid and then put the container down in front of them both. His nose twitched. He could smell chocolate and something else that smelled good, but he didn't know what it was called. He knew what they were though. [Cookies!] Fox licked his lips. He loved cookies. "I made us some oatmeal chocolate chip cookies," Maggie told him and pushed the container a little closer to him. "Help yourself, Fox." He reached in and started to grab as many as he could, when another manner Maggie had told him popped in his head. It wasn't polite to grab your food, you should only take things one at a time. He looked at her quickly, but she was still smiling, so he took one cookie out and said, "Thank-you, Maggie." "You're welcome, Fox." She reached out and took a cookie too. He knew he wasn't supposed to eat so fast, but he couldn't help it. The cookie was so good, nice and soft and chewy, and still a little warm. "It's yummy," he said, through a mouthful, and spit cookie crumbs out when he talked. [Oops.] [Mad?] He knew that wasn't good manners, and ducked his head down. He swallowed the rest of the cookie and said quietly, "Sorry." "That's okay, Fox," Maggie said, and he felt her hand on his. "You just have to remember to finish it all before you talk, okay?" He nodded, and swiped his hand across his mouth to wipe away any crumbs. "Can I still have another one?" "Of course you can, Fox. I made them for you and me to share. Maybe we could see if Thomas would like one, or Katy. I can take the container to them later." Fox looked at the cookies, trying to count how many there were. Sharing was something else that made people happy, but he wanted all the cookies. Then he thought about how nice Thomas was to him, and Katy, and he wanted them to have some cookies too. "Okay," he said. "I'll eat two more and we can give them the rest." "That's very generous of you, Fox. And don't worry, I'll make more again." [More cookies!] They finished their cookies, and then Maggie cleaned up all the cookie crumbs from the table. She helped him wipe his face and hands, and after that, pulled his chair out from the table. "Why don't you push yourself over by the window?" Maggie asked. "I'll get some books to read to you, okay?" Fox nodded happily, and did as she asked. She brought over two of the books Day-na had brought, but not their favorite one, and they read them together. He started to yawn while they were looking at the second one, and Maggie laughed softly. "All that work today wore you out, hmmm?" "Yeah," he said, and yawned again. "I'll go get Thomas," she said, and left. His eyes closed sleepily, the books on his lap, and he popped them open in surprise when he felt his chair moving. "Hey, Sport. You were falling asleep there. Let's get you to bed, okay?" Thomas said. [Tired.] Maggie came over after Thomas got him all tucked in. "I'll sit here with you for a little while, okay Fox?" He liked knowing someone was there when he was falling asleep, he felt...he wasn't sure, but he thought the word was safe. "Okay," he said, and closed his eyes. Bellefleur Hospital For the entire trip to Bellefleur Scully had been weighed down by a strong sense of déjà vu. As the last time, their flight had been delayed and the weather was miserable - cold and rainy. The only thing different was the fact that the correct rental car was actually ready and waiting when they arrived, and she had gotten to eat not only breakfast, but lunch as well. And that she had been able to stop by the nursing home to see Fox before they left. John now competently drove the rental car along the rain-slicked roads; she had not argued when he had automatically went for the driver's seat at the rental lot, she had been too tired and achy from the flight to want to drive. She still was. Scully let her head fall back on the cushioned headrest, head turned towards the window, and her eyes slip closed. A gentle touch on her cheek had her turning her head and opening her eyes sleepily, expecting to see Mulder's familiar visage with his brow crooked and a twisted yet gentle smile on his lips because she had dozed off on him once again. When the face she saw was not Mulder's, she startled fully awake, and jerked upright with a frightened gasp. She blinked rapidly in stunned surprise, one hand at her heaving chest and the other curled protectively around her belly, for it was John, and not Mulder, leaning over the center console, the hand that had touched her still hovering in mid-air. He shifted back and held the hand and its twin up in the universal 'don't shoot' gesture and said, "Hey, take it easy. We're here, at the hospital." His eyes regarded her steadily, narrowed with concern and a hint of puzzlement. Scully huffed out a noisy breath, feeling her heart beating furiously against her hand, and managed to say, "Sorry. Fell asleep." She could not explain to him why she had reacted so, that only one person touched her like that, and he wasn't that person. John nodded slowly, and waited until she had unbuckled her seatbelt before doing the same and exiting the car. Arriving at the glass front doors that led into the hospital lobby, John pulled one of them open and stepped aside for her to enter. Once she had, he moved past her and strode quickly to the reception desk, where they learned Ray Hoese's new room number, as the man was no longer in the room he had been in with Billy Miles. Scully, who had followed on his heels, also inquired about Theresa Hoese, and they discovered she had been released almost a week earlier. The former abductee was still on the same floor though, and the feeling of déjà vu returned when at the nurse's station there they encountered the same nurse from last time, the blonde woman named Kris. She nodded as they flashed their badges, and informed them that another nurse was just checking his vitals on her rounds and would be finished in a few minutes. While they waited, Scully paced and rubbed at the near-constant ache in her lower back, her mind a curious blank. She was peripherally aware of John leaning with deceptive casualness against one wall and watching her with concern. She managed a smile for him on a pass-by, trying to convey that she was fine, and saw him nod once in affirmation, his gaze shifting away from her. Kris called them finally, after Scully had made several trips back and forth, her low heels clicking faintly on the tiled floor, each one under his watchful eye, and told them to go ahead. John, ever the gentleman, took her elbow as they walked down the hallway to Ray Hoese's room. She did not pull away, oddly grateful for his support. One thought was now echoing in her head as they got closer and closer to their destination. Would it be another waste of time, another dead end ? Within minutes she had her answer. Yes. Ray Hoese, like his wife, who currently sat beside his hospital bed clutching his hand in both of hers, remembered little beyond the circle of light in the woods. Scully thanked him quietly and left the room, leaving John behind to finish up, however he chose to, she didn't really care. All she wanted to do was get out, get out and get some air. She had gotten only a few strides from the doorway when a soft voice called her name. She stopped and turned to see Theresa Hoese standing uncertainly just a mere foot away. Frustrated and tired and scared, and wishing she were home, Scully arched an eyebrow and had to bite back the urge to snap 'what do you want?' Instead she asked, "Yes?" "Um...I was just...I was wondering how Agent Mulder was doing? Has he woken up yet?" Theresa asked. Scully blinked, her mind trying to wrap around Theresa's words. Had Mulder woken up? Why...what was she trying to do? Then Scully realized that Theresa had probably never been told that Mulder had woken up, and that all was not well. She sighed, bringing one hand up to rub at her temples, where a headache was slowly forming, and said, "Agent Mulder did wake up, yes, a few weeks before you did." "Oh, that's good," Theresa said. "Billy still hasn't, you know." Scully nodded. Of course she knew. She did not bother to tell Theresa of Mulder's condition, there was no need for the young woman to know, really. John came out then, and she was saved from having to make further conversation. He nodded to Theresa, and moved to stand beside Scully. "You ready?" he asked, touching her elbow lightly. "Yes," she answered simply, and turned towards Theresa again. She felt awkward, and was unsure of what to say. Finally she said only, "Take care." The young woman smiled a little shakily and nodded, before slipping back inside her husband's room. Scully stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space where Theresa had been standing. Her mind cried, 'why?' Why were Theresa and Ray Hoese awake and...and normal, and Mulder was not? John squeezed her elbow slightly then, and she jolted. Her nerves were completely frayed. "Let's go," he said softly and tugged gently on her arm. As they passed the nurse's station, Kris called out. "Agent Scully? I took updated copies of the charts for Ray Hoese and Billy Miles again, like you asked for last time. I have them here." John's hand slid away from her elbow, and he stepped over to the station and took the folders from Kris' outstretched hand. "Thank- you," he said, indicating the items in his hand, and resumed his hold on Scully's arm, once again guiding her down the hallway. He kept it there all the way to the car, and opened her door for her, waiting until she was securely in with her seatbelt fastened before shutting it again and rounding the front hood to get in himself. Somewhere inside of Scully's mind, her feminist side weakly protested her submissive-like behavior, but she wearily pushed the thought aside. It was actually a little reassuring to be taken care of, after being independent for so long, and hiding her weaknesses and self-perceived failings behind that mask of independence. She summoned enough energy and will to order her own dinner at the roadside restaurant John stopped at on the way to check in at their motel, and to eat most of what she had chosen. Thankfully John had sensed her mood, and did not try to engage her in small talk, or about Ray and Theresa Hoese. She let him handle the check-in when they arrived at the motel, the same one as last time, feeling again the sense of déjà vu as she waited in the still running car. She was glad when John got back into the car and handed her the diamond-shaped key chain with her room key, to see that they were not in the same rooms. That would have been too much, and it also would have been difficult to explain why she wanted another room. John hefted out their overnight bags from the trunk after pulling up in front of their rooms, and brought hers to her door. She thanked him, and told him she would see him at seven am, getting a quiet good night in return. Once inside she put her bag on the small dresser and removed her nightclothes and toiletries bag. Heading to the bathroom she carried out her routine mechanically and snapped out the light. She had not turned on the little lamp on the night table, and because of the gloomy weather, the room was cloaked in shadows. She left it that way, and crawled under the covers of the bed, shivering slightly as her feet met the cold sheets. As tired as she was, she moved restlessly on the lumpy mattress. The baby began its usual nighttime gym routine, and she shifted to lie on her back for a few minutes, both hands cupped around her belly, fingers spread wide. For some reason this made her recall how Fox liked to rest his hands like that on her belly, trying to ensure he would catch every movement the baby made, and she felt a wave of longing run through her. She missed him. She could not call him, but she could call her mother and check on how his day had went. Rolling onto her side with a small grunt, she reached out and turned on the lamp, propped herself up on one elbow, and brought the old rotary-styled telephone to rest on the mattress by her chest. It took a few minutes, but finally she could hear the ringing as the call went through to her mother's house. Moments later she was saying, "It's Dana, Mom." "Oh!" she heard. "Hello, dear. Is everything all right?" There was a faint hint of worry in her mother's voice, for she rarely called her mother when she was on a case or following up a lead. "I'm fine, Mom. I just called to see how Fox was today." "Fox?" her mother repeated. "He was...he was fine, honey." Scully caught the slight hesitation and pounced on it. "Mom? That didn't sound like he was fine. What aren't you telling me?" Her mother sighed, the sound loud through the long distance telephone wires. "He was, and is fine, Dana, I promise." She sighed again. "I was going to tell you when you got back." "Tell me what?" Scully snapped, and then immediately felt guilty, her face scrunching in a wince of apology, one her mother could not see. "Sorry, Mom. I'm just really tired," she said, much more softly. "What happened?" "After lunch, Fox was tired, and Thomas helped him get in bed for a nap. I decided to stay a little while, sitting by his bed. He seems to like when someone sits there while he's sleeping, you know." Scully nodded to herself. She did know that. Mulder had been like that too, able to sleep best when he knew she was near. "Anyway," her mother continued. "I closed my eyes to rest them, and I guess I dozed off. Fox must have had a nightmare, for he was thrashing about on the bed, and he called out, which woke me up." Scully was a little puzzled. Fox had nightmares; she had told her mother that before. A lot of children and adults had nightmares. She and Mulder could both attest to that. Or at least she could, she thought with negativity. "And?" she asked, to prompt her mother to continue. "Well, Dana, I'm not certain, but I think he was calling out for you." That wasn't so unusual, Scully thought, and said so. "No, dear. I meant I thought I heard him call out your other name. I thought I heard him say Scully." Bellefleur Motel A large warm hand glided up and down her arm, fingers tangling briefly with hers before stroking back up. This time it did not stop at her shoulder and resume its journey back to her hand, but continued up along her neck and into her hair, nails scratching at her scalp in that way that sent shivers down her spine. Scully sucked in her breath, back arching with the delicious sensation of his hand in her hair, which served to push her behind into his groin, spooned on the bed as they were. Mulder groaned and bent his head to suck at the flesh of her neck, just below her ear, and she shivered again, moaning his name softly. "You like that?" he murmured into her ear, and then traced the lobe with his tongue very lightly. Speech was near impossible, for his hand had left her hair and was once again gliding along her skin, only now it was in small circles over her smooth, flat belly and abdomen. Each circle brought the hand ever closer to the place she wanted it most. She managed a weak, "Uh-huh," and involuntarily bucked her hips upward, trying to entice his hand to move those few extra inches downward. Her action had him chuckling softly, sending another course of shivers through her. Turn-about was fair play. Scully reached behind her with her hand, and it landed on his hard, lightly furred thigh. The muscles there tensed and flexed at her touch, and then relaxed, and smiling to herself, she began to tease his flesh with her nails. He squirmed, and thrust his hips, his hardness nudging and sliding between the cheeks of her ass. Scully smiled, even as her she was pushing back against him to deepen the contact, her legs parting slightly to increase the friction, and barely held back a moan. She wanted him to be putty in her hands, not vice versa. With resolve she determined to forget about the fingers that were still teasing her and now circling and dipping into her belly button, and slid her hand up his thigh to his hip, squeezing once, before diving down to grasp his penis firmly, her finger quickly finding and tracing its head. He bucked in her hand, his fingers splaying across her belly and pushing her back into his body, and groaned in her ear, "Scuh-leeee..." "Jesus!" Scully lunged upwards in the motel bed, her heart pounding and her palms and forehead damp with perspiration. She was panting like she had just completed a mile in a flat-out run, and her mouth was dry. That had been one of the more vivid dreams she had been having lately, and now she could add feeling hot and bothered to her list of complaints for the night. She reached out, hand searching the surface of the night table, and found her watch. She brought it up to her nose, pressed the little button that illuminated the face and saw that said night was far from over. It wasn't even close to midnight yet. She groaned and sagged back into the lumpy mattress, one hand coming up to wipe the tangled damp strands of her hair of her forehead, the other dropping her watch back onto the table. She remembered tossing and turning on the uncomfortable bed some more after her telephone conversation with her mother had end ed. end ed rather abruptly by herself, when her mother's words about hearing Fox say Scully had made her recall her dream of hearing 'Scuh-leeee', and she had hurriedly told her mother she would talk to her when she got home. She had disconnected after her mother's puzzled goodbye, and once she had replaced the phone on the night table, settled back in the bed, her mind in turmoil. As it was once again. Had her thoughts about remembering hearing Mulder/Fox say her name that way influenced her dream of moments ago? Had she really heard Fox say that, or was it merely wishful thinking on her part, prompted by her loneliness and despair? Scully sighed, a bit harshly, and then jumped a little at a particularly strong kick from the baby. Apparently Junior had decided since mommy was awake, he or she would be too. Her hand went down automatically to rub at the abused spot, her mind whirling. Obviously she had finally dozed off, despite her earlier thoughts that sleep would be impossible, and begun to dream. Hoo-boy, had she dreamed. That one had been a doozy. Her pulse and heart rate had finally resumed their normal pace, but she was still feeling residual tugs of arousal. She was also getting a little chilled from the sweat that had dried on her body, so she heaved herself up and off the bed with a grunt of effort and shuffled to the bathroom. The baby kicked again then, a direct hit on her bladder, seemingly a favorite target of late. Scully added relieving herself to her mental list, which included a quick wash, a drink of hopefully icy cold water, and fresh sleepwear. By the time she had finished, including two glasses of almost cold enough water, she was wide-awake. As was Junior, and her ever- persistent back ache. Rubbing at her back, she moved back to the bed and turned on the small lamp on the night table, so she could look in her suitcase for something to change into. She had only brought the one nightgown, knowing they would only be staying the one night, but she was pretty sure she had a tee shirt in there. When she crossed the small space to where her overnight bag still sat on the dresser, she saw the folders containing copies of the charts the nurse Kris had provided without request laying on top of the bag. She stared down at them, not even remembering bringing them into the room. She laid them aside and dug into the bag. She had indeed brought a tee shirt – one of Mulder's. With a tiny sigh she slipped the nightgown off, folded it roughly, and tucked it in the side pocket she reserved for dirty laundry on these short jaunts. She held Mulder's tee shirt in her hands for a moment, before another chill ran over her, and then pulled it over her head and smoothed it down over her hips. It didn't reach her thighs anymore, not with the bulge of her belly taking up a good portion of the soft cotton, and she felt rather naked clad in only the tee shirt and panties. Fortunately she had also packed a pair of sweat pants, which she put on next. As she turned to get back into bed, intending to find some TV show or old movie to hopefully fall asleep too, her gaze encountered the folders once more. A thought flickered in her mind; a memory of herself wondering about the abductee's charts after Theresa Hoese had awoken from her coma. Maybe she had missed something. And being wide-awake now, there was no time like the present to try and find out. Searching her briefcase quickly, she located the case for her glasses and pulled them out, sliding them over her nose. The folders were scooped up, and in moments she was sitting up with her legs crossed at the ankles, the charts at her side. The days of sitting cross-legged with limber ease were a fading memory. She rubbed her hand over her belly again, musing absurdly that she no longer had a lap, but a shelf instead. She picked the first one up and began to read. 10:45 pm (PST) Half an hour later Scully was still reading. Her lower back was beyond aching, despite the pillows she had propped behind her for support, and her eyes were blurring. She had not found anything yet, and was beginning to think that she never would. How many times had she read these files, from cover to cover, when the abductees had first been found, and not seen anything? What made her think she would find something now? Scully dropped the page she had been scanning and straightened a bit to ease her cramping back. Her lips twisted slightly as she thought, a hunch. A feeling. Dare she say a premonition or intuition of sorts? She chuffed out a sardonic laugh. If Mulder could only hear her now. If only. She sighed, feeling that familiar pang in her heart, and pushed the thought aside. Wallowing in her misery would not help Mulder at all. With that thought, she got back to the papers in front of her. She had started with Theresa Hoese's, as she had been the first to wake up with no apparent side effects of her missing time and her coma, and had worked her way through Ray Hoese's. She had barely started on Billy Miles' file. Scully tapped her pursed lips with one finger. No apparent side effects... There was something...something about side effects. She pushed the other folders aside and began searching through the file on Theresa again, mumbling under her breath. "Not side effects, exactly, but something...What am I looking for?" Her fingers stopped on the most recent CAT scan on Theresa, the one that had been performed the day after she had awoken from her coma. She lifted it up, bringing it close to her face, eyes running rapidly over the notes. Her lips moved as she read, until finally she was speaking out loud. "...no anomalies." Her hand dropped down to land on the bed beside her, the paper crinkling in her fist, and her head came up slowly. "No anomalies," she repeated, staring forward into the empty room. "No anomalies," she said it again, as if puzzling out the meaning to the words, her mind working furiously. Theresa Hoese had experienced abnormal brain functions, as had all the other abductees, including Mulder. How could there be no anomalies? Her hands searching through the remainder of the file were rough, a few of the papers sent flying to drift slowly down to the floor. She snatched up a report on the first CAT scan performed on Theresa, back when the abductees had first been found, and scanned through it quickly, until she got to the section that detailed the findings. There she read the words slowly, and twice more again, almost in shock. Scully's heart began to thud almost painfully in her chest. Upon admittance to the hospital when she had first been returned, Theresa Hoese had still been exhibiting signs of abnormal brain function. After awaking from her coma, there had been absolutely no sign of any abnormal function. At all. Her brain was completely normal. She placed Theresa's papers aside and found Ray Hoese's, already predicting she would find his tests to be the same. And they were. Billy Mile's file was next, the one she had just begun before her epiphany, or whatever you wanted to call it. Without bothering to read everything, she searched for his first CAT scan, and the most recent. On her request, the tests were run on a weekly basis on all three of the returned abductees, as they were also run on Mulder back home in Virginia. She read them both, and then searched for the others, eyes immediately seeking out the findings at the bottom. She held the papers tightly in one hand, head once again lifting to stare into space. While Billy Miles first scan showed the same abnormal brain function as Theresa, it appeared to have lessened with each subsequent scan. However, his scans still indicated various abnormalities and Billy remained in a coma. Theresa and Ray no longer exhibited these abnormalities, and both had come out of their comas. She remembered back suddenly to when she and Mulder had come to Bellefleur several months ago after the phone call from Billy Miles, and Theresa had shown them all of Ray's records. His brain abnormalities had been far more extensive than Theresa's, which could explain why she had come out of her coma sooner. Her heart was still pounding rapidly, and the baby had begun to jab and kick restlessly, as if sensing its mother's excitement. There had to be a link, she thought, between the coma and their brain functions. Oh dear God, was that it? Could it be possible? Could their brains actually be healing themselves while they were in a coma? Was that why Billy Miles was still in a coma? She held the records in her hand; his brain obviously had not yet finished healing. If this were so, then why had Mulder awoken before any of the others? And why was he...not normal? She had his file in her briefcase; she had taken to carrying it everywhere. Placing the other files to the side, she struggled off the bed, her back protesting mightily, and shuffled painfully over to the dresser, her hand rubbing ineffectively at the ache in her back. She pulled Mulder's file out and flipped through it as she moved back to the bed. She sat down on the edge, turning to the side and bringing one leg up to the mattress for some support, and found the CAT scan reports. Close inspection revealed that there were differences. The abnormal brain function was present in Mulder's first scan, like the other abductees, and while he had been in a coma, there had been some slight changes. However, since he had awoken, there had been no further improvement. The hand clutching the file fell to her side again, while her head began to pound. Her thoughts were whirling faster and faster, as her heart sped up once more. Theresa and Ray had seemingly healed in their comas and were awake and fine. Billy Miles remained in his coma, but his brain continued to heal. Mulder had awoken from his coma, with the mental capacity of a child, and his brain had ceased to heal. Scully's mind made a sudden and fantastical leap, one reminiscent of Mulder's amazing intuitive solutions that had astounded and boggled her so, and she gasped aloud. Oh my God. Could it work? She lunged to her feet, as much as a seven months pregnant woman with poor balance and a skewered center of gravity could lunge, and plucked the telephone receiver out of its cradle. Before she began to dial, something made her wonder about the time, and she picked up her watch. "Damn it!" It was too late to call, with the time change it was after two am. She would have to wait until morning. She put her watch and the phone back down, and turned to clean up the scattered papers. At least she would get to talk to Fox before anything was decided. She needed to ask him about his dreams. Once she had gathered up all the files neatly and returned them to her briefcase, Scully made what she hoped was her last trip to the washroom, and retired for the night. As she settled beneath the covers, her mouth opened in a wide yawn. Despite her excitement about her discovery, she was exhausted. Her eyes burned and her back had reached new heights in pain, but she knew she would sleep now. Bakersfield Chronic Care Home Scully smiled faintly as Fox once again propelled his wheelchair further ahead of her as they traversed the hallways back to his room, her walk a slow, steady pace. He had been eagerly 'showing off' his newly acquired, and ever increasing, strength of his upper arms her entire visit, and delighted in speeding up every so often. She was surprised at how much he had improved physically in the last week or so, despite her conversation with his physiotherapist upon her arrival at the home a few hours ago. She had run into Mary Anne, who had been on her way out, and the therapist had said he was making amazing progress. She had even said she felt comfortable hazarding a guess that he would be walking within a month. The news, while most certainly encouraging and welcomed, had put a slight damper on the main reason for her visit, aside from coming to see and talk to Fox... her intention to speak to his doctor about having Fox put into a medically induced coma. Was she really doing the right thing? Scully winced then, both from the strong jab to her kidneys by a tiny foot or elbow, and the memory of the doctor's reaction that had lingered in her mind ever since she had spoken to him. Fox's attending physician at the Home, Dr. Peter Michaels, had been quite vocal in stating his disapproval of her proposal. He had claimed that the drugs necessary to induce the coma could actually do more harm than good, and that there were no guarantees that such a thing could work. Which was entirely true. And frightened her more than she wanted to admit. However, she had become convinced that doing so was the only option available to them, and her conviction had led her to be equally vocal in presenting her case. Well, to be honest, her demand. She had gotten a little pushy, she had to admit somewhat sheepishly. Her mother would have called it her 'dog with a bone' mood. The phrasing was apt; she had a ferocious stubborn streak, and when she strongly believed in something, there was little that could be said or done to persuade her otherwise. And because it concerned Mulder, and his well being, her resolve was immeasurable. In this instance though, she had found it necessary to use the threat of her Power of Attorney, and the fact that she was Mulder's personal physician on record, to argue her case. After over an hour of heated debate, and a conference call with the two doctors at GUMC who had examined and tested Mulder's mental capabilities, Dr. Michaels had reluctantly agreed to induce coma. It was scheduled for tomorrow morning. Scully's apprehension had grown steadily since then, and tension had gathered at the base of her neck. Tension that would soon escalate into a full-blown headache, she knew. It did not help that she was extremely tired - her day from the moment she had arisen in the motel in Bellefleur had been non-stop... or that she had thus far avoided speaking to Fox about his dreams as she had intended. "Day-na, look! Woo-hoo!" The excited sounds of Fox's voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she focused her gaze on him, realizing she had been walking along in an almost daze. He was quite far ahead of her, rolling rapidly down the hall, his arms raised above his head in the air, fists clenched, in a pose that reminded her of someone riding a roller coaster, or celebrating a victory. Oh, God. He could hurt himself. Or someone else. She had a horrible vision of he and his wheelchair crashing into the wall, or a piece of equipment, or another resident, and her heart started to beat double-time. "Fox!" she called, and quickened her steps, one hand coming up to support the bulge of her belly. Speed was not exactly her forte right now. His laughter whooped out, echoing slightly in the hallways, and despite her fear, she couldn't help but be buoyed by the sound. Fortunately a male nurse who had been coming from the opposite direction intercepted Fox before any damage could be done. Scully heaved a sigh of relief and caught up to them, huffing and puffing, in time to hear the nurse lecturing Fox in a firm but gentle manner. Fox looked downcast, possibly even contrite, but his eyes sparkled. Scully had a vision, of her some time in the future, dealing with the handful that was she and Fox Mulder's child. Hazel eyes, auburn hair and a willful spirit. It brought tears to her eyes. Tears she hastily blinked away. "Sorry," Fox said low-voiced, his head ducked down, and the nurse patted him on the shoulder and left with a nod to her. Fox peeked after the nurse and then looked up, head tilted to the side as if gauging her mood. He gave her a crooked grin, and shrugged his shoulders. She could not be angry with him. Especially as this could very well be her last evening with him. In two extremely different ways... one poignant to the point of tears, the other exceedingly painful and difficult to contemplate. If the coma were successful, Fox would be no more. If the coma were not successful, she could lose Mulder forever. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Scully gave him a small smile. "Come on, let's get back to your room." She took the handles of his wheelchair, and headed down the hall. Once in his room, he asked if they could read their book. Still hesitant about broaching the subject of his dreams, Scully agreed. He eagerly wheeled over to his night table and retrieved the book, before joining her at the window. They read it together, taking turns with the pages. Scully could see his lips moving silently when she was reading, and knew that he had memorized the entire story. She smiled slightly, for it reminded her of how Mulder had done the very same with his 'favorite' X-Files. When they were finished, she sneaked a glance at her watch. It was fast approaching the time when the nurses got him ready for bed, and she could tell that he was getting tired. He had slumped against her, his head on her shoulder, and she thought his eyes might be closed. Stifling a sudden yawn, she admitted that she was tired too. It had been a very long day. "Fox," she said softly. "Can you tell me who Scully is?" She had decided not to beat around the bush, and hoped that with him relaxed and sleepy, the answers might come more easily. She had also pronounced her name as she had thought she had heard it from his lips, Scuh-leeee. She could feel his shoulders tense through her arm, which was draped around him, and she tilted her head to try and see his face. He would not look up, but kept his eyes focused on the book still opened on his lap. "Fox?" she prompted. He looked up at her slowly, reluctantly it seemed, his lower lip jutting out not in a pout, but more with sadness or fear. "I...I don't...I don't know," he whispered. "When I try to think about it, my head starts to hurt." She remembered how he had told her once that he could not sleep when he had too many 'thinks' in his head. Did his thoughts also cause headaches? "Are there...are there other things that make your head hurt?" she asked, keeping her voice low and not aggressive. He nodded, and looked back down at his lap. When he spoke again, she had to lean closer to hear him, his whisper was that low. "Sometimes I see...I see a man, and he looks like me. He goes into this circle of light, with all these other people. It makes me feel scared." It was startling to hear. Were memories, Mulder's memories, seeping back in the form of dreams or nightmares? Fox continued to speak in the same whispery voice. "Other times the man is with you, Day-na, and..." He swallowed with a gulping sound. "He calls you Scuh-leeee." Oh my God. Scully closed her eyes tightly, bowing her head, glad that Fox was not looking at her. It had not been a dream. Not hers, anyway. He had dreamed of them together, and called out her name. "Day-na?" His voice was shaky. "It's okay, Fox," she told him, raising her head to meet his frightened eyes. "Everything's going to be okay." God, please let it be okay. 8:15 pm [Happy.] Fox grinned as he held the wheels of his wheelchair and tightened his arm muscles, as Mary Anne had shown him, ready to zoom off down the hallway again. Today had been a really good day. There had been lots of visitors, Maggie had brought treats from the bakery, and best of all, Day-na was back. [Day-na was tired.] That's why he was pushing the wheelchair for the walk back to his room, to help Day-na. He had seen her yawn a couple times, real big ones too, and she had been making those funny sighing noises a lot and rubbing her belly. He remembered then that he hadn't had a chance to sit with his hand on her belly, to feel the baby playing soccer inside, so he spun the wheels as hard and as fast as he could. [Fast!] He imagined the wheelchair was a rocket ship soaring through space. Or maybe he was a racecar driver tearing up the track, just like Uncle Melvin always yelled when they watched the videotapes he sometimes brought - a racecar driver named Ricky Rudd. Coming down the last stretch in his victory lap. Fox let go of the wheels and lifted his arms up over his head, coasting down the hall, his heart thumping like crazy. "Day-na, look! Woo-hoo!" he called out, and then laughed, feeling the wind from his fast ride in his hair and in his face. He saw a few faces looking at him in surprise from open doorways as he went past, and they made him laugh more. The chair was beginning to slow, and he brought his arms down to wind it up again, when suddenly there was someone in bright white grabbing the chair and stopping it all the way. [Hey!] Fox blinked up into the face of a nurse named Mike, and Mike wasn't smiling like he usually was. Fox got that scary, twisty feeling in his stomach, the one he got when he thought he might be in trouble, and swallowed the big lump in his throat. [Oops.] "Hey there...Fox, isn't it?" Mike said, but his voice didn't sound angry at all. "You've got to take it easy in the hallways, okay buddy? There are other patients and people here that you could have knocked into." Fox felt bad for a minute, until he remembered how much fun it had been. But he knew what he had to do. He looked down at his lap and said, "Sorry." Behind him he heard Day-na, making little gasping sounds, and he hoped she was all right. Mike patted him on the shoulder and walked away. Fox waited a moment and sneaked a peek after the nurse and then looked up at Day-na. It was hard for him to tell if she was mad or not. He tried his big smile, the one that always made her smile back, and lifted his shoulders up. Day-na did smile back, not a big one, but one that he could see in her eyes too, and said, "Come on, let's get back to your room." She put her hands on the handles of the chair and started pushing. He helped her, but was careful not to let the wheelchair pull away from her. She didn't say anything all the way back to his room, and he was scared she was going to leave before he got to touch the baby. After she had gotten his wheelchair through the door and shut it behind her, Fox looked at her and quickly asked, "Can we read our book?" [Sad?] She didn't answer right away, just stood there looking at him, which made him feel worried and a little scared that she was going to leave, and then she said, "Of course." He hurried to get the book from its spot on the table by his bed, pushing the wheels quickly, the chair moving easily beneath his hands. He grabbed it up, putting it in his lap, and rolled over to the window where Day-na already sat in the chair that was always there for her. Fox got as close to her as he could, and smiled to himself when she put her arm around his shoulders like he had hoped she would. He looked over and down at her belly, but could not see any kicking. Maybe after the book she would help him move his hand all over, chasing the movements inside. Day-na opened the book and began reading. She always went first, because that's how it should be, just like when the book had been new. He read along inside his head with her, but did not say the words out loud. The next page was his turn to read. He knew the whole book, from front to back, could read it to himself, but he liked it best when they read it together. He snuggled into her as they got near the end , resting his head on her shoulder. He was getting tired. Day-na read the last page and closed the book, which was still in his lap. He didn't feel like moving at all, he just wanted to sit there with Day-na. He let his eyes close, but they popped open again when Day-na spoke his name. "Fox," she said in her quiet voice. "Can you tell me who Scully is?" [Scuh-leeee?] A picture in his head... Day-na and the dark-haired man, lying in a bed together. [No! Hurts!] He squeezed his eyes shut again quickly, very tight, his shoulders scrunching up, and pushed the picture away. He didn't want his head to hurt. He could feel Day-na move, and his eyes opened once more. He did not look up at her, even though he knew she wanted him to. [Scared.] She said his name again, and finally he lifted his head and turned to look at her. "I...I don't...I don't know," he whispered. "When I try to think about it, my head starts to hurt." "Are there...are there other things that make your head hurt?" Day-na asked, still talking in her quiet voice. Her arm around his shoulders felt heavy, like she wanted to move it but couldn't. Like when he had a bad dream and wanted to get away and couldn't. He nodded, and looked down again. He would try to tell her about the dark-haired man, the man who he thought sometimes was him. "Sometimes I see...I see a man, and he looks like me. He goes into this circle of light, with all these other people. It makes me feel scared." He didn't like talking about that, it made his head really hurt, so it was hard to explain what he meant. Day-na was making those funny breathing noises, and he knew somehow that this was important to her. He talked some more, even though his head was hurting. "Other times the man is with you, Day-na, and..." He had to stop and swallow the big lump in his throat. "He calls you Scuh-leeee." [No more! Hurts!] He wanted the bad thoughts to stop. He wanted his head to stop hurting. "Day-na?" he asked, and his voice was wobbly. She hadn't said anything else and he was scared. He turned his head to look at her, but she was looking down. "It's okay, Fox," she said then, and lifted her head. He could see that her eyes were shiny. "Everything's going to be okay." [It will?] He felt a little better when she said that, and because she didn't ask any more about the bad thoughts. Her hand came up from his shoulder, and pushed his head back down into her neck. He sighed and rubbed his nose there. She was warm and soft and smelled pretty. He let his eyes close when he felt her hand tickling his hair. They sat together like that for a long time, and Fox remembered again about touching her belly. But when he was going to ask her if they could feel the baby move, the nighttime orderly came in. Day-na moved away, and he heard her sniffle a little. Dave came over and took him to the bathroom to get ready, and when they came back, Day-na was sitting in her chair by his bed. She waited until Dave had left the room before pulling her chair closer. Fox moved his arm and stuck his hand out, and Day-na took him, her thumb rubbing the back of it in the tickling way he liked. Sometimes he could close his eyes and fall asleep while she did that. Sleep sounded like a good idea, so he let his eyes close. "Fox?" Day-na said real quiet. "Did Katy tell you about your tests tomorrow?" [Trip. Hospital.] "Uh-huh," he said, and nodded against the pillow, keeping his eyes shut. He didn't really like having to go for tests, but at least he got to ride in the ambulance. Maybe they would even turn the sirens on for him. "You know I'll be there with you, right?" Day-na said, after a few minutes of quiet. "Glad," he whispered, and yawned really loud. He heard her little laugh, and smiled to himself. [Day-na not sad anymore.] It was quiet again for a bit, and he was starting to think about racecars, when he heard Day-na's chair move. Then he felt her lips on his cheek. She whispered, "Good night, Fox." "Night...Day...na." The touch on his hand was gone, but that was okay, because he was pretty sure he had just won the race. He rubbed his cheek, the one she had kissed, into the pillow, and smiled. Scully's Apartment Scully shifted around on the mattress, and was unsuccessful in her attempt to find a position that eased the ache in her back, despite the pillow she had stuffed there during the last of many such futile efforts. Sighing harshly, she stared unblinkingly at the bright red glow of numbers on her alarm clock and felt the bitter sting of tears as her eyes protested the abuse. It was time to face facts. She was not going to get any sleep tonight. With that admission, Scully sighed and hauled herself up so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed. Her feet dangled slightly until she inched her body forward, her toes now touching the roughness of the throw rug. She rubbed her back and then her belly before slowly standing, and reached for her cotton robe. Shrugging it on, she looked about briefly for her slippers, and not spying them immediately, decided to go without. She padded barefoot to the bathroom, relieved her bladder and washed her hands, and then continued down the dark hallway towards the kitchen. She bumped into the little deacon's bench halfway there, and could not contain a sharp cry of surprise and even fear. She then cursed herself, low and harshly. She had become clumsy during the second trimester of her pregnancy, and knew better than to be walking around in the dark; she should have turned at least her night lamp on, it would have illuminated the hallway enough until she had got to the kitchen. Her nerves were shot too, which didn't help, and the few times she had managed to drift off, she had horrifying nightmares in which Mulder suffered irreparable damages due to the induced coma. Each nightmare had left her wondering if she was doing the right thing, or if she was courting disaster by proceeding. Despite the support from everyone she had spoken to - her mother, Skinner, the Gunmen, even Doggett... she was still terribly afraid. But she could think of no other options. And she was not prepared to abandon the man who had been Fox Mulder. The father of her baby. Scully sat on the bench and rubbed her shin, feeling a slight bump there, shaking her head as she thought of the bruise it would be in a few hours. With a slight groan she got to her feet again and proceeded to the kitchen with more caution, sliding her hand along one wall until she was there. She flicked on the overhead light, squinting at the sudden brightness until her eyes adjusted, and headed for the stove. She filled the kettle and put it on the burner, and then went about retrieving a mug and the herbal tea she had taken to drinking on occasion. While the kettle boiled, she made herself some toast and peanut butter, knowing there would be no sleep for her now. She put the plate with the toast on a small tray and poured her tea, inhaling the aromatic steam with a deep sniff. Putting the mug on the tray as well, she moved slowly out to the living room, the light in the kitchen illuminating the room well. Placing the tray on the coffee table, she sank down into the couch with another grunt, something she had noticed she had started doing recently. Leaning forward with effort she snagged first the TV converter, which she placed beside her for the moment, and then the plate of toast, before sagging back into the cushions. Several mindless seconds of channel flicking found nothing worthwhile, so she turned it to MTV, a station she rarely watched. She lowered the sound until it was nearly inaudible and stared blankly at the glowing screen as she nibbled unenthusiastically at her snack. Her mind drifted to thoughts of Fox, as they so often did, and she pictured him as he had looked when she had told him of the 'tests' he was going for the next day. It had pained her, that it was a necessity to lie to him, but she could not contemplate having to tell him what she planned. He had grimaced, for he was not overly fond of the hospital, and of the tests, and really, who could blame him? In his child-like mind, they were scary events that he did not fully comprehend, and had to accept because the grown-ups demanded them. Here Scully grimaced herself, for it was she who demanded them, in her driving need to find some sign of improvement in his condition. Of which there had been none, making her feel even worse for having subjected him to them... there had never been any change. Yet he had lightened her spirits seconds later, as he so often did with a look or a smile or a gesture that was Mulder to the core, all unknowingly of course. He had snuggled into his pillow and replied that he was glad to her statement that she would be there with him. It had not assuaged her guilt, the only thing that would do that would be for Mulder to awake healthy and whole from the coma, but it had helped her feel just the tiniest bit better. Scully finished her tea and toast and looked at the clock. Not quite 5:30 yet, and Fox was not scheduled to be at the hospital until 8 am, but she might as well get ready now. There was nothing else to do but wait, anyway, and going about her morning routine would keep her occupied until it was time to go to the hospital, at least. With that thought in mind, she rose slowly from the couch and carried the tray back into the kitchen. She did the dishes quickly, and put away the tray and the box of tea, and then headed back to the bathroom for her shower. Georgetown University Medical Center Scully stifled yet another yawn, ducking her head down to hide it from her mother's steady regard. The effects of her nearly sleepless night were catching up with her... her eyes were red-rimmed and blurry and she knew she could easily lay her head down on the edge of the hospital bed and be asleep in minutes, if it even took that long. It did not help matters that the steady drone of the respirator was quite hypnotic. At the thought of the respirator, Scully looked up again and over at the apparatus, and frowned slightly. She had not been present when the doctor had induced coma, unable to watch Fox slip away into unconsciousness, and it had surprised her when she had come back in the room and seen him hooked up on the machine that assisted his breathing. The reason had come to her in seconds - because one of the drugs necessary for the induced coma was a paralyzing agent, the respirator was required - but it simply had not occurred to her until then. The IV, which she had been present for, because Fox had told her beforehand that he didn't like needles and wanted her to hold his hand, and the EEG machine and heart monitor, she had expected. Scully winced now, as she had at that moment when she had first seen it, as she looked again at the tube protruding from his mouth, and the tape used to hold it in place. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, an assurance that he was still alive, one she desperately clung to. She blinked and let her eyes unfocus as she stared at him, drifting back to earlier that morning. She had sat with Fox until the nurse had come in to begin administering the sedative in his IV, stroking his hand and talking softly. And still holding a faint smile from his story about his ambulance ride, and how the driver had indeed used the sirens for him. Once she realized why the nurse was there, she had risen with a grunt that had made Fox giggle, leaned over to kiss his cheek and then told him she would see him later, walking quickly from the room before he could see the tears that were already rolling down her cheeks. Straight into her mother's comforting arms, where the walls and all her defenses had crumbled, and she had been soothed and rocked as she had been so many times as a child. And where she had wailed her grief and fear as the enormity of what she had done sank in. Scully felt tears welling again, and sniffled, ducking her head once more, squeezing her eyes shut to try and stop the flow. A hand touched her shoulder, and she opened them again to see a tissue waving gently in front of her. Lifting the hand that had been cupped around her belly she took it with a whispered thank-you and wiped away the tears. "Dana, honey," her mom began, and returned her hand to Scully's shoulder, which she then squeezed, before shifting to crouch before her. "You can't sit here like this all day. It's not good for you." She paused, her hand moving down to rest on the bulge of Scully's belly, and then added, "Or the baby." Scully avoided her mother's gaze, until her mother reached out and gently but firmly grasped her chin, the quivering of which Scully could not halt, and tilted it up. Scully bit her lip as she looked into the blue of her mother's eyes and saw her own weariness and pain reflected there. She knew her mother was right, just as she knew her mother would not leave until she did. Scully nodded slowly, and sniffled, rubbing her nose in an entirely unladylike manner that made her mother smile slightly and turn to dig through her purse for a fresh tissue. "Blow," she commanded, after handing the tissue over. Scully did, loudly and fully, and they both smiled at the sound and then as one said, "Foghorn!" The word was an old family joke that referred to the sound Ahab and his youngest daughter both made when they blew their noses, and it brought about a fit of laughter that was soon tinged with hysteria on Scully's part. The laughter turned to tears, her hold on her emotions tenuous at best, and then Scully was once again in her mother's arms, leaning forward awkwardly in her seat, and her mother now on her knees on the floor. They rocked together, her mother's hands stroking her back in slow up and down sweeps that also helped to ease the ache there. Moments passed, and slowly her sobs ceased. Scully pulled back and her mother released her, angling her head back to stare into Scully's eyes, her own watery and red-rimmed. "Okay, honey?" she asked softly, and Scully nodded, swiping at her wet cheeks. The laughter and tears had been a catharsis, a cleansing one. She really did feel a little better. Her mother straightened, her knees creaking, and held out a hand. "Come on then, Dana. Let's get cleaned up, and then we'll go out and get some lunch. And then you'll lie down for a nap." Scully opened her mouth to protest the nap, wanting to return immediately after lunch, but her mother continued on with a glint in her eye and the tone of her voice implacable. "We'll tell the nurses we're going and to call you if there is any change whatsoever." At Scully's frown she added, "I'm sure I saw those three friends of yours, those Lonely Gunmen or whatever they call themselves in the hallway earlier. Fox won't be alone, Dana." Not that he would know anyway, Scully thought fatalistically, and then pushed the dismal thought away. She nodded then and placed her hand in her mother's, grateful for the assistance in rising. "Okay, mom," she said. "Let's go then." Her mother picked up her own purse and Scully's overcoat, handing the coat to her, before slipping into her own jacket. Scully threw it over her arm for the time being, she was too warm to wear it inside. She called out to her mother, "I'll be out in a second, Mom," and smiled slightly at her when her mother turned to look, her concern obvious. "I'm okay," she added, and watched as her mother's eyes flicked from her to the man lying in the bed and back, and then filled with understanding. After a moment, her mother nodded and left the room. Scully waited until the door had closed before turning and making her way back to Mulder's bedside, her hand coming up to lightly stroke his arm, the one not hindered by the IV. She frowned slightly at terming him 'Mulder' so quickly, not having realized she had somehow already said goodbye to the boy that had been Fox. Maybe that was a positive sign, that her conscious believed he was Mulder once again. She hoped so. It was as she was rising to her feet that Scully had remembered her mother telling her something long ago. Something about when she had been in her coma after her mysterious return from the still unexplained abduction. Her mother had told her that during one of her visits to see her in the ICU, she had found Mulder sitting by her bedside, holding her hand and talking to her like it was a normal everyday conversation. Scully had told her mother that many people believed that despite the fact that the individual was unconscious, they were still aware of things around them. She had never really given it much thought, or put much credence in such a theory, but if it were true, she did not want Mulder to feel all alone, wherever he thought himself to be. Bending closer to his ear, she softly said, "Hey, Mulder, it's me. I'm just going to get something to eat and walk around a bit, but I'll be back. I promise." She leaned even closer and pressed a kiss on the same cheek she had earlier kissed when he had been Fox, careful not to disturb the respirator tubing, and then added, "The guys will be coming in to see you, okay?" She started to pull away and then leaned back in, putting her lips right against his ear. "I love you, Mulder." She straightened slowly, one hand at her back, the jacket still tucked in the crook of that arm, and the other on his arm. She gave his arm one last stroke and headed out of the room to rejoin her mother. Georgetown University Medical Center Two days after Mulder was medically induced to a coma, Billy Miles awoke from his. Scully was sitting in what had already become her usual spot - a lounge-type chair brought in by the nurses after her mother had spoken to them about her condition... and realized after that she must have actually dozed off. The shrill ring of her cell phone, tucked in the pocket of her coat, was loud in the room otherwise disturbed only by the hiss and whoosh of the ventilator machine. Scully lunged upwards with a gasp, one hand going to her belly in a protective gesture, the other reaching out and clutching the arm of the chair tightly. Certain something was wrong and that Mulder's heart monitor was signaling an alarm, she pushed to her feet and took a step closer to the bed. Only to realize he lay as he had for the last two days, still and seemingly at peace, and that the sound was her cell phone. She fumbled to pull it out of her pocket, and finally did, hitting send and bringing it to her ear to gasp out, "Scully." "Dana, it's John." She heard Doggett's voice through a burst of static. He did not wait for her to respond, and added quickly, "Billy Miles is awake." Scully blinked slowly, her breathing still ragged from her abrupt awakening, and moved the few steps backwards necessary to lower herself back into her seat. She did so, carefully, her free hand searching and finding the arm of the chair to aid her descent, and landed with a soft exhalation. Her eyes stared unblinking at the floor in front of her, the cell phone held to her ear, as her mind processed the words John had spoken. 'Billy Miles is awake.' Where once the news might have filled her with a faint hope and sent her flying across the country, it now only stirred the vaguest of interest, and was not enough to induce her to leave Mulder's bedside. "Dana? Are you still there?" John's voice was a little louder this time, full of concern. "Um...yes, I'm still here," Scully replied, finally, and shifted a little in her seat. The baby had been disturbed by the suddenness of her rising, and was moving quite aggressively, jabbing her quite painfully. Her initial adrenalin rush from that awakening had faded as well, and she was weary again. "I'm sorry, I wasn't...I didn't...I didn't expect... " "I know," John interrupted. "Listen, you're at the hospital, right? I'll come get you." Scully opened her mouth to reply, and closed it again without speaking. She knew John would understand when she told him she would not be going, that she could not leave Mulder, but found herself without the words. "Dana? Did you hear me?" Scully took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and blurted out, "I'm not going to go!" There was another burst of static and then John's voice, rather loud, and more than a bit surprised. "Did you say you're not going?" Scully sighed a little, rubbing at her belly, and said, "John, I'm sorry, but I can't leave Mulder. I won't." She glanced over at Mulder then, stared at the constant motion of his chest rising and falling to the rhythm of the respirator. Her second sigh was a little harsher, and her next words were evidence of her frustration and fear and pain. "Besides there's no point, Billy's not going to tell us anything." Silence from the other end for a moment, and then John said, "I understand, Dana. But I still think I should go, just in case." A pause, during which she rose once more and went to stand beside Mulder, reaching out and laying her hand on his arm, feeling the need to touch him. His skin was soft, and warm, the baby fine hairs there tickling against her fingers, and she wanted nothing more than to be able to crawl into the bed with him. And to have him wake up and know her as his Scuh-leeee. John continued, "I'm going to head over to the Hoover building. Skinner will be there even though it's Saturday, I'll make arrangements through him. I'll call you if I have any news." "That..." her voice broke just a tiny bit as she stared at Mulder's still face, expressionless in his unnatural slumber. She cleared her throat. "That's a good idea, John. I'll talk to you later." He disconnected immediately, she was much slower in pressing end and folding up her phone. She laid it on the mattress to put away later, content to stand as she was for now, watching Mulder. A sudden yawn surprised her, and she shook her head slightly. As was her habit of late, she ran her eyes over every visible part of him... his spiky hair that her hands itched to smooth down, and did, his stubbled cheeks and chin, that also invited her touch, the pulse that beat steadily in his neck. She talked softly to him at these times, telling him she was there, and that she missed him. Another habit, an almost compulsive one, was checking all the equipment and wires that were running to and from his body. She talked to him then too, explaining what she was doing at each step. She shifted her stance slightly, and inspected his IV, his Foley catheter and the leads to his heart monitor. The respirator was examined as well, with a careful touch so as not to disturb the tubing. Her next stop was the EEG machine, on the other side of the bed, where she lifted the strip that printed out continually, and glanced at the lines that represented his brain waves. The printout looked blurry, and she blinked to clear her eyes. Yet the blurriness remained, now looking somewhat like a smudge. She blinked again and brought the strip closer to her face. One of the lines actually looked like it had a hint of an echo, almost like when a faxed copy of a report had faint shadows on certain words. Frowning, she went back a few pages, and spotted the same blip, or irregularity, every so often. Then back even further. It was still there, and always on the same wave. A chill ran through her, and she realized she was quite possibly holding more evidence of the brain abnormalities Mulder had and was apparently still suffering. She wondered if it would be the same on the EEG's of the other abductees. She cursed then, angry with herself for having missed this sign too if it were true; she would have to check the other EEG's as well. Although she had to admit it was not easily spotted, it did look like a smudge, or like the ink had smeared. But still, her own carelessness at not catching this earlier was galling, and a bitter pill to swallow. It was not until she felt paper crinkling did she look down to see that she had fisted her hands, the printouts clutched within. She opened them quickly, smoothing the strips out and replacing them, before coming around the bed back to Mulder's side. Of course she had not brought her briefcase with her to the hospital, she would have to go home and get all the medical files. She glanced at her watch; it was just after 2:30. Her mother had said she would come by before 3, so Scully would wait until she arrived and then go home to check the EEG's. What she would do after that, she did not know. Georgetown University Medical Center Scully moved slowly along the hospital corridor, thankful it was mostly empty at this time of day. That way she did not have to smile or perhaps engage in small talk with anyone. She did not feel up to being polite or friendly right now. Her back was aching already, and it was only mid-morning, and the baby had managed to find a spot within her that compressed a nerve leading down her right leg, which was alternately numb or sore from the pressure. Walking helped a little, and it also allowed her to get the kinks out from sitting in the same position for the last hour and a half, since she had first arrived at the hospital. The nurse was in with Mulder at the moment, checking his vitals, and she had used the opportunity to get out and stretch a bit. Ever since she had confirmed that each of the other abductees' EEGs had the same irregularity on their printouts, she had been reluctant to leave Mulder alone. She was afraid she would miss something, some sign or indication he was improving. She had already arranged with Skinner before Mulder had been induced into coma for a leave of absence of undetermined length, and spent the majority of her time at the hospital by Mulder's side. If it had been at all possible, she would be there all the time, despite the protests of both her mother and Skinner. But the health of the baby had to come first. No matter how much she loved Mulder. During the day, if she was not there monitoring him and the EEG for any sign of change or the disappearance of the smudged wave as she had now begun to call the irregularity, one of the Gunmen had that duty. Though it was not really a duty to any of them, herself included. As for the nighttime, she had spoken at length with Mulder's doctor, and he had arranged for a nurse to check the EEG results on a bi-hourly basis. And to call her if there was anything to report. So far there had been no change. It was worrisome. She had not thought there would be immediate evidence that the coma had been the right thing to do, despite her fervent hope that would be the case, it had been far too unrealistic an expectation. But it had been five days now, and there had been absolutely no sign at all. Scully stopped and moved closer to the wall, putting one palm flat against it to support herself, as the baby kicked her quite vigorously in the side. With her free hand, she pushed gently on the spot that had been abused, and thankfully the baby shifted once more. As she turned to head back to Mulder's room, sure the nurse would have completed her check now, she heard a voice call out her name. She looked down the corridor to her right, to see Skinner heading towards her, his black trench coat billowing around him as he strode purposefully towards her. "Hello, si-, I mean Walter," she said when he caught up with her, and then smiled wryly at him, as she had nearly greeted him as 'sir'. It had gotten easier as time passed to call him by his first name away from the Bureau, but upon seeing him in his FBI attire the title had automatically come to her lips. "Dana," he responded, a quirky smile on his own face. He had also gotten over his difficulties with terming her 'Dana' instead of 'Scully', and rarely slipped up. "How are you feeling?" "A little tired, a little achy." She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "The usual." She had given up on trying to pretend everything was all right, most of the time the person who had posed the question didn't believe her anyway. It was just easier to go with the truth. Mulder would have been surprised, and very likely amused, that she had finally admitted to having weaknesses like everyone else. That for once, everything was not 'fine.' She was sure he also would have had some wisecrack to celebrate the moment. Walter's next words pulled her from her thoughts of Mulder, both his voice and expression serious. "Don't stress yourself, Dana," he said. "If you need help, you ask for it. Anything you need, I'm here. So is Agent Doggett." "I know, Walter, and I thank you for that. But being tired and achy is normal, and I'm being very careful not to overdo it." Scully lifted one eyebrow at him as she spoke, an almost uncontrolled habit of hers when she was speaking earnestly. Also when she was angry, as Mulder had been witness to on many occasions. There he was, slipping into her every waking thought again, much as he had taken up permanent residence in her sleeping ones. That made her recall her many dreams of the night before. All of them sexual in nature, and all involved Mulder. As one particularly hot event popped in her head, she felt herself flush. And then felt Walter's hands gripping her by the arms. "Dana? Are you all right?" His voice was louder than normal, and very concerned. The flush deepened. Oh, dear. She imagined herself replying, 'I'm fine, Walter, just having an erotic visual of Mulder and myself', and closed her eyes for a minute. That only worried him further obviously, for he muttered a curse as his hands tightened on her and he pushed her back until she was against the wall. Her eyes popped open at that, to see him looking rather wildly up and down the corridor, the muscle in his jaw twitching rapidly. He then said, "Hang on, Scully, let's get you to a chair, I'll get some help." Even as she was opening her mouth to tell him she was all right, she noted how he had reverted back to his once usual form of address. "Walter...sir...I'm fine, honestly. I just...ah, I just got a little light-headed for a moment. It's passed. I'm fine." His head swiveled to face her again, and his grip on her arms lessened. "Are you sure? You're okay?" Other than being embarrassed as hell, I'm fine, she thought. She nodded and said, "I'm sure." She was not sure how to apologize, or if she should. Or how to at all. He solved her dilemma by smiling suddenly, his hands leaving her arms completely. "You know, Dana, I don't know if I'm exactly the best back-up for your birthing coach. This," and here he indicated her with a wave of his hands, "was nerve-wracking enough." She had asked him to be her back-up coach, with her mother as actual coach, a few days after Mulder had awoken from his first coma and she had realized he might never be okay. It was an unspoken and silently acknowledged fact though that both of them were holding those positions only until Mulder recovered. Until, not if. Scully laughed then, picturing him pacing up and down the hallway as she labored to deliver her child. The picture turned her mood, which had been sliding towards depressed with her thoughts of Mulder unable to be her coach. "You'll do fine, Walter. A big, tough ex-Marine such as yourself, it'll be a walk in the park." He grunted out a laugh, and then surprised her by pulling her into a gentle hug. "I'll be there, don't you worry," he said softly. "I know," she replied with equal softness, and lightning-quick, tears were forming in her eyes. She blinked them back before he could see them, not wanting to alarm him again. Walter cleared his throat, and released her. "Well, now that I know you're okay, I'll tell you why I came by. I had an appointment that didn't last as long as I had expected, so I thought I would come by and take you to lunch." He shifted and lifted his arm up to glance at his watch. "I know it's a little early, but I figured you could use a break." At the mention of lunch, her stomach rumbled. "That's very nice of you, and you're right," Scully replied, smiling once more, and patted her stomach. "We could use a break. One of the Gunmen should be here any minute, and then we can go." Walter cupped her elbow, and they walked together down the hallway to Mulder's room, to await the arrival of a Gunmen. 8:20 pm Despite the fact she had gone home and taken a nap after her lunch with Walter, Scully could feel the exhaustion creeping in again already. Of course she had been at the hospital for the last 5 or 6 hours, with only a small break for dinner with her mother midway through that time. Visiting hours were over at 8:30, and though the nurses made an allowance for her if she stayed a bit longer, she thought that tonight she would leave then. She shifted in her chair, arching her sore back slightly, and had to bring a hand up to cover a huge, sudden yawn. Her jaw cracked with the force, and a tiny noise escaped her mouth, and she was embarrassed at the sound. Until she realized the only other occupant of the room was most likely totally unaware of her presence. But in case he was aware of the things around him, his very self locked inside his own mind, she continued to talk to and touch him with frequency, and a growing ease at doing so. She had brought the portable radio from his room at the Bakersfield Home, along with some of his own CD's and some of the ones they had listened to at her apartment, and she played them periodically. She had had the Gunmen bring in a VCR, so that she could play the videotape of basketball games Frohike had made for him during his disappearance. She had even begun to move his arms and legs twice daily through some of the passive exercises Mary Anne had shown her how to do when the therapist had begun Fox's physiotherapy upon his arrival at the Home. She still left a majority of the tending of his personal needs to his nurses, feeling slightly uncomfortable with that aspect of his care. This was because of her innate sense of privacy, not only for herself, but for him as well, despite the fact that she was quite familiar with every inch of his body, and he of hers. Although she did continue to monitor and check all the equipment, and the accompanying tubes and wires, that he was hooked up to, on a regular basis. It had become a constant need for her... to connect with him physically, and perhaps even to atone for not finding the results in the medical files sooner and having him put into this coma. For playing God with his life. Which so far appeared to be for naught, she thought with bitterness. And then quickly chastised herself for her negativity. He would get better. She had to believe that. Scully sighed and shifted a little once again, her hand rubbing her belly in slow circles, the gesture having become her physical version of a mantra. Just like she had to touch Mulder. She glanced at her watch and decided to check things one last time before leaving for the night, it was almost 8:30. She planted both feet firmly on the floor, slightly spread for balance, and with her hands also planted firmly on the arms of the chair, hoisted herself up and out. A grunt escaped this time, and she made a face, glad no one was around to witness it; she got a little tired of the grins and cute comments at her bulk and her increasing difficulties in getting to her feet. In quick, economical movements, she checked his IV lines and his catheter, ensuring his output was normal, which it was. After a brief look at his heart monitor leads, she allowed her hand to rest on his chest for a moment, feeling the warmth of his skin, and the steady and reassuring thud of his heart against her palm. "Hey, Mulder, it's me," she said quietly. There was still this irrational hope within her that she would feel his heart rate increase when she spoke to him, but it did not. "I'm getting ready to go home for the night, and I'll be back in the morning." Her hand slid reluctantly away, and she readjusted his hospital gown before moving it to rest briefly on his cheek, her thumb stroking there gently. His stubble was rough and scratchy, and she could see signs of irritation on the skin around his mouth from the tape that held the respirator tube in place. She touched it lightly, a moue of distress on her face, and made a mental note to ask one of the nurses tomorrow for some sort of ointment for him. Leaning over to press a kiss onto his cheek and to whisper 'I love you' in his ear, her eyes happened to glance over at the EEG machine. She shook her head slightly, annoyed at herself, for she had almost left without checking the printouts of the last little while. Another yawn cracked her jaw as she made her way around the bed, and she rubbed at her eyes before reaching for the strips. She was not expecting to see anything different, and therefore almost missed it. Almost put the strip back down, said her goodbye, and left. But it caught her eye somehow. The blip, or smudge, was gone from the printout. Sure she was just not seeing properly, Scully blinked rapidly to clear any trace of weariness from her eyes and looked again. It was still not there. She quickly grabbed the moveable lamp over Mulder's bed and swung it closer to herself, angling it directly over the strip of paper in her hand, studying it intently. Her heart began to pound, heavy thumps she could feel in the pit of her stomach, while her hands were icy cold and trembling. She took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself, and looked back over the strips of the last hour. Hope blossomed. For in between her last check of the monitor, which had probably been well over an hour ago, and just now, the anomaly on Mulder's EEG reading had disappeared. Her eyes left the evidence before her, her head lifting slowly, and shifted to the man lying on the hospital bed. The strips of paper fluttered to the floor, forgotten, as she stumbled around the machine and to his side. "Mulder?" Scully half-whispered, one shaking hand coming up to touch his arm, tears building in her eyes. She blinked them back, and shifted her stance, her belly pressing uncomfortably against the bedrail. This enabled her to lean closer, and she moved her hand from his arm to his face, the other coming up to rest over his heart. The thumbs of both her hands moved automatically, caressing gently, stroking his cheek and his gown-covered chest. "Mulder, can you...Mulder, oh God, Mulder, if you can hear me..." Her voice trailed off as her mind began to process what she had just learned. They needed to order a CAT scan to confirm that Mulder's brain functions were normal again; she had to contact his doctor to arrange for one. She cursed out loud as she realized they probably would not be able to do so until the morning, flinching at the crude word she rarely uttered. Her teeth clenched on another curse; morning seemed so very far away at that moment. And if the scan showed that they were normal...if they were, the medication that kept him in his coma had to be stopped. But not until then. Her eyes flicked from his face to his IV, to stare at the lines entering the veins in his arm... for nutrition, and to administer the drugs on a predetermined schedule. The hope continued to grow; maybe very soon, even tomorrow, the IV would no longer be necessary. Scully lifted her hand from his cheek, stroking it through his spiky hair in one last caress, and stretched on tiptoe to press a kiss on the spot where it had lain. She lowered herself back down and leaned back a little, the guardrail had begun to hurt. This time she did not whisper her goodnight in his ear, instead speaking out loud. As if vocalizing what was going to be. "Mulder...God, I hope...no, I know I'm going to be telling this to you soon." She paused, and then let all her emotions pour forth into her next words. "I love you, Mulder." She studied his face for a moment and then shuffled over to her chair, plucking her coat off its back. She threw it over her arm for now, and headed from the room, purpose in every stride, as waddling as those steps might have been. She had a call to make. Georgetown University Medical Center Scully was scared. It had been almost 35 hours since Mulder's doctor had withdrawn the drugs that kept him in his coma, and he had not yet awakened. Once the CAT scan, performed first thing the previous day, had confirmed that the brain abnormalities were gone, it had been decided to immediately stop the sedation. Logically, she knew it would take some time to be purged or eliminated from his system. But not this long. She could recall the relief that had washed through her when the intubation tube had been removed and he had taken that first breath on his own, confirming that the paralytic agent no longer had effect. She could also recall how she had foolishly thought he would wake up not long after that moment. From her perch beside his bed, she once more brought her eyes to his face, staring desperately. Hoping to see a flicker of his eyelids that would indicate he was beginning to awake, or even a twitch or a frown. There was nothing. A shuddering sigh passed through her lips, and she brought her hand up to cover her mouth, ready to stifle the sobs that were hard on the heels of the sigh. A hand, warm and heavy, landed on her shoulder, and she jumped, a gasp escaping instead. She had completely forgotten Skinner...Walter...was there. He had arrived not too long ago, at her mother's instigation, she knew. Her mother had been here all day with her, alternately pleading with her to leave, and ordering her to do so. Scully had ignored her. She was not going to leave. So far, Walter had said little beyond his initial greeting upon arrival. He had stayed silent in one corner of the room, although she had felt his eyes on her at the beginning, until she had pushed his presence from her mind, and knew he was going to speak now. Most likely to ask her to go home, telling her it wasn't good for her or the baby to stay here like this. She knew that, goddammit. Would not let herself forget that, ever. It was just right now, she had to worry about Mulder as much as the baby or herself, if not more. She was the reason he was in the coma. How could she leave? And besides, she was making sure she stretched her legs every hour, and that she ate. She had even managed a brief nap after lunch, when Frohike had come by. "Dana? I think it's time you went home. You've been here all day." Walter said, squeezing her shoulder slightly. There it was. Scully didn't bother correcting him. She had actually been there a lot longer than all day. She had never left the night before, despite what her mother thought. Of course she had walked out to her car with her mother when visiting hours were over, coat in hand. She had just waited until her mother had driven out of the parking lot, getting out of her own car and retrieving the overnight bag from the trunk, and heading back inside. She did not bristle at his concern either. It was well intentioned and sincere, not to mention fully expected. "I can't," she answered softly, brokenly, without looking at him, now at her side. "Why..." he bit off whatever he had started to say, the word sharp and loud in the room, and then exhaled harshly. His fingers tightened momentarily on her shoulder, almost painfully. "You can't stay here all the time," he said next. "I have to," she responded, and tensed her shoulders to escape his grasp. He took the hint, his hand sliding away. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him clench it into a fist, and heard him sigh. He moved around her chair, wedging his body up against Mulder's bed in the little space left, so close was she to the bed. This meant he stood between it and her, blocking her view of the man lying there. She muttered a curse, not at him, but in his general direction, and hoisted herself from the chair. Her anger turned what would have been a grunt of effort to a low growl instead. He took the opportunity to grasp her arms, just above the elbows, and she saw him bend his knees slightly; knowing it was in an effort to try and look into her face. She kept her head down, refusing to give an inch. "Dana, please, you've got to take it easy. I know you're concerned, but sitting here putting yourself and that baby at risk isn't going to help him." This brought her head up, her eyes now spitting fire instead of reflecting her misery. "I am not putting this baby at risk," she hissed. "I would never do that!" She remembered with a flash of shame that she had come close to doing exactly that a few times before, but shook the thought off. "I wouldn't," she repeated more softly. "I'm eating, I'm walking, and I'm resting. The baby, and I, are fine." "For how long, Dana?" he persisted. One hand left her arm to touch her chin, taking more liberties than he ever had, tilting it up to look into her eyes. The dam that had been holding by a delicate thread all day finally broke. Tears welled, hot and furious, and spilled from her eyes to roll down her cheeks. Scully ducked her head down again, despite the fingers still at her chin, and then found herself pulled gently into an embrace. She resisted for a moment, body stiffening in reaction, before relaxing into him with a sob, her arms coming up to wrap around his waist. "Shhhhh..." she heard from somewhere above, her head buried in his chest. One of his hands was smoothing up and down her back in soothing strokes, the other around her shoulders, his hand cupping her skull. "I'm so scared," she wailed softly, for once not ashamed of her tears, for breaking down in front of him. "What if he doesn't wake up, Walter?" He was silent for long moments, now rocking her from side to side gently. "Dana, we have to believe he will get better." She really wanted to believe that. It was just taking longer that she had thought, and that scared the hell out of her. Medically there was no reason why he still remained in the coma. And she could not help thinking she should not have allowed it, not have demanded it be done. When she did not reply, only nodded against him, he said, "Is there nothing else the doctor can do?" Scully heard again in her head Mulder's doctor suggesting they try Narcan, a narcotic agent that blocked receptor sites where drugs attached themselves and helped to lessen their effects. And heard herself tell him no, because she had been worried about him coming out of the coma too early. Like he had after he had been found in the woods of Oregon. She said slowly, thinking it out, "There is a drug, Narcan, that is sometimes used to reverse the sedative effects of certain drugs. It could work." She pulled away from him, feeling his hands slide away from her hair and back, and looked at her watch. "It's too late now though. I'll have the doctor paged first thing in the morning to administer the Narcan." She brought her hand to her face to wipe at the remnants of her tears, and Walter reached in his pocket and handed her a neatly folded white handkerchief. She thanked him and used it to dry her eyes and face, holding the cloth in her fist when she was done. Walter had stepped back, turning from her to study Mulder lying on the bed, possibly giving her a modicum of privacy. "It's going to work, Dana," he said. "He's going to wake up." "I hope so," she whispered, and felt the weariness dragging at her body and soul. She stepped back and lowered herself carefully into her chair again, sighing with relief when she felt the firm surface of the cushion against her back. Her head lolled on her neck before finally slipping to one side, her body slumping a little and her eyes fluttering shut. "You're planning on staying all night, aren't you?" Walter asked suddenly. She opened her eyes and looked up to see that he appeared to be studying her. He added, "You stayed last night, didn't you?" Scully blinked, holding his gaze, neither confirming nor denying his accusations. He nodded to himself, as if he had found his answer. "Fine. If you're staying tonight then you will lie down and get some sleep now." He held up one finger, forestalling her protest. "I'll stay while you sleep. I'm going to get them to bring a stretcher in here for you to lie down on. It couldn't have been too restful in that chair." He indicated the one she sat in with a nod of his chin. It had been horrible, actually, but she said nothing, merely nodded, and watched him leave the room to no doubt demand a stretcher. After the door closed behind him, she let her eyes close again too. She was so tired. Georgetown University Medical Center Dark. Cold. Scared. She ran down end less hallways, her every breath burning her lungs, the bulge of her belly making each step a trial, and sending pain flaring through her lower back. It was difficult to see in the darkness, she could find nothing that would help her in her quest. Mulder was here, somewhere. She just had to keep looking. She had to find him. A sound echoed all around her, and she slowed slightly, head swiveling frantically from side to side. She could not make out what it was, or tell from which direction it had come. Taking a deep breath, she resumed her quick pace. The sound came again, and she stumbled to a halt, nearly falling, as this time she recognized it. It was Mulder, screaming her name. Scully's eyes popped open, and she sat up abruptly, one hand coming up to cover her mouth and conceal the gasping breaths that were escaping. Her other hand automatically went to her belly, a reassuring confirmation that the baby was still there, before sliding down and around to her back, to the phantom ache left over from her nightmare. As she rubbed at the spot, her heart began to slow, and she became aware of other discomforts. The cot she sat on, brought by an orderly instead of a stretcher after Skinner had gone to request one, was not the most ideal of sleeping locations. The mattress was thin and lumpy, and it squeaked every time she moved. Mulder's hospital room was dark, though not as dark as the hallways in her dream, lit only by a small light over his bed that did not illuminate the entire room. It did however, cast large shadows on the walls, shadows that took on ominous shapes. She shivered suddenly and violently, the chill from the nightmare lingering still, and brought her hands up to cross over her chest and rub her arms in an effort to warm herself. Her skin was clammy; she could feel that even through the material of her long-sleeved jersey, one of Mulder's, and her teeth had started to chatter. It was unlikely she would be getting any more sleep, so she shifted as quietly as possible, swinging her sock-clad feet off the cot and finding the ground, and stood. She had seen Walter sprawled rather uncomfortably on the chair she normally occupied, seemingly asleep, and did not want to wake him. He would undoubtedly ask what had awakened her, and she did not want to discuss her dreams at all. Her legs were shaky, and constant shivers were now running through her body, so she grabbed the blanket from the cot and wrapped it around her shoulders, clutching it closed at her breasts. She didn't bother with her shoes, unable to see them in the dark anyway, and padded over to Mulder's bedside. Whether it had been the faint sound as the trailing ends of the blanket dragged across the floor, or that Skinner still had the instincts learned long ago in Vietnam, he was disturbed. She heard a snuffling, snoring sound, followed by the creak of his chair, and turned her head from Mulder's supine form to see Walter sitting up, staring at her. They held each other's eyes for a long moment, until he looked away, rising from his chair. With quick movements he slid into his suit jacket and adjusted the tie he still wore, and then he made a gesture with his thumb at the door, which she took to indicate he was going for a walk, and left the room. Once the door closed, Scully moved to grab the other chair in the room, and dragged it next to the bed up by his head, the loud noise it made scraping across the floor causing her to cringe. Her blanket had slipped down her arms in the process, and once she got the chair in place and sat down, she shifted it back over her shoulders, huddling into its meager warmth, clutching it to her breasts once more. If she stretched just right, she could rest her hand on his chest without causing undue strain on her back, or pushing her belly into the side of the bed. It looked so pale against the dark blue of his hospital gown, and she watched it lift with each of his inhalations - slow and steady - and fall as he exhaled, for long minutes. Sighing, she let her eyes travel up to his face, studying the unfamiliarity of well-known features in this unnatural slumber. He did not look relaxed to her, as he usually did when asleep. He just was not her Mulder. But he was in there, she knew. She only wished she knew how to make him to come out again. "Oh, Mulder," she whispered softly, sadly. "You have to wake up for me. I...I need you to." She folded her free arm on the mattress, close to his arm lying at his side, and rested her head on it, turned so that she could still look at his face. Her other hand remained on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through the thin cotton gown. "There are so many things I need to tell you," she continued. "Things you might have a hard time accepting, just as I did." Thinking of the baby in her womb, who was right at that moment lazily somersaulting, she smiled a little. "Good things, Mulder." At the sudden jab to her ribs, she amended with a slightly strangled voice, "Very good things." Wincing, she removed her hand from Mulder's chest, shifting slightly in her chair, and rubbed the sorely abused spot. The baby kicked again, and she lifted her head from her arm and straightened up. "Hey little one, take it easy in there," she whispered, looking down at her belly. "Mommy's trying to talk to your daddy." A sudden deep inhalation from Mulder had her head snapping up, eyes going first to his chest, to see his lungs expanded to their utmost and then sink as he exhaled, before flicking to his face. She swore she saw his cheek twitch. "Mulder?" she tried to say, but with her mouth now gone dry as dust, the words were too faint. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she reached for and found his hand, grasping it tightly. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Mulder, can you hear me?" Oh, God. That was definitely movement behind his eyelids. She struggled to her feet, the chair scraping back noisily, and was torn between grabbing the call bell to summon a nurse or anyone to witness this miracle with her, and wanting to touch him and talk to him. Touching him won out. One hand went to cup his face, thumb stroking softly, while the other retained its grip on his hand, squeezing tightly. "Mulder? It's me. Come on, open those eyes. Please." She watched with stunned, hopeful eyes as his lips pursed and then opened on a tiny gasping inhalation. "That's it, Mulder. You can do it. Come on back to me." More fluttering of his eyelids, followed by a twitch of his fingers within her hand. A moment later his eyes opened for a millisecond, then closed again. Scully leaned in as close to him as she could get, her mouth beside his ear. "Mulder, open your eyes again. I know you can do it." Her voice broke as tears sprang to her eyes. "I need to see you open your eyes, Mulder, please." His head moved infinitesimally on his pillow, his lips now making a smacking noise as he opened and closed his mouth, and then his eyes drifted open again, looking at her. The hazel orbs were dulled, and sleepy-looking, but she saw recognition in them. "Mulder?" His lips parted and moved, a soundless gasp of her name. Scully? Relief swelled through her in enormous waves. He had said 'Scully', not 'Day-na'. It was Mulder. "Yes, Mulder, it's me," she whispered, one fat tear welling and then rolling slowly down her cheek to drop off and splatter on their clasped hands, which she had somehow brought up to rest under his chin. "I'm here." She sniffled, smiling tremulously, and added, "You're okay, you're just...you're just in the hospital." He didn't seem surprised, or upset, and nodded slowly. "You...okay?" he rasped. A thousand answers sprang to mind, but she merely said, "I am now." "Good," he mouthed, his eyes fluttering shut again. His head rolled a little on the pillow, and then he was asleep. More tears followed the first one, and Scully's head dropped, her forehead coming to rest on the mattress, shoulders shaking. He was back. 4:00 am A low voice called her name, and Scully awoke, just as two large, warm hands settled on her shoulders. She instinctively knew it was Skinner, and managed not to flinch or cry out. Although she did arch her back a little, her muscles protesting from the abuse of sitting awkwardly in a hard chair for too long. "Dana?" he asked again, voice hospital-quiet. Unfortunately he did not take her silent hint for a massage, and his hands slid away. She cleared her throat, which was dry and scratchy from crying. "I'm fine," she said, and then winced at how hoarse she sounded. Her hand came up to rub at her eyes, which were gritty and sore, and then she tried to straighten her hair a little, knowing it had to be messed from her impromptu nap at the edge of Mulder's bed. Her mind flicked back to the moments after Mulder had spoken to her and then drifted back to sleep. It seemed almost surreal now, but as she flicked a glance at his face, she knew it had really happened. His face looked relaxed now, at peace in a normal slumber, unlike the waxy, unnaturalness he had retained in his coma. The outpouring of relief and tension that had followed once he had fallen back to sleep had fortunately not lasted long. She had felt silly then for having broken down like that. But now, looking back, she was able to see that it had been a logical result of the intense stress of the last several months, not to mention the hormones of pregnancy. Skinner shifted behind her, and said, "You should get some more sleep, Dana. I won't bother asking you to go home, but at least lie down again." Scully smiled slightly. Once again she felt wide-awake, and this time not because of a nightmare. Because all her hopes and dreams and wishes, centered around the man lying on the hospital bed before her, had finally come true. She was surprised she had actually dozed off there earlier, although the crying jag had taken quite a bit of energy, especially her efforts to muffle her sobs. "I don't think I can go to sleep again," she said, quite honestly, and could hear the awed satisfaction in her own voice. How could it not be there, if she were able, she'd be dancing a jig, she thought a little giddily. Obviously Skinner could hear something in her words as well. One of his hands returned to her shoulder, his grip asking her to look at him, and she could feel the tension running through him. It was in his voice too as he asked, "What happened?" She turned her head, lifting it to meet his concerned gaze, and smiled beatifically. "Mulder woke up," she said simply. Her smile widened to a grin as she watched his eyes goggle in surprise, and his mouth open and close soundlessly. His gaze then left her face to go to the man in the bed, and then came back. His eyes narrowed a little as he studied her features, no doubt taking in not only eyes that had to be red-rimmed, a face that was blotchy and tear-streaked, but the absolute truth that shone within their blue depths. An amazing transformation occurred. Walter Skinner went from the tough as nails, always-stern Assistant Director, to a man who had just learned the most incredible news. His whole demeanor changed, the tension in his body dissipated, his facial features relaxed, and relief and joy could be seen in his eyes. "He..." his voice was husky, and he coughed to clear it before trying again. "Mulder...?" Again it failed him, and his jaw worked as he seemed to struggle with his emotions. It seemed to Scully that he needed further confirmation also, and as she rose from the hard little chair, whose discomforts she had overlooked in her happiness but was definitely feeling now, she nodded and said, "Yes, he really woke up. He knew who I was, tried to say my name," and here her enormous relief became obvious, "Scully, not Dayna, he mouthed 'Scully'!" She had to stop to take a deep breath, her heart pounding once again as she relived the moments of him awakening, before continuing. "And he asked how I was!" Her voice rose slightly at the end , evidence of her incredulity that his first thought had been concern for her, and not for himself. Walter had been looking at Mulder, a grin having finally broken over his face, but at her last words, he turned his head back to her. The grin slid away, his face becoming serious once again. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me," he said then. "For a very long time now you have always been his first concern, Dana." It was odd that his words echoed her thoughts, but they touched her, deeply. Tears, which came so easily to her now, sprang into her eyes, and she sniffled. She ducked her head shyly, not because of the tears, but because, while she had always assumed Skinner was aware of her and Mulder's relationship, and even that he suspected or knew that Mulder was the father of her baby, she had never really come out and admitted to either of those things. "Come here," Walter said softly, and tugged her into his arms, into which she went willingly. He rocked her for a few minutes, and then made a snorting kind of laugh. "Trust Mulder to do things his own way. You were ready to try that drug in the morning, and he beats you to it." "Thank God," she whispered, and then had to laugh. It came out more of a wobbly half-sigh, but it was a laugh, as had probably been Walter's intention. He was right, it was very like Mulder, whether it had been in his control or not. "Amen," he whispered back, then gave her one last squeeze before releasing her. "You sure you won't try and lie down some more?" he asked. Scully met his eyes briefly, before turning back to look at Mulder. "I'm afraid to miss something," she said softly. "Afraid he'll wake up, and I won't know it." "Dana..." Her name was filled with tender exasperation. "Don't do this to yourself. You'll be busy soon enough. Get rest while you can." He moved over to the lounge chair he had been sleeping in and bending slightly, lifted it easily and effortlessly by grasping its arms. "Slide that other chair out of the way, please." She complied as quickly as she could, putting the harder chair back in place against the far wall, and turned to see him lowering the lounge chair right beside the bed, so that they ran parallel. He then moved to the cot she had slept on and picked up her pillow, handing that to her, before bending to retrieve the blanket that had slipped to the floor some time ago. "Sit," he commanded, indicating the chair, and lifted one eyebrow slightly. Despite the lateness of the hour, or earliness, depending on how you looked at it, and the fact that he had been sleeping in his suit and tie, he still managed to look quite commandeering. Like her superior. Scully quirked her own eyebrow at him, to show he didn't intimidate her in the least, and made her way slowly to the chair, taking her own sweet time. She arranged the pillow just so, and arranged the blanket he had tossed over the chair's back, before sitting down and getting comfortable. The way he had placed the chair allowed her to reach Mulder's hand easily, without effort, which she did so immediately, holding it loosely in her grasp. "Thank-you," she said softly, turning her head to look at him. "For just now, and for everything. I don't think I've told you often enough how much I appreciate all that you've done for me." Her free hand came up to rest on her belly. "For us," she amended, glancing at Mulder to include him in her thanks. "No thanks are necessary," was his quiet reply. "Rest, Dana." Scully nodded, folding the blanket ends over her middle and rested her head back on the pillow. She would rest her body, and let her mind watch over Mulder. 5:40 am Scully had not fallen asleep, as she had predicted she would not. Thus she was awake, although not quite alert, when Mulder next opened his eyes. It happened as before – starting with a sudden, deep inhalation, which pulled Scully from her blurred contemplation of his hand still clasped within hers. Her eyes lifted to his face in time to see him wince, and then smack his lips a few times, just as his fingers twitched against hers. She sat up straighter, her free hand sweeping over her belly fleetingly before going up to smooth her hair and rub her tired eyes. "Mulder?" she called softly, squeezing his fingers with gentle pressure. Also as had happened earlier, his eyes fluttered a few times, his head moving on his pillow, and then she was briefly blessed with a glimpse of their beautiful hazel color. A second or two went by, and his mouth moved again. This time though, his hand pulled from hers, lifting halfway up towards his face. It hovered there for a minute, and then flopped back down, mere inches from hers. He made a questioning noise, a grunt of sorts, then shifted his arm so that his hand was once again touching hers and opened his eyes, immediately seeking and finding her. Scully smiled. "Hey," she said, keeping her voice soft. A quick glance behind her when Mulder had first stirred had shown her that Walter was still there, apparently asleep, on the cot she had used earlier. "Hey," was Mulder's reply, his voice raspy. She scooted a little closer to the bed, more aware of the bulge of their baby then she had ever been as it pressed into the side, and brought her hand up to cup his cheek. So much to tell him, but she knew now was not the time. It was too soon. And she wasn't sure how or where to begin either. "How are you feeling?" she asked, going for a neutral topic, one that she was extremely interested in as well. Mulder made a tiny shrugging motion, and shook his head, as if to say it were not important. He lifted his free hand, the one with the IV, and it trembled a little as he reached across himself to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You...look tired," he got out instead, and after a brief caress of the shell of her ear, lowered his arm back down to rest on his upper stomach, atop the blankets. The response was automatic; her mouth was already opening to say the near infamous words 'I'm fine', when she saw the look in his eyes. They pleaded for honesty, for the absolute truth, and not a pat answer that hid her true feelings. The naked emotions there floored her, and she scrambled to regain her equilibrium. "Too many late nights," she quipped lightly, dropping her gaze down to study his chin, her hand falling from his cheek to land on his pillow. "Sculleee..." Her name was spoken with affection, a hint of amusement, and no small amount of frustration. Ashamed, Scully closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. When she opened them again, she met his squarely. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't..." She frowned a little, of all the things she had imagined saying to him as she had waited and prayed for him to awaken, this was not it. Finally she sighed and said, "I am tired. It's...it's been difficult without you." Mulder looked puzzled, and as his eyes scrutinized her face, they grew concerned and worried. "Scully..." his voice faded out, and he coughed before continuing. "How long...have I been here?" Inwardly she flinched, but she managed to hold her gaze steady. Her answer was vague and a little evasive, and her voice was amazingly calm. "A few days." Surprisingly he did not push for clarification, or a reason as to why he was there. "Oh," was all he said, before yawning, his eyes sliding shut. And that was it, he was asleep again. Scully remained as she was, holding his hand, although she did sit back slightly, and her other hand now rested atop her belly, where the baby had begun its early morning routine. Behind her, the cot squeaked, and she looked over her shoulder to see that Skinner was sitting up, regarding her with a small smile. "I heard," was all he said. He got up slowly, his knees creaking loudly, and stretched before walking to stand beside her and look down at the sleeping Mulder. "It's kind of hard to believe, isn't it?" he asked then. He continued on, not waiting for a reply, "Will he sleep for a while again?" Scully wasn't sure, but thought it was more than likely. Apparently the sedatives had lingered in his system longer than she or the doctor thought they would have. Either that, or Mulder just hadn't been ready to wake up. They would probably never know. "I think so, yes," she said finally. "Good," Walter said succinctly. "You can go home and have a real rest, get cleaned up and have a good meal before you come back here." His gaze left Mulder's figure to stare at her implacably. "I'll take you home, and pick you up later." She had to admit, as much as she wanted to remain by Mulder's side, a nap on her own bed and a hot shower sounded wonderful. Not to mention food. She was starving. She was tired and achy and hungry, but she felt rejuvenated, wildly alive, and the happiest she had been in months. "No argument here," she told him, and planted her feet on the floor to haul herself up. Walter's hand was there before her, and she took it, pulling on it as she rose from the chair. "Thank-you," she said, smiling at him. While he moved the lounge chair back out of the way, she turned to Mulder and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Love you, Mulder. I'll be back later." Scully was glad she did not have to drive home, even though her apartment was not very far away. She hated to admit it, but getting behind the steering wheel had become quite the effort. Turning, she saw Walter waiting by the door, giving her that extra bit of privacy, and she waddled her way over to him. He held the door open for her, and then held her elbow as they made their way down the hallway to the elevators. Georgetown University Medical Center The nurse's station was Scully's first stop several hours later, just as it had been her last stop when she and Skinner had left in the wee hours of the morning. Amazingly the report she had given the charge nurse then about Mulder having awoken twice in an almost three hour period had been quite calm and rationally spoken. As she waited to speak to the duty nurse now, she recalled how giddiness had struck her once she was home, in the silence of her empty apartment. How her legs had begun to tremble, and how she had feared she would collapse where she stood. How she had made her way to her couch, and fallen into it with a grunt. How she had then lain back against the pillows always there now because of her back, and fallen asleep. And dreamed of Mulder. An alive, awake, fully normal Mulder. "Can I help you?" a perky, female voice said suddenly, jerking her from her memories. Scully looked at the young woman in front of her, dressed in a pale purple uniform with her long, dark hair neatly twisted in a bun atop her head, and smiled. "Yes, I'm Dana Scully. I wanted to see if..." "Oh, you're Fox Mulder's next of kin, aren't you? And his other physician of record, right?" the nurse interrupted, not impolitely. "I have his chart right here for you. The doctor was in to see Mr. Mulder this morning, and gave him a complete physical exam and ordered a lab work-up." Scully could just see the desk in front of the nurse, and watched as the young woman pushed a few papers aside before finding a chart, which she picked up and held out. Scully took it with a murmured thank-you, and moved a few feet from the nurse's station, flipping the chart open. She leaned against the wall and quickly scanned the latest report, completed by Mulder's doctor at 8 am that morning. Points stuck out as she read - pupil reaction normal, motor response normal, reflexes normal, patient appeared lucid, clear liquid diet ordered. Scully exhaled a heavy, shaky sigh, and sagged even further into the concrete pressed along her shoulder and upper arm, closing her eyes for a moment. Despite her belief and the surety in her heart that Mulder was all right, the doctor's report was much needed reassurance. Straightening, she flipped the doctor's reports over, and scanned the lab results. Baseline. Next was the nurse's shift report, with notations that Mulder had awakened twice more after the doctor's examination, and that he had tolerated his clear liquid breakfast well. The last nurse's round had been fifteen minutes ago, so it was likely he was still asleep. That too was a relief. She had been apprehensive on the drive to the hospital with Skinner, who had dropped her off on his way into the Hoover Building. He had told her he planned to return later to visit Mulder. She was still apprehensive. Apprehensive over revealing her pregnancy, and his part in it, to Mulder. How would he take the news? Would he be thrilled and ecstatic as she had been? Or at least as she had been once the initial shock had worn off, and tests had proven the baby was Mulder's, and completely healthy...and human. After the IVF had failed that second time, she had been devastated, and he had been supportive and sympathetic, and an extreme comfort to her. They had gotten much closer afterwards, and had begun to take baby steps towards a physical relationship. A physical relationship that, once begun, had been everything she had dreamed, or imagined, it would be with Mulder. He was a vigorous, enthusiastic and curious lover who had always strove for their mutual pleasure. From fast and furious couplings against his wall or on her kitchen counter, to long, slow, drawn-out, end less hours of seduction and satisfaction and bliss. But they had never thought they would have, or be able to have, a child. And here she was, about to present him with one nearly fait accompli. Quit stalling, she told herself, and straightened her spine, which had slumped as her thoughts had down-spiraled. She closed Mulder's chart, walked the few steps back to the nurse's station, and placed it on the counter. Once the nurse saw her and acknowledged the return of the chart, she turned and headed to Mulder's room. Nerves had her hesitating at the closed door, her palms damp and her pulse pounding. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and walked in. Mulder was asleep. Scully heaved a silent sigh. It was a welcome moment of respite, even with her resolved intention to talk to him. She let the door close behind her and advanced further into the room, sliding her coat off and draping it over the spare chair. The lounge chair, her chair, was near the bed, but she nudged it a little closer, wanting to sit and hold his hand. Before taking a seat, she leaned in and smoothed her hand through his hair, running her eyes caressingly over his face. Stepping back, she made herself comfortable, propping the pillow against her lower back, and took his hand in hers. Whether it was the contact between them, or just a coincidence, Mulder woke up. He made a snuffling kind of exhalation, moved his head on his pillow and then opened his eyes. The fact that he immediately sought her out lent credence to the theory about contact. Scully smiled when his eyes widened slightly, and said softly, "Hi." Her thumb began its gentle, rhythmic stroking over the back of his hand. "Hi," Mulder whispered back, smiling too. "How you feeling?" she asked, and leaned forward to prop her chin on the palm of her other hand. This brought her faces only inches from his. Almost close enough to lean in a bit more and kiss him. "Pretty good," he replied, then jutted his chin at her. "How 'bout you?" "Better every time I see you." She wasn't good at tender talk, not face to face anyway, although she had been slowly improving during their times together, and ducked her head shyly after saying the words. "Scully," Mulder chuffed, and reached out with his IV-encumbered hand to touch her chin, exerting enough pressure to lift it so that she once again met his gaze. When she did, he smiled at her. "That's better," he whispered. He couldn't hold his arm that way for long, and put it back down on the bed. But he turned his other hand in hers, until it was he doing the holding, and raised them both so that he could brush a kiss on her knuckles. He then held her hand against his chest, still in his. She smiled at the gesture, and then his eyes fluttered closed again. She was content to sit and watch him, knowing the time would come for them to talk. A few minutes went by, or maybe longer, she really wasn't sure, and it surprised her slightly when he spoke again. With his eyes still shut, Mulder said, "Hey, Scully? What things?" She was puzzled for a moment, until her mind flashed back to the words she had whispered to him just before he woke up. About having good things to tell him. It was time. 11:45 am Peaceful. Warm. Safe. Mulder felt all those things, and more. He drifted in a semi-wakeful state, his eyes closed, breathing deep and slow. No cares, no concerns. No worries. Eventually that state was disturbed, and sounds began to penetrate into his consciousness. The sucking, whooshing of the door opening and closing. Footsteps, careful and quiet. The rustle of clothing, the scrape of a chair across the floor. Scully? He wondered. Hoped. Wanted it to be her. And then there was a presence, beside him. Scully. He knew it was her, even before he opened his eyes. Could smell her scent, light and airy and so elementally Scully. Could just feel her. Fingers touched him, smoothing gently, softly, through his hair, and then moved away, held his hand. Scully's fingers. They were soft and warm, delicate yet so strong. Just like she was. Stronger then he was, in so many ways. He fought his way up from the depths of his half-sleep, huffing out a breath with the effort, and rolled his head on his pillow. Towards where he knew she would be. He opened his eyes, and felt blessed. She looked so incredibly beautiful, as she always did. Yet she seemed different too. Her hair seemed longer for some reason, and he wondered if she had done something different with it, and her facial features were softer, her cheeks just a slight bit fuller. Scully smile was as gentle as her voice when she spoke. "Hi." Those hadn't changed – the voice he heard in his head whenever he wasn't with her, and the memory of her smile that consoled him during long, lonely nights. Although the frequency of those lonely nights had decreased in the last few months he recalled with an inward smile. He gave Scully a real one. "Hi." Her eyes grew even softer, if that was possible. "How are you?" she asked, still talking in low tones. She continued to hold his hand, her thumb caressing his skin with tiny strokes of her thumb, and brought her other arm up to rest on the mattress. She then leaned forward slightly and propped her chin on her palm, bringing her face almost close enough for a kiss. Mulder was disappointed when she did not move in all the way and actually kiss him, but knew she would deal with her concern for his health first, as always. Maybe if he hastened that along, he could entice her into getting a little closer, it had been a little while since they'd had some nice full body contact. Since before Oregon, he thought fuzzily. He felt fine, other than being a little tired, and well, a little muddled, he decided. "Pretty good," he told her, and then studied her features more closely, remembering suddenly the exhaustion he had seen in her eyes and on her face the last time he had woken up. Thankfully though, her eyes were clear and bright, happy, and her face was line-free. Still...She was good at hiding things. "How 'bout you?" he asked her, lifting his chin at her. "Better every time I see you." She had almost whispered the words, and her answer surprised and pleased him, touched him. In an odd way, one that made his body tense slightly, it worried him too. Was there something wrong with him, something serious? How long had he been in the hospital? So many questions to ask, he wasn't sure where to start. He forgot about that though as he observed her actions. Obviously what she had told him had embarrassed her, for her cheeks flushed an enchanting pale pink, and she ducked her head down, avoiding his eyes. "Scully," he chided, and lifted his free arm to touch her on the chin, to bring her head back up. He smiled at her when their eyes met again, and whispered, "That's better." His arm was shaking from holding it up, so he lowered it back down along his side. Because he had wanted more contact, he brought their entwined hands up to his face, turning them so that he could kiss her knuckles. Liking the feel of their clasped hands, and the sight, instead of lowering them back to where they had been, he rested them on his chest. He closed his eyes on her smile, needing a moment to rest, to regroup. Get his mind clear. And for some reason, Scully's voice was in his head. She was saying she had so many things to tell him. He couldn't remember having a conversation like that before, and picturing her once again as she had looked, tired and worried and worn beside his bed, he wondered if she had said that to him while he had been out. The moment he thought that, he was sure that was how he had heard the words, while he was unconscious, or sleeping, or whatever. He heard the words again, heard Scully say 'very good things', and spoke almost without being aware of it, his eyes still closed. "Hey, Scully? What things?" There was no reply, but he felt the sudden tension in her body through her fingers. Opening his eyes again, he met her widened, surprised eyes. "Scully?" he repeated. "Um..." was all she got out, before grimacing slightly. She then flicked her eyes downward before taking a very deep breath. "Mulder," she said, then stopped again. "This is...this is really hard for me," she continued, and took another deep breath. "Mulder, do you remember...do you remember after the last IVF procedure..." Here she faltered, cleared her throat. "After it failed...what you said to me that day?" Mulder had not expected that question, had in fact had no idea where she had been headed after she had said this was very hard for her. At her words about that day, about a year ago, he flashed back to that moment in her apartment. Saw and relived again the sadness in her eyes, in her very being, as she had tearfully told him that the procedure had not taken. Remembered pulling her trembling body into his arms. Vaguely recalled murmuring comforting words to her. Before he could reply, Scully spoke again, her voice now husky and a little hoarse, "You...you told me...never to give up on a miracle, Mulder." She ducked her chin a little, but not before he caught the glint of tears in her eyes. "I didn't really believe in them though. Not for a very long time." Miracles? What did she mean by miracles? His hand tightened around hers, and he struggled to try and rise up from his prone position. He could not, for he was still too weak. Again before he could say or ask her anything, she spoke. "But I believe in them now, Mulder." She raised her head, meeting his gaze square on, eyes liquid. "Because I've been blessed with two miracles." She pulled her hand free from his grasp and raised it to stroke his cheek. "I have you back," she slid her hand away and dropped it out of his sight, looking downwards again, "and I have...I have our baby, Mulder." The word 'baby' echoed in his head, accompanied by the noise of her chair scraping against the floor as she pushed it back. That sound was soon replaced by the thud of his heart, thunderously loud, felt in every microfibre of his body. His mouth was dry, hanging open in stunned shock. Did she...did she just say what he thought she said? She stood, and his eyes dropped to her very rounded, very pregnant belly. Yep, she did. Speechless, he could only stare. But...how? How had she gotten pregnant? And how did she get so pregnant? He was distracted from his thoughts once again when Scully said his name, softly, worriedly. "Mulder?" Her hands came up to cradle her belly. Protectively, he thought, and immediately jolted out of his silence. "Scully..." he started, and felt tears rise in his own eyes. Tears of amazement, of joy and happiness. Tears of pride. "Oh, Scully." It took effort, supreme effort, but he raised himself up on one elbow, his IV-laden arm reaching out towards her, towards their baby. Scully sniffled, one hand going up to wipe her eyes, and stepped closer to his bed, bringing her belly right up against the bars. She used that hand to support herself, gripping the uppermost metal bar tightly. Her other hand remained on her belly, moving in gentle circles. Mulder leaned even more towards her, his hand now hovering just millimeters over her belly, shaking uncontrollably. "Can...may...may I touch..." he hesitated, lifting his head from the incredible sight before him to look at her face. He didn't want to offend her by calling the baby 'it'. "What do I call...?" Scully made a snuffling noise, half-laughter, half-sob, and said, "I've just been calling it 'baby'. I don't...I don't know if it's a boy or girl." She sniffled and chuffed out another waterlogged laugh. "I didn't want to know...I didn't want to know the sex without you." "Oh, Scully," he said softly, absurdly touched that she had not found out whether it was a boy or a girl because of him. Not that the sex mattered at all. Boy, girl, it was incredible either way. A baby, their baby. A horrible thought hit him, and he barely contained the urge to suck in his breath and blurt out, 'Is it human?' Surely she would not be this happy, for it was obvious she was, very much so, if it were not human. He pushed the thought aside for now, added it to the list of questions that were adding up in one corner of his brain. He went back to the question he had first started to ask her. "May I touch it?" "Please," she whispered, and lifting her hand from her belly, took his, and placed it where hers had been. It felt...amazing. Hard, yet soft, and warm through the cotton of her thin sweater. He moved his hand tentatively, tracing the swell as it dipped down. Suddenly her belly tightened and shifted, and Scully gasped. Frightened, Mulder yanked his hand away, saying her name in a voice that was high and choked. "No, no," Scully said quickly, her voice a little strangled. She exhaled loudly and smiled at him. "It's okay, Mulder. The baby just moved, that's all. You didn't do anything." She reached out and unpeeled his fingers from the metal bar. "Here, feel." She placed his hand on a different spot, up higher at the top of the swell. "He, or she, likes to do somersaults." She did not move her hand away from his, and kept it on top, pressing firmly. Mulder jumped when he felt the surge beneath their hands, but did not pull away this time. "Oh my God, Scully, that's...that's incredible." His eyes pulled away and shot to her face. "Does it hurt?" "Sometimes," she said honestly. "When it kicks me in the bladder or my ribs, it hurts. But it's a good hurt, you know?" She gasped again, the baby had really moved that time, it had even dislodged his hand. He put it back, hoping to feel it move again. Scully then added with a touch of wryness, "And when it rolls around just like that, there's pressure, a lot of pressure." She shifted on her feet, grimacing, and removed her hand from on top of his to twist around behind her. She rubbed at her back, and her contortions dislodged him this time. He accidentally brushed one of her breasts. Her much larger breasts. His eyes had of course followed his hand, and now he gawked. How had he missed them before? Scully had always had beautiful breasts, but these...these were...he had to use that word again. They were incredible. Scully shifted again, making an odd sound, and he looked up to see her smirking at him. Apparently she had noticed his fascination with her pregnancy-enhanced attributes. She did not seem bothered by it though, and he shrugged at her and smiled. Scully knew of his attraction to her breasts anyway. A thought popped in his head, and he couldn't resist saying, "Can I touch them?" "Mulder!" Scully sounded more amused then anything, although there was a hint of scandalized outrage in her tone. She blushed adorably, and hunched her shoulders in, hands coming up to cross over them in an attempt to cover them he guessed. Not very well though - her hands and arms were small, and her breasts definitely were not. She shot a look at the door, as if worried someone might walk in and hear her, and said, "Later." "I'm looking forward to it, Scully," he murmured huskily, and laughed when her blush deepened. She tried to take the upper hand with her comeback, spoken in a husky, come-hither voice. "So am I." "Ooooh, bring it on, baby," he quipped back. A wave of tiredness washed over him then, and he had to fall back onto his pillows, his hand coming up to cover a big yawn. Scully immediately dropped the teasing, her face crinkling in concern. "You're tired," she said. "You still need rest." Her features tensed briefly. "We still have a lot of things to talk about, Mulder." Her hand swept up to indicate her belly. "Obviously I'm quite pregnant, and you must be wandering how." His earlier concerns flooded back. By her size, and he was no expert, he was guessing she was 7 or 8 months pregnant. He had thought he had only been gone maybe a week. Apparently he was wrong. He merely nodded though, his eyes were getting very heavy. That was another big concern. What the hell had happened to or was wrong with him? "I'll be here while you sleep, Mulder. Don't worry," Scully said then, moving to bring her chair closer to his bed again. "We'll talk more when you wake up again." "Okay, Scully," he whispered, and through half-closed eyes, watched her make herself comfortable, smiling slightly at the way she lowered her bulk into her chair. Not that he'd ever refer to her newfound weight as 'her bulk' to her face. With that last thought, he was gone. 11:55 am Scully could see the puzzlement in Mulder's eyes as he struggled to rise from his prone position. She knew it was from her question about the failed IVF and if he recalled what his comment to her had been that fateful day, and from her comment about miracles. She reached out to touch his face, to stroke his cheekbone with her thumb, and was amazed that her hand was so steady. Inside her nerves were snapping like live wires, and her stomach felt like it was twisted in knots. Yet at the same time, she felt relief. A different sort of relief than the one she had felt when Mulder had awakened from his coma and spoken to her. This was a relief for finally being able to share her news with him. News that would have an impact on the rest of their lives. As with Skinner, she knew the Gunmen and her mother, and most likely John, all assumed that Mulder was the father. She had just never confirmed it to anyone. Hadn't felt right in telling anyone before the father himself knew. "I have you back," Scully said then, and slid her hand from his cheek, to rest on the bulge of the baby. She looked down at it too, seeking its familiar comfort, drawing the strength to continue. "And I have...I have our baby, Mulder." With her legs, she pushed her chair back, intending to rise, and winced slightly at the sound of it moving against the floor. Still looking down, she pushed herself up from the chair carefully, to reveal her rounded belly. She waited for some indication that he had heard her words, seen the proof before him, but heard nothing, not even his breathing. Oh, God. What if he...what if he didn't care? Terrified, and on the brink of tears, she lifted her head. And saw him staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at her stomach. "Mulder?" she could not help saying as he still remained soundless. Just as she could no more stop herself from lifting her hands to cover the baby, to hide it from him, even though it was far too late for that. Leave. Get out. The words were running through her brain, but her feet felt rooted to the floor. And then he spoke, and her world righted itself again. "Scully." He almost moaned her name, and she saw his eyes shine with tears. "Oh, Scully." That was when she knew his speechlessness had not been because of a lack of caring, or dislike, but because of his utter awe. She watched next as he gritted his teeth and got himself up on one elbow, his other arm rising to reach across towards her stomach. It was shaking, so she stepped closer to the bed, pressing herself against the bedrails, to make it easier for him to reach his target. She had to grip the rail, for balance, and because her knees still felt weak. The baby, whether sensing her turmoil, or just because, had begun to stir, and she rubbed small circles on her belly in an effort to soothe. Mulder had shifted even closer to her when she moved into the bed, but still he had not touched her. His hand was shaking almost violently, and he looked both petrified and fascinated. "Can...may...may I touch...?" he asked, and the stunned hesitation in his voice had fresh tears welling in her eyes. Tears of happiness. Mulder lifted his head to look at her and spoke again. "What do I call...?" Scully half-laughed, half-cried, and said, "I've just been calling it 'baby'. I don't...I don't know if it's a boy or girl." Her nose was starting to run, and her throat felt clogged with the unshed tears. She sniffled and told him, "I didn't want to know...I didn't want to know the sex without you." She had had the opportunity to learn it several times, and had declined each time. It was something she had wanted to share with Mulder, hoped desperately she would be able to, despite hints and pressures from her mother and even the Gunmen. And because he had not been there to make the decision as to whether or not they should wait and be surprised, she had chosen to remain in the dark. "Oh, Scully," was Mulder's response, and by his tone and the look on his face, knew he was pleased and touched by her declaration. "May I touch it?" he asked then, hand still hovering in mid-air, in a way she knew had to be tiring his still weak muscles. She had waited so long to hear those words from his lips, Mulder's lips. His child-like awe as Fox when he had touched her belly had been wonderful to experience, but this, this was what she had wanted to see and hear and feel. The reaction of her Mulder - her lover, her partner, her friend, and the father of her baby. "Please," she whispered, and somehow knowing he just could not make the last move, she took his hand in hers, and laid it on her belly. Warm and familiar and so wonderfully right. His hand looked like it belonged there, which it did. And as if the baby knew it did, it rolled, her belly tightening with its motions. The movement frightened Mulder, who pulled his hand away, and she hastened to tell him it was all right, breathing heavily through her nose. She took his hand off of the bedrail, which he had grabbed onto, and put it back on her belly, at a spot a bit lower than before, and pushed down slightly. The baby surged against their hands, as she had known it would, and more wonder filled Mulder's eyes. His concern over whether the baby's movements hurt touched her so, and she tried her best to explain the gamut of emotions she felt with each and every somersault or roll or jab of their baby. While she spoke, the baby kicked rather forcefully, and knocked Mulder's hand from her stomach. Less hesitant now, he returned it just as quickly, moving it about to search for more movements. Her back was starting to ache fiercely with the way she was standing, and she shifted, bringing her hand up and around to try and rub at the worst spot. This time it was she who knocked Mulder's hand from her belly, and against her breast. It had been so long since she had felt hands other than her own or her doctor's touch her there, and because it was Mulder, that light, fleeting contact tingled throughout her body. Could still feel it, in fact. Then again, there was also the fact that they very tender and sensitive. She made a sound, one that was a combination moan and sigh, and looked down to see Mulder staring slack-jawed at her chest. Her breasts were much bigger naturally, in preparation for their roll in childbirth, and he appeared absolutely enthralled with the new improved models. Of course, Mulder had always been a breast man. Even before they had become a couple, she had been aware of his supposedly discreet looks in her direction, and been a recipient of some not so discreet looks as well, and suspected it. And once they were intimate, he had quickly confirmed her breast man theory. Not that she had minded of course, who could with the attention he gave them? He looked up at her, shrugged and smiled, not ashamed in the least to have been caught openly gawking at her. He also looked adorably sexy at that moment, even in his hospital bed. His next question sent another tingle, a sort of embarrassed thrill, through her. "Can I touch them?" "Mulder!" Unrepentant, that's what he was. She felt her cheeks go hot, and honestly could not have said whether it was from arousal or the embarrassment. His eyes were warm and laughing, dropping back down to her chest, and she couldn't help trying to cover them, hunching her shoulders inwards. She looked towards the door, and then her playful side, the one only Mulder could bring out so easily, blurted, "Later." Mulder, always quick with the comebacks, husked, "I'm looking forward to it, Scully," and then chuckled warmly as her blush deepened. The sound made her insides feel like honey, and had her pulse accelerating. She continued their banter, realizing suddenly it was something else she had missed during his absence. "So am I." He came right back. "Ooooh, bring it on, baby." But the innuendo and husky voice were spoiled by the large yawn that stretched his mouth wide, and had him dropping back onto his pillow. Everything else was forgotten. She frowned; worried she had tired him out, put too much stress on him too soon. "You're tired. You still need rest." Her frown deepened, she had barely scratched the surface of all the things she needed to tell him. "We still have a lot of things to talk about, Mulder." Her hand came up, fluttered in the air over her belly. She made a comment about being quite pregnant, and how he must be wondering about it. She saw the concern in his eyes, even as they grew heavier, and watched him nod. The fact that he did not try and fight the sleep that was overtaking him, did not push to hear everything now, showed her how tired he was. She put her hands on the back of her chair, pushing it close to the bed again, and reassured him she was staying and that they would talk more. He mumbled, "Okay, Scully," and she saw that he managed to keep his eyes open as she lowered herself into the chair. By the time she was all settled and looked up at him again, he was asleep. Despite all that they still had to discuss, and the seriousness of those matters, Scully felt good. Wonderfully alive, and joyously happy. Once again she was content to sit and watch him sleep. 1:15 pm "It wasn't a dream, was it?" Scully was in the middle of a stretch – feet splayed wide, one hand on her lower back, the other supporting her belly as she gently arched backwards – and her head popped up in surprise at the sound of Mulder's raspy voice. The last time she had looked, just minutes ago when she rose from her seat to try and rid herself of the discomfort she was in, he had been sound asleep. She turned slowly, to see him lifting himself up onto his elbow, his eyes focused intently on her rounded middle, which was exaggeratedly emphasized by her pose. Automatically she lifted her wrist and glanced at her watch, straightening her stance. Mulder had slept just over an hour. Rubbing her back, she walked over to his bedside, feeling slightly uneasy. His question had been somewhat rhetorical, but with just enough inflection on the words that there might have been a hint of distress. Cautiously she said, "No, it wasn't a dream. Do...do you wish it had been?" Even as she was saying the words she felt guilty for doubting him, and yet still afraid his answer would be yes. His eyes flew to her face, his mouth falling open. He gaped at her for a moment before finally choking out, "No, Scully. Never!" He lifted his free hand and laid it on her belly. "This, Scully...this is something I hadn't allowed myself to hope for. It is amazing, and it is a miracle. But I think...no, I know you've had a lot more time to accept this, and I'm...I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that you and I are going to have a baby." Scully covered his hand with hers, squeezing his fingers. "I'm sorry to doubt you, Mulder," she said softly, feeling her throat thicken and tears approaching. "It's no excuse...but it was really difficult without you here." "It's okay, Scully," he told her, his expression and tone gentle, reassuring. His lips twisted into a frown a moment later. "Scully...you've said that before, that it's been difficult without me. What do you mean? How long have I...what's happened to me, Scully?" That was the million-dollar question. And she had to come up with a million dollar answer. Not an easy task. "This is going to take some time, Mulder," she said, "so bear with me if I seem to have trouble with it, okay?" At his somewhat impatient nod, Scully slid away from his hand on her belly and turned to bring her chair back beside the bed. As soon as she was seated comfortably, she reached out and took his hand in hers. She inhaled deeply, trying to settle her nerves, and gather her thoughts. This was made even more difficult by Mulder's unwavering stare. Her loud exhale ruffled her hair. "Mulder..." she began, and then paused, shaking her head slightly. It would not be good to jump right in with him being found in the woods of Oregon, he was not aware he had ever been missing to begin with. Another deep breath, and she started again. "Mulder, do you remember when you went back to Bellefleur with Wal...with Skinner?" "Yeahhhh..." he answered slowly, puzzlement washing over his features. "Was that last week...? You said I had been here a few days, right?" Shit. She had been hoping that with the state he'd been in when she had told him that, he would have forgotten her answer. No such luck. She also had not really rehearsed, or gone over in her mind, what she was going to tell him, or how. She started slowly, answering his question. "Well, Mulder, I sort of fudged the truth then." "What do you mean 'fudged the truth', Scully?" Mulder asked. His eyes had taken on a raptor-like glare, and Scully felt herself squirming on the receiving end of it. Flustered, she swallowed the thick lump of nervousness in her throat and coughed a little before continuing. "Mulder, please don't be angry. When you woke up and asked me how long you'd been there, I couldn't just tell you everything right then. Technically you have only been here, in Georgetown University Medical Center, just over a week." She watched him blink rapidly in surprise, she was fairly certain he had assumed they were in He said nothing though, just jerked his chin in a gesture asking her to continue. "That day...that day you and Skinner went back to the woods in Oregon, you disappeared. He said you were there one minute, and then just gone the next. He saw a bright light in the sky, a...Mulder, he saw a spaceship." She squeezed his fingers, needing the contact, wondering if he did too. He still said nothing, although he did return the squeeze. "You were abducted, Mulder." Nervously she forced a laugh, though it was more a choked sound than anything. "Bet you never thought you'd hear me say those things, huh Mulder?" Mulder pulled his gaze from hers, looking down at their hands instead, and she could see his shoulders were tight with tension. She immediately regretted her attempt at levity, and slumped downwards, her hand going to her belly for comfort. "No, not really, Scully," he whispered. His shoulders heaved, and a moment later he lifted his head again, his eyes damp but his face composed, almost blank. "How...how long, Scully?" "I...I need to say this all at once, Mulder. I think it will be easier. I'll answer all your questions after, I promise." A deep breath, and then she began. "We...it...when he came back, I...was in the hospital." His fingers tightened almost unbearably, and his head shot back up, worry warring with a flurry of emotions on his face. She hastened to add, "Remember those spells I had in Bellefleur?" Without waiting for his reply, she went on. "Well I had another one back at the Hoover Building, and the Gunmen brought me to the hospital. That's when I found out I was pregnant. A few hours later Skinner came back to tell me you were gone." "Scully..." Mulder whispered. "I'm so sorry." She shook her head quickly; she needed to go on before she burst into tears. Telling him was like reliving it all again. Her fear, her worry, everything. The baby surged against her hands, obviously disturbed by her turbulent emotions, and she began her soothing circles over her taut belly. "I knew if Skinner told his story about the spaceship and your abduction, Kersch would make his life a living hell. There was a task force appointed, and we were both treated like suspects. A lot of strange evidence was dug up and presented, and it seemed like they were trying to prove you had staged your own disappearance. That Bellefleur had been a set-up." Mulder was still staring at her with rapt interest, but he had sat up a little straighter mid-way through her recitation. He interrupted, despite what she had told him about needing to say it all at once. "Kersch? What the hell does he have to do with anything?" "He's the Deputy Director now, Mulder," she told him, and watched the distaste and disgust cross his face. She shrugged, she was used to it by now. "We thought we had found you in Arizona, but it was the Alien Bounty Hunter, and he almost got Gibson Praise, who had mysteriously turned up. He later went missing again." She shook her head slightly, for Gibson Praise was not important right now, and paused to rest for a second, her mind still running through everything that had happened since Mulder had been gone. "The agent who had been assigned to lead the task force, John Doggett, became my partner, and while your case still remained open, we worked on other XFiles." She did not bother telling him about her less than auspicious beginning with John, or the cases they had worked on, those could wait until another time. "The Gunmen were continually monitoring and intercepting data from all over the country in the meantime, and they detected some unusual activity in Oregon in mid-January." She saw Mulder's eyes widen, and he mouthed the word 'January' with some surprise. She answered his unspoken question, "It's March 8th, Mulder. Two thousand and one. You were missing for six months." His eyes flicked down to her belly, and she could imagine the wheels turning in his head, knew he was calculating the time frame. Once again, before he could ask, she said, "When you were found in the woods, with some of the other abductees, you were in a coma. It lasted for almost two weeks, and when...when you did wake up, you...you were not yourself." This time his eyebrows climbed his forehead in a credible impersonation of hers. "Not myself?" he repeated in a voice that actually held traces of amusement. Probably shock, Scully thought. Deservedly so, she'd told him one hell of a tale, worthy of a spot in an X-File. "No. Mentally, you were a child." The door opened then with a loud swoosh, startling them both. Scully gasped, while Mulder's head jerked up and to the side. It was a nurse, bearing a lunch tray. "Good afternoon," she said. "Mr. Mulder, you were asleep earlier and missed lunch, so I called for another one. I took a chance you'd be awake this time, and you are!" She bustled into the room, depositing the tray on the little rolling table, looking at Scully in her chair, which was in the way. Taking the silent hint, Scully rose, a bit unsteadily, and nudged the chair aside. She took the opportunity to stretch once again, for her back was aching and her legs felt cramped. She really needed to walk a bit, and get something to eat. "Mulder," she called softly, distracting him from his horrified stare at his lunch. "I'm going to stretch my legs and grab something from the cafeteria. I'll be right back, okay?" Mulder nodded, and weakly quipped, "Bring me a cheeseburger, would ya, Scully?" It was a standard Mulder line, but delivered with merely a fraction of his normal flair. Scully knew he was busily processing everything she had told him, and that he was distancing himself from it so he could look at it objectively. He had probably also said it in an effort to relieve her. It did, slightly. "Sure, Mulder," she said. "No problem." She found a smile for him, which he returned with a weak one of his own, and left the room. 1:30 pm Mulder was still reeling from the shock of hearing how long he had been missing, abducted, whatever you wanted to call it, when Scully's last statement, about him not being himself pushed him one step closer to the edge. He knew his eyebrow had to be close to the ceiling as he echoed her words. "Not myself?" "No. Mentally, you were a child," Scully said quite baldly. The slight amusement Mulder had been holding fled. What the hell did she mean by that? He was a child? A sound at the door had them both reacting. Scully by gasping, and he by flinching, his head whipping up to see who had intruded. It was a nurse, carrying what he assumed was his lunch. He did not know what time it was, or how long he had slept since his so-called breakfast tray, and up until Scully's grave recital, he had thought he might actually have been hungry. Now he wasn't so sure. He barely listened as the nurse bubbled about, more interested in watching Scully, who was pale and appeared to be in physical discomfort. The tray being practically shoved under his nose had him glancing away from her, and then she was telling him she needed to stretch and get something from the cafeteria. Needing the levity, some semblance of normalcy, maybe even to see Scully smile again, he made a weak joke. "Bring me a cheeseburger, would ya, Scully?" It sort of worked. Scully gave him an approximation of a smile, one that was better than nothing. He returned it, and watched her leave the room. The nurse was back in his face. She cheerfully helped him up into a sitting position - raising the head of the bed, tucking pillows beneath his back, ensuring he was not dizzy or light-headed from the motion. Once he had assured her he was fine, she first tucked a small towel in the neck of his gown, making him feel like he was 4, and then rolled the table closer to him so that he could reach everything easily. Mulder grimaced once more as he took in the items on the tray. A bowl of some clear broth, and a small carton of apple juice sat before him. That was it, not even some crackers to at least liven up the broth. He wasn't sure if he would be able to contain his excitement. Maybe his joke to Scully about the cheeseburger hadn't been such a bad idea. Scully... Mulder winced to himself. The arrival of the nurse and his lunch had distracted him, but now that he was alone again, his mind started up again. Even with all that he had just heard, and all the unanswered questions simmering, he could still remember how Scully had looked when upon waking he had asked if it was a dream. He had seen the flash of hurt, the confusion in her eyes, was picturing it again. She had of course tried to cover it up by looking at her watch, avoiding his eyes as she came back to his bedside. Regrouping. Distancing. Beginning the process of closing herself off. But it was in her voice as well – pain and circumspection, a slight hesitancy. He was sorry he had caused her that pain, but the news really had floored him. Scully – who had been barren – was now pregnant, very pregnant, and with his child. And though she had not come out and said it, he presumed by natural means. How was that possible? And then to be told the rest. His abduction, being found in a coma months later, to awaken with the mentality of a child. He wasn't sure he could wrap his brain around it all. Slurping up a spoonful of the tasteless, tepid broth, his hand shaking only slightly, a sudden thought popped in his head. He was an X-File. Somehow the reality did not excite him nearly as much as he had thought it would. In fact, it was rather frightening. The spoon thunked noisily back into his bowl as his hand dropped, and he pushed the rolling table away from him, lip curling. He had lost whatever bit of appetite he might have had. Mulder shifted his gaze from the contemplation of the tray's contents to the door of his room. Half-hoping to see Scully return, half-hoping she would give him just a little bit longer. He wasn't quite ready to ask his questions, or hear her answers, or learn whatever else she still had to tell him. His head was starting to spin. He gave the table another shove, until it was mostly clear of the bed, and sank back down against the pillows, his eyes slipping shut. Spaceship. Abducted. Coma. Pregnant. Each word slammed into his mind with such force that he actually winced. The images in his head were dark, terrifying. Some he recognized as actual memories, others he hoped were just his fertile imagination, fueled by Scully's story, and not repressed memories of events that had really happened. His eyes popped open again, and the images winked out. He forced himself to relax, dropping his shoulders and loosening the hands he had unknowingly clenched into fists, and took slow deep breaths. If he were at home, he'd be heading outside to jog himself into exhaustion. It was the best way he knew to shut his mind down - to run until he could feel and think no more. But he was not at home. He was trapped in a hospital bed feeling as weak as a newborn kitten. A kitten that was totally dependent on those around him. Dependent on Scully. Scully. He would think about Scully, another trick of his when he was troubled. She did not know it, for he had never told her, but thoughts of her had gotten him through some very rough nights. Hopefully it would work this time. He blinked and let his eyes slip shut again. This time the picture that formed was a pleasant one. It was of he and Scully spooned together on her bed, talking softly after a delightful round of passionate loving. They were both naked, the sheet pulled carelessly over their lower bodies, and he was stroking his hand through her hair, making her smile. Mulder smiled then as he lay on the hospital bed. This was nice. He would remember other moments like that while he waited for Scully to come back. 2:05 pm Scully had decided she would take no more than half an hour when she left Mulder's room after his lunch had arrived, and glancing at her watch as she rode up the elevator, she saw that she had almost made it. In that rather tight time frame though, she had used the ladies room and freshened up a little, taken a very necessary walk to ease her cramped legs, and eaten a salad from the cafeteria. She had also phoned the Gunmen and her mother, to update them on things. She had of course called them all earlier that morning, to share the news that Mulder had finally awakened from his coma, but she had wanted to let them know that he was awake and alert, and doing well. She also wanted to ask them to wait until later in the afternoon to visit. Doing well. Scully winced to herself as she walked down the hall to his room. Somehow she doubted Mulder was 'doing well'. She easily recalled the nearly desolate look that had entered his eyes several times during her recitation, and hated that she had been the one to put that look there. She hated that she had left him alone as well, even if only for a short period of time. But to be honest, she had needed a moment away from him and what she had told him. She had used it to distance herself from the memories of the time he had been gone, brought to the fore with all their accompanying emotions, good or bad. Because she knew Mulder so well, she also knew he had needed the time too. At the door she paused only slightly before pushing at it with one hand, and stepping through. Her mouth was open to greet him, but she snapped it shut and hesitated in the doorway when she saw him lying back with his eyes closed. A deeper well of concern surged, and she started to turn to go back out and leave him in peace. His gravelly voice stopped her. "S'okay, Scully. I'm not sleeping, just resting my eyes and thinking." On occasion in the past those words 'I'm thinking' from Mulder's mouth had worried her, annoyed her, and once in a rare while, interested her. Right now she had to go with worried. She looked up to see him watching her, his face calm, and a little sad. "Okay," she said slowly, unsure of what else to say. Her hand slid from the door, allowing it to close, and she moved over to her chair and sat down with one of those annoying little grunts she could not prevent. Mulder's smile was crooked, his eyes amused, and the sight lightened her heart just a tiny bit. She smiled back at him, shrugging her shoulders. She waved a hand over her belly and said, "This load isn't light, you know." Now he wore a smirk. "I can tell," he joked, waggling his eyebrows up and down at her. For a moment, it was just like old times. And God, had she missed them, intensely and almost unbearably. Her eyes welled rapidly, one lone tear beading on her lashes before slipping slowly down the curve of her cheek. She sniffled, ducking her head, her hands coming up to dash the tears away. "Sculleee..." he said her name whisper-soft. She sniffled once more, huffed out a breath, and lifted her head to meet his sad, worried eyes. "I'm sorry, Mulder," she said. "You've just had to hear some very disturbing things, things that must have left you with so many questions, and I'm falling apart on you." "No," he said. "No, you're not falling apart on me, Scully. I may not know the whole story yet, but I do know that as hard as it was for me to hear those things, it was equally hard for you to tell them. And to have lived them." Scully sighed harshly. She hadn't meant for this to turn around and be about her. "It was," she said a little gruffly. "But you're back, and that's all that matters now." She lifted her hand, stretched her arm out, and touched the back of his hand where it lay on the bed. He turned it, so that their hands were clasped palm-to-palm, and squeezed. They sat silently like that for long moments, until Mulder cleared his throat and said, "I'm ready to hear the rest now." One corner of his mouth lifted, and he quirked an eyebrow. But then he frowned and quickly added, "If you're ready to tell it." She nodded. "I'm ready." She took a deep breath and began. "As I had said before the nurse walked in, when you awakened from your coma, it was learned that you had the mentality of a child. We...I didn't know what to do, the doctors could offer nothing, so I found a full-care nursing home for you." At the start of surprise Mulder gave, she nodded. "In Arlington." She squeezed his hand, silently communicating that she would tell him more another time, hoping he would understand. He nodded, mouthing 'go on', so she continued. "The other abductees had started to awaken from their comas, but they were all fine. While in Oregon to see Ray Hoese, I was looking at all the medical files, and I noticed something strange. I determined that their comas allowed their brain anomalies to heal, or disappear. After consulting with your doctor, we had you medically induced into another coma. When your EEG readout and CAT scans showed that the anomaly was gone, we removed the sedation. You did not wake up though, not right away. It was almost two days before you did." Her voice had gotten raspy as she remembered her fear and despair. "I was so scared, Mulder. I thought I had done the wrong thing." The tears that had never really gone away began to fall, and she bent her head, shoulders shaking as she tried to contain her sobs. "Hey," Mulder said, pulling his hand free from hers to rest it on her lowered head. His hand stroked slowly through her hair, raising shivers and offering comfort. Her sobs slowed, turned into hiccupping sighs. Again she brought her hands up to her face and wiped away the remnants of tears. And all the while his hand moved through her hair. Long moments later he spoke. "Scully...God, I don't even know what to say, and I'm sure you've glossed over what you went through, and what you did for me. I don't know if thank-you is enough, but you do have my thanks." His hand slipped along her skull, brushing her hair aside so that he could cup her chin and tilt her head upwards. When their eyes met again, he said, "And my love." His grip tightened slightly on her jaw, not painful at all, and as he rose from his pillows and leaned towards her, she intuited that he wanted her to do the same. She half-rose from her seat, her thighs trembling as they took all her weight awkwardly, and leaned into him, her head slanting to one side. His slanted as well, in the opposite direction, and as she slowly closed her eyes, she saw him do the same. Their lips met, softly, unerringly, in a sweet kiss that deepened into a little bit more. Her hand lifted from where it had somehow become fisted around the top rung of the bedrail and moved to cup his cheek, while his slid up her face to slide back into her hair. They both pulled back at the same time, easing up, and Scully opened her eyes to see Mulder looking at her. She rubbed her lips lightly over his for a moment and then smiled a tiny smile. "I missed this," she whispered. "Scully?" he whispered. "I love you." "I love you too, Mulder. So very, very much." She grimaced then, for her legs and back were screaming. "But as much as I'd love to stay like this, I have to sit down now," she said with a groan, and slumped back into her chair. The baby kicked then, quite strongly, making her jump, and she looked up at Mulder. "I think he or she is pretty happy right now." "Just like his/her dad," Mulder said. "Hey!" she protested. "Don't forget me!" "Never, Scully," he replied, reaching out to touch her cheek. After she smiled, he added, "How about we save the questions for later? And just sit here together, saying nothing at all." "I'd love to," she replied. So they did. Two Days Later Georgetown University Medical Center Scully rubbed her back as she and her mother took their first steps out of the elevator and headed down the hospital corridor. She then spread her feet a little further apart; remembering that doing so often eased the near-constant backache somewhat. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother grin, and shot her a warning look. "Mom," she said admonishingly, with no small amount of indignation. She fumed silently to herself, almost grumbling under her breath. They had already had a discussion about her mother's continual comments and looks regarding her pregnancy back at her apartment. It had begun almost immediately after her mother's arrival to drive her to the hospital, all due to the maternity dress Scully had chosen to wear. So chosen because it had been a gift from her mother, and she knew it would please her to no end to see Scully wearing it. While the color... a deep navy blue - was certainly one of hers, the style most definitely was not. A corduroy jumper with matching Peter Pan collared blouse, it had set her mother to cooing disgustingly over her. Scully had been very close to turning around and changing, and had told her mother so. Feeling like a terrible child the entire time, but unable to stop herself. To make matters worse, her mother had been cheerfully accepting and sympathetic, patting her back and telling her it was just her hormones. She was so unbelievably tired of hearing about her hormones. It was bad enough when she used them as an excuse, but to hear others doing it for her was even worse. "I'm sorry, honey," her mother said then, pulling Scully from her recollection. "I can't help it. You look," she paused, and Scully could see she was fighting another smile, "cute." She then lost her battle with the smile, grinning again. "You're waddling, Dana." She sounded so happy, so cheery, so damned pleased as she said the words that now made Scully cringe every time she heard them, having heard them far too often lately. As much as she loved being pregnant, oddly enough, she was getting very tired of the looks and comments she received not only from family, friends and acquaintances, but complete strangers as well. People had even gone so far as to lay their hands on her belly while remarking about her size, or predicting the sex of the baby due to how she was carrying. For someone as private as she, it was an intrusion. Thus far she had accepted it with remarkable aplomb. Or at least she thought she had, recalling her forced smiles that she knew had to look more like pained grimaces, and her tight voice uttering polite banalities in response. Scully gritted her teeth to bite back the snarky remark on the tip of her tongue, and forced herself to straighten up as she walked, resuming her earlier strides. "I do not waddle, Mom." "What would you call it then, dear?" her mother asked, her voice filled with amusement. Scully shot her another look. Though her mother's face was placid, her eyes danced with her suppressed laughter, and at that, Scully had to smile a little. Her mother, while definitely concerned about her unmarried daughter, who had also been rather unforthcoming about details, was quite ecstatic about the impending arrival. And now that Scully had finally told her Mulder was the father, and he was out of his coma and well on the road to recovery, she was even more so. Her enthusiasm was often contagious. Though at this particular moment Scully was not feeling overly amenable to cheer or enthusiasm. She already wanted a nap, and for some reason was craving coffee, something she had not indulged in since learning she was pregnant. She had not slept well the night before, and could actually be called cranky. In fact, she was pretty sure she had heard her mother mutter that very word, along with the dreaded 'hormones', as they had left her apartment. Which is why she refrained from replying, worried her response would be far harsher than the situation warranted. Fortunately they were now just steps away from the door to Mulder's room, so it did not really matter. Scully lifted her hand as she continued forward, with her mother on her heels, intending to push the door open. But before she could do so, they were brought to an abrupt halt by loud voices from within, followed by a resounding clatter. She recognized Frohike's particular brand of swearing, having caught the words 'stubborn punk-ass', and she was reasonably certain the person that had loudly groaned 'shit' had been Mulder. Flicking a glance at her mother, she shoved the door open and burst in. To see Mulder's bare ass peeking out from the back of his hospital gown as he lay sprawled face-down on the floor, his head turned to the side away from her. She went from cranky and concerned to overwhelmingly amused in mere seconds, and had to slap her hand across her mouth to stifle her giggles. Somewhere in the back recesses of her mind she was embarrassed for him too, but amusement was in the forefront at the moment. Beside and slightly behind her, her mother snickered, then turned the sound into a cough. There was a rustling noise a second later, and Scully glanced over her shoulder to see that her mother had turned so that her back was to the man lying with his backside exposed to the world. Giving him privacy, and a smattering of dignity, she supposed. Though really, it was far too late for dignity, she thought with a smirk, eying Mulder's white tush, hanging out for the room to see. Still sexy though, if a bit on the skinny side. Concern returned with a rush when Mulder still made no move to get up or to cover himself, and she moved forward to check on him, her foot knocking aside a metal jug lying on the floor. It was probably what had made the loud noises she had heard, along with the rolling table that was lying on its side a few feet away. She imagined that Mulder had risen to his feet, gotten weak, and tried to use the unstable furniture to hold himself up. Obviously that had not worked. Frohike, who up until this point had also been just standing there and staring slack-jawed at Mulder, rushed to her side, and quickly offered his hand to assist her in lowering herself to the floor. Not an easy task, Scully thought, as one part of her body lurched forward too far, and she started to fall on top of Mulder. Her hands came out to halt her downward descent, and landed square on his butt, making her blush. He jolted at the contact, making an odd whimpering-grunting sound, and then groaned again. She quickly pulled her hands away, shuffling her feet a little for better balance, and then flicked a glance over her shoulder at her mother, who fortunately had not yet turned around again. "Mulder?" she said softly, leaning as close as she was able, one hand now braced on the floor. "Are you okay?" Mulder grunted. "I'll live." He then sighed loudly, and added, "Seriously though, I'm okay Scully." Frohike, who was still crouched beside her, snickered suddenly and cracked, "Yeah, his nose broke the fall!" Scully shot him a reproachful look, but he merely grinned at her, unabashed. Mulder took exception to the remark, of course. "'Hickey, you can forget about ever getting your grimy paws on my video collection." Scully and Frohike exchanged guilty glances unseen by Mulder. She had given Frohike all of Mulder's tapes, the ones jokingly referred to as 'the ones that weren't his' after Mulder had been missing for almost two months. He had shown up at Mulder's apartment one night while she was there cleaning and moping, despondent and clutching a bottle of whiskey. Just like he had once shown up at her place on a long ago night when it had been believed that Mulder was dead. "Sure, Mulder, whatever you say," Frohike said, lifting his hand to pat his friend on the back. Seeing the gown partially opened, he quickly averted his eyes, his hand falling back to his side. "Hey, buddy. Why don't we get you back up and into bed?" "That sounds like a very good idea," Scully remarked. "Seeing as unless the doctor's orders from last night changed drastically, which I sincerely doubt by the way, you are not supposed to up yet, are you?" "Uh..." was Mulder's response. Because Mulder could not see her, and he was technically still an invalid, although at this point 'idiot' seemed more fitting, she pinned her glare on Frohike. Who quickly put his hands up and squeaked nervously, "It was his idea! I tried to stop him." "Fine," Scully sighed. It wasn't worth the effort to argue, and more than likely Mulder had been his usual bull-headed self and tried despite Frohike's protests. Now, she, on the other hand, would have called for reinforcements in the form of restraints. They had been very effective during past hospitalizations. And in a few other instances, she thought with a blush, remembering that one night at her apartment... Oh, don't go there, Dana, she told herself, and cleared her throat. "Let's just get him back into bed." She turned her head and said, "Mom? Can you give us a hand?" "Certainly, dear," her mother replied. She turned around and Scully saw her eyes go briefly to Mulder's exposed bottom and then flick away. "Perhaps..." her voice trailed off as one of her hands waved at Mulder while she studiously looked elsewhere. Scully snickered softly and reaching out to grasp one side of Mulder's gown, tugged it across to overlap the other, covering him up. Mulder gasped, and then moaned in a low voice, "Back door?" "Wide open," Scully said cheerily. "Your mother?" he moaned next. "Right here," Scully said with that same cheer, at the same time her mother spoke. "Hello, Fox." Mulder sighed. "Hey, Mrs. Scully." Scully gestured for her mother to take one arm, while Frohike automatically moved to Mulder's other side to grasp that arm. Scully remained where she was, one hand on his back, also holding his gown shut, and the other getting ready to support his belly when they lifted him. "Okay, Mulder, we're going to do this on three. Don't try and take all your own weight, let us help you." Scully shifted her bulk and got ready to stand. She knew she really should have gone for an orderly to help, but knew Mulder would balk at anyone else witnessing his embarrassing position. He was also likely to attempt to get up on his own while she went to get that help. "Okay, everyone? One. Two. Three!" On three, they smoothly lifted Mulder, who found his footing and then wobbled slightly within their grasp, and got him swiftly to his bed. He helped them get him perched on the edge of the bed, whereupon Scully and her mother assisted him in swinging his legs up and onto the mattress. Scully flipped the blankets over him, vaguely aware of her mother and Frohike leaving the room, and looked sternly at Mulder as she tucked them gently at his waist. Or tried to look stern anyway. For Mulder wore the saddest hound dog expression she had ever seen on his face, with the accompanying lower lip pout that rarely failed to melt her heart. "Oh, Mulder, what am I going to do with you?" she sighed, lifting one hand to touch his cheek. "Love me?" he asked. "Already covered," she whispered, and leaned in to nip that pout with her teeth. After soothing it with a kiss, she pulled back a little to try her glare once more. "Mulder, try that again, and the restraints will be put in use." He had the nerve to bring his hands to his chest and gasp, fluttering his eyes. "Why, Scully. With you almost 8 months pregnant and me still in my hospital bed," he said with mock scandal in his voice. "Oh, man!" came Frohike's disgusted voice. He had apparently come in while they were unaware. "My virgin ears." Mulder barked out a choked laugh, while Scully blushed furiously. "I'll see you later, man," Frohike said then. "Me and the guys will bring you something to eat for dinner." He bowed slightly to Scully, and then winked, making her blush even more. They both said their goodbyes, and watched the little man walk out the door. It had barely swung shut when it opened again, and her mother walked in and towards the bed. Scully stepped back to let her mother kiss Mulder hello, smoothing the skirt of her jumper down, which had ridden up when she had leaned in to kiss Mulder. Her mother immediately launched into chatter. 9:45 am Mulder was already regretting the stubbornness that had brought him to his feet over Frohike's vehement protests. His legs were trembling like a newborn colt's, and it was only sheer will that kept him standing. Not that he would admit that, of course. Sheer will also had him attempting to take a step, one hand leaning heavily on the table where his breakfast tray had rested not too long ago. Success swelled in his chest. His argument the night before with the doctor against waiting another day or two before attempting to walk on his own was validated. He felt vindicated, triumphant. So much so that he removed his hand from his only support for his next step. When it too went off with only a slight wobble, he lifted his head and flashed Frohike a smug, 'I told you so' grin. Perhaps he was a little too smug, for his knees started to fold. He lurched forward, heard Frohike yelling, too far away to be of any help, "I knew this was too much. You goddamned stubborn punk-ass!" He was unable to retort, for he was busy falling into the rolling table, sending it over and down to the floor with a bang. The metal jug that had rested there, thankfully empty, went flying, landing with a spectacular ringing clatter. He followed the jug down to the ground, barely getting his hands up to brace his fall, or at least some of it, and landed face-first with a grunt and a bellowed, "Shit!" Although the ground was cold and hard, he had no strength left to attempt to rise. He did manage to turn his head to one side, breathing heavily through his nose. His sorely abused nose, which had smacked into the floor after his palms had hit, halting part of his rather rapid descent. Even the sounds of someone entering his room were not incentive enough to get him to move. He was just going to lie there for a few minutes, find his wind, and the energy and strength to get up again. The smothered giggling, which he immediately identified as belonging to Scully, had him cringing internally. Busted. Crap, shit and damn. He'd managed to convince Frohike not to say a word to anyone, especially Scully, but now she'd actually caught him in the act. Well, sort of. But the evidence before her, namely him lying face down on the floor, certainly pointed to what he had attempted. On the heels of Scully's giggle was another laugh of sorts, a snicker, but he quickly forgot to wonder who it could be as he heard the metal jug kicked across the floor, startling him. A moment later he sensed Scully at his side, just before cool, delicate little hands landed on his butt. He was caught off guard by the surprising amount of weight that followed those hands, pressing down on him, and he exhaled loudly with a very unmanly squeaking sound. A memory flitted through his head of Scully saying 'Are you sure it wasn't a girlie scream, Mulder?' and he groaned. It didn't register right away that her hands had been touching his bare flesh. He heard Scully moving, felt the weight leave him, and then heard her ask, "Mulder? Are you okay?" Ah, Scully concern. He loved Scully concern. In the past it had often led to Scully comfort in the form of soft touches and occasionally even a hug. And when their relationship had progressed to an intimate level, Scully comfort had often been in the form of pretty damn good sex. He took a moment to consult with his body. Other than his very bruised pride, and a sore nose, he thought he was all right. That same pride had him grunting, "I'll live." Remembering it was his own fault for being in this position, and that Scully could easily snap as be concerned, he sighed and tacked on, "Seriously though, I'm okay, Scully." Frohike, who had been surprisingly silent since he had fallen, probably cowering in the corner from the possible wrath of Scully, chose that moment to pipe up with, "Yeah, his nose broke the fall!" Jeez, what were buddies for. Mulder could not let the nose remark slide. His nose had been the proverbial thorn in his side all his life. "'Hickey, you can forget about ever getting your grimy paws on my video collection," he stated, emphatically he hoped. There was a pregnant pause then, no pun intended, and he was just about to say something when Frohike finally replied. "Sure, Mulder, whatever you say." He sounded a lot closer than Mulder had placed him, like he was actually beside Scully, not in the corner. A moment later Frohike added in a rather exuberant voice, "Hey, buddy. Why don't we get you back up and into bed?" Scully quickly added, in her best prim Doctor, no-nonsense voice, "That sounds like a very good idea. Seeing as unless the doctor's orders from last night changed drastically, which I sincerely doubt by the way, you are not supposed to up yet, are you?" Uh-oh. Apparently the Scully concern wasn't a shoe-in. "Uh..." he started to say, and when nothing brilliant came to mind, he gave up. The next thing he knew, Frohike was whimpering and blubbering. "It was his idea! I tried to stop him." Glad she had found another target, Mulder wisely remained silent, though he snickered to himself as he imagined Frohike squirming under one of the patented Scully glares. But she deflated rather quickly instead of going in for the kill, disappointing him slightly. As long as he wasn't on the receiving end of a Scully lecture, he could enjoy it. She wanted them to get him back to bed. To be honest, he wanted to be back there too. Her last sentence caused an alarm to ring in his head. Mom? Did she just say Mom? When he heard, "Certainly, dear," in Mrs. Scully's lovely voice, he knew she had. Could this get any worse? When he felt Scully's hand tug his gown across his back, he knew it certainly could. He was pretty sure his ass had been hanging out for the world to see. Just perfect. He exhaled harshly and managed to say, "Back door?" "Wide open," Scully replied. Clearly amused. "Your mother?" He had to ask, maybe he'd only dreamed hearing Mrs. Scully's voice. He heard her reply, "Right here," along with Mrs. Scully's, "Hello, Fox." It had been a faint hope anyway. His mother had raised him to be polite when with his elders. She had probably never anticipated it would happen while he was laying buck-ass naked on the floor, but manners were manners. He sighed. "Hey, Mrs. Scully," he said. In no time at all he was up and back in his bed, having briefly enjoyed the feel of Scully's hands on his belly and back, just above his ass. He then got some of that Scully concern he had been pining for. She tucked him under his blankets, trying to look angry, but failing, and then laid her hand on his cheek. " Oh, Mulder, what am I going to do with you?" She didn't sound angry, or even resigned. Mostly just amused. "Love me?" he suggested. "Already covered," she whispered, and then stunned him by leaning in and nibbling on his lip. A second later she kissed it tenderly. Ah. Nice. But then she pulled back and that glint was back in her eye. "Mulder, try that again, and the restraints will be put in use." She did keep him guessing. Impulse had him teasing her, his hands at his chest in mock protest. "Why, Scully. With you almost 8 months pregnant and me still in my hospital bed," he said, and put just the right spin on his words. He didn't get to hear her comeback though. What he did hear was Frohike's pained, "Oh, man! My virgin ears." Mulder hadn't even seen him come back in the room. Mulder couldn't help laughing, and was amused by the blush that quickly stained Scully's cheeks. Frohike left after promising to return later with the guys and some dinner, and Mrs. Scully walked in to replace him. She came right over to the bed, and Scully moved aside so she could plant a kiss on his cheek, hands fixing her...what the hell was she wearing? He managed to reply to Mrs. Scully's greeting, if somewhat distractedly; unable to take his eyes off of Scully and her...was that a dress? It looked like a tent. As the grin threatened to overtake him, he returned his gaze hurriedly to Mrs. Scully. Laughing at Scully would not go over well, he knew that for certain. Mrs. Scully chatted for a few minutes, and then said she was going down to the cafeteria to get a coffee and to bring Scully back some juice. She kissed him on the cheek again, bussed Scully as well, and left. "Hey, you," he called to Scully, who was staring absently at the door through which her mother had just left. "Hmmmm?" she asked, and then jolted a little. "Sorry," she apologized. "Just thinking." "About what?" he asked, sliding over on his bed and patting the mattress beside him invitingly. "All sorts of things," was her rather vague answer, although she did walk (waddle) over to join him. "Like what?" he persisted, and held out his hand to help her up onto the bed. "Stubborn pig-headed men..." she said, her voice tart. Oops. "...how happy I am you're awake..." Softer now. Awwww. Redemption. "...restraints..." Teasing. Hmmmmm? Intriguing. "...kissing you senseless..." Breathy. Not too hard to do. He was halfway there all ready, just from her previous comment about the restraints. "Scuhleeee..." he whispered. "Come here." He reached up as she leaned in towards him, and let his hand slide under her hair to cup the back of her neck. Their lips met. As they kissed, he let his fingers play over her skin, searching for her implant scar. He did that frequently. To reassure himself it was still there, to remind himself of how precious her life was. He found it easily, and something else. There was another scar right beneath the one from her implant, bigger and bumpier. Newer. He pulled back sharply. "Scully, what the hell is that?" 10:10 am Scully hummed low in the back of her throat as Mulder's warm fingers stroked over the sensitive skin of her neck. But then she tensed slightly, for the action was both a pleasure and a disturbance. That area was extremely sensitive, as was her scalp, and she loved to feel his touch there, something that delighted him to no end. But at the same time, she knew he was also searching for her implant scar. She knew that the little scar was an anchor of sorts for him, much as her rounded belly had become to her. And it brought up bad memories, which she could usually suppress. It didn't matter this time. Because Mulder's fingers had just found not only her implant scar, but also the one from where John had cut the Christ slug out from her. For an instant she was transported back to that hot, stinking bus in a barn in Utah, her mind scrambling with panic and hysteria and fear. Screaming at Doggett (John) to cut it, cut it out NOW! Terrified for herself, for her baby. She was jerked back into the present by Mulder pulling free and hissing, "Scully, what the hell is that?" Damn, once again she was not ready for this. After their long talk two days ago, she had told Mulder a bit more about John Doggett, and some of the cases they had worked on. She had not gone into very much detail however, nor had she told Mulder of her first meeting with John when he had hidden his identity from her, and tried to tell her rumors about Mulder with other women, and she had thrown her cupful of water in his face. Scully straightened slowly, her hand sliding to her belly and seeking its comfort, and took a deep breath. "It's a scar, Mulder," she said calmly. Halfway knowing it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull, but needing to work things out in her mind, to find the words to tell him what had happened. "I know it's a fucking scar, Scully," he barked, the hand that had been at her neck now gripping her forearm. "How the hell did you get it?" She blinked rapidly, strangely not upset at his apparent anger, even though he had surprised her - with the volume of his voice, his rough touch, and his coarse language. She knew the anger masked his deep concern, and that in all likelihood, he somehow felt a sense of guilt. "Mulder," she said, and placed her free hand on top of his, still wrapped around her arm, just above her wrist. He jerked at her touch, his eyes flicking from her face to where he gripped her, and she saw the hazel orbs widen and then fill with distress. He released her quickly and sagged back into the pillows, both his hands coming up to rub over his face and cover his eyes. "Christ, Scully, I'm sorry. I didn't... " "Mulder," she repeated, interrupting him. She raised her hand to grab one of his and interlace their fingers together, looking earnestly at the one eye she could see. "It's all right, I'm fine. You didn't hurt me. And I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said it that way." He exhaled heavily, and allowed his other hand to fall from his face, dropping to his lap. Much more softly he said, "What happened, Scully?" "I went to Utah to investigate an unusual death after getting a call about a consultation, and my car broke down in a small town without a reliable telephone service," she began. "*You* went?" Mulder interrupted, his eyes intent on her face, his voice rising slightly again. "Where was your so-called partner?" Scully tried to contain her wince, and was only partially successful. "He...uh, Doggett...John was still in Washington." She looked down at their entwined hands and cleared her throat, embarrassment staining her cheeks for what she was about to admit. "I didn't tell him about the case." "Scully!" Mulder exclaimed. "You ditched him?!" She winced again and raised her head, cheeks reddening further, to see him regarding her with a mingled look of smugness and shock. "I wouldn't call it a 'ditch' per se," she sniffed. "They called for a forensic pathologist, he wasn't needed." "Scully," he said admonishingly. Chidingly. Scully sighed. It still was not easy for her to remember that time, and what could have happened to her, and to the baby. "I was having a difficult time accepting him as a partner, Mulder. You were missing, there were so few leads to follow, and we still had assigned cases to solve." She did not add that she was early into her pregnancy, suffering terrible all-day long sickness, and barely sleeping. "The people of the town where I was..." she almost said held hostage, and changed the wording in time, "...stuck, worshipped this worm-like creature, this slug, as the Second Christ. They chose me to be its host." Mulder's grip tightened on her fingers, nearly crushing them, and he sat back up, his body tensed. "They what?" he asked, his voice harsh. "What do you mean they chose you to be its host?" He swallowed noisily, then whispered, "Do you mean they put that thing inside of you?" Scully brought her hand up from her belly to cover their clasped hands, squeezing slightly in the hopes he would ease up on his tight hold of her other hand. "It entered through my back, at the base of my spine, and was traveling up towards my brain. Doggett...John showed up, and snuck me out of the house where I was being held, and I made him cut it out of me. That's the scar you felt, where he had to cut it out." "Jesus," he exhaled in a rush of air, starting to sag back down again. He snapped straight again though before laying completely back, and released her hand. The next thing she knew she was being hauled against him, her breath whooshing out. She had to gasp a bit for air when his arms wrapped tightly around her, hugging her fiercely and rocking her from side to side. "Jesus," he repeated over and over, his face buried in the hollow of her neck and shoulder. Scully smoothed her hands up and down his back, feeling his shuddering throughout her body. "I'm okay, Mulder," she told him. "There was no infection, and the baby was not effected at all. They're just scars now, Mulder." He did not say anything, merely squeezed her tighter, if that was possible. The baby kicked in protest of the extremely close contact, and she felt Mulder start in surprise, his head jerking up. He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. "Is that...was that the baby?" She nodded, and brought her hand up to rub at the abused spot. "That's some kick he's got," he said, bemusedly. "Or she." He was now watching her hand as it moved in tiny circles high on the left side of her belly. After a long moment, he brought his hand up, nudging hers aside so that he could take over the gentle massage. "Mulder," she said quietly, once a few minutes had passed. "I know you were disturbed by the fact that I had another partner while you were gone, and that you seem prepared to dislike John, but you don't have to. He's a good man, and he has been a good friend to me, just as Skinner and the guys have been. I want you to give him a chance, please. For me." He lifted his other hand up and touched her chin lightly, lifting it so that he could look into her eyes. "Well, I guess you'll have to bring him by one of these days, huh?" Scully smiled. "I guess so." She grimaced then, for not only had the baby given her another healthy kick, but her back was also aching as usual. "Hey," Mulder said softly, and slid over on the bed again. "Come up here with me." It took her a few minutes of rather graceless maneuvering, but she managed to get herself arrayed beside him on his bed, her legs up alongside his. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she nestled her head into the natural crook he had created. His free hand rested atop hers on her belly. They sighed in unison. 10:45 am Mulder had noticed that Scully touched her belly a lot... light, fleeting brushes as if she were reassuring herself the baby was actually there. He supposed that was normal for all women to need that contact, he really did not know, but thought also that for Scully it was needed even more, that at some times it must seem to her like a dream. Having been told she was barren had been a very hard blow, and then after attempting IVF and having it fail, she had probably seen any chance at having a child of her own fly out the window. He could easily recall her quiet desolation the night she had told him the second attempt had failed, recall telling her to never give up on a miracle, as she had asked him if he remembered doing so two days ago. His memories of before had been fuzzy at first, but they were crystal clear now. Except for during his abduction... he had none of those at all. He shook his head slightly, shivering a little. He wasn't sure if he wanted to remember them. Nor did he want to think about that now. He'd rather concentrate on the woman snuggled against his side on his hospital bed. Mulder stared at their hands, lying on her belly, still now. He had also noticed she rubbed her belly with tiny circles, almost a massage, quite often too. Knew it was because some of the baby's kicks were actually a little painful. His hand twitched slightly, and felt the nubbiness of her corduroy dress, and remembered with a grin his earlier thought about it being a tent. "Hey, Scully," he said softly, not sure if she was awake or not, for he could not see her face. She moved her head against his shoulder, almost nuzzling him, and gave him a throaty, "Hmmmm?" in reply. The sound momentarily distracted him from his planned agenda, to tease her about her attire, because it was the one she often made when sleepily drowsing after sex. He let his eyes close, mind flipping through the extensive catalogue of each and every time, trying to find his favorite. It was not easy. Their lovemaking had always been exciting and fresh and new, no matter where or how, or how often. The word 'new' stuck in his head, and made him think of making love to Scully now, nearly 8 months pregnant. Of her rounded belly, skin soft and smooth as it stretched to accommodate their baby. Of her much larger breasts, that called out for him to cup and squeeze. Of her fertile and ripe, the essence of woman. Mulder had to shift a bit, as blood ran south, and take a few deep, slow breaths. He did math equations in his head, too, and that helped some. Scully's hand moved beneath his then, and he opened his eyes to see her stroking her belly in those little circles, but slowly and almost absently. Each circle of her hand against the corduroy made that scratching-scritching sound from his childhood, and reminded him of what he had been about to say before he had been so delightfully sidetracked. "Scully?" he asked, keeping his voice soft just in case, and rubbed another spot on her belly in tandem with her movements. "Yes, Mulder?" she responded, still with that drowsing, sexy voice. He plucked at the fabric over her belly, lifting the small bit pinched between his fingers slightly. "New fashion statement?" She huffed out a breath and then snorted. "Hardly." She waved her free hand in the air over her body. "I look ridiculous in this. It's not me at all." She then smoothed it flat over her belly, fixing the part he had disturbed. Her voice grew softer, fond. "But my mom gave it to me, and she was so happy when I wore it." She sighed and added, "I didn't have the heart to tell her it's just not my style. I'm much happier in tights and long jerseys or sweaters when I'm not working. Or just one of your tee shirts at home..." She continued talking, but her voice faded away to the background as he pictured her strolling around her apartment wearing his tee shirt. Just his tee shirt. He started doing math equations again. Something else struck him then, and he interrupted her soft monologue. "Scully, you said when you're not working. Are you...did you..." his voice trailed off, not sure exactly what he was asking. "I'm not on maternity leave yet, if that's what you're trying to ask," she said, and lifted her head to look at him. "But I took a leave of absence when you were induced into coma." Mulder brought his hand up to gently stroke her cheek, brushing aside the section of her hair was clinging to her skin. His thumb barely grazed her lip, but that small contact was like a spark of electricity to him. Scully shivered slightly, and he knew she had felt it too. Mulder slowly brought his face closer to hers, as Scully tilted her chin up, offering him her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut, but he kept his open. He loved to see the expressions flit across her face. For a woman who was normally so rigid and contained, able to control her emotions in almost any situation, she came apart for him. He ran the tip of his tongue very lightly along her bottom lip, and her warm, mint-flavored breath washed over him as she sighed his name. There was a hint of a plea in the sound, which made him smile slightly, and do it again. This time his name came out more as a demand. Obligingly, he pressed in for an open-mouthed kiss. His hand cupped her head, which was tilted to give him better access, and she rolled onto her side, her belly pressing into his abdomen. She made the whimpering sound he had grown to love, and strove to hear each time they made love. Her hand came up to slide through his hair and rest at the nape of his neck, holding his lips to hers. Deeper. His tongue stabbed at hers. She retaliated by sucking on it, making him whimper. He had missed this, missed her, so much. Knew she felt the same way. A loud, startled gasp intruded rudely, and they broke apart, both of them turning to look at the door. Mrs. Scully was there, her cheeks scarlet, hands laden with two bottles of juice. "Oh!" she said, sounding stunned. "I'm so sorry! I'll...I'll be...I'll come back." "Mrs. Scully!" Mulder called, his voice cracking mid-way through like a teenager going through puberty. His hand went up to scrub at his lips, wet from Scully's kiss. But it was too late, she had exited rather quickly. He groaned, and fell back onto his pillows, hand coming up to cover his eyes. He was surprised to hear Scully's muffled giggle. He dropped his hand to peer at her in shock. "Scully!" he said with mortification. "Your mother just...just..." "Just caught us necking?" she finished for him, still giggling. Her cheeks were flushed, but from her amusement he gathered it was due to their kiss, not being interrupted by his mother. Which he could not understand. "Scully," he said again, and repeated her words, with more emphasis. "You're mother just caught us necking!" "Mulder," she said dryly, and waved her hand over her belly. "I'm sure she's realized we do kiss. And more." She ruffled his hair affectionately, making him feel about five years old. "Relax, Mulder. Believe me, she's seen a lot worse." Huh? He perked up, interested. "Do tell, Scully," he said, waggling his eyebrows at her. "Later," she teased, and eased herself off the bed. "I've heard that before," he sighed. "And I'm still waiting." He was referring to her comment after he asked if he could touch her breasts. She laughed as she smoothed the jumper down once more. "When you're home. I promise." Her voice was husky, and she even threw him a wink before heading to the door. "I'm going to go get my mom. Be back in a minute." He smiled as he saw her waddling. Just as she grasped the handle of the door he called out, "Hey, Scully. Quack, quack." "Watch it, mister," floated back to him as she left the room. Oh, I do, he thought with a smile. One Week Later Scully's Apartment Their progress down the hall to her apartment was a slow one, the odd silence broken only by Mulder's scuffling footsteps and the click of his cane. The cane was his only concession to the still-lingering occasional weakness of his body. Mulder stumbled, pitching forward, and then righted himself. Scully sucked in her breath and instinctively started forward to grab him, despite his insistence that she let him do this by himself. She stopped when he caught himself with one hand against the wall, and her own hands fluttered uselessly in the air for a moment before she forced them down to her sides. His shoulders slumped for a second as he blew out his breath noisily, and then rose when he sucked in a fresh lungful, and he started anew. She followed behind him, as close as she could be without interfering, ever ready to leap to his rescue. There was no thought about the logistics of an 8-months pregnant woman trying to stop a much taller, and still heavier man, despite his recent poor health, from falling. Just that she was there if he needed her. In one hand she clutched his overnight bag, her own strides lopsided due to its weight, having retrieved it from the floor where it had been dropped when he stumbled. The last steps were completed without incident, although Mulder sagged against the wall beside her door while she unlocked it. His breath was harsh and uneven, and he was pale, his forehead dotted with perspiration. Pushing the door open, she indicated with the hand holding her keys for him to enter first. Another deep breath, and then he pushed himself free of the wall and shuffled inside and over to her couch. With a groan, he sank down into the cushions, his head dropping to rest on its soft, plush back. The cane fell to the floor with a soft clack. Scully closed and locked her door, and put the overnight bag down to one side, to take to her bedroom later. Feeling awkward, she stood there staring at his disheveled chestnut hair, trying to decide what to do first. After the doctor had come in the day before and told them Mulder would be released the following morning, they had decided it would be easier for him to stay at her apartment. But they had not discussed the logistics of that stay. During their relationship, he had stayed the entire night on several occasions, usually leaving very early in the morning to go home and shave, shower and dress. On a rare weekend, he had stayed until noon. As she had also done at his place. Living together had been a subject not often broached, for they were both very independent people who had gotten used to their solitude. And in effect, that was what he would be doing now, for a little while at least, until he was completely recovered. Beyond then, she did not know. "Scully?" Mulder murmured, and she blinked in startlement. He had cranked his head to one side and was regarding her bemusedly. "Are you okay?" "Uh...yes, I'm fine," she mumbled back, embarrassed to have been standing there woolgathering. She shook her head slightly to clear the cobwebs, and shrugged out of her jacket. With it in the crook of her arm she moved to stand before him. "Take off your jacket and get comfortable," she said softly. "I'll go fix us a snack." Mulder sat up and shrugged out of his jacket, handing it to her with a quiet, "I can help. You shouldn't be doing everything." He slid his body forward, gathering himself to stand. Scully stopped him with the gentle pressure of her hand on his shoulder. "Mulder, it's okay. I'm a lot more energetic at this time of day. I feel fine." Which was entirely true. Lately, after an initial slow start each morning, she was blessed with a period of energy and spunk that lasted until lunchtime. Then she needed a nap. Except when she had the occasional bad sleepless night, in those cases she was miserable the entire day. She moved her hand from his shoulder up to ruffle his hair. "You just wait until this afternoon, I'll be wrestling you for that couch," she said the last words teasingly, a smile on her lips. "Oooooh," he breathed out, looking up at her. "Can we be naked then?" She barely managed to contain her grin. God, she loved this man. Pale, weak and just out of the hospital, and he was already putting the moves on her. If his exhaustion weren't as obvious as the rather large nose on his face, she'd take him up on his offer. "I don't know, Mulder. You were embarrassed the other day when my mother caught us kissing. What do you think she'll do if we're naked on my couch?" His eyes widened comically, and this time she did grin. "Way to kill the mood, Scully," he chuffed at her, bottom lip jutting out in a mock pout. "We had a mood?" she joked back, enjoying this sudden feeling of light- heartedness. It had been so very long since she had been able to play with him like this. "Well I was working on one," he said piteously, slumping back into the cushions. "When you regain all," and she made sure to emphasis the word 'all', "your strength, we'll have all kinds of moods." "Sure," he sighed, lifting up his puppy dog eyes. "Sounds like another one of those later deals you keep promising me." If he only knew how much she wished it was 'later'. Maybe because her increased sexual appetite during her second trimester had not been appeased it had leaked over into this trimester. Maybe it was the fact that it had been a long time. Maybe it was just because he was Mulder and she was Scully, and they belonged together. Whatever the reason, she wanted him. Wanted them. Desperately and passionately. It was hard for her to say that though. And it was really not the right time. So instead she said lightly, "It is. For now." He smiled at her, a gentle smile, and said, "I know, Scully." His hand reached out and grasped one of hers, hanging limply at her side. He squeezed her fingers, then leaned forward a little, bringing her hand, palm up, to his face. He pressed a kiss directly in its center and then released her. "I know," he repeated. Scully looked down at him, loathe to move. "I love you," she said suddenly, her voice quiet and calm. They had proclaimed their love before, in the hospital just recently, and at various times in their steadily growing relationship, but today she had never felt the truth behind those words so much as she did right at that moment. "I know," he said again. It was not necessary for him to declare it back to her, they did operate that way. And it was obvious in his expression, his demeanor, his very being regardless. Scully smiled again, and he smiled back, reclining back against the couch cushions once more. "I'll take care of these," she said, gesturing to their coats, "and then get that snack. You put up your feet and rest, okay?" "Okay, Scully," he replied, and shifted his upper body so that he was not lying against the pillow at the arm of the couch. A second later he lifted his legs and swung them up, careful to keep his still shoed feet hanging off the couch. The carefulness and thoughtfulness of the gesture had her sighing quietly. Then again, she had railed at him in the past for failing to keep his shoes off of her furniture, so it was probably selfpreservation that prompted the move. It still touched her heart, either way. She turned away, finally, and moved down the hallway to put away their coats and then fix their snack. 10:30 pm Mulder flicked off the bathroom light and shuffled out into the darkened hallway. His feet were bare, and the coldness of the hardwood floor had his toes curling slightly in reaction. He hesitated, wavering just slightly, and flicked a glance towards Scully's bedroom, where low light shone from within. Scully had already finished in the bathroom, having used it before him, so he assumed she was already in bed. She had been yawning steadily for the last hour or so as they sat together on the couch, her feet in his lap, and had not argued at all when he suggested retiring for the night. To be honest, he was glad, for he was rather tired himself. They had not done much all day, except relax on the couch, and nap for about two hours after lunch, although he had read over a few of the case files she and Doggett had worked on during his absence. He was still waiting to meet the man, and intended to ask Scully to invite him over soon. As he moved towards her bedroom door, one hand automatically rose to slide along the wall for support, and when he stopped in the doorway, it clutched the frame as he stared inside the room. His other hand scratched absently at his tee shirt-clad belly as he saw that the covers of her bed were pulled back invitingly on both sides, and the lamp on her night table was on at a low setting. But he did not see Scully. A sound from behind him had Mulder turning his head to see her approaching from the direction of the kitchen. Her voluminous pajamas almost hid the bulge of the baby. Almost. They looked damn cute too, the pant bottoms rolled up at least twice, the sleeves as well. And because she had bought them so large, the vee of the top dipped to her significant cleavage, tantalizing him with the vision of her smooth, creamy skin and the shadow between her breasts. There was the briefest of stirrings in his southern regions, but he knew they both were not ready yet. Soon though, they would be. Forcing his eyes away from that temptation, he saw that she was carrying a tall glass of what looked like water. Seeing his curious gaze, she said, "I get thirsty at night. I know it only makes me have to use the washroom more, but my throat gets so dry." Mulder smiled slightly. More? She seemed to go every hour, at the least. She seemed to easily read the gleam in his eye, as she always could. "Hey, buddy," she said dryly. "You'd have to go all the time too if you had all this extra weight sitting on your bladder." She came to a stop beside him. "Besides, it's not very nice to make fun of a pregnant woman." "I'd never!" he said in a mock-affronted tone. "But just in case, let me make amends." He had seen her rubbing her back again as they had headed down the hall for the night. "How about a backrub?" Her moan of thanks was heartfelt. "Please!" she said, and then handed him her glass. At his raised eyebrow, she indicated the bathroom. "Pit stop." He hid his chuckle by turning it into a cough, although he knew she wasn't fooled, and then said, "Bring your lotion with you." "Okay," he heard as he walked slowly and carefully into her bedroom, the water held firmly in one hand. Mulder placed the glass on the coaster atop her night table, smiling at such an obvious Scully thing to do, and crawled into her bed. He slid over the cool sheets to his side, propping himself up on his elbow, and pushed the covers even further down with his feet to await her. The distant sound of water running in the pipes announced she was done, and then moments later she was padding into the bedroom, the requested lotion clutched in one hand. She sat down on the edge of the bed with one of those cute little grunts, though he never told her he thought they were, and handed him the lotion. He put it down beside him, and held out his hand to help her lie down and get comfortable. This took a few minutes, for she wiggled a lot to find the right position, and she had to adjust the pillow that she rested her bent knee on it just so. Her little sigh and the way she rubbed her head into her pillow signified she was ready. His free hand grasped the hem of her pajama top and tugged. "Lift," he said quietly, and when she had shifted her hips a bit, pulled it further up, baring most of her back. It was awkward pouring the lotion in his hand while still reclining, but he managed. Tossing the bottle aside, he rubbed both his hands together to warm the lotion up, and then smoothed them over her middle back to start. Scully sighed again, and wiggled a bit more, rounding her back. He continued at that location for a few minutes, feeling her slowly relax beneath his touch. He slid his hands downward, nudging the waistband of her bottoms down a bit, and starting working on her lower back. Her little humming moans and sighs were wonderful indicators that he was doing a good job, and he smiled, pleased. Soon though, his hands and arms got tired, and he had to stop. Leaning forward he pressed a kiss on her spine before straightening her bottoms and lowering her top back into place. Her thank-you was drowsy and low, and he quietly murmured, "It was my pleasure." He put the lotion on the other night table at his side, and realized the lamp on her side was still on. Scully's breathing was even and deep already, and he did not want to disturb her, so he sat up slowly and leaned over her to switch it off. Settling back down beside her, he inched a little bit closer, spooning himself around her body. He put his hand on her hip, and she automatically raised her arm enough for him to slide his hand down to cup the low curve of her belly. A gentle bump against his hand was the baby's goodnight. He lifted his head and brought it down near her hip, feathering his fingers lightly over the spot. "Goodnight, baby." Moving back, he brushed a light kiss on Scully's cheek, close to her ear, and whispered, "Night, Scully." "Mmmmmm...night, Mul...der," Scully mumbled back. His eyes drifted shut, and sleep overtook him. Three Days Later Scully's Apartment Scully moved down her hallway, the heavy shopping bag in her hand cutting into the flesh of her palm, her other hand digging in her coat pocket for her keys. Despite the pain in her hand, being tired from an afternoon shopping trip with her mother, one that had severely cut into her naptime, and having an aching back, she had a happy smile on her lips. It had been nice spending time with her mother, shopping for baby things and having a late lunch, her mother's treat. It had also been nice to get away from Mulder for a little while. She loved the man dearly, during his abduction she had missed him more than could ever be adequately expressed in words, but on occasion, he was just this side of annoying. At her doorway she paused to drop the bag on the floor, her hand needing relief, if even for a few seconds, and lifted her other one to the doorknob. She turned it curiously, and the door opened a little, having been left unlocked. Mulder obviously had not relocked it after she left, feeling secure with he and one third of the Gunmen present. Scully cursed herself for putting the bag down, as she now struggled to pick it up again. Bending at the waist was a thing of the distant past, and the awkward knee bendshe had adopted had her huffing like she'd just run a few laps around the track. Once she had it firmly in hand again, she rose with a relieved sigh and nudged the door open further with a sideways bump of her hip. It creaked slightly, but apparently the sound was not loud enough to be heard over the voice of Frohike, for no voice called out to her in welcome. "...but, man, I gotta tell you, Scully's so...she's so womanly now," Frohike said, and the words were awe-spoken, making her blush slightly. "Frohike..." Mulder said his friend's name warningly. At that she had no trouble picturing the hand gestures that might have accompanied Frohike's statement, and blushed harder. She could not seem to budge from her spot just inside her apartment, the door still open behind her. Frohike continued on, despite the warning, his words a lament. "She's still hot, I mean she'll always be hot to me, but I shouldn't say that anymore, or call her tasty." The sentence was mournfully spoken, and received another muttered warning from Mulder. Frohike continued though, undaunted, explaining himself. "It wouldn't be right, you know? It's sacrilegious, because she's...she's like The Madonna." Mulder made this loud snorting sound, and then guffawed, sputtering out, "The Madonna?" Scully pursed her lips and ignored him completely, focused on Frohike's words. The particular emphasis he had put on them told her he was referring to the biblical figure, not the popular singer, and had her heart twisting. Coming hard on the heels of the words 'hot' and 'tasty', it was an unusual and rather out of place compliment. It was also the sweetest thing she had ever heard Frohike say to her, even if he did not know he had. Scully could not contain a little sniffle, tears sparking in her eyes, and for some reason that small sound actually got their attention. Two chairs scraped back noisily in her kitchen, and then they were both standing there gawking at her. Frohike looked mortified, while Mulder still wore an expression of amusement. Mulder spoke first, perhaps to give Frohike a moment to recover, or maybe he had seen the brightness of her eyes from her tears. "Hey, Scully. How was the shopping?" "It was good," she said, and hefted the heavy bag she was still holding. Her fingers were cramped, so she let it fall to the floor with a thud, flexing them several times. "Mom had fun, she nearly bought out this baby boutique." She turned to shut the door, and then took a couple steps forward, shrugging out of her coat. A moment later Mulder was taking it from her, having moved to stand before her, and laying it over the back of her couch. Her gaze flicked to Frohike, who was standing stock-still in his same spot. She continued her patter, hoping to put him at ease. "She hasn't stopped talking about the fact that I don't have a crib yet." That seemed to loosen Frohike's tongue. "You don't have a crib?" he asked, moved a little closer to her and Mulder. He no longer looked like he wanted to crawl under her couch, and his voice became animated, though a little shy. "Uh...you know, the guys and I were talking, and we've been wanting to get you something for the baby. But the time never seemed right what with..." his voice trailed off, as he looked briefly at Mulder. No words were necessary. Scully knew he meant while Mulder had been missing. Another little tug at her heart, more moisture in her eyes – both from the memory of that time, and the fact that the guys had wanted to buy her a baby gift. Frohike cleared his throat, and then continued, "Well, anyway, I was thinking that maybe we...uh, Byers, Langly and I, could maybe get the crib for you. If that's all right with you, that is." It was her turn to clear her throat, to rid herself of the huge lump that had formed there. "Oh, Frohike, that's so sweet. It's definitely all right with..." and she reached out to grasp Mulder's hand, "us." Mulder's fingers squeezed hers. "Course, I wouldn't go so far as to say it was sweet," he quipped. He and Frohike then shared a mutual look of mock horror. Scully yawned then, interrupting their male bonding, and Frohike quickly said, "I should get going," as he hustled towards the door. He stopped beside her, and planted a kiss on her cheek. His fingerlessgloved hand touched her belly briefly and then with a muttered, "Later, Mulder," he was gone. "Why don't you lie down, take a nap?" Mulder said, putting one arm partially around her and rubbing at her shoulder blades. He leaned in close, his nose nuzzling her hair before he kissed her on her jaw line. "We can order a pizza or Chinese later." His voice was low and suggestive. Oh, dear. It looked like Frisky Mulder wanted to come out and play. As his strength had steadily increased in the last few days, his teasing and touching had as well. It was getting harder and harder to resist. Maybe tonight she would not have to any more. Tempting though a late afternoon quickie might be, she wanted time to savor every moment. "I'll put my feet up on the couch for a bit while you put the lasagna I made in the oven," Scully said, patting his arm. Time to cool his jets. "John is coming at six, remember?" Because it was difficult for John to get away during the daytime, she had decided dinner would be nice, and it would give them all a chance to talk, and for John and Mulder to get to know each other. She felt Mulder's fingers tense briefly at her neck, but she did not catch his muttered comment. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you," she said sweetly. Definitely cooling. "Uh, I said, oh yeah, I did forget. Silly me," Mulder replied, his voice downcast. Still he tried, his next words hopeful. "You look real tired though, Scully. Maybe we should call him and reschedule." Scully snorted. In a pig's eye he forgot. "Nice try, Mulder," she said. "You're the one who kept saying you wanted to meet him, now's your chance." "Yes, dear," he intoned, and released her to bend and scoop up the shopping bag she had dropped. "Watch it, smartass," she told him, and gave said ass, which looked mighty fine in his faded jeans, a sharp slap. "Yes, ma'am, Agent Scully, ma'am!" he barked out, after straightening rather abruptly. Scully bit back a smile. "That's better," she said. "Oh, you have no idea how much better I can be," he leered. He then quickly darted in to give her a smacking kiss on the lips before sauntering away with the bag. He always had to have the last word. Scully grinned now that his back was to her. Not this time. "You'll have to remind me," she called to him, as seductively as she could. "Over and over." She was inordinately pleased to see him stumble. 6:00 pm There was a series of sharp knocks on the door at precisely six pm. "He's punctual, I'll give him that," Mulder said to Scully, who was reclining on the couch, her feet in his lap. She shot him a look that said 'be nice', and his answering toothy smile was patently false. "I'll get the door, dear," he said brightly, and gave her sock-clad toes one last squeeze before shifting, his hands sliding to grasp her ankles, and laying her feet down on the cushions. He stood, and held back a chuckle as her eyes flashed up at him. She was so much fun to tease. She held his gaze for a moment, silently communicating her desire for them to have a pleasant evening with John Doggett, and then smiled at the slight nod he gave her in acknowledgment. "Help me up, please," she requested, and held both hands up to him. He obliged by taking her hands in his and tugging gently until she was standing on her feet. He thought to himself that he deserved a medal for his admirable restraint these days – she was huffing and puffing from getting up, and had given him another of those cute little grunts. He heard one every time she rose from the bed or from wherever she happened to be sitting or reclining, and he had not laughed. Not in her sight or hearing, anyway. Her body brushed against his, warm and soft except for the bulge of her belly, and her sweet perfume wafted up to tease his senses. He stepped back, so that they were no longer touching, and breathed deeply to settle himself down. Make that two medals. Lately her proximity was almost more than he could take. And being with her virtually all day and all night, he was taking a lot. A lot, a lot, a lot, as he had once said. Then of course there was that teasing little bit of innuendo she had tossed at him earlier that afternoon, about him reminding her of how much better he could be. Over and over, no less. He had barely been able to force himself to walk away. And he had tripped on the edge of the carpet, not because of her words, or her sexy voice, or the fact that he was imagining showing her right then and there. Mulder shook his head slightly, his breathing having started to quicken again. Enough of that, or he was going to have to leave the room. Now what had he been about to do? Oh, yeah, get the door. Determined to play nice for Scully's sake, he pushed his reservations and insecurities aside – yes, he could admit, to himself at least, that he was a little insecure about meeting the man who had essentially replaced him as Scully's partner – and moved to answer the door. He knew Scully would not be far behind, unwilling to leave the welcome up to him alone. Just as he was leaning into the door, to peer through the peephole out of habit, despite the fact he did not know what John Doggett looked like, there was another series of raps, briefer this time. Okay, so now he could add impatient to the list – Doggett was punctual and impatient. He scrunched one eye shut and peered through the tiny hole anyway, seeing the distorted image of a man, and then shrugged and stepped back. Pasting another false smile on his lips, Mulder flicked the lock with one hand, twisted the doorknob with the other a split second later, and pulled the door open. Mulder immediately straightened out of his semi-slouch, his chest thrusting forward on an inhalation, as he took in the man before him. Tall, slender, dark hair, certainly wasn't dog-ugly, but then again, he rarely rated other guys beyond the thought 'harmless or dangerous?' The jury was out on this one still. Then he smirked internally. Dog-ugly, Doggett. He still had it. But there was no one to share it with. He wished he had asked Frohike to stay over, to help act as a buffer, maybe. Although the grilling he had given the little man about Dog-ugly...Doggett...had revealed that the Gunmen thought he was okay, and that he had been a great help to Scully in the last few months. And Scully probably wouldn't have been too happy with him for adding a guest for this particular dinner. Not that she didn't want Frohike over for dinner - in fact the Gunmen and Skinner had been invited for the upcoming Friday. "Hello, John." Scully's voice pulled Mulder from his thoughts, just as her elbow jabbed him in the side. Hard. He grunted, pushed aside by the force of the blow, and realized that his positioning in front of the door had blocked Doggett from entering the apartment. It had been completely unintentional, but by the black look Scully shot him, he knew she did not think so. Damn, the man wasn't even in the door yet and he was already in shit. Or the doghouse. He ducked his head to hide his grin, and turned it into a sad-sounding cough. A second later Mulder straightened once more, thrust his hand forward, dipped his head down in a brief nod of welcome, and said, "Doggett." When Doggett did not immediately offer his hand in response, Mulder finally noticed that both of the other agent's hands were full. He was carrying a baguette in a crinkly white paper bag, a bottle of something that Mulder could not make out, and a small wrapped box, about the size of a box of chocolates. Jeez, looked like the guy was covering all the bases, Mulder thought. For a first date, that is. What was up with him? He felt himself bristling, and took another deep breath to try again. "Doggett, I'm –" Scully brushed past him and reached out to relieve the man of some of his burdens, saying, "John, you didn't have to bring anything," in a pleased tone, riding roughshod over his introduction. "Was no problem at all, Dana," Doggett said. "When you said you were making lasagna, I thought some crusty French bread would go nice." But instead of handing that over, he held out the small box. "Here, these are for you. I know you won't buy them for yourself, even with your cravings, so I did." Mulder was mocking Doggett inside his head about bringing French bread to eat with an Italian dish when Doggett's next words registered. Cravings? Scully had cravings? Mulder was instantly miffed. She never mentioned any cravings to him, and he was always asking her if there was anything in particular she wanted or really needed. Distracted by the sight and sounds of Scully happily tearing the wrapping off her gift, a very un-Scully-like practice, he almost didn't hear Doggett say, "Ah...Mulder? It's nice to finally meet you. I'm John Doggett." "Uh...yeah. Mulder's fine, Doggett," Mulder replied, sticking his hand out again. "Nice to meet you too." See, Scully, I can play nice. He had to fight the urge to squeeze the bejeesus out of Doggett's hand though as they shook. Scully's delighted gasp had them both looking at her, Doggett smiling fondly at her. Fondly? What the hell? "Marzipan!" she exclaimed. "Thank-you, John. This is wonderful." She then surprised the hell out of Mulder by stretching on tiptoe, wobbling slightly, to press a kiss on Doggett's cheek. Doggett of course, had obligingly ducked down so she did not have to strain too much. He also kissed her back, his mouth dangerously close to hers as he bussed her cheek. Mulder's shoulders stiffened as he once again drew himself erect. Almost before he knew what he was doing, his arm was around Scully's shoulders and he was clamping her against his side, squeezing a startled grunt from her. Amazingly Scully did not pull away or lambaste him with her tongue. She actually brought her arm up and rubbed his back for a moment before pulling gently away. "Come on in, John. Dinner's nearly ready." She turned and headed toward the kitchen, the box of marzipan clutched to her belly. "I'll take that," Mulder said to Doggett, a little abruptly he knew, but he couldn't help it. He indicated the bread and the bottle in Doggett's hands. "Oh, sure. Thanks," Doggett said, and handed them over. "Ah, have a seat," Mulder called over his shoulder, and headed into the kitchen. He stopped in his tracks and admired the view. Scully was peering into the oven, checking the lasagna, her feet splayed apart, and her rear end swaying enticingly. He wolf-whistled softly, then whispered, "Oh, mama." Scully snapped upright, her cheeks flushed pink. Whether it was from the heat of the stove or him, he did not know for sure. He preferred to think it was because of him. "Mulder!" she hissed. "Shhhhh!" Clearing her throat, she spoke in a normal tone, albeit a slight bit huskier than usual. "The lasagna's done, Mulder. Could you take it out of the oven for me while I get the salad?" "Sure can," he told her, and blew her a kiss. It made her smile, which was the reaction he had hoped for. Putting the baguette down on the counter, he hefted the bottle up towards his face to read the label. Sparkling Grape Juice. Grudgingly, Mulder admitted to himself that it was a nice idea, seeing as Scully would not drink any spirits at all, including wine. He put the bottle down next to the baguette and slid his hands into Scully's oven mitts, warm from resting on the stovetop, and opened the oven door. The delicious aroma of the lasagna had been circulating the apartment for the last half hour or so, but it smelled even better up close. His mouth watered. He thanked Mrs. Scully silently in his mind for ensuring that her daughter could cook, for Scully had been treating him to home-cooked meals ever since his release from the hospital. He was going to have to start jogging again soon before he packed on the pounds. Doing his physical therapy exercises was not going to cut it much longer. Besides, he was feeling stronger every day, and the lack of near inactivity was wearing on him. Scully too, he was sure of it. He lifted the heavy pan out of the oven and laid it down on the hot plate Scully had placed on the counter moments ago. Shedding the mitts, he turned and asked, "What else can I do?" She held out the chilled salad bowl containing the Caesar salad, tongs sticking out of it, and said, "Take this out to the table, please, and then you guys can be seated. I'm going to cut the bread and then put the lasagna on our plates. There's not enough room on the table for the pan." Ugh, great. He'd have to make polite small talk with Doggett until Scully joined them. Well, here went nothing. He pasted another fake smile on his face and headed out to the table that Scully had set earlier. "Scully said for us to have a seat," he called to Doggett, who had not been sitting down, but had been standing by Scully's stereo cabinet, perusing her CD collection. Doggett turned at his voice and walked over to the table to join him, his hands tucked casually in the pockets of his pants. His tie was loosened, and his shirtsleeves partially rolled up, and he had shed his overcoat, which was lying on the back of the couch. Mulder supposed he should have taken it from him, but he hadn't even thought about it. He wasn't used to this domestic scene. He and Scully had never sat on much formality when they had dinner together either, before, or recently. He put the salad down on the table and took a seat. Doggett followed his lead and sat down across from him, leaving Scully the traditional 'head of the table' position. "Ah...Dana has quite an eclectic taste in music," he said. It was strange hearing someone other than Mrs. Scully call Scully 'Dana', although Skinner had once or twice too when he had visited in the hospital, and here at Scully's apartment. And Scully had called him 'Walter'. That was just weird. Doggett was staring at him, and he remembered the man had said something about Scully and music. "Uh, yeah, she does," he replied. His small talk was just about tapped out, and he wasn't ready to get into the nitty-gritty, which was what had happened to Scully on some of their cases, right now. Scully exited the kitchen, carrying two plates laden with lasagna, and he sighed in relief. If he was not mistaken, so had Doggett. It was going to be an interesting dinner, that was for sure. 6:15 pm It was going to be an interesting evening, Scully thought to herself as she efficiently sliced up the baguette John had brought. She placed the bread in a cloth-lined basket and put it aside for a moment while she went to portion out the lasagna. Mulder was in rare form tonight. In the past, before their relationship had progressed, his male posturing had been subtle for the most part. Hovering at her side, discreet touches at her elbow or back, the occasional glare at anyone who got too close. Which in Mulder's opinion was anything less than three feet away from her. She had found it slightly amusing, somewhat endearing, and extremely frustrating, for he had never overtly acted on the image he portrayed, in her eyes anyway – that she was his. Once they had begun their intimacy the posturing had become a little less than subtle, but only to her. His eyes had lingered, his touches had almost been caresses, and his body language had spoken volumes. Yet at the same time he had been circumspect, never giving away anything to those around them. Although she had at times felt that Skinner was fully aware of the change in their relationship, or at least suspected one. But tonight had to be the worst case of Alpha male behavior she had ever seen in him, or any other man for that matter. It would hardly have surprised her if he had suddenly peed in the corner to mark his territory, or started pounding on his chest bellowing, "My woman!" He had practically glowered at John when he had seen the gifts John had brought, and after she had kissed John on the cheek and he had returned the kiss, Mulder had performed a caveman maneuver and hauled her against his body. Having been bit by the jealousy bug a time or two herself when it came to women around Mulder, she had recognized the signs immediately. And accepted it as a natural course of their relationship. A relationship that was in effect, beginning all over again due to his prolonged absence. It was fairly quiet in the other room - there had been a brief rumble of male voices and then nothing. With a sigh, Scully lifted the plates for the two men and headed out. As she approached the dining table she had set earlier, she saw both Mulder and John look up, matching expressions of relief crossing their features, and it was all she could do to turn the laughter that threatened to erupt into a pleasant smile. John started to rise from his chair, which prompted a now frowning Mulder to do the same, not to be outdone, and she hastened to say, "No formality, gentlemen. This is just a casual dinner." She put their platefuls of lasagna on their respective placemats and received a twin chorus of thanks. She returned to the kitchen for her lasagna and the basket of bread, and realized she had forgotten to pour drinks. Her gaze flicked to the sparkling grape juice from John, and she knew what she would be having. Mulder would more than likely want water, but she'd have to ask John what he preferred, of the limited selection she had to offer. John chose water as well, which was easy enough, and he even offered to fetch the drinks himself. Scully opened her mouth to tell him it was no problem, but Mulder beat her to the punch. He jumped up from his seat and went into the kitchen after mumbling he would get them. Scully smiled a little nervously at John as they both listened to the banging of cupboards and the clanking of glasses. Should she apologize for Mulder? John's answering smile told her he understood, so she held silent. Mulder emerged a few minutes later, carefully carrying three glasses, two of water and one of grape juice. Once they had accepted their respective drinks and Mulder had re-taken his seat, Scully told them to dig in. Surprisingly the meal was a pleasant affair. Whatever snit or mood Mulder had been in, he apparently had gotten himself out of. He was charming and witty, and he did not ask one question about the X-Files at all. Nor did he until after the dinner dishes had been scraped and put in the dishwasher, and they were comfortably settled in her living room – she and Mulder on the couch, his thigh just touching hers, and John on the armchair. "Scully told me a little bit about what happened after I disappeared," Mulder began, leaning forward slightly, elbows on his knees, staring intently at John. "And I'm sure she glossed over a lot of the details, so I'd like you to tell me what happened." Pleasantly said, but a demand all the same. Scully tensed a little, the baby moving restlessly within her, and her hand automatically went up to soothe. She flicked her eyes from her view of Mulder's profile to John, who was also leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, except his hands were loosely clasped instead of dangling down. "I thought you might," John replied. He shot Scully a look she interpreted as being a reassuring one and then took a deep breath. "Well, I don't know exactly what Dana's told you, so I'll start at the beginning." He then proceeded to go over their initial meeting at the Hoover building, not shying from telling Mulder of his suspicions and his actions, and their very rocky start. Including the fact that Scully had thrown a cup of water in his face. Mulder's gaze remained steady on John, although he did move enough to put one hand on her thigh, just above her knee. It was heavy and warm, and periodically he would give a little squeeze or caress with his fingers. Scully switched the hands on her belly, and put her right one on top of his. At the mention of the water-throwing incident he squeezed, and threw her a look of total amusement, which made her blush and look down at her belly. John did not gloss over anything; he gave Mulder the truth, straight up. He told him about the Arizona desert, and their encounters with the Alien Bounty Hunter who had impersonated Mulder, his disbelief at the time, and how the Bounty Hunter had nearly killed both she and Skinner. That bit of information earned her a hot look and a near-painful tensing of his hand on her leg. She tightened her hand over his, and whispered, "A few bruises, that's all, Mulder." He relaxed infinitesimally. The Bat-man case in Ohio was next, the name earning a small chuckle from Mulder. John neglected to mention it was he who was injured then, so Scully tacked that on when he wound down the story. Mulder then made a small quip about being treated by Dr. Scully, to which John nodded and laughed. It lightened the moment up, and Scully was relieved. The next couple cases were explained, without a great deal of detail. Because Scully had already told Mulder of her earlier difficulties with her pregnancy, her hospitalization during the Ibogan Temple Cult case did not raise any alarm. He did add however, that he had not learned of her pregnancy until after the New Year. Scully sent John an apology with her eyes and touched Mulder's arm. When he turned his head to meet her gaze, she leaned forward and said quietly, "I didn't know whom to trust. Only Walter, the Gunmen and my mother knew for quite some time." "And I found out by accident," John added. "I came by here the day after New Year's, and when Dana opened the door, her stomach was the first thing I noticed. We had a long talk, and we started working together after that, as real partners, not just two people forced to team up." He then hastened to say, "But I always knew I was just a temporary partner, until you came back. Until, not if." The two men seemed to share a moment, and Scully felt strangely awkward sitting there witnessing them. It was as if each were acknowledging the other's role or place in her life. Or as if a bone of contention had been settled. She then smiled fleetingly as her words conjured up an image of two dogs bristling and snarling over a bone, and a second later she realized the correlation with the name Doggett. Her smile widened, and she ducked her head to hide it, slightly ashamed. She mentally chastised herself, and looked once more at Mulder and John. Mulder nodded then, the tension flowing from his body, and the moment ended. Both men simultaneously sat back in their respective seats, their demeanor such that it was evident they had reached some sort of wordless understanding. Mulder even lifted his left arm and laid it along the back of the couch, his hand just brushing her shoulder. The remaining cases were explained in short order, with Mulder asking the occasional question, and then John brought up the subject of Mulder's return. Scully had already given Mulder an overview of the call from the Gunmen about the unusual activity and the appearance of the abductees in the woods of Oregon, and their subsequent trip out there, so John really had little to add. He then told them that with Scully on a leave of undetermined length, he had been loaned out to various departments, and when that was not necessary he had been looking at a lot of the older files again. Their talk died down, and the silence was heavy. Scully grabbed the arm of the couch and pushed herself forward, attempting to rise from her seat. Mulder quickly stood and offered her his hand, helping to pull her up. She needed to use the facilities, and offered to put on a pot of coffee. Both Mulder and John declined, so she excused herself, hearing them talking quietly as she headed down the hall. Once done in the washroom, she detoured into the kitchen to retrieve the box of marzipan. The little box of confections had filtered in and out of her thoughts all evening, and was calling like a siren's song now. One she could not resist. Resuming her seat on the couch, Scully opened the box and held it out to John, who declined, and then to Mulder. He took one, eying it curiously for a moment before popping the whole thing in his mouth. Remembering Mulder's little frown when John had mentioned her cravings, as she lifted one from the box, she spoke, keeping her voice calm and casual. "It's funny but I really haven't had any cravings at all, except maybe for marzipan, and I'm not sure it's actually a craving. I was at my mom's for dinner one night, and she brought out a box that she had brought because I loved them so much when I was a child. She told me to take them home, and I end ed up bringing the box to work so I wouldn't eat them all myself. But I don't go out and buy them all the time." That said, she leaned forward and put the box on the coffee table before reclining again and sinking her teeth into the candy, making a pleased humming sound. "I'm just glad you like them," John said as he rose from his seat. "I need to be going now though." He turned to Mulder, who had also risen, and offered his hand out again. "Good to finally meet you, Mulder." Mulder and John shook hands, Mulder saying, "Yeah, good to meet you too, Doggett." Scully could hear only sincerity in his voice, and was glad the two men seemed to be all right with each other. Otherwise things would be very awkward. She supposed she needed to end her leave and return to work for a while, and that they would probably need to have a meeting with Skinner, and possibly Kersh to determine the matter of the X-Files. With John having been brought in to replace Mulder, and Mulder now being back and soon to be fit for duty again, it would be interesting to see how things worked out. Starting to shift on the couch again to get up, she stopped at Mulder's voice telling her he'd see John to the door, that there was no need for her to get up. She acquiesced and said, "I'm glad you were able to join us, John, and thank-you for the bread and the juice, and especially for the marzipan." "Was my pleasure, Dana," he replied, and bent to press a kiss on her cheek. That done he headed for the door, picking up his jacket from the corner of the couch where he had draped it earlier. Mulder trailed his hand through her hair as he passed her, and Scully let her head drop to the cushioned back and let her eyes slip closed. She heard Mulder thanking John for joining them, and a moment later the soft clicks of the door closing and the lock engaging. Mulder's hand brushed the top of her head again, and she felt a rush of air as he moved to rejoin her on the couch. The cushions sank as he sat down, and when she opened her eyes again, it was to see him bending over her. He gently grasped her ankles and tugged at her legs. She got the hint, and swung her body around and slid down into the cushions as he put her feet in his lap. He began massaging the arches of her feet, and she sighed gustily. "Oh God, Mulder, that feels so good." Her eyes were mere slits as she enjoyed the feel of fingers rubbing and soothing her flesh, and she saw the grin that flashed across his face. "It's just beginning, Scully," he whispered seductively, and she heard an all new siren's song. She shivered. With delight, and desire. 8:20 pm Mulder shut the door gently after Doggett exited, and turned the lock with an efficient twist of his wrist. The evening had gone better than he'd thought it would. Doggett was an okay guy, like Frohike had said. They'd probably never be best buddies, or want to hang out together, but the guy was all right. And Scully obviously liked him, which was a point in Doggett's favor, for he trusted her judgment implicitly. Heading back to the couch, he saw that Scully had her head back against the cushions, her eyes closed. Flicking a glance at his watch, he saw it was not quite 8:30. They'd been going to bed fairly early lately, but not quite this early, and she'd had a nap before dinner. Was she tired already? Then again, he'd never toted all that extra weight around either, nor did he have hormones fluctuating wildly all the time. Well, not those kinds of hormones, anyway, he thought with a smirk. With her teasing of earlier and her receptiveness to his touch and his innuendo, he had thought things might actually progress beyond the kissing and caressing stage. He was definitely more than ready. But if she were too tired, or 'not in the mood', he would not push. He'd just go take a cold shower. Again. He let his fingers skim across the top of her head as he passed her, and sank down at the other end of the couch, bending to reach for her legs. He circled her ankles and pulled lightly. Scully picked up on his intent right away, helping to bring her legs up and onto his lap as she shifted her body until she was reclined along the length of the couch. With her thus settled, he began his foot massage, and what he hoped was the start of his seduction. He used his thumbs to knead the tender flesh where her little feet arched out, and heard her loud, pleased sigh. "Oh God, Mulder, that feels so good." Her voice was throaty, the words almost moaned, and Mulder grinned in victory. This was how she sounded when they were having sex, and he felt a stirring in his groin. "It's just beginning, Scully," he murmured softly, vocalizing all his pent-up desires. Scully's feet twitched in his hands, a shiver going through her entire body, and he shifted his gaze from his lap to her face. Her cheeks were flushed becomingly, her eyes wide open now and the pupils dilated, surrounded by a ring of dark, dark blue. She had sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth, and he could see the pulse at her neck fluttering wildly. Her breathing had become shallow. As had his. Desire pooled, thick and heavy, between his legs, and he had to close his eyes for a moment, dizzy with the sudden southward rush of blood. He couldn't remember moving his hand, but when he felt the muscles of Scully's calf bunching under his fingers, and her foot brush his groin, he opened his eyes to see that he had indeed moved. His left hand had somehow slid up from her foot, his thumb on the delicate shin as he cupped her right leg. Reflexively, he squeezed the firm muscle beneath his fingers, and she shifted slightly, her toes brushing his groin again. He sucked in his next breath, the light contact sending waves of heat throughout him, just as she husked, "I hope so." More heat, burning hotter. "Mmmmm...In that case, I think maybe we should take ourselves somewhere we can be more comfortable," he rasped back. "Like your bed." This time her foot slid deliberately, teasingly, over the bulge in his jeans. He knew this because of the little smirk on her lips and the hot stare she had leveled at him. "Good plan," Scully said. Heat? Did he say heat? This was rapidly approaching four-alarm fire status. He wrapped his hand gently around her ankle, shifted it away from the biggest hot spot, and said, "I'm glad you think so." He lifted both her legs from his lap and rose from his seat, swinging them off the couch until her feet found solid purchase on the floor. Holding out his hands, he tugged once she had placed hers within, and helped her up. Without releasing her hands, Mulder leaned in and touched his lips lightly to hers, barely grazing them, before whispering, "I love you, Scully." Her eyes had drifted shut as his lips descended, and after he made contact, she uttered a soft moan, her body swaying into his. He followed up with a butterfly kiss to her jaw and the huskily spoken words, "I want you, Scully." That earned him a half-moan, half-sigh that was his name, and her hands gripping his tightly. She stepped closer, using the support of their clasped hands to aid her, so that her body now pressed firmly against his. At the contact, his groin throbbed behind the confines of his clothing, pushing into the lower swell of her belly. His own eyes slid shut, his pulse beating madly as he fought the urge to grip her hips and thrust. Taking a deep breath, which he exhaled softly on her skin, he let his lips slide along her jaw line, up to her ear. There, he nipped the lobe tenderly with his teeth before breathing into her ear, "I need you, Scully." She shivered and moaned, "Oh, God," before whispering, "Then take me, Mulder." Her words bypassed his brain and went straight to his groin, and he was unable to stop his hip movement, bucking up against her. He sucked in another breath, trying to curb himself so that they could go slowly, and found a modicum of control. He trailed his lips back along her jaw, open-mouthed, and skirted her waiting lips, detouring down to nip her just under her chin before meandering back up to tease his way to her other ear. He nibbled there briefly before pressing tiny kisses up the side of her face to her eyes. He could feel the movement of her eyes beneath her lids, and the softness of her lashes on his lips as he kissed each eye, and then he moved to kiss the tip of her nose. Suddenly her eyes popped open and her hands came up to grasp the sides of his head, halting his motions. Looking directly into his eyes, she whispered, "My lips, Mulder. On my lips." She pulled him towards her and ordered, "Kiss me, Mulder." And he did. 8:30 pm Mulder's lips should be declared lethal weapons. It was the only thought rattling around in her brain that came remotely close to rationality. He was using them to tease and tantalize her, kissing everywhere on her face and neck except the place she wanted them most - her lips. Scully knew he was as excited as she, for she had felt the evidence of his arousal, first against her foot, and now against her belly. He was just showing more of his remarkable self-control, normally an oftadmired trait. But not right now. Not with her pulse pounding, her blood on fire, and her body desperately wanting. He pressed the lightest of kisses on the end of her nose, and she could stand it no longer. Slipping her hands free from his, she lifted her arms and held his head still. Their eyes locked, his heavy-lidded and smoky. "My lips, Mulder. On my lips," she told him, her voice a whisper. She drew him down towards her. "Kiss me, Mulder." The tone was demanding, but she was rewarded. Hot, wet lips pressed firmly on hers, and they stayed that way for long moments. Then her mouth parted on a sigh, and his hands came up to cradle the sides of her head, mirroring her hold on his. He held her steady as he plundered her mouth, his tongue swooping in and caressing every inch, before it began a duel with hers. She felt his kiss in every neurofibre, every micron, of her being, from her tingling scalp to the soles of her feet. And she wanted more. Their embrace had her stretched up on her tiptoes though, her belly pressing uncomfortably and awkwardly against his. But she wouldn't change it for the world. Mulder somehow sensed this, and pulled away slowly, their lips parting audibly. That sound was replaced by that of their combined breathing – ragged and rapid – as they panted almost in each other's mouths. "We should take this down the hall," he said, both his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. Scully nodded, breathless and too wound up to speak, and took one of his hands. She turned, her arm stretched back behind her, and tugged him after her. In the bedroom it was darker, the shades already drawn, with no welcoming light. Scully released his hand to move over to the night table and flick the little lamp on to its lowest setting. It added a soft, warm glow to the room. Shy all of a sudden; thinking of all the changes in her body that Mulder had only caught glimpses of this past week, Scully ducked her head, allowing a curtain of hair to fall across her face. Mulder read her easily. "Scully," he said softly as he moved from his spot just inside the doorway to stand before her. He put one finger under her chin and lifted her head up so their eyes met, his hand then moving to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I find you beautiful always. Drenched in rain and mud, your hair plastered to your skull, dressed in scrubs and one of those ridiculous hats, tired and punchy after an allnight stakeout. You name it, I've seen it, and you are still beautiful to me." Both of his hands went to her sides, to cradle her belly as he had cradled her head only minutes ago. "This," and he gently squeezed with his hands, "this only makes you more beautiful." Sliding his hands down, he fisted them around the hem of her long-sleeved jersey. "May I?" he asked softly. She was certain her heart had actually stopped beating for a millisecond – that it had stuttered to a halt at his words. She was at a complete loss for any of her own, her mouth open and moving soundlessly. Keeping her eyes on his, she closed it, and nodded. He tugged the material upwards with extreme gentleness, and when it had reached her breasts, he whispered, "Lift your arms." Scully obeyed without hesitation, and then he was drawing it up further, and over her head. Her hair crackled with static electricity, making her jump slightly, and then she watched as Mulder tossed it aside. His gaze went to her chest, and she was briefly embarrassed that she was wearing only a simple, plain white bra. That was forgotten when she saw the look in his eyes, felt the heat from them as he stared at her now very generous curves. Then his eyes dropped, to her belly, and she almost melted at the awe and amazement in their hazel depths. "Oh, Scully..." was all he said, and dropped to kneel before her, his head level with her belly button. It surprised her; she had been expecting him to remove her bra. He leaned forward, and his lips skimmed over the skin of her belly like warm air, barely touching. "You are so beautiful, and this...this is so amazing." He pressed a kiss on the low curve, and then one on the top, just above her outie bellybutton, which had once been an innie. His hands were at the waistband of her maternity tights, and he lifted his chin to meet her eyes once more. "Okay?" he asked. She knew he was asking if it were all right for him to remove the tights, and again could only nod. He was as careful as he had been with her top, hooking his fingers inside the cotton and drawing the tights away from her body, making sure he did not scrape her flesh as he removed them. He stopped at her ankles and said, "Put your hands on my shoulders." She did, and helped lift her feet, one at a time, until the tights were gone. He chuckled, and she looked down to see he was staring at her socks. "You have cute feet, Scully," he told her, and took them off. He remained on his knees, and began nuzzling his face into her belly, the beginnings of stubble scraping her silk panties. Scully was thankful she had not given in to maternity underwear; they were the ugliest things she had ever seen. She had gone up a size though, and switched to bikini, so they rested below the bulge of the baby. These particular ones were white, with just a hint of lace along the waist and leg bands. She could feel his lips moving against her belly, different from the kisses he had placed there, and realized he was talking to the baby. That brought tears to her eyes, and she blinked them back before they could fall. He pressed one last kiss there before rising to his feet. One hand came up, and he used his index finger to trace the shoulder strap of her bra, down along the edge of the cup, to the clip in her cleavage. His fingers adroitly flicked it open, and then he was pushing the material away from her breasts. Using both hands he slid the straps from her shoulders, and with her help, the bra was completely off, tossed over his shoulder with flamboyance. Scully started to bring her hands up to cover her bareness, feeling shy once more. She was nearly nude, while he was still fully clothed. Also, her nipples were already hard and pointed, both from the combination of Mulder's touch and the colder air they had been exposed to, and she was embarrassed once more. They had changed too with her pregnancy. "Scully," he whispered, and grasped her wrists gently. He brought her arms back down to her sides and released them. "Beautiful, Scully," he said, holding her eyes with his. "Beautiful." He brought his hands to her hips, thumbs just brushing the edges of her panties. "Almost done," he said, and went to his knees again, to remove the scrap of silk. Once that was done, he stood up and took a step back, his eyes traveling slowly over her from head to toe. Then he smiled, and offered her his hand. When she had taken it he tugged gently and helped her onto the bed. "Lie down," he whispered, and stepped back. "But –" she started to protest, trying to tell him she wanted to undress him too. Her hands were itching to touch him, anywhere and everywhere. He interrupted with, "Next time you can undress me. But if you touch me now, it'll be over before we even get started," he said it with a touch of wryness, and a little grin. The words thrilled her – to hear that she was still capable of exciting him, even 8 months pregnant and feeling as large as a house. She nodded at him, wondering whimsically where her power of speech had gone, and musing at his ability to read her mind, and slid over on the bed. She arranged herself on her side, elbow propped up, her head resting on her hand, to enjoy the show. 8:40 pm He had to remind himself to breathe. As his eyes ran over her body, Mulder mused that he had never seen a more beautiful sight. It was the only word that came to mind – beautiful. And she was, stunningly and breathtakingly so. She always had been, as he had told her, but standing before him now, she was the epitome of beauty. Her hair was tousled from the removal of her shirt, and gave the impression that hands had been run through it during a passionate embrace. He imagined his hands doing that as they lay entwined on her bed, saw his blunt fingers tangling in the silkiness. Her eyes were passion-darkened, and heavy-lidded, and her lips were swollen and beestung from his kisses. He wanted to nibble and suck those lips. Her skin all over was creamy and smooth, dusted with smatterings of freckles, and was an invitation for his hands and lips and tongue. One he was denying himself for now. And where the skin stretched taut over her belly, it filled him with awe. Pregnancy had rounded her curves, softened her body, in places other than the obvious. Her hips were lush and full, and her breasts...oh, her breasts. He could spend hours rhapsodizing about her breasts. They were the stuff of fantasies. He had been enamored of them before, but now, now he had no words. Tipped with enlarged nipples a dark, dusky rose, her breasts too were full, and generous. His jeans were getting painfully tight, so held out his hand. When she had taken it, he led her to the bed and told her to lie down. He saw the protest in her eyes even as she started to speak, and told her what he knew to be absolute certainty, smiling slightly. "Next time you can undress me. But if you touch me now, it'll be over before we even get started." Scully moved to the center of the bed, propping herself up on one elbow. The faint light of the lamp cast her in partial shadow, and made her skin glow like warm honey. He wanted a taste. Moving his hands, he brought them to grasp the hem of his tee shirt. With a quick motion he whipped it up and off, throwing it somewhere to the side. He could feel her eyes avidly on him, and looked at her again. He saw them flick down to his midsection, and then a smile flirted on her lips. The expression on her face was almost wanton, and sent a fresh wave of arousal through him. His hands scrambled at his fly unsuccessfully, and finally he had to pull his gaze away from her to look down so he could unbutton his jeans. Once he had popped the last button, he hooked his fingers in the waistband and pulled down. As the denim slid past his hips, he added a little shimmy, which was rewarded by Scully's pleased, sexysounding chuckle. Her husky voice called out, "Mmmmm...do that again, Mulderrrr." The way she dragged the 'r' out in Mulder made his stomach muscles clench, and had him shoving his jeans hastily down his legs and off. She made that mmmmm sound again, and he could not help preening slightly, standing tall and proud, showing off his well-defined chest and the impressive erection tenting his black silk boxers. "Come here, Mulder," she said then, and beckoned him with her seductively crooked finger. He needed no further urging, and started to climb onto the bed. His gaze focused then on her rounded belly, and he realized they were going to have to be quite creative in their efforts for mutual satisfaction. He had no intention of flying solo on this, their first journey in a very long time. "Mulder?" Scully said, her voice hushed, and full of uncertainty. That had him crawling across the bed to her until they were lying side by side, facing each other. He cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking softly, and said, "I don't want to hurt you or the baby." That thought put a slight damper on his arousal. Scully lifted the hand that had been laying low on her belly and covered his on her cheek. "You won't hurt either of us, Mulder. We'll just have to go slow and gently." "I can do slow and gentle," he whispered, and brought his head down to hers, using his hand on her face to tilt it up slightly. He brushed her lips with his, keeping the contact feather-light, before beginning to nibble on her bottom lip. Scully shivered, and he pulled back to whisper with concern, "Are you cold?" Her lips curled up in a cat-like smile as she shook her head. "You make me hot, Mulder." It was his turn to react. Only he did not shiver. His hand slid from her cheek to cup the back of her neck to hold her still as his lips descended to kiss her passionately. Their mouths performed a long dance of foreplay, until their bodies cried out for more. Scully shifted until she was lying on her back and he followed, leaning in to kiss her once more. His hip bumping into her protruding stomach stopped him, and he pulled back slightly, his hand entwined in her hair. She giggled a little and said, "This could be interesting." Interesting wasn't quite the word he would have used. His mind drifted back to a lazy, hazy morning early in their relationship where he had awoken her from a light sleep by spooning up behind her and kissing and nibbling her neck. Her husky moan and her delectable butt thrusting back against him had led to a mutually satisfying round of lovemaking, with him still spooned against her back. "Scully," he whispered, staring down into her eyes. "Turn on your side, facing the window." 8:45 pm Scully waited in fevered anticipation for that first glimpse of Mulder's bare skin. Effectively, they had been living together this past week, and she had certainly been afforded many opportunities to see him in all his glory – Mulder was unabashedly blasé about his nudity, and made no attempts at false modesty in her presence – but it was different now. Their baby steps these last few days had all led to this very moment. One that had been forecast during their first heated kiss many days ago. Mulder did not tease her with the removal of his tee shirt, he merely tore it off in one quick movement, muscles flexing and bunching, and discarded it on the floor. His bare chest was thus revealed, with its V-shaped sprinkling of hair that narrowed down to trail into the waistband of his faded Levi's – the happy trail she had once heard it called. She followed it with her eyes, and they widened when she saw the ample evidence of his arousal. It was both an exhilaration and a relief to see such evidence. For despite his assurances that she was beautiful even with the changes from her pregnancy, she had still felt a little unsure. Then his hands went to his waistband, and his fumbling fingers were proof of his nervousness, and made her smile slightly. He opened the top button, and she swore she could hear the 'pop' as the metal disk slid free of the buttonhole, as if all her senses were heightened from her arousal. Her tongue darted out to moisten her suddenly dry lips, and she realized her mouth had been open slackly in appreciation. The rest of the buttons went pop, pop, pop in quick succession, each one resounding through her body in a thoroughly delightful way, and she had to suck in her breath when his hands slid under the waistband at his hips. He pushed down, and even added a wiggle of those hips, and this time she had to chuckle – in appreciation and pleasure. "Mmmmm...do that again, Mulderrrr," she said, and was amazed at the purring sound of her own voice. Never had it been that deep or husky, and where had she learned to drawl his name like that? Mulder was obviously effected by it, he shoved the jeans down and off in mere seconds. Amused, she could not contain her hum of delight. That too had an effect on him, for he seemed to stop and pose for a moment, his chest swelling as he stood tall and proud. And proud he should be she thought, staring at him. Even though he had not fully regained his previous weight or muscle tone, he cut a fine figure. His black silk boxers were the perfect accompaniment to his olive-tinted skin, drawing her eyes to both the tight abdominal muscles above the band that rode low on his hips, and the strong, muscled thighs below. The material was considerably stretched over his erection, and she felt a fluttering deep in her belly that had nothing to do with the baby inside her. "Come here, Mulder," she said then, once again purring, and curved her finger in a come-hither gesture. He started towards her eagerly, knee on the bed, when he hesitated. Scully said his name softly, wondering what was wrong. At that, he completed his journey, coming up beside her, his hand cupping her cheek with supreme tenderness. His reply went straight to her heart. "I don't want to hurt you or the baby." She placed her hand overtop his and reassured him softly, telling him they only needed to take it slow and gently. And felt the tension flow from his body as he told her he could do that. He tipped her face up with a finger beneath her chin, and began to tease her lips with brushing, nibbling kisses that made her shiver with want and need. She smiled when he asked her if she was cold, for that was the farthest thing from the truth. If she were any hotter, she thought she'd spontaneously combust. She smiled inwardly as well, picturing his reaction to her uttering such a thing, and said simply, "You make me hot, Mulder." Mulder's hand left her cheek to move to the nape of her neck, as he pressed his lips to hers in a blazing hot kiss that went on and on. The arm that she had been propped on grew weak, and she allowed herself to fall back onto the pillow, accidentally breaking their lip lock. Mulder's body followed hers automatically, his gaze intent on her lips, but he was brought to a stop when his hip bumped into the mound of the baby. She couldn't help giggling at the surprise in his eyes, and said, "This could be interesting." His eyes rose to meet hers, staring intently, and after what felt like forever but was probably only a minute or so, he whispered her name, and then said, "Turn on your side, facing the window." Immediately upon hearing his words, moisture flooded the juncture between her thighs as memories flooded her mind. Memories of a time before his disappearance, of a time when their physical relationship was still fledgling, and each and every moment was an entirely new experience for both of them. She saw herself and Mulder sensuously embracing, lying on their sides, the whole length of his body plastered to her back, her top leg thrown over his thighs. Their movements languid and slow; their sighs and moans a perfect counterpart. She could recall with stunning clarity the feel of his slick skin sliding over hers. The feel of his thick cock pumping in and out of her. The feel of his hands, one clenched in her hair, the other tangled in the curls of her mound, his index finger circling the tiny bundle of nerves hidden there. Scully sucked in a noisy rush of air. Her pulse was thunderously loud in her ears, her blood pulsing rapidly through her veins. It was from both the memory of what had past and from the promise of what was to come, and it had her obeying him unhesitatingly. Cupping her belly supportively with one hand, she used the other to help herself roll onto her left side, feeling Mulder's hands offering gentle assistance. While she got herself settled, he traced patterns on her back with the lightest of touches, sending gooseflesh rippling along her spine. Then he placed a kiss on her shoulder and brought his face close to her ear. "Are you comfortable?" he husked into the skin just below it, setting off another round of the ticklish torment. A throaty mm-hmmmm was all she was capable of responding with, but it seemed Mulder was quite satisfied with that, for he chuckled into the same spot before sliding his lips up to nip her earlobe. It was an exquisite torment. She raised her right arm up and behind her to fist her hand in his hair. Doing so gave Mulder the perfect opportunity to tease her in other ways, for it provided him with full access to her upper body. He skimmed his hand, which had been resting lightly on her hip, up her side and then down to gently cup her breast. His thumb swept across her already turgid nipple, and she inhaled sharply at the dart of pleasure that skittered through her body, thrusting her breast more completely into his hand. At that, he made a humming noise of his own, and moved until his body was firmly along hers. She could feel the silk of his boxers against her bare thighs, and she could also feel the silk-encased steel of his erection pressing insistently against her derriere. With a little movement of her hips, she pushed backwards and wiggled slightly, drawing a husky moaned approximation of her name. His hand tightened fractionally on her breast and it was her turn to moan. Mulder thrust his hips while slowly stroking his thumb back and forth across her nipple. It was extremely sensitive, and the repetitive motion of his thumb was driving her wild. Meanwhile his lips and tongue were still busy at her neck, adding to the intensity. She managed to turn her head towards his, and he took the hint and caught her lips with his. The position was awkward, her neck bent as it was, but she didn't care. She loved these slow, wet kisses that seemed to go on forever too much to worry about a crick in her neck. She finally had to pull away though, gasping for air, and after a few seconds, breathed out, "Mulder, as much as I love this, enough foreplay!" Mulder growled her name, and his hand slid from her breast back to her hip, pressing her back into him as he thrust his erection against her once more. A pleasure-filled shudder worked its way out from deep inside her and she moaned. 8:55 pm In one part of his surprisingly busy brain, considering he was putting a concentrated, all-out effort in making love to his woman, Mulder was still worried that Scully might be uncomfortable. Particularly with the way she had her neck craned back so their lips could meet. Yet she made no complaint, in fact her tongue was quite enthusiastically exploring his mouth, so he then decided she would let him know if there was a problem. Which she did, moments after his disjointed thoughts, by tearing her lips from his, panting harshly. And what she said then nearly blew his mind. Both the words themselves, and the way she said them, husky and breathless, filled with want and need. "Mulder, as much as I love this, enough foreplay!" He tried to say her name, but it came out more as a grunt or a growl, and he instinctively thrust into her backside. His hand had already slid down to grip her hip, and he used it to push her back into him, increasing the exquisite pressure. Her body undulated against his as she moaned low and deep, triggering an answering moan from him and another thrust of his hips. His silk boxers had become a restricting cage. Restraining the beast that did not want to be caged, he smirked to himself, amazed he still had enough brain function left to think of jokes. Placing a kiss on the slope of her shoulder, he whispered, "Hold that thought." He turned onto his back, hands already at his hips and pushing the boxers down, carefully easing them over his throbbing erection. He lifted his hips off the bed, unwilling to leave her side even for a moment. His feet were planted on the mattress and all his weight on his upper back, and he was able to shove the boxers down to his knees with little difficulty. A few kicks and they were sailing through the air to land somewhere on the floor. He rolled back onto his side, probably before they even hit the ground, about to spoon himself around Scully again. But that spot at the base of her spine, that little dip where his hand rode so comfortably, so familiarly – his spot – beckoned to him. So he detoured, and pressed his lips there in an open-mouthed kiss. Scully hissed his name, her body shivering against his mouth, and he smiled. Instead of moving up as he had planned, he lingered there, alternately nipping with his teeth and then soothing the spot with broad strokes of his tongue. On one such stroke, he encountered a rough patch of skin, and he immediately remembered her story of the case in Utah. Pushing it firmly from his mind, he avoided the rough patch, and meandered up her back. He ran his tongue along her vertebra; stopping occasionally to suck or kiss a particular spot that drew his fancy. Scully shifted and wiggled, uttering breathless moans and sighs that might have been his name. She did not seem to have noticed his momentary pause. His mouth veered to the side, and he nuzzled briefly at the juncture beneath her arm, hearing her giggled sigh. The sound thrilled him, so he repeated the action, before pressing a kiss on her shoulder once more, end ing his journey where it had begun. His hardness was nestled against her behind, his chest and belly pressed along her back, and his face buried in the curve where her neck became her shoulder. He let his hand slide over her hip and down to tease at her curls, wanting to bring her pleasure. His circular movements on her tiny bundle of nerves had her hips bucking, grinding her backside into his erection, and wrung another moan from her. An entreaty. "Please, Mulder," she husked. The sound of that throaty plea told him the time for teasing was past, that she was more than ready. One last swirl of his fingers, and then he slid his hand from between her legs, trailing it over her hip and down one soft cheek to the back of her thigh, cupping it. "Lift your leg," he whispered, and when she did, he brought it back gently to drape over his thigh. "Is this okay?" His hand slid back up to grip her hip once more. "Uh-huhhhhh," Scully sighed back, and he grinned momentarily at having made her lose the power of speech. She then wiggled in a way that made his erection slide between her slightly spread legs, rubbing against her moist haven. All his nerve end ings sizzled at the contact, and his eyes slammed shut as his breath stuttered in his lungs. He gulped for air. Scully surged slowly backward and then forward, intensifying the contact between their lower bodies, and he moaned, the sound guttural and deep. "Ahhhhhh." Apparently speech was beyond him too. Mulder shifted his hips, bringing him closer to her, and took himself in hand, guiding his length into her waiting wetness. She hissed in her next breath, her body tensing slightly, and he stopped partway, giving them both time to adjust, breathing heavily through his nose. He ducked his head a little and nuzzled her neck. "Okay?" he whispered, and felt her nod. With a quick, firm thrust, he was buried to the hilt. At last, he was truly home. They moaned in unison. He held still for as long as he could, soaking in the incredible sensations, something denied them both for so long. He knew Scully felt the same way, for her body was quivering against his in her own effort to remain motionless. He could also feel her heartbeat through his chest pressed to her back, and it matched the rapid beating of his. He also knew if he didn't take it slow right now, if he didn't pace himself, it could all be over in minutes. He did not want this new first time, this renewal of their bodies, to be quick, and possibly unfulfilling for Scully. He wanted it to last and last, to savor, to relish, to draw out their pleasure for as long as he could. Deep, even breaths helped to calm his racing heart. But it did not calm the urge, the incredible need, to move. The sensory overload was nearly too much, and he could wait no longer. Groaning her name, the fingers of the hand on her hip tightening fractionally, Mulder pulled out with excruciating slowness, until only the tip of him was inside, before gliding back in, with what seemed like equal leisure. It was not leisure though. It was torture – glorious, wonderful torture. He bit his lip, his eyes once again closing in ecstasy. He had slipped his other arm between the mattress and her neck, and his hand clutched at the pillow her head lay upon, as his other hand clutched convulsively at her hip. "Ah, God...Mulderrrrr..." Scully moaned. "Sooooo gooooood." Her left hand, which had earlier been fisted in his hair and had most recently been lying limply across her belly, moved to cover his on the pillow. He released the pillowcase and turned his wrist so that their fingers could mesh together, as their bodies were also meshed. "You feel...you feel amazing, Scully," he whispered back, and moved his hips to pull out of her to the tip again. This time on the return glide he added a little swivel of his hips. "Ooooohhh," was Scully's moaned response, along with a squeeze of her internal muscles. It was like she had him in a vice. A vice lined in silk. "Scuh-leeee!" he groaned out, seeing spots behind his closed lids. This time it was she who chuckled, and then she squeezed him again. The feel of her insides milking him was so intense, so incredibly erotic, that the primal instincts to thrust madly nearly took over. He pulled out and surged back in rapidly once, twice, before he forced himself to slow, shuddering with desire. "Mulderrrrr," Scully gasped out. "Don't stop." She wiggled her hips and clenched her inner muscles again. "I couldn't even if I tried, Scully," he murmured into her neck, and started to move again. Slow, gliding thrusts at first, punctuated with a teasing swivel on each down stroke. Gradually his thrusts increased in speed and intensity, as Scully tried to move in rhythm with him. But she was hampered by her position, and could only thrust shallowly forward and back. She murmured his name, and her frustration was obvious. She released his hand and slid hers along the mattress until it was level with her belly, planting her palm flatly. Mulder realized that the placement of her hand allowed her better leverage, as the movements of her hips became stronger, harder. She began to meet him thrust for thrust, little humming moans escaping her mouth with each one. Those sounds, and her motions, helped accelerate the desire within him to a feverish pitch, and his own thrusts became less controlled, his hips moving like pistons. "Mulder..." she mewled his name, her breath hitching. "Oh, Mulder..." His only regret was that he could not see her face, could not see the ecstasy crossing her features. See the flush on her face and breasts, see her eyes go all blurred and unfocused before she scrunched them shut, see her mouth opening in that tiny 'O' she always made when she came. Which would be very soon, he knew. Her movements were becoming choppy, uncoordinated, and the muscles in her legs had started to quiver. As had his. He could also feel that familiar tingle in his balls that signaled the beginnings of his release. He sped up even more, and managed to grunt, "Come with me, Scully," into her ear before latching his mouth onto the skin over her delicate collarbone. Whether it was his request, or the feel of his mouth on her body, or a combination of the two, she came apart. One last hard push back into his pelvis, and then she went completely still. Except for the wild pulsating of her walls, clamping tightly onto his length. Just before his eyes slammed shut and his world exploded, he saw her hand fist around the material of the comforter, and heard her long, drawn-out moan, "Mulllldddeeerrrr..." It was echoed by his cry as he emptied himself into her, over and over in what seemed like a never-ending stream of ejaculate. "Scuh-leeeee..." 9:05 pm "Come with me, Scully," she heard in her ear, the words and their implied command/plea arrowing straight down to her center. But it was the feel of his wet, hot mouth on her clavicle right after them that threw Scully over the edge. Her climax, which had been building and building, flared into a crescendo of intense pleasure. She surged back into him, her eyes tightly closed and mouth hanging open on a soundless scream, and then held herself motionless. Motionless except for the exquisite throbbing that coiled out from deep inside her. Oh, God. It had been so long since she had felt such incredible, intense pleasure. Pleasure that bordered on pain. She had missed Mulder with a grief that had been astounding and all encompassing, but she had missed this so very badly too. Not just the act of sexual release, but the touching and the holding, and the closeness that came with it, and after. She tightly clenched her fingers around a fistful of the comforter and moaned his name as she came in pulsing, fluttering waves that glittered and sparkled on her closed eyelids. "Mulllldddeeerrrr..." Mulder's body jerked, and she knew he was following her into the abyss. His hand tightened spasmodically on her hip, as he yelled her name in hoarsely elongated syllables, and achieved his release. He quivered against her for long moments while she enjoyed the faint, residual flutterings as her orgasm slowly abated, and then sagged heavily onto her. His hand slid from its place on her hip and moved to cup her belly as he murmured her name in a sated yet awed voice. She even relished this time, when his heaviness draped over hers, and was almost too much. His heat settled over her like a blanket, and she was enveloped in his scent – sweat and his soap, and his own unique Mulder smell. "Mmmm...Mulder," she mumbled back, and then realized her thigh was aching in its position thrown over Mulder's legs. Covering his hand on her belly with hers, she shifted her hips and brought her leg back down, moaning slightly. He was immediately concerned. His head lifted from its place in her neck and he leaned over her shoulder to peer at her face, his eyes wide. "Scully?" he asked, voice tight. "What's...are you...is...?" She smiled to reassure him, rolling a bit onto her back to see him better. He accommodated her by inching back a little and lifting his upper body off of hers. But his hand remained on her belly. "Mulder, if I were any better...or wait, maybe that should be if you were any better, I'd be melted into a puddle." Some of the tenseness left his features, and a cocky smile flirted at his mouth. But the question was still in his eyes. "My leg was getting sore," she told him. "I thought...that maybe...it was too much for the baby," he said softly, squeezing her belly with gentle fingers. Just then there was a fairly strong kick against their hands, and Scully giggled slightly. "I think all that...rocking...lulled him or her to sleep." Mulder waggled his eyebrows at her, silently mouthing, "rocking", before smiling fully. Another kick came, more forcefully then the first one, and they both jumped a little. "And apparently nap time is over," she added wryly. She brought her other arm up, so that her palm could cup his cheek. "And Mulder, this won't hurt the baby, as long as we're careful, and not too energetic." Her mind was harking back to some of their rather exuberant lovemaking sessions, and her eyes fluttered partway shut, a dreamy smile of remembrance curving her lips. Apparently Mulder was on the same wavelength, for he murmured, "Ooh, energetic. Scully, don't get me going again." "Is that all it takes?" she teased, running her thumb over his lips. He was quick, and caught her thumb with them, drawing it into his mouth, as he nodded his head at her. He applied gentle suction for a moment, circled the tip with his tongue, and then released her thumb slowly. The warmth of his mouth and the mild pressure on the digit awoke a faint tingle within her, and she husked his name. A little regretfully, for she knew she was not quite up to a round two. He again seemed to know what she was thinking and said, "Although the answer is yes, that's pretty much all it takes, you near me that is, I know we both need to rest up for the next event." His hand left her belly, which was rippling and moving as their baby continued with its exercise, and took hers to bring it to his lips. He placed a kiss on her palm before lowering their joined hands back to her belly, and then leaned in to kiss her lips almost chastely. "I love you, Scully," he said against her mouth, his eyes intent on hers. "More than I know how to say." Her heart skipped a beat, then settled back into its natural, if slightly accelerated rhythm, and her eyes welled with tears. "Oh, Mulder," she sniffed, and blinked rapidly in an effort to hold the flood back. "Hey," he chided softly, leaning in again to rub his nose on hers. "That's supposed to make you smile, not cry, silly." She sniffled again. "It does make me smile." Sniff. "It makes me happy. Very happy." Her hand came up to knuckle her eyes. "I know I'm being silly, I just can't help it!" The last bit bordered on a wail, and she huffed her breath out in disgust at herself. Seeing Mulder's bemused smile, she had to laugh, albeit a watery chuckle. She cupped his cheek again, sobering. "I love you, Mulder, and hope I say it often enough for you to know it as truth. Our truth." His hand covered hers, and he nodded against it. "You do," he answered, his voice like gravel, sending a delightful little shiver down her spine. "And when you don't, I see it in your eyes. I feel it in your touch. I know it, here," and he moved his hand to tap over his heart, "and here." His hand then lifted to tap his forehead. The man was bound and determined to turn her into that puddle she had mentioned, and not just from sexual desire. She sighed gustily, thankful he hadn't turned on her waterworks again, and smiled gently. "I'm glad." She managed to get up on one elbow and fluttered butterfly kisses over his cheek and nose before kissing him smartly on the lips. "The baby's kicking me in the bladder again," she explained, and struggled to rise. Not bothering to hide his smirk, Mulder helped her roll over and off the bed. He even had the audacity to pat her on her bare butt as she tested her after-sex legs, and remark, "Waddle on, little lady." "I'm not going to dignify that with a response," she sniffed, trying to ignore the little chill that had chased through her body at the feel of his hand on her rear. She scooped up her nightie that was lying at the foot of the bed, and headed out of the bedroom, trying desperately not to waddle. The sound of his laughter trailing after her told her she'd failed. God, she loved that man. 4:45 am The bed shifting, followed by a rush of cool air, awoke Mulder from a very pleasant dream. Pressing his face into his pillow, laced with Scully's delicate scent, which sometimes seemed to permeate the very air around him, he smiled, still partially under the dream's spell. A very, very pleasant dream. Mmmmmm, Scully. He tried to recapture the dream before it was gone, and was successful. She was naked, and sitting astride him, with her head arched back, exposing the long line of her milky white throat. His hands were on her hips as she flowed over and under and all around him... Mulder stretched out his arm, still lying on his stomach, wanting to touch her for real, and encountered not the warm, soft skin of his lover, or even the cotton of her nightie, but empty space. He reluctantly pried open the one eye not buried in down, loathe for the delightful images lingering in his mind to leave, and saw that Scully was indeed no longer beside him. Groaning, he rolled over, feeling his semi-erect penis shift in its silk confines, and kicked the covers off. After he sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, he realized he could see a light shining in the hallway. She was probably on one of her frequent bathroom visits, but since he was awake, and after glancing down at his lap, he tacked on and 'up', he might as well go check on her. He scratched absent-mindedly at his belly after standing, and stretched a bit before shuffling out of her room and into the hallway. It was the bathroom light he had seen, and the door was not closed, although there was no noise from within. Slightly concerned, he stepped over to it, not crossing the threshold, and leaned against the doorframe, peering inside. Scully was standing there in the middle of the bathroom, her hands on her back, which was to him, doing...absolutely nothing. His eyes traveled her length, from the nape of her neck revealed by her bent head, along the curve of her spine to her still shapely ass. They lingered there for a moment, causing a significant stirring in his already aroused nether regions. The hem of her tee shirt-style cotton nightie stopped at mid-thigh, and his eyes roamed down her legs next, to her tiny, bare feet. Her toes were curled, most likely in deference to the chill of the floor, and he wondered why she was not standing on the fluffy bath mat but on the cold tile. "Scully?" he asked softly, not wanting to startle her, for she did not seem to have noticed he was there. "You okay?" She spun around, a little too quickly it seemed, and had to reach out to grasp the edge of the sink for balance. He had moved towards her too, and his hands settled on her shoulders. "Oh! Mulder," she husked out, one hand going up to her chest, to cover her heart. She took a few quick breaths before asking, "Did I wake you? I tried to be quiet." He lifted a hand to her cheek, stroking it softly. "No, I just missed you," he told her. She swayed into him at his touch, and her very full midsection bumped the front of his boxers. He could not help the instinctive move to push against her, nor the small groan that escaped him at the contact. Scully tilted her head back so that he could see the teasing smile on her lips. "Missed me or wanted me?" "Both," he husked out, and brought his other hand up so that he framed her face with both. He stared into her eyes, watching the pupils contract as he slowly lowered his head. She kept them open until his lips first brushed hers, and then they fluttered shut. As he pulled back slightly, her breath sighed out to wash warmly over his mouth, and he gulped in her air before leaning in to press his lips onto hers once again, this time more firmly. It was a surprisingly chaste, close-mouthed kiss, considering his now full-blown erection was happily making its presence known against her belly, and her hands had twined themselves into his hair to clutch him to her. She was also humming her approval in the back of her throat in that way that made his insides quiver. Then she darted her tongue out and traced it over his lower lip. Chasteness went out the window as one hand left her face to move down and grip her hip, while the other hand slid around to cup the back of her neck, and his mouth opened to draw her tongue inside. She made a small sound, a pleased humming moan, and tilted her head to the side so that their mouths could better mate. And mate they did, in a deep, soul-searching kiss that was both never- ending, and not near long enough. Until his back and neck complained, and he had to break free of her mouth and hold, and straighten up. Her eyes opened slowly, and he saw that they were cloudy with passion, as he did not doubt were his own. She smiled then, and it was a smile of love and lust. He took her hands in his, and started to walk backwards, tugging gently for her to follow, which she did. He gave her his patented leer and crooned smarmily, "Care to take this somewhere more comfortable?" Her steps halted. "Mulder, if I weren't so –" "Horny?" he supplied helpfully. Hopefully. "Mulder!" she admonished, her hands releasing his to land on her hips, and one eyebrow crooked in that familiar way, and then giggled suddenly. She wiggled both eyebrows in a credible leer. "Well, actually, I guess that's true..." her voice trailed off as she took a step forward, and she grimaced. Mulder's gut clenched, and he stepped forward, his arousal draining more quickly then it had arrived. "Scully!" he got out around the sudden obstruction in his throat. His hands were reaching for her even as she was grabbing one of his arms, apparently for balance, for she then lifted one foot up to rub over the calf of her other leg. He said her name again, questioningly. "It's okay, Mulder, I'm fine," she said, sounding a little cross. He was relieved, but wounded at the same time. However, her next words explained her disposition, and had him sympathizing. "I've been getting really bad cramps in my calves lately, usually in the middle of the night. My mother told me an old wives tale, or folk remedy, whatever you want to call it, and that was to stand on cold tile. Would you believe it actually works?" she asked to him in bemusement, meeting his eyes. "Anyway, that's why I was in here, because a really bad one woke me up. It's still a little achy." "Well maybe Doctor Mulder can be of some assistance," he murmured teasingly, now that his fear had been alleviated. He took her hand and tugged on her arm again. "And how, pray tell, can Doctor Mulder help?" she queried, a smile in her tone and on her face. She followed, limping just slightly. "With his magic doctor's fingers," he replied with a cocky grin, and a waggle of said fingers. "Mmmmmm...I like the sound of that," she husked back. "And these days, I never turn down a massage of any kind." Mulder had high hopes this particular massage would turn into a massage of a different kind – one that dealt with the inside of another part of her body, and a suddenly rejuvenated part of his. 4:45 am Scully felt goosebumps chase over her skin when her feet encountered the chill of the tiles. She felt slightly ridiculous standing in the bathroom dressed only in a nightie, trying to relieve the cramp in her calf. There was absolutely no scientific basis for this remedy her mother had told her, and in fact, she was going to go back to... It worked. The sharp cramp in her left calf, which had awoken her from a sound sleep, not to mention an extremely nice dream involving Mulder, her claw-foot bathtub and a loofah, was abating. She'd have to remember to call her mother and thank her for the solution to the newest of almost nightly troubles as of late. Her hands went to her hips, palms supporting her back, as she stared down at her belly, which was rippling gently. Her baby was definitely a child of the night, like its father. The majority of the lovely little side effects of being pregnant – frequent bathroom visits, cramps and back aches, to name a few – occurred late at night, or in the wee hours of the morning. A relatively uninterrupted stretch of sleep was a thing of the past now, and she knew that when the baby was born, it was likely to get worse. "Scully? You okay?" She heard Mulder's soft voice speaking to her, and spun around in surprise, catching sight of him in the doorway. Lost in her thoughts, she had not heard him approach. The movement was too quick for her skewered sense of balance, and she stumbled, hands reaching out and thankfully finding the sink's edge to grasp. Just milliseconds later, Mulder's hands were on her shoulders, providing more support. They were hot through the fabric of her nightie, and she could smell his sleepy, sexy scent. "Oh! Mulder," she breathed out, her heart pounding a mile a minute from the fright, her near fall, and his overwhelmingly masculine presence. She placed a palm directly over her heart, as if the contact would slow it down, and took a couple quick breaths before speaking. "Did I wake you? I tried to be quiet." He had been lying on his stomach when she had first awoken to the screaming pain in her calf, and had not moved at all when she sat up to try and rub the pain away, nor when she actually got up and left the bed, doing her best to be soundless. His hand lifted to caress her cheek as he replied. "No, I just missed you." The sweet response had her insides melting, and her body naturally gravitated to his. Scully felt him against her belly, and immediately a tingle began between her legs. When his hips thrust into her and he groaned, the tingle intensified. The instinct to flirt was not suppressed. "Missed me or wanted me?" she cooed, turning her head coquettishly to the side, already knowing the answer. "Both," was his response, followed by his other hand coming up so that her head was cradled in his palms. Her heart made a long, slow slide into her belly as she watched his head descend towards hers. At the first brush of his lips, her eyes drifted shut, suddenly too heavy to keep open. She exhaled heavily, and then his lips were on hers, firm and hard. She thrilled to the feel of his tumescence growing against her, and brought her own hands up to fist in his hair, inviting him to continue their kiss. She felt a vibration in her throat, and realized she was humming. He did continue the kiss, but made no move to deepen it. So she decided to encourage him along, by trailing her tongue along his full, pouty bottom lip. It worked, wonderfully so. His hands moved, one to cup the back of her neck, the other to close over her hip. The thumb of that hand settled low, and a fresh round of goosebumps chased over her skin. She made a sound – a groan, a moan, she wasn't sure – and sucked on his tongue. Her back was arched uncomfortably, her toes were sore from her full weight on them as she stood on tiptoe to remain in their heated kiss, and she did not care. Scully was startled when he broke the contact between their lips, and was slow in opening her eyes. They met his, dilated nearly black with his arousal, with only a corona of beautiful hazel around, and her lips curved in a loving smile of hunger. Mulder took her hands and tugged on them for her to follow as he walked backwards out of the bathroom. His mouth moved in a leer and he said, "Care to take this somewhere more comfortable?" She stopped, somewhat incredulous. It was a pick-up worthy of a sleazy, lecherous lounge lizard, a habit she had thought she had broken him of. Although he had certainly looked very sexy when he had said it. Still, it wasn't something one said to the mother of one's child to romance her back to bed, even if the mother in question was hot for his bod. "Mulder, if I weren't so –" "Horny?" he interrupted. The lounge lizard was gone, and he just sounded hopeful. And aroused. "Mulder!" Scully reproached automatically, hands on her hips, and her eyebrow raised. But then she realized it was true - she was horny, incredibly so. She giggled, and then moved both eyebrows up and down at him. Starting forward again, she said, "Well, actually, I guess that's true..." She stopped in mid-sentence as her calf protested. Not cramping again, but a definite painful twinge that had her frowning. It also scared Mulder, who lunged to her, his choking cry of her name an obvious sign of his worry. She grabbed his arm, conveniently there in front of her, and used it to hold herself steady as she rubbed at the ache with the top of her other foot. He said her name again, the query apparent. Annoyed with the seemingly never-ending joys of pregnancy, Scully grumped back, "It's okay, Mulder, I'm fine." The slight snap in her voice sunk in, and she felt guilty for taking it out on him. She quickly explained in a far more reasonable tone what had happened, and shared her amazement that her mother's remedy had really worked. He looked sympathetic as she added, "Anyway, that's why I was in here, because a really bad one woke me up. It's still a little achy." His quick comeback had her smiling. "Well maybe Doctor Mulder can be of some assistance," he said in a low voice that teased and promised. He grasped her hand within his, and started her forward again. She loved playful Mulder. "And how, pray tell, can Doctor Mulder help?" She went with, walking gingerly on her left leg. "With his magic doctor's fingers," was his confident reply as he displayed his waggling hand. "Mmmmmm...I like the sound of that," she returned, putting a hint of a purr in her voice. "And these days, I never turn down a massage of any kind." And of course, there was a good possibility the massage would lead to other considerably more pleasant activities. The quick flick of her eyes to the front of his boxers revealed that the possibilities were more than good. He turned, and led her down the hallway. She grinned at his back, watching the enticing play of the muscles, before her eyes slid to watch the shift of other muscles against black silk. The tingle became a slow, steady burn. And when she finally felt his strong hands kneading her calf firmly, the burn flared hotter. Mulder had arranged her in a nest of pillows, half on her side, half on her back, and her left leg lay across his lap. Her eyes kept closing in pleasure, though she fought to keep them open so she could watch him, and she was practically purring. Mulder glanced up at her under his brows, and there was heat in his gaze too. Holding her gaze, one of his hands began to make its way up the inside of her thigh in a light, teasing stroke. His touch bordered on being ticklish. Magic, indeed. Scully shivered, and her head moved restlessly on its downy soft pillow as she sighed his name. Her legs fell open wantonly, and on an indrawn hiss of breath, he suddenly shifted so that he was lying on his stomach between them. His head was level with her knees, and the silky strands of his hair brushed fleetingly against her sensitive skin, just above where knee smoothed into inner thigh. Her eyes rolled back in her head when his warm breath danced over her skin, followed seconds later by his lips traveling slowly upwards. 5:00 am Her skin was so smooth, so soft. Mulder marveled at how velvety it felt against his slightly roughened and calloused fingers as he kneaded and rubbed her calf. Knots in the muscle fell away under his touch, and he smiled to himself as Scully relaxed more and more into the pillows he had arranged around and under her. She was also making a pleased little sound that reminded him of a kitten's purr, and did incredible things to his insides. Not to mention the rest of him, particularly the flesh between his legs, which was once again surging to complete fullness, tenting his boxers. It had never actually settled down after their passionate kiss in the bathroom, but he had been ignoring it in his desire to take care of Scully, to soothe her discomfort and pain. His own skin felt hot, almost itchy, in that way he knew could only be relieved by her touch. His heart was pounding a constant, rapid beat, and he could feel a light sheen of sweat decorating his brow. He moved his eyes up along the length of her body, without lifting his head, and saw that she seemed to be as aroused as he. Scully's breasts were rising and falling with her quickened breathing, the pulse at her neck beat a furious tattoo, and her lips were wet and parted. Even as he watched, her tongue darted out to swipe over them. He wanted his tongue to be the one moistening her lips, wanted her tongue to be touching his lips. Their gazes met, and locked. Encouraged and emboldened by the heat he saw in her magnificent blue orbs, he skimmed the fingers of one hand up her leg. Past her knee, to the delicate flesh of her inner thigh. Mulder felt the shiver run through her body, and watched as her eyelids fluttered, her head turning from side to side on her pillow. His name was a breathy sigh as her legs parted in invitation. He sucked in his next breath noisily at her pose of abandonment, laying sprawled amongst the pillows in all her feminine glory. Heat flared through his body and ignited the fire in his groin, and he quickly rolled onto his stomach, until he was lying between her opened thighs. His now rock-hard erection was pressed into the mattress, and he fought the urge to move his hips and heighten the contact. In the cradle of Scully's legs, he found himself surrounded by the fruity, airy scent of her perfume and body lotion, fragrant on the pillows and sheets, and emanating from her skin. Leaning in closer, he exhaled softly onto her leg, seeing the goosebumps rise in his breath's wake, and followed up by placing his lips very gently on the side of her knee. They just barely grazed her skin and then he moved slowly upwards, interspersing the light caresses with nipping bites, careful to use only his lips. There was another scent now, deeper and headier. Muskier. The scent of her arousal. His nostrils flaring, Mulder closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, before nuzzling his face briefly against her thigh. Shifting a bit higher on the bed, he propped himself on his elbows, and slid his palms along the tops of her thighs to the hem of her nightie, catching it with his thumbs. He continued up, dragging the material with him, and encountered only more bare flesh, as opposed to the cotton or silk of panties. A tremendous surge of lust ran through him when he realized she was not wearing any, and had him thrusting his hips into the bed. His hands froze in mid-action. "Scuh-leeee," he groaned, and temporarily suppressed the instinct to bury his face between her legs and devour her. Slow and gentle, he reminded himself. Slow and gentle. Looking up, he saw her watching him with heavy-lidded eyes, her head propped on a pillow, and a satisfied smile on her lips. "Surprise," she said softly. Mulder returned her smile, and nodded. Dipping his head he placed a wet, sucking kiss high on her inner thigh. It was her turn to moan, and when he looked at her again, her head had fallen back onto the pillows, and her eyes were once again closed. Resuming the upward tugging of his hands, he brought the nightie up to bunch just below her generous breasts, revealing her entire tummy, swollen with their child and glowing pearly white in the faint light of the early morning. It was the most beautiful, the most incredible sight he had ever seen. He inched forward a little more, until part of his upper body rested on her thighs, and placed a reverent kiss just below her bellybutton. He made no further move, and let his lips rest there upon the swell of their baby. When he had not moved for several seconds, Scully opened her eyes and lifted her head. His eyes met hers and she smiled again, but it was a warm, tender smile, a smile of sharing, of understanding. Then her hands came down to grasp the hem of her nightie, nudging his hands away, and he let go, bringing his arms down to prop himself up on his elbows once more. As he watched avidly, she rose up slightly, and slowly pulled the nightie over her head, throwing it to one side. A toss of her head was next, followed by her arms lifting to smooth her flyaway hair into place. The move was uncalculated, he knew, but it was seductive all the same. For it showed the line of her throat in a move reminiscent of the dream that he had been torn from not so long ago, and it caused her breasts to lift and sway with the movements of her arms. Her darkened nipples were hard points that begged for his attention, and he wished there was a way for him to be two places at once. Silently promising them their own time, he reluctantly tore his gaze from the fertile beauty before him, and lowered his head to the reddish thatch of curls between her legs. Mulder nuzzled her with his nose, inhaling deeply, and rocked his pelvis into the bed with the lust surging anew through his body. Then he set about pleasing her with his lips and teeth and tongue. 5:10 am Scully loved so many things about Mulder. There was his dry sense of humor, which often bordered on self- deprecating, his relentless convictions, his unwavering determination. His sense of loyalty. His brilliance, and seemingly boundless energy. There was the way his eyes changed color with his moods – going from a placid hazel to vibrant green when angry, and golden amber when excited. The shape of his fingers, and the strength within his hands. His lean, runner's body and his firm ass. But right now, the thing she loved most about him was his mouth. His oral skills were beyond exemplary; her lover was a genius. A maestro, who played her body so perfectly – his lips and teeth and tongue working in flawless concert, inspiring a symphony of ecstasy. In fact, she was surprised she had not burst out in song. Though the moans and near constant humming were quite close, she had to admit. She had never been particularly vocal, but with Mulder she could not contain herself. Did not want to contain herself. She knew he loved to hear her verbalize her pleasure, that it in fact heightened his own. She moaned again then, as his tongue danced over her aroused flesh, and felt her hips buck upwards in an attempt to deepen the flirting contact. Mulder's hands tightened minutely on her hips, holding her still, and he chuckled, creating a pleasing vibration that had her squirming again. And saying his name in a long, drawn-out plea. Whether it was her frantic movements, or the tone of her voice, Scully did not know. But she was rewarded by his mouth closing over her tiny bundle of nerves, hardened to an almost painful nub by his teasing, and sucking strongly. Pleasure soared higher and higher in her body, rising to a crescendo, and bringing her to a fever pitch. Her thighs quaked, her hips were off the bed, grinding herself against his mouth, and her hands were now tightly fisted in the hair above his ears, holding him to her. His teeth scraped her then, and she exploded. Her mind fragmented into a million pieces while she gasped for air and her body shook and shivered, and then settled back into place. Scully sighed and sagged down against the pillows, heart pounding furiously, breaths still panting in and out. "Mulder," she said hoarsely, the only speech she was capable of at the moment, lifting heavy-lidded eyes to stare at his dark head nestled between her thighs. He nuzzled her curls once more, and then lifted his head, grinning abashedly, eyes glinting with passion and triumph. "Mm-hmmm?" "Just...Mulder," she sighed, eyes slipping closed in blissful repletion, her inner walls still fluttering and spasming. His laugh was soft. "Glad to be of service." His moan when he shifted against her legs was equally soft, muffled. A little pained. But Scully heard it, and understood immediately the reason for it. Her head came up off the pillows as she said, "Mulder, I want..." Suddenly absurdly shy, she could not say the words - that she wanted to please him with her mouth as he had pleased her. She tried again, "If you move up here somehow, I can -" He interrupted her with a shake of his head, and said in a voice like honey poured over gravel, "I want to come inside of you. With you." Again he had intuited what she had been trying to say. Her arousal, which had tapered off slightly with her incredible release, surged to full life again. "Oh, God, yes," she gasped out. Mulder moved back, coming up first on his elbows, and then rising to his knees, his manhood jutting out proudly, thick and hard. "Lift your hips," he instructed, and when she did so, arranged a pillow beneath her bottom with gentle care. Doing so tilted her pelvis up, and she understood why when he moved forward, still on his knees, and back into position between her legs. His hands - his large, warm, strong hands - then slid under her thighs and lifted her legs, draping them over his spread upper thighs. In this position, her feet still touched the mattress easily, lying flat. And offered wonderful leverage, she thought wickedly. It was also a very revealing pose, with her knees bent and legs open wide. Mulder took himself in hand and slowly guided his hard flesh until it was nudging at her entrance, breathing heavily through his nose. He flicked a glance at her, and she nodded, knowing he was silently asking if it was all right. At her nod, his gaze dropped back down, his hands moved to her hips, and with a slow thrust of his, he was partially inside. "Scuh-leeee," he groaned. "You feel so good." "Oh, mmmmm...you too, Mulder," she sighed, and wiggled slightly, encouraging him to slide deeper. Which he did, to both their delight. 5:15 am Hot. Wet. Tight. Pulsating. Heaven. Finally buried to the hilt within Scully, Mulder waited a few glorious seconds, relishing the feel of her walls fluttering and squeezing him, before he began to move in slow, gliding strokes. He was suppressing the automatic instinct to thrust madly – the one that came upon him whenever he was inside of Scully - with tremendous effort. He also continued to breathe heavily through his nose, positive he was panting like a racehorse. But then again, Scully was making just as much, if not more, noise as he was. She was definitely not a quiet wallflower or shrinking violet. When he had been pleasing her with his mouth just minutes ago, and he had no doubt he had pleased her, and pleased her well, she had been quite vocal. Something that was a very big turn-on for him, as she well knew. It had surprised him a long time ago during the early stages of their newfound relationship when Scully told him after a bout of noisy, playful sex that she was not normally so loud. That she was actually very quiet and reserved. The news had been somewhat like a shamed confession and had sent his ego skyrocketing. That is until she had brought him down a peg or two by using her secret Doctor skills to have him wailing to the heavens and crying for mercy. Mulder lifted his gaze from her thatch of curls, having been enthralled by the sight of his cock slowly sliding in and out of her sex, to stare at Scully's face. She was biting her lower lip and watching him watch them, her eyes glittering like dark jewels. Her teeth released her lip and she moaned his name, "Mulderrrrr." The sound of his name spoken that way in her husky, passion-drenched voice sent a jolt through his entire body, and his hands tightened momentarily on her hips in reaction. That urge to thrust harder and faster was stronger, but he held back, gritting his teeth with the strain, and continued to pump in and out with the same long, slow strokes. Scully moaned again, and he could see her arms, which had been lying at her sides, stretch out so she could grab handfuls of the comforter, fisting her finger tightly around the thick down. Her back arched then, and he felt the muscles of her legs flex as she used her planted feet to lift her hips slightly, and undulated her body beneath him. Mulder adjusted his rhythm to hers, and she kept her gaze locked on his as they moved together in seamless concert. It was intensely and powerfully erotic, and he would have been unable to look away even if he had wanted to. He was in a position of dominance, towering over her supine form, effectively pinning her to the bed, yet it was she who controlled him. Her lids fluttered shut then, but quickly reopened, and she bit her lip again, her breath coming in harsh pants. A moment later something flashed in her eyes, and she grinned, tightening her internal muscles. "Witch," he gritted out lovingly, as intense waves of pleasure ratcheted throughout him. Yet once again he stilled that primal instinct, and continued at the same leisurely pace, although it cost him. Sweat had gathered on his forehead and chest, and along his shoulder blades, and breathing had become a supreme effort. He wondered idly if the expression on his face was as fierce as he imagined it to be. "Tease!" Scully shot back at him breathlessly, with equal tenderness. There was a beautiful pink flush on her cheeks and the tops of her breasts, and her lips invited kisses – they were red and wet, and swollen from her own teeth worrying them. "For both of us, believe me," he admitted in a gasped rejoinder. Determination crossed her face, a new smile on her lips – one of challenge - and then she squeezed her vaginal muscles again. The gauntlet had been thrown; the battle lines were drawn. He did not think he could hold up for long if she kept up the exquisite torture. His hold was tenuous and fading fast. But maybe he could tilt the scales in his favor once again. Leaning back slightly, taking all his weight and that of her legs draped over his onto his haunches, he skimmed his hands up along her sides in a whisper-soft caress and down again. He did this several times, careful to brush the sides of her breasts with each pass. Scully shivered and threw her head back, exposing her throat, as tiny whimpers escaped her mouth. She then took a deep breath, lowered her chin so that she could meet his eyes again, and thrust upwards with her hips. The new position had also caused him to withdraw partway, but at her move, he was fully enveloped in her pulsing liquid heat once more. It felt so damn good, so much more intense because of the new angle of penetration, that his hands tightened on her hips again and he had to thrust rapidly in and out a few times before he forced himself to stop. He gulped in air, but managed to keep his eyes focused on Scully. He knew she was enjoying this as much as he, but he wanted her quaking and trembling all around him from a second orgasm when he came. On the next downward glide of his hands, he went a little further past her hips, letting his thumbs brush the edges of her mound. This time she hissed in a breath, her lower body twitching and hips thrusting instinctively. Her lips opened, and then she was biting the bottom one, and Mulder got the impression she was holding back a scream, or a cry that might have been his name. He determined to try a little harder. As he teasingly ran his fingers along her ribcage, instead of merely brushing against her breasts, he allowed his hands to actually cup them briefly, his thumbs rubbing over her nipples. "O-oh." The sound that passed her lips was broken, desperate, and her back arched in an effort to increase the contact on the very sensitive, hardened nubs as her eyes finally slipped shut. Mulder grinned in triumph, and slid his hands away, back down her ribs to tease her hipbones with his thumbs, in slowly widening circles. Coming ever closer to the place where they were so completely connected physically. But Scully was not yet ready to admit surrender. Opening her eyes again, she met his boldly; flicking her tongue out to lick her lips – another enormous turn-on of his, and released her strangleholds on the comforter. Because of the bulge of the baby and their position, very little of him was in arms reach. But she made do with what was available to her. She first skimmed her hands up and down his thighs, raising gooseflesh that made him quiver, before trailing her fingertips over his hips to scratch at his lower belly. The muscles there jumped and skittered in reaction, and she smiled wickedly. A moment later one hand slid even lower, until she had encircled his cock with her thumb and index finger, while he was still inside her. "Scuh-leeee!" he groaned, and bucked his hips in reaction. She squeezed his cock then, and he had to suck in a lungful of air to gasp, "I surrender! You win." Scully's smile this time was far gentler. "We both win, Mulder," she said. Her fingers squeezed once more and then left his cock, her hands stroking back down his thighs before she threw them up over her head, arching her whole body. Mulder leaned forward, hands coming down onto the mattress on either side of her hips to support his weight, and pressed a hard kiss onto her lips. He then murmured, "I love you," against them before straightening. His hands went back to grasp her hips to pull her towards him as he began to thrust steadily. Scully husked out, "I love you too, Mulder," and started to move her pelvis in small circles, grinding herself into the hardness of his body with each of his thrusts. He had been hard before he even tasted her, and now with her movements, his arousal had ratcheted several notches higher. He was certain he was now harder than he had ever been. What she did next had him sinking his teeth deliberately and painfully into his lower lip, in an effort not to lose control yet. Scully had started to rhythmically clench her inner muscles, her walls grabbing and pulling at his cock, drawing his orgasm forward. But it was too soon; he had to send her over the top before he went over. The pain in his lip helped, took just the slightest edge off the intense pleasure. Relaxing his hold on her left hip, he glided his fingers teasingly to her mound, the first two searching for, and easily finding the little bundle of nerves. He pressed down lightly, feeling it pulse and throb, and Scully twitch beneath his touch. His gaze flicked from her face, her head arching back again and her eyes squeezed shut, to his hand at her curls, watching as he began to rub in fast, firm circles. "Ahhhhh, Mulderrrrr," she sighed, bucking her hips now in an effort to increase the pressure against her clit. He obliged, swirling his fingers faster and faster as he continued to thrust steadily. Feeling the beginning flutterings of her orgasm deep inside, pulsing along his cock. "Come for me, baby," he whispered. And she did. With one final lunge upward, thrusting her pelvis hard against him, her legs flexing and tightening on his thighs, and then trembling as she quivered and quaked all around him. Keening his name. His orgasm coiled out from the base of his spine, his hips jerking and thrusting madly. It slammed through him, his entire body going taut, head thrown back and mouth open on a silent cry of ecstasy as he emptied himself in her. A few last, almost uncontrollable thrusts, and then he stopped, chest heaving and pulse pounding to slump partially over her, still careful even in his orgasmic bliss not to put any weight on her belly. "Scully," he panted out, mouth dry and his voice raspy. "Love you." 5:40 am His heartbeat was now a steady, slow thumping against her back. Finally slowed from the frantic, frenzied beat she had felt some minutes ago, as he had lain slumped around her legs in exhausted repletion. His entire length was pressed all along her body, his arm covering her belly, and he was like a human blanket of warmth, holding back the slight early morning chill that was permeating her bedroom. Scully shifted slightly and stretched out, feeling the ticklish brush of Mulder's crinkly calf hairs against the soles of her feet as she straightened her legs. Her thighs were a little sore from having been draped over Mulder's, but she was too satiated and blissful to really care that she might pay for that indulgence later. Utterly and completely satiated, she corrected herself with a satisfied, smug smile. Her body felt soft and warm and loose, not far from slumber. Which was good, because she needed a few more hours of sleep before she would have to get ready and head to the Hoover Building for her meeting with AD Skinner. They were going to discuss her return to work until her maternity leave, which was tentatively scheduled to start a week before the baby was due. "You okay?" Mulder's rumbled query was spoken into the nape of her neck. It was where he had buried his head after he had spooned himself around her when she had climbed back into bed. Which had been once she had cleaned herself up and availed herself of the washroom yet again. His words vibrated against her skin, and sent a pleasant little shiver down her spine. Sleepily she murmured, "M'okay. Legs sore." Scully felt him smile and was amazed when he still managed to put a very credible leer in his voice, despite his tiredness. "Wanna massage? My magic fingers are still ready, able and willing." He shifted slightly and one set of said fingers fluttered over her hip, where his arm had been draped. She actually giggled, albeit weakly, and wiggled her backside into his groin. "Not so ready, methinks. And I wouldn't be bragging about the able either," she teased, before spoiling her retort with a massive yawn. He huffed into her neck, making her giggle again, and mock-growled, "Fingers, Scully, I said fingers." Another huff and then he whispered, "Massage going once...going twice...?" His voice trailed off on a questioning note. Her hands had been clasped together and tucked under her chin, but she freed one to come down and laid it over his, now on her belly. "Sweet offer, but I'm okay," she told him. "Okay," he repeated, and nuzzled her neck briefly before whispering, "Love you." "Likewise," she whispered back, and snuggled down into her pillow. A moment later she felt him sag heavily against her as he dropped into sleep. It amazed her how easily he did that now, for she knew about his troubled sleeping patterns, had known about them for a very long time. She had silently ached for him until it had become acceptable for her to sympathize with him, or to offer succor. It also left her feeling a sense of pride, or perhaps triumph, for he had once somberly told her it was only when he was with her. She yawned again, and closed tired eyes, once more rubbing her cheek against her pillow, waiting to drift off into slumber. Mulder's hand twitched on her belly, and she sleepily waited for the baby's answering kick. It had been quite active after their early morning romp, and then had settled into a semi-responsive pattern, shifting and rolling on occasion. But instead of a kick or a lazy roll, she was surprised by a twinge deep in her lower belly. Her eyes popped open, her body tensing. It had been similar to the pre-menstrual cramps she had often suffered. One that had her wincing and biting her lip to hold back a moan. Scully took a slow, careful breath, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth, and was relieved when the twinge was not repeated. Sliding her hand off of Mulder's, she gently rubbed the spot where the twinge had seemed to be, and forced herself to relax. This time the baby responded, surging gently against her hand, and a smile passed over her lips, just before another yawn overtook her. She let her eyes slide shut, and followed Mulder into slumber. One Week Later Scully's Apartment They had settled into a routine of sorts over the past week. Their evenings were spent quietly... either watching TV or a rented movie together, or Scully doing paperwork while Mulder tried to keep himself amused and not interfere. They occasionally went for short walks, although Scully tired easily, and usually retired early. And once they were settled amid the soft sheets of her bed, their bodies got reacquainted. Sometimes it was just he giving her a much-needed and appreciated massage, and then the two of them drifting off into a peaceful slumber with him spooned around her. Other times it was a long, slow mutual worship of each other followed by gentle lovemaking. And a couple times, like the previous night, had been like before... early on in their relationship when everything had been fresh and new and exciting, and they had not been able to contain their frenzied passion. Their days were far different. While Scully was off being a G-woman, albeit a G-woman on restricted duties, he kept himself busy with exercising and visits with the Gunmen. And tidying up after the Gunmen left, and making dinner for he and Scully, Mulder added with a small grin. Hard to believe, but he was enjoying his role as 'house-husband' for lack of a better term. He only vaguely missed the X-Files right now, was still dealing with what he had learned about his missing time, and the fact that he was going to be a father. His plate was full enough. Speaking of plates, Scully was quite punctual, arriving home... and here he had a brief flash of his lonely apartment, where he had gone only twice since leaving the hospital... by six o'clock, just in time for dinner. Which gave him...he craned his head to consult the clock on the mantle and then rose hastily from his sprawled position on the couch. He had not quite 15 minutes to hide and/or destroy the evidence of his late afternoon pizza, and set the water for the pasta on to boil. But he was quick under pressure, always had been, and when Scully's key turned in the lock at precisely six, there were no traces of his snack or visitors, the table was set, and the spaghetti nearly ready. He had even changed out of his sweat-and-pizza sauce-stained tee shirt and slicked his hair into a reasonable facsimile of styled casualness. He went to greet her and relieve her of her briefcase and trench coat, as was his habit, a smile on his face. A smile that faded as he took in her wan complexion when she entered the apartment. She surrendered her briefcase with a sigh, and an expression of relief, and murmured, "I'm really tired, Mulder." Upon closer inspection, he saw that her mouth had that pinched look seen only when she was hurting or in a very, very bad mood, and her eyes were dulled and tired-looking. "Scully?" he asked softly, worriedly. "You all right?" He realized with the sudden clarity that often comes too late to be of any use, and a now growing concern, that he had asked that question or similar ones frequently in the last couple of days. That there had been a need for him to do so. Scully had been very tired lately, although she insisted it was normal. More so then he thought was to be expected for this stage of her pregnancy. Not that he was any kind of expert, despite the copious amounts of on-line research he had done, and the books he had read. Nor had he pushed her on the topic. But perhaps he should. He wasn't even sure of when her next doctor's appointment was scheduled. Or when her last had been. Or how any of them had gone. Apparently he was not too aware of many things. A matter he needed to rectify. Very soon. Scully had unbuttoned her coat and was struggling to slide an arm out of its sleeve in the time he had been standing there worrying. He quickly placed her briefcase aside, out of the way, and stepped behind her to offer assistance. He brought both hands up and grasped the shoulders of her trench, pulling down gently. She twisted and moved with him, and then the coat was off and in his hands. He hung it up as she waddled slowly away, heading towards her bedroom. This too was normal... Scully always changed out of her work clothes and into far more comfortable attire as soon as she got home... but she seemed remote, closed off. "Scully?" he called softly, taking a few tentative steps after her. "Dinner's almost ready." Her voice sounded tight when she replied, without stopping or turning to look at him, "I'm not hungry, Mulder. I just want to lie down." And maybe a little scared. A hiss from the kitchen reminded him of the pasta boiling away on the stove, and of the sauce in another pot. He hurried to the stove, put the lid on the saucepot and turned both burners off, and then quickly removed the larger pot of pasta and put it on the other unlit burner. He then headed to Scully's bedroom. She hadn't gotten very far in undressing, only her suit jacket was off, and she was sitting on the side of the bed, shoulders slumped and eyes closed. If it were possible, she looked even paler. Mulder knelt on the floor in front of her and tenderly removed her shoes, putting them aside. Her eyes had popped open when his hand touched her calf, and she managed a weak smile for him. He swallowed the thickness in his throat and asked, "Scully, its not just tiredness, is it?" Her face crumpled and she almost fell forward. Right into the arms he had raised at the same instant. "No," she whispered, her own arms coming up to wrap around him as much as she was able with her swollen belly between them. "What is it then?" he whispered back, fear cramping his belly and bringing a fine line of sweat to his forehead. "I've been having a bit of cramping lately," she admitted. "I thought they might have been Braxton-Hicks contractions, but I don't think they are anymore." Braxton-Hicks contractions. He remembered reading about those. They were very common, and supposedly painless. According to medical definition, anyway. Some of the personal accounts of childbirth that he had read indicated otherwise. But he did not think cramping was good. It certainly didn't sound good. The ball in the pit of his stomach grew. "Scully, have you called your doctor?" he asked then. She nodded her head on his shoulder where she had tucked it. "She's not concerned enough for me to go to the hospital, but I have an appointment with her tomorrow morning." He was slightly relieved, and some of the pressure in his stomach eased. "That's good, that she's not concerned, right?" Scully nodded again. "Okay, then. We'll just take it easy tonight, and go to the doctor's tomorrow." "Okay," she agreed quietly, and lifted her head, her arms sliding from his shoulders. "I'm still tired too, so I think I'll lie down now." Mulder released her and leaned back, palms laying flat on his jean-clad thighs. "That's a good idea. I can always re-heat the spaghetti later." Rising to his feet, he put his hands out to help her up. "Let's get you undressed," he said. He tried a leer, just to make her laugh, and she gave him another faint smile. "No funny stuff, though," he added, encouraged. "You keep your hands to yourself, okay?" "Mulderrrrr..." she sighed, and then smiled a little bit wider, although she had an odd look on her face. Together they got her undressed and in her pajamas, and then Mulder tucked her under the covers, arranged on her nest of pillows. He kissed her cheek and whispered, "Love you," before leaving the room, the lamp beside the bed on its lowest setting. He closed the door most of the way, leaving it open a crack just in case, and headed to the kitchen to put the dinner away for now. He hadn't been that hungry because of the pizza, and learning about Scully's cramps had chased away the small appetite he'd still had away. Once that was done, he went and sat down on the couch, flicking the TV on and turning the volume down low so as not to disturb Scully. His mind flicked back to that odd look on her face, and he tried to decipher it. They had been, or rather, he had been joking about sex... could that have been why? They'd had sex the night before, pretty rambunctious sex, too. Had that caused her cramps? God, he hoped not. The thought that he might have hurt her or the baby was horrifying, and chilling. Worried, scared and restless, he rose from the couch and went to Scully's computer. He'd research it on the Internet and see what the experts had to say. And he'd keep an ear cocked for any sounds from Scully's bedroom, in case she needed him. 8:10 pm Scully swam up from a deep, sound sleep and opened her eyes, blinking slowly, getting her bearings. Her limbs felt thick and heavy, her mind filled with cotton. She rolled partway onto her back and took a few slow, deep breaths, the clouds slowly clearing from her brain. She consulted her body, hands cradling the baby within her belly, caressing gently. There was no cramping, none of that tight, tense feeling she had experienced on and off over the last couple of days, and very strongly on the drive home from work earlier, and she was relieved. Somewhat. She still moved cautiously though, and carefully stretched out her legs, toes pointed downwards. Her arms she lifted above her head, fingers just brushing the headboard of the bed. No twinges, no sharp flare of pain, and the relief grew. Turning her head on the pillow, Scully looked at the clock on her night table, saw the red numbers glowing the time, and realized she had slept for just over two hours. Solidly, for she had not awoken once, nor had she dreamed. Which was quite unusual for her. Her years with the X-Files had provided much fodder for nightmares; she unfortunately suffered from them often. And now that she was in the third trimester of her pregnancy, the volume of dreams had increased. They were extremely vivid... she had several times dreamed of leaving the baby unsupervised, even of losing it in a busy shopping mall. She had read that such kinds of dreams could be a sign that the dreamer was fearful of the demands of motherhood. That the dreams often reflected fears or concerns on either a conscious or subconscious level. She had to admit that was true somewhat; she was apprehensive about becoming a mother, and dealing with a newborn. Scully was thankful that her sleep had been peaceful and undisturbed this time; she had needed it. Exhaustion had taken hold of her shortly after the cramps, as she had been making her way into her apartment building, and she had practically dragged herself down the hall to her door. Without Mulder's help she doubted she would have undressed herself fully, she had been seconds away from just curling up on the bed to sleep when he had come in. Mulder. She was surprised she had not found him in the room, either lying spooned around when she awoke, or sitting in the chair in the corner, keeping watch over her. While his insomnia seemed to be gone for the most part, he still did not sleep as much, or as long as she did, and she would often awake to find him watching her. At first it had been a bit disconcerting, but it had become very comforting. She missed him, even though he was only a room away, for she knew he would not leave. Missed his lopsided smile and that lock of hair that always fell onto his forehead. Missed the warmth and strength of his hands and body. Missed his very presence. She finished stretching, rolled onto her side and then sat up, eager to go to him. A slight blood rush left her momentarily dizzy, and then she was fine. She rose to her feet slowly, finding her footing stable, and shuffled to the end of her bed, where her robe was laying. Which meant Mulder had come in at least once, for she had hung the robe in her closet that morning after getting ready for work. She smiled softly, picturing him tiptoeing into the room and standing beside the bed, with one of those tiny smiles on his face. Slipping her arms into the sleeves of her robe, Scully headed out of her bedroom, leaving it unbelted. She hated constriction of any sort on her belly, had since almost the beginning of her pregnancy when it was still flat and trim. As her belly had grown, so had her dislike. If it hadn't been for her inherent shyness, she'd probably walk around semi-nude quite often. She knew Mulder certainly wouldn't mind, he was very blasé about nudity, his or hers, and was as enamored of her new shape as much as he had of her old one. After a brief stop in the bathroom to relieve her bladder, brush her teeth and fix her hair, she made her way down the hall to find Mulder. He was slouched on the sofa, one bare foot up on the cushions, the other on the floor, his leg bent at the knee. His head was resting on the arm, his eyes closed. At her approach, which could in no way be described as quiet these days, his eyes popped open and he sat up. "Hey," he said quietly, studying her face intently. Whatever he saw there reassured him, for he smiled then. "You look better now. Rested." The smile slid away, his teeth biting at his bottom lip for a moment before he asked, "No...cramps?" "I am rested," she told him, coming to a stop in front of him on the couch. "And I feel fine, Mulder. No cramps." "Good." The smile came back, even warmer, and he shifted so that his butt was against the arm of the couch, bending his other knee to rest on the sofa's back. He then offered her his hand and when she took it, helped her to sit down. She end ed up cradled between his legs, her back resting against his chest with her head snuggled under his chin, and her legs lying along the cushions. His arms went around her, with his hands cupping her belly, and hers atop them. It was their favorite way to lie on the couch together. Sometimes they watched TV or a movie, and sometimes they listened to music. They often did absolutely nothing at all but lie there enjoying each other's company in perfect silence. And on a few occasions, it had been the start to something that had end ed in her bedroom with both of them satisfied and pleasure-slaked. They started with the 'nothing at all' approach, but the serenity was ruined by the gurgling of her stomach, followed by Mulder's bark of laughter. "Hungry?" he asked, and she heard the smirk in his voice. He gentled it though by sliding his hands over and around her belly. "How about I heat up that spaghetti now?" The baby kicked, and her stomach rumbled again. Before she could reply, Mulder quipped, "I'll take that as a yes, from you and the peanut gallery." Sighing theatrically, he added, "My work is never done." Short of comebacks, Scully settled for a quick jab of her elbow, right in his belly, making him groan. His slightly soft belly, she noted with interest. Too much snacking while she wasn't home, despite his efforts to hide the fact from her. "Hmmmm," she said. "Getting kinda soft there, Mulder. Methinks you need to work a little harder on getting in shape for those G-man re-certification tests." "Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, as he pushed at her to slide forward. "Nag, nag, nag." He got free and stood, and then bent at the waist to plant a smacking kiss on her lips. "How about we try nude aerobics? I can guarantee I'll be at the top of my form." He waggled his eyebrows at her, adding a little pelvic gyration, and laughed when she rolled her eyes at him. "Spaghetti for three coming up in a minute," he called over his shoulder as he headed to the kitchen. Scully enjoyed the view of his backside for a moment before slowly rising from the couch to help him. Doctor's Office He was listening to the heartbeat. Their baby's heartbeat. At first the loud, rapid staccato that had burst from the hand-held Doppler monitor the doctor was maneuvering over Scully's bared belly had alarmed Mulder, and he had asked if that was normal. Both Scully and her doctor had assured him it was, wearing identical slightly amused smiles, although Scully's had been fond as well. Scully had also explained what some of the other sounds were, the whooshing that was her blood flow, the slower fainter thud that was her own heartbeat. Then he became fascinated. "Okay, Dana and Mulder," Dr. Lauren Newall said then, pulling Mulder from that fascination. He watched the doctor remove the Doppler and pull Scully's gown back down to cover her belly. "Everything sounds fine," the doctor continued. "I still want an ultrasound just to be sure, but I'm confident we'll see a normally developing fetus. You've gained two pounds since your last visit, your blood pressure is good, and the measurements of your uterus are right on schedule. Your urinalysis from the last visit was normal, as was your hemoglobin, but we'll run the hemoglobin again this time, along with the regular urinalysis. The internal examination showed nothing unusual, as I said earlier. I don't think you should be concerned about the cramping, while not common in all pregnancies, it does happen to some women." Her hand had rested on the mound of the baby as she talked to them, her eyes going from Scully to Mulder and back again, keeping him included in the conversation. She then slid her hand down to pat Scully's hand, lying at her side. "We'll be ready for the ultrasound in about 5 minutes, okay? I'll be back." Dr. Newall gave them both a smile and exited the room. Mulder had liked the doctor instantly, she was friendly and warm, and she made sure to include him at all times, explaining everything she was doing. He could see that Scully was very comfortable with her, which was good. He flicked a glance at his watch, and was surprised to see so little time had gone by. Scully's appointment had been the first for the day, and her doctor was amazingly punctual, her nurse calling them in at precisely nine o'clock. They had only been waiting in the pastel yellow waiting room with its baby motif decor for a few minutes, barely enough time for him to flip through any of the Parent&Child magazines on the low, square table in the center of the room, or for Scully to grow uncomfortable sitting in the same position for too long. Which happened often now, no matter how plush the chair. The nurse had weighed Scully and then sent her to the washroom to provide a urine sample while he had sat nervously in the empty examining room, wondering if he should be waiting out in the other room, despite the fact that Scully had said she wanted him there. His eyes had kept going to the examining table that seemed to dominate the room, sliding uneasily over one particular feature that was tucked semi-discreetly down the sides. The stirrups. True they weren't as scary as the ones he had seen in movies - for instance they weren't cold metal, they were softly padded vinyl... thank God for modern amenities. But he had kept picturing some mad scientist hovering between Scully's spread-legged knees, her tiny feet on the stirrups, cold metal cuffs in place around her ankles, a maniacal grin evident even behind the mask the scientist wore. His over-active imagination at its best. Voices in the hallway approaching the room where he sat had pulled him from his latest contemplation of the table, and he had turned his head to watch the nurse enter, with Scully following a few seconds later. "Please change into the gown, and Dr. Newall will be right with you," she had instructed cheerily, and exited, pulling the door shut behind her. Scully had waddled over to the table, to where a pale pink gown was folded neatly on top of the sheet that covered the exam table, and slipped out of her low-heeled shoes. When her hands had gone to the top button of her long shirt, Mulder had cleared his throat and said, "Uh, Scully. Do you want me to wait outside?" It was well and fine to strip in front of each other, even to help each other undress in the privacy of Scully's bedroom...or bathroom...or even once the kitchen, but there in the cool, sterile office of her doctor, things were different. "Whatever for Mulder?" Scully had asked, turning around to face him, one eyebrow quirked. Meanwhile she had still been undoing her shirt, and it had gaped at her chest, offering him a view of her enhanced curves and matronly bra. The one he had teased her about a few days ago, mourning the loss of Victoria's Secret lace and silks. "You've seen it all before." "I know," he had replied. "But we're," he had gestured with flapping hands around him, "in your doctor's office!" Her shirt totally unbuttoned then, Scully had shrugged it off her shoulders, briefly turning back to lay it on the table beside the gown. "And were you planning on doing something, Mulder?" she had asked, a smirk on her lips and in her voice. If they hadn't been there because Scully had been cramping, that statement might have been intriguing, something he would have liked to explore further. His mind then veered way off-track for a moment, and he had wondered if the doctor or nurse had ever caught any of their patients and significant others doing the dirty deed, for those stirrups had potential other uses. Then his mind had snapped back to the present, and he had blustered, "No! But...well...I thought you might need some privacy or something." Scully had smiled gently then and said, "Thank-you, Mulder, for thinking about my privacy, but I'm fine. I wanted...I *want* you here. I keep thinking of all the firsts you missed, all the things I discovered on my own, and if at all possible, I want you to be with me for everything else." That had stopped his bumbling attempts to leave, and he had sat quietly and tried not to ogle her as she removed all her clothing except her panties. He had gotten to his feet and assisted her with getting up onto the exam table once she had gotten the pink gown on, and sat back down to watch her bare feet with their sexily painted toes swing gently back and forth. They had not waited long for the doctor then, and now, true to her word, in five minutes they were starting the ultrasound. Hearing the heartbeat had been fascinating, amazing, awe-inspiring, but now he was actually seeing their baby moving inside Scully's tummy. He had no words to describe how he felt, other than those same ones. The baby was awake, and almost seemed to be hamming it up for its audience, rolling and kicking and jabbing. At one point he or she seemed to look right at them on the ultrasound monitor, one tiny fist at its cheek. Mulder watched the screen almost dazedly, Dr. Newall's murmurings to Scully a pleasant hum in the background. He was vaguely aware of the doctor asking her if they wanted to know the baby's sex, and of Scully's reply in the negative. They had decided as long as they knew it was healthy, they were happy. Which it was. 9:45 am Mulder was wonderstruck. That was the only word Scully could think of to describe the state of the man sitting less than a foot away, his eyes glued to the monitor of the ultrasound. His mouth hung open slightly, the lips curved in a smile of awe and amazement. He looked like a kid who had been given the keys to the candy store, or who had won a shopping spree in the world's largest toy store. Her heart swelled with such love to see him so open and free and almost child-like, to see his emotions unveiled, naked. Long a very private man, and one who sadly had always seemed to find it necessary to hide his emotions, he was at his most open right at that moment. Now that Dr. Newall had alleviated her fears about the health of the baby, she was able to relax and enjoy it. She was almost more interested in watching Mulder than watching the baby. At the same time though, it made her a little sad... thinking again of all the things he had missed during her pregnancy. But he was here now, and he was well, and the baby was well. That was all that mattered. Dr. Newall said her name, and when Scully shifted her gaze from Mulder to her, the doctor had an indulgent smile on her face. "Dana, do you and Mulder want to know the baby's sex?" A very tiny part of her wanted to nod enthusiastically. She had to admit that even without her mother's continual questions as to whether it was a boy or girl, that knowing beforehand might not be such a bad thing. But she and Mulder had talked about it, and decided they did not want advance knowledge. "No, thank-you, Dr. Newall. We want it to be a surprise." "Okay, then we're all finished," the doctor said next. "Everything is perfectly normal." She turned to put the ultrasound wand down on the little tray next to the monitor, and then picked up a towel. With gentle, efficient movements she wiped the gel off of Scully's belly and then covered her with the sheet. "I don't normally start seeing patients weekly until the 36th week, but just to be on the safe side, we'll start now even though you're only 34 weeks along. Tell Janice when you set-up your next appointment, okay?" Dr. Newall rose then from her rolling stool, pushing it out of the way, and moved around the table to stand beside Mulder. He had already risen from his own stool, but was still staring somewhat wistfully at the blank monitor. "It was nice meeting you at last, Mulder," Dr. Newall said, and held out her hand. Scully had not told Dr. Newall everything that had happened, and had made it seem like Mulder had been out of the country unavoidably. Which was true, just not in the manner the doctor had most likely taken it. She had also told Dr. Newall that he preferred to be called Mulder after she had introduced the two. Scully saw Mulder jolt just slightly, and then he returned the doctor's handshake. "You too, Dr. Newall," he replied. "And thank-you." "You're welcome, Mulder. And Dana, I'll see you next week, and be sure to call me immediately if you have any more cramps or any other unusual symptoms, okay? Even if it's the middle of the night, I'll instruct the service to reach me." Dr. Newall smiled at them both and left the room, turning the light on as she did, and pulling the door shut behind her. Scully started to struggle to an upright position, and her huffed exhalation jumpstarted Mulder, who turned to her and helped her up. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, and he nudged the footstool into place and held her hand while his other hand went to her elbow. She rose slowly, and stepped carefully down from the stool onto the floor, her toes curling in protest of the cold tile. They walked back to the examining room, his hand at the small of her back, although her waddle... the one she had finally and grudgingly admitted to... made his hand shift slightly from side to side. While she got dressed, Mulder amused himself, and her, by poking around the room, looking at the posters on the walls, one of which was a diagram of the female reproductive system in great detail. His head tilted to the side, his ear resting on his shoulder, and then to the other, as he studied it, his mouth screwed up in concentration or dismay, she wasn't sure which. After slipping her feet into yet another pair of low-heeled pumps that she hated, she called softly, "Mulder?" He was bent at the waist, his back to her, presenting her with a fine view of his ass encased in faded denim, studying a model of a uterus. The index finger of one hand was just touching part of it, and he jolted when she said his name, lurching forward a bit. The model collapsed into pieces. His muttered, "Shit!" was distinctly annoyed, and comical as hell. Scully could not help laughing, her hand coming up to muffle the sound. Mulder straightened and shot her a look, and then bent back to try and put the uterus back together. She could see he had it backwards, but said nothing, although she snickered, turning the laugh into a cough. A moment later he used both hands to sweep the pieces together into one little pile and turned his back on it. "You ready, Scully?" he asked in normal, if not slightly higher, tones. She cleared her throat. "Ready." And laughed again. He hustled her out, and she saw him shoot once last look over his shoulder at the model before they turned to go to the reception area. Once there she made her appointment for the following week, telling Janice the receptionist that Dr. Newall would be seeing her weekly from now on. Mulder convinced her to go to the café across the street for juice and a muffin, seeing as she had taken the day off. It was an easy sell, for she and the baby were both hungry. 4 Weeks Later Scully's Apartment Scully was driving him crazy. Mulder knew it was a terrible thing to think about the mother of your soon-to-be child, but it was true. Two weeks before her due date, and they were both wishing it were already over. For different reasons of course. Scully had announced on several occasions that she was quite ready for the baby to get the hell out. And at very odd times, he might add... such as at two o'clock in the morning after she'd gotten up for a bathroom trip, and had to wake him up from a very sound sleep to tell him so. Such behavior - the wanting the baby out and wanting to regain control over her own body, not the waking him up part - was normal. Or so the baby books he consulted said. Now he, he just wanted his Scully back. Not the one that decided to clean her apartment at two in the morning. And what was with that magic hour and Scully anyway? Not the Scully whose moods were as unpredictable as the weather, and who was as likely to fly off the handle as she was to kiss him senseless and leave him drooling. He had learned fairly quickly not to say the words 'mood swings' in her hearing. Particularly so after one such occasion where she had been quite romantically inclined, or so he had mistakenly thought, and had then gotten very angry at him for nibbling on her neck. Turned out she was just hinting around for a back rub. But when your woman is cozying up to you with her hand high on your thigh and whispering sweet nothings in your ear, what else is a guy to think? Especially a guy who hadn't been getting any in a while. And he was not being an insensitive jerk about the sex part, or lack thereof, either. He had been just as willing to agree when her doctor had advised that they cease certain sexual activities after Scully had some more cramping and one incident of spotting. Her health and that of the baby was far more important. And they made up for it with lots of snuggling and tender touches. When she wasn't being a bitch, of course. He didn't say that word out loud either. As for the cleaning part, or 'nesting' as they called it, that was normal too. Even the hour that she might choose to do it. He had been visiting the Gunmen a lot lately; to give them both some breaks from each other, and Scully had been spending a lot of time with her mother. Strangely enough her mood swings had brought her even closer to Maggie. Maybe they spent their time commiserating about men, who knew? He just knew that she was usually very relaxed and happy after their visits, which made it much more peaceful around her apartment. Their latest disagreement, or argument, or whatever you want to call it, had been about how he cleaned up the kitchen after dinner. Or, in her words, how he didn't clean it up. As try as he might, he could not see the dirt she seemed to see. So Mulder was sitting on the couch, feet carefully on the floor and not on the cushions or coffee table, where she had banished him while she cleaned up his mess. Again, her words, not his. He grabbed the remote and aimed it at the TV, turning it down before it had barely flicked on, so Scully would not have something else to nag him about. There was nothing really on, so he found CNN and let his head drop to the back of the couch. He was tired and achy, had overdone it a bit with his afternoon run. But he wasn't going to ask for any sympathy right now, she was definitely on edge. Maybe when, and he hoped it was not if, she joined him, he'd offer her a back rub, try and help her relax. So while he waited, he closed his eyes and felt his mind begin to drift. And as it so often did, it drifted into the sex zone. One of his favorite fantasies, actually. He and Scully, a remote cabin in the woods, and very little clothing. A smile flitted across his face. Okay, no clothes at all. They were lolling about nude on the big feather bed in the middle of the day, with a cool breeze blowing the lacy curtains through the open window. Scully's eyes were bright and filled with laughter and mischief as she tried her damnedest to tickle him. She was persistent, and sneaky, but he persevered, subduing his giggling nymph. He straddled her, hands diving in to tickle her unmercifully, and changed his method of attack. To gentle kisses and feather-light caresses that had her melting and sighing his name. [Mulder?] His name. He loved to hear her say his name. [Mulder?] Wait, Scully really was calling his name. And she didn't sound right. Mulder sat up, blinking heavily, one hand coming up to swipe across his eyes, and when his hand fell away he saw her standing a few feet away, pale as freshly falling snow and clutching her belly. Dread gathered in the pit of his stomach, and a flush of searing heat washed through his body, chased by freezing cold. He stumbled to his feet, and gasped out a question. "Scully, what's wrong?" 6:50 pm Scully knew she was driving Mulder crazy. It had become very obvious over the last few days. And to be perfectly honest, she was actually driving herself a little crazy. The next two weeks were going to be the longest she'd ever lived, after the time Mulder had been missing. And God help them both if she went past her due-date. Her mind was as busy as her hands as she scrubbed ruthlessly at the kitchen counter with a soapy sponge, cleaning up the mess Mulder had made while preparing their dinner. The one he had supposedly cleaned already, she huffed to herself. Scully felt a twinge low in her belly and paused for a second to rub at briefly. The faint sounds of the TV flickered into her consciousness and she bit back a sigh of irritation. Irritation that nearly overrode the discomfort she was feeling... he was watching TV, probably with his feet all over the furniture, while she cleaned up his mess. When the pain dissipated, so did her irritation. She continued with her scrubbing. And her thoughts. She had never imagined it would be necessary to apply the word 'skittish' in a description about Mulder, but it fit... his demeanor whenever around her lately was jumpy, fidgety. He frequently wore his oft-joked about panic face, or had that 'deer in the headlights' look in his eyes, and he had improved his avoidance technique almost to a fine art. He also spent a lot of time out visiting the Gunmen, and running, and working out at the FBI gym. Understandably, though, she had to admit. She knew her behavior could possibly be termed irrational, or perhaps even erratic as of late. She was moody, suffering from alternating periods of fatigue or excess energy, had difficulty sleeping, and was unusually sensitive and irritable. There were physical symptoms as well... a slight swelling in her ankles and feet, she often experienced a shortness of breath, and occasional feelings of dizziness or faintness. All of which were completely normal, and no cause for alarm. She was also definitely experiencing the nesting instinct. Yet while she was aware of this fact, she was helpless to stop it. She could only describe it as being somewhat like a compulsion. Waking up at the oddest time of night, usually two o'clock... a time Mulder had crankily called the witching hour, not realizing that she had actually been in earshot... and just had to clean something, anything. One night she had scrubbed the entire kitchen, from floor to ceiling, cupboards included - inside and out. There was also the matter of her memory. It often felt like it was full of holes... she would head off full of purpose, and forget the why or the what for before she got to her destination. At home, and at the Bureau. Fortunately only John had noticed at work, and he was quite understanding. He even managed to hide his amusement fairly well. Mulder tried too, but she was so attuned to him that she almost knew exactly what he was thinking at times, and he was often either amused as hell, or bewildered beyond belief. Her mother didn't even bother to hide her amusement; she laughed outright or made comparison comments to her own pregnancies. Another twinge, still low in her belly, had her pausing again. She released the sponge and put her palm flat on the counter to keep her balance, her other hand going to rub at the spot once more. Deep, slow breathing seemed to help both the Braxton-Hicks contractions and these cramping pains, so she began to breathe in and out, forcing herself to relax her tight shoulders. It faded again after about twenty seconds or so, and for a brief instant she had a wild thought/hope it might be a contraction. A real contraction, not a Braxton-Hicks. But somehow it just didn't feel like she was going into labor. Not that she'd ever experienced it before, nor would all the medical knowledge in the world enable her to divine the baby's intentions as to the timing of his or her debut... she just thought that she would know when it was time. Maybe it was indigestion... she had been suffering from that quite often lately as well. With a little moue of distaste, she finished up the counter and rinsed the sponge out in the sink, putting it on the drainer to dry. A slow scan of the kitchen showed it was clean at last, and she sighed quietly in relief. She wanted nothing more than to sit down and put her feet up. Preferably with Mulder, so she could make amends for her latest...*mood swing*. As much as it pained her to admit it, that's what they were. After washing her hands and drying them off, she moved towards the fridge to get a drink. When the pain came again, she knew it was not indigestion. This time it was sharp and furious, and so very, very wrong, and it tore her breath from her lungs. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she stumbled back a few steps into one of the kitchen chairs, the fingers of one hand white knuckling its wooden back to keep herself from falling to the ground. Her other hand cupped her belly, and she hunched her body in, bending slightly at the waist, trying to ease the pain, to ride it out. She tried to call to Mulder for help, but the sound that passed her lips just barely qualified as a whisper. Reluctantly releasing the chair, she moved with excruciating slowness towards the living room. Her skin felt clammy and cold, and she had to bite her lip to hold back a wave of nausea. Several feet from the couch, Scully came to a swaying halt, both hands now cradling her belly. Mulder lay there, apparently asleep, his head resting on the couch back, his mouth slightly open. "Mulder?" she got out. He did not react. She panted a few times and managed to say his name louder. "Mulder?" She also managed to stay on her feet, though the ground beckoned. This time it worked. He sat up, blinking and rubbing his eyes and looked at her. He paled, and then gracelessly got to his feet. Fear and worry were evident in his next words. "Scully, what's wrong?" "Hurts," she choked out, and felt her knees buckle. Her body started to slide down, but Mulder was there to catch her. He lowered them both to the ground, where she automatically curled into a ball on her side, hands clutching her belly. She could feel his hands moving nervously over her body, smoothing her hair, her back, fleetingly touching the bulge of the baby, and she moaned, low and deep. Faintly she heard him asking, "Is it the baby? Is the baby coming?" Shaking her head was an effort. "Nooooo," she got out. "Call...9-1- 1," she gasped, and then moaned again. "Something's wrong." Georgetown University Medical Center ["Call 9-1-1...something's wrong."] Mulder bolted upright and nearly fell off the uncomfortable plastic chair he had dozed off in. Once he righted himself, he stood on shaky legs and looked worriedly at the figure in the hospital bed. She was there, she was all right, and it appeared that he had not disturbed her much needed rest. Thankfully. Just a dream. If you put it in general terms, that was all it had been. But there was nothing ordinary or common about the nightmare he had actually lived several hours previously, and revisited just minutes ago. His furiously pounding heart finally started to slow as he continued to take in her beloved features. The fresh dread that had been surging through his body from the nightmare began to abate. Scully's face wasn't quite as pale as it had been, but she still looked drawn and tired, despite the fact that she was deeply asleep. Shadows lay like purple bruises on the delicate skin beneath her closed lids, making him wince. His eyes then slid down to her belly beneath the blankets, where even in her slumber one of her hands was cupped protectively over the baby. His mind flashed back to how she had curled up on the floor after he had stopped her from falling, and lain there with her hands holding her stomach. Could suddenly hear again her gasps and moans. Mulder didn't remember closing his eyes as he stood there, but they were closed, squeezed shut actually, and he forced them open, willing the painful image and sounds to go away. As well, he had stepped closer to the bed, and his hands had fisted tightly around the top bar of the side rail. He released the metal, his fingers flexing briefly from the tight grip, and brought one hand up to skim feather-light over her hand on her belly and then along the swell of the baby. He wished he was able to hold her hand, but was unwilling to remove it from its resting place, and the other was lying along the side opposite him, encumbered by an IV. The tentative touches would have to suffice until she awoke again. But he could rest closer to her, be in easier reach for if and when that should occur. With the utmost care he lowered the side rail, flicking a glance at Scully's face to ensure the noise or the motions had not disturbed her, and saw that she still slept on. Bringing his chair closer was next, and then he arranged himself as comfortably as possible, which was not really much, given the chair, and pillowed his head upon his bent arms on the mattress by her hip. His eyes were sore...from the little sleep he'd gotten so far, and from the glaring lights of the emergency department where he'd spent lonely, frantic hours waiting to hear any news about Scully and the baby. He hadn't thought to call Mrs. Scully at first, nor anyone else, and by the time he did, he'd been informed the crisis had passed, and the hour was late. He made a mental note to himself to call her, Skinner, and he supposed Doggett as well, in the morning, and let his heavy eyelids drop down to ease his tired orbs. The position was only slightly more comfortable then the last one, but he had slept in worst places. And as long as he was near Scully, it didn't matter. He yawned and felt his shoulders relax somewhat. He drifted. And suddenly he was in Scully's apartment again, desperate not to leave her side but having to do so, to get up and find a phone to call for an ambulance. Hearing her moans and seeing her curled in pain. Fingers fumbling to dial the number, voice shaking as he half-yelled, halfcried out his name and Scully's address, and that he needed help. Falling to his knees at her side again, afraid to touch her, and afraid not to. Then they were enroute to the hospital in the ambulance, after he had fought his way on board over the paramedics' objections. Staring at Scully's waxen face, her eyes scrunched shut with her pain, unable to touch her. Able only to try and reassure her vocally over and over again that he was there and that she and the baby would be all right. Not knowing if that were true, terrified he could lose them both. Listening to the paramedics call out vital signs and symptoms as they radioed ahead to the hospital, and gave their ETA. Time jumped again and they were in the emergency department, and a large, white-uniformed man was blocking him entrance to the trauma area where they had taken Scully. He fought anyway, and was forcibly moved to another area and threatened with ejection from the hospital. He settled down only because he had to see Scully again, and started his solitary and frightened wait, pacing up and down the quiet hallway. At last he was taken to see her, and the doctor, somber-faced and quiet, stopped him just inside the room to explain what had happened, and that Scully had been placed under 24-hour observation for the time being. The words 'partial abruption' had barely registered, for all his attention was focused on the pale woman in the bed... sleeping or unconscious, he did not know. Mulder jerked upright again with a shudder, gaze immediately flying to Scully's face. She seemed reasonably at peace, unlike him... his heart was pounding anew, and he was oddly chilled. With a slight shiver, he sat up, resolving he would attempt sleep no more that night. He did not want to relive the terrifying events over and over again, although he was sure they would revisit as nightmares for a long time. His vigil had begun. 5:30 am Slow, rolling movements of the baby within her womb awoke Scully from her deep slumber, and she lay still for a moment, enjoying the gentle motions. Reality intruded... sharply and abruptly. Smells and sounds that did not belong, and she remembered. The hospital, she was in the hospital, and her slumber had not been a natural one. Just as quickly, a muchwelcomed feeling of relief washed through her mind, chasing away her fears and the residual memories of the nightmarish events of the previous night. The baby was all right. She attempted to bring her hands up to cradle her belly... to touch, to reassure herself, to just feel the life within... but found herself somewhat restrained. Prying her heavy eyes open and blinking several times to clear her vision, she tried to see exactly what it was that had hampered her. The pull from an IV site on her left arm was recognizable, and understandable, and her eyes followed the line of clear tubing upwards to the bag of saline that was being steadily fed into her system. It was standard operating procedure in situations like last night to open a venous line in case medication was necessary. Her gaze then shifted, and when she took in the rumpled chestnut hair and lined, exhausted face of Mulder, she realized that one of his arms was extended, fingers clutching those of her right hand. Tightly, even in his sleep. He was slumped in a chair next to her bed, with his chin touching his chest. Scully studied him further, and could see that his cheeks were stubbled and there were dark circles under his eyes, and she knew he had sat sentinel all night. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked them away, worried she might disturb him. He was easily in touching distance, and she resisted the temptation to stroke her hand through his spiky hair, or to smooth the frown from his brow. It was obvious he had pulled his chair as close as he could possibly get it, and she pictured his feet jammed uncomfortably beneath the bed. Which was exactly how she would have sat, and had done so many a time, when it was he who was in the hospital bed. The baby moved again, a soft fluttering, and she needed that contact of hand on belly. As much as she loved the feel of Mulder's hand holding hers, she had to pull free of his grasp. For now. When he awoke, she would hold him all he wanted, for she herself wanted very much to find the comfort that could always be found within his embrace. The memories of his panicked voice as he called for the ambulance and tried to speak words of solace, and of his hands unsure of where and how to touch her, were quite vivid. She had not been able to respond to him or try to reassure him, she had been concentrating on breathing through the pain and suppressing the horribly frightening thoughts that she was losing the baby. Another flutter, pulling her back to the present. Moving her hand slowly and carefully, Scully slid it out from under Mulder's. His fingers immediately twitched as if he felt the loss, and a second later he made a snuffling sound and jerked awake and upright. His eyes were wild and worried as they met hers, but when she smiled, they calmed, and he exhaled heavily, shoulders sagging. "Scully," he said, his voice barely above a croak. "Is...are you...do you need me to get the nurse?" She shook her head minutely, and finally brought her hand to her belly, smoothing gently over the soft, worn cotton of the hospital gown that covered the hard, rounded bulge. "I'm okay, Mulder," she told him, holding his gaze. When the baby moved against her hand, she amended, "We're okay." His next exhale was a harsh, almost shuddery sigh. "Scully, I was so goddamned scared. I thought...I thought you were losing..." his voice broke off in mid-sentence, and he ducked his head down until his forehead rested on the mattress, his shoulders shaking. Scully lifted her hand from her belly and weaved her fingers through his hair, stroking softly. "It's okay, Mulder," she crooned. "It's okay." They stayed that way for long minutes, the contact of her hand in his hair soothing to them both. Finally his shoulders moved as he heaved out a sigh, and then he lifted his head, straightening in his chair. Her hand fell to the mattress. His eyes were red-rimmed and filled with emotion when he met her gaze again. He cleared his throat before speaking. "You're sure you don't need the nurse?" "I'm sure," she told him, reaching out to grasp his hand, twining their fingers together. "The baby woke me up." Although she was calm, and spoke matter-of-factly, the words held the slight giddiness of her relief. Mulder and she shared another moment, one of mutual relief, before his eyes left hers to go to her belly. He then brought his free hand up to gently palm the bottom curve, closing his eyes and smiling when the baby's movement greeted him. Scully knew that he had felt that same need as she - to confirm, to know... that all was well. And that his need had just been assuaged. She wondered what time it was, beyond the fact that it was early morning, and when the doctor would be coming to see her to discuss their options. With two weeks left until her due-date, she knew she was likely to be placed on bed rest. It was a precaution that made sense, and one she would agree to completely. But she wanted to do so at home, for her sake, and for Mulder's. A rather large yawn surprised her then, and she blinked her suddenly heavy eyes. The way she felt now, it was as if she had been on an adrenaline rush that had just end ed. "Rest, Scully," Mulder whispered. "I'll be right here." She nodded, her head as weighted as her eyes, and mumbled, "Love you, Mulder." She fell asleep on his return avowal of love. Scully's Apartment As they made their way down the hallway to Scully's apartment, Mulder was struck with a sense of déjà vu. Only that time, it had been he who had just been released from the hospital. He remembered that he had been stubborn and determined to be independent, walking alone and unassisted, with Scully hovering nearby. Although she wasn't as stubborn as he, she had not protested when his hand had cupped her right elbow after they had exited the car. It had remained there the entire journey, and he had been, and was, ready to catch her at any sign of weakness or trouble. She walked slowly and carefully, head downward to watch the ground before her, placing her feet with deliberation. If they hadn't just had the scare of their lives approximately 36 hours ago, it would have been cute. At her door, Mulder hustled to open it, keys already in hand. Flipping quickly through the small bunch, he found hers and pushed it into the lock. One quick, sharp twist of his wrist, and he was pushing the door wide open. He reached for her elbow once more, lightly tossing her overnight bag to one side, and assisted her inside. Shutting the door and relocking it, he nudged the bag further out of the way with his foot and tossed the keys onto the little decorative table to the left of the door. He quickly toed his shoes off and helped her remove her coat, his hands gentle. Shrugging out of his, he hung them both on the coat rack and turned back to her. This time he took hold of her hand instead of her elbow, curling his fingers around hers and squeezing gently. He automatically turned in the direction of her bedroom, and met with resistance. Scully was heading towards the couch. "Hey," he said softly. "Bed rest, remember?" "Modified bed rest," she corrected him. "I can put my feet up and lie down on the couch just as well as I can in bed." "Scuhleee –" "Mulder, it's all right," she interrupted, deftly turning their hands so that it was her fingers squeezing his. "You were there when Dr. Newall explained about the bed rest – it's not complete bed rest, I can get up for small periods of time and to stretch my legs. As long as I am not exerting myself and am able to recline comfortably, it's fine." That was almost word for word what the doctor had said, but still, to him, bed rest was done in a bed. With him as her ever-faithful, attentive servant. In shifts shared with her mother, of course. Once Maggie Scully had learned what had happened, she had been bound and determined to take care of the two of them. Scully had tactfully told her mother that it was not necessary for her to stay with them 24 hours a day, while also gracefully conveying her gratitude for the offer. Negotiations had begun, and a schedule of sorts had been agreed upon. He had the afternoon and night shifts, and Mrs. Scully had the day shift. Since he had called her after Scully had been discharged this morning, he knew she would be arriving soon. "Okay," he said at last, and moved to guide her over to the couch and help her sit. "But promise me if you're not comfortable you'll go lie down on the bed?" With his hands supporting her calves, they lifted her legs up onto the cushions. "Oh, believe me, I'll let you know, don't you worry!" she said, as she laboriously wiggled into a better position. "I'll start by asking for some pillows, please." He could not help the mental comparison that popped to mind as he watched her distended belly while she shifted about – visions of a Nature program he once saw where environmentalists struggled to aid beached whales back to sea. Oh, she would kill him for that, cheerfully and without regret. "Coming right up," he told her, his voice slightly strangled, and saw that she was regarding him suspiciously, obviously having noted his bemused...or was that amused...regard of her stomach. He swooped down to plant a kiss on her cheek in apology for his thoughts before heading to her bedroom. He detoured briefly to retrieve her overnight bag, and carted it with him, dropping it on the floor by her closet. He raided her pillow nest, grabbing three, and trekked back to the living room. Scully had kicked off her white canvas Keds and peeled off her white cotton socks and was lying partially on her side with her spine pressed against the back of the couch. Mulder came to a stop in front of the couch, sliding down onto his knees, both of them going off like firecrackers. They winced in unison, and then grinned as one because of their identical reactions. "Lift your head up," he said then, and slid his hand under her neck, cradling her skull as she did so. He tucked one of the pillows beneath before lowering her head back down to the downy, Scully-scented softness. "Where else?" "Behind my back," she replied, gesturing vaguely with one hand at her lower back, "and one under my knee." Mulder straightened, still on his knees, and eased another pillow in between her body and the couch. Next, he gently lifted her bent right leg to slide the last pillow lengthwise so that it supported her knee and calf. "Okay?" he asked, sinking back down so that his butt rested on his sock-clad heels. "Perfect," she returned with a smile, reaching out one hand to cup his face. She stroked his cheekbone with her thumb for a moment, and then slid her hand behind his head, applying gentle pressure. Pulling him towards her, her head lifting from the pillow. He leaned forward, following the unvoiced command, and their lips met in a sweet, lazy kiss. Mulder realized suddenly that this was the closest they had been since Scully had collapsed just a few feet from where they were right then. He was not counting the bedside handholding and pecks on the cheek, or his vigil by the bed, those were a given. This kiss was heaven. It was reassurance and reaffirmation. It was longing and love and lust. It was togetherness and understanding and need. It was them. There was even a bit of tongue. But all too soon it was over. Scully pulled away with a regretful sigh, and let her head sink back down onto her pillow, her eyes dreamy, her smile wide. Meanwhile his protesting thighs and knees gave up the ghost, and he end ed up on his butt, also smiling. Goofily, he knew, but he didn't care. A precise knock at the door came then, so he struggled to his feet, brushing another kiss on Scully's cheek just because, and went to answer the door. Out of habit, he peered through the peephole. The day shift had arrived. And she was bearing food. Mulder opened the door happily, his stomach rumbling and his smile wide. 11:50 am It was so wonderful to watch and hear her mother and Mulder interact together, Scully thought sleepily, still comfortably arranged on the couch. The gentle and very reassuring movements of the baby had awoken her moments ago, and she had lifted her head from her pillow to see that the room was empty. But Mulder and her mother's voices had caught her attention, as had their kitchen sounds. Their affection for each other was obvious – Mulder no longer finding it necessary to hide his feelings. He was like another son to Maggie Scully, and doubly important for his relationship with her baby daughter. And as the father of her next grandchild. They had always gotten along, but when her health, and now that of the baby's, was in question, they were two peas in a pod. Concern, and caring, that she appreciated and loved, except when it bordered on hovering. Right now they were in the kitchen, and it sounded like they were making lunch. Their conversation was muted - for they most likely believed she was still asleep - with occasional bursts of shared laughter punctuating the air. Laughter that was then shushed by the other, which in turn brought about more. Scully felt slightly guilty for having dozed off so soon after her mother's arrival, but she knew Mulder and her mother would understand. Nor would they begrudge her the rest time. In fact, they encouraged it. If she wasn't so tired and still somewhat worried about the baby, it might have irritated her to be told to have a nap like a child. Mulder's head peeked around the corner then, and his eyes lit up when he saw her. He smiled and then ducked back into the kitchen. Scully heard him say, "Sleeping Beauty's awake." The nickname made her smile. She came up on her elbow and called out, "But where's my kiss, Prince Charming?" His snort was very audible, even from several feet away. "You're sh... Um, you're out of luck there, Scully," he called out. This time the rest of his body followed his head as he left the kitchen to come over and drop to his knees again before her. "It's just me," he said very softly. "Well, 'Just you', lay it on me," she told him, bringing her free hand up to cup his cheek, just inches from her face. "With pleasure," he whispered, and slowly closed the tiny distance. Scully held her eyes open as long as possible, watching his drift shut, admiring his long, thick lashes – lashes many a woman would kill for, or spend a fortune trying to achieve – and the blissful expression on his face, before she let them flutter closed. His lips were soft, and warm, and he kept the pressure light yet firm at the same time. He was an incredible kisser. She was sure she could spend hours in this very pursuit. "Honey, are you ready to eat...Oh! Um, I'll just go back..." That had been her mother's very embarrassed-sounding voice, diminishing in volume as she apparently retreated back into the safety of the kitchen. She and Mulder broke apart with identical silly smiles and reddened cheeks. A long-ago memory resurfaced in her mind – of catching Melissa and her latest in a long line of boyfriends in a lip lock on the front porch – and her smile deepened. She herself had been caught by her mother once, and was so ashamed, and yet thrilled at the same time. And extremely thankful it had not been Ahab or brother Bill who had been the one to find her and...she couldn't remember the boy's name. That would have been an unbearable humiliation. Her mother had coughed loudly to interrupt the kiss and then gone back inside. Later, she had given Scully the birds and the bees' lecture. Again. She felt that same little nearly illicit thrill now, although these days she was equipped and secure with the knowledge that her mother was pleased, not scandalized. "Caught in the act again," he quipped, waggling his eyebrows up and down at her comically. "Hmmmm," she agreed. Then flashed him a grin and said, "Well, I guess we should be thankful it's only my mom. If it were Bill, he'd be getting the shotgun." "Ouch!" he exclaimed, pantomiming receiving a grievous body shot and falling to the floor, narrowly missing cracking his skull on the corner of the coffee table in the process. He made quite a bit of noise, which brought her mother out once more, the expression on her face quite comical. Scully interpreted it to mean she had expected to find them in some clinch on the floor. She watched as the expression changed to tenderness and amusement. "Oh, Fox," her mom exclaimed. "You're such a clown." Mulder looked sheepish as he lifted himself from the floor. He then patted his stomach. "Is lunch ready, Mrs. Scully? I'm starved." "All set," she replied. "Dana's tray is ready, if you'd carry it out, please." "Yes, ma'am," he remarked, throwing her a smart salute and heading off to the kitchen. "He's a handful, that one," her mother told Scully, her eyes twinkling, and a faint blush on her cheeks. She then returned to the kitchen. Scully's own cheeks were a tad red. Handful was very apt. In more than one way. She pushed the thought about Mulder's generous attributes aside with a rather gusty sigh. Her stomach let out a little grumble then, which was followed by a kick from the baby, and she realized she was actually very hungry herself. She sat up further, waiting in anticipation to see what they had cooked up. Three Weeks, One Day Later Scully's Apartment D-Day plus 3. That was the first thought that popped into Mulder's head when he awoke and rolled over to peer blurrily past Scully's slumbering form at her alarm clock. D-Day as in Delivery Day or Due-Date. Plus 3 as in she was three days past her due date. And Scully was not handling being overdue well. To be perfectly honest, none of them were really, Mulder admitted to himself as he slowly stretched his body beneath the covers, careful not to jostle the bed and wake her. He felt useless – unable to ease her discomfort or provide a suitable distraction, although he tried his best. He had spent the last two days walking on eggshells and exchanging commiserating looks with Mrs. Scully as she did the same, as well as conducting whispered telephone conversations with Skinner, Doggett, and various and sundry Gunmen to keep them all up to speed on the development of things. Or the lack thereof. Scully was extremely moody, more so than usual, although for the most part those moods were silent, incommunicative ones, and she had been experiencing mild contractions sporadically over the last few days. She was always tired and very restless. The nights seemed to be the worse, and he often woke up to discover he was alone in the bed. Whereupon he too would rise, to find her either wandering aimlessly around the dark apartment, or going through the baby clothes and items that had been gifts from friends and family – folding and refolding the tiny sleepers and undershirts, the receiving blankets and quilts. At Scully's last appointment with Dr. Newall, on her actual due date, the doctor had reiterated the long-uttered statement about babies taking their own sweet time, and told he and Scully that she was not concerned. After performing an internal exam, to check whether Scully's cervix had softened or dilated, and a nonstress test to monitor the baby's heart rate, she had stated all was well and that she would not induce labor until two weeks past the due date, unless necessary. She did however want to see Scully in one week, and advised them to call immediately if Scully had any unusual symptoms or if they had any concerns. Thankfully there had been no further scares such as the cramping and spotting, or the partial abruption. Mulder moved the corner of the covers back a bit and eased out of the bed, sending glances towards Scully as his feet found the chilled hardwood floor. She did not stir, and he was grateful. She'd had a particularly rough night, up for most of it, and needed her rest. He was still a little tired himself, but knew it was unlikely he would fall back asleep again. Rising, he stretched again, scratching at his belly, before shuffling across the floor. Mulder fished a fresh tee shirt and pair of boxers out of the appropriate dresser drawers, and grabbed his jeans from the chair in the corner. One last look at Scully to see if she had awoke and might need anything, confirming she still slumbered on, and then he padded out of the bedroom, shutting the door gently behind him. In minutes he was stripped and in the shower, groaning under his breath as the hot needles of water massaged his tense neck and shoulder muscles. He luxuriated with the feeling for long moments, rolling his head from side to side to capitalize the relief that came, before turning and sticking his face directly in the spray. Tilted his head, he wet his hair completely, and then turned again to pick up the bottle of shampoo. After pouring a dime-sized amount into the palm of his hand, he inhaled deeply with an unsurprising surge of lust – for Scully's scent now filled the shower stall. He was tempted to indulge the lust, to slide his hand down his bare, water-slicked belly and stroke and tug and find his way towards release and gratification, but instead gritted his teeth and ignored the flesh below his waist. It was while he was rinsing the suds from his hair with his eyes scrunched tightly shut that he sensed Scully was in the bathroom. Couldn't explain it if asked, but he just knew she was there, despite the fact that her entry had been soundless, nor had she announced herself. He hurriedly scrubbed a hand over his eyes and opened them, blinking from the sting of residual soap, and saw her hazy, motionless figure standing there through the fogged glass of the shower door. "Scully?" he called out. "Is everything okay?" He began to rush through the rest of his shower, quickly soaping his hands and running them over his body. When she did not answer, he called her name again, his worry tinting the sound and raising his voice slightly. "Scully?" "Mulder," was her only reply. He could not identify the tone of her voice. It was just... different. Bewildered, maybe. Sluicing water over his body and giving his head one last rinse, he shut the taps off and opened the shower door. Grabbing his towel from the rack to the right, he hurriedly swiped it over his face and head before wrapping it around his waist and stepping out of the stall onto the mat. His eyes immediately sought out and found Scully. She was a mere foot away, wearing her terry-cloth robe, her feet bare, and both hands were cupping her belly. The expression on her face could only be described as shell-shocked. He said her name again, one hand clutching his towel closed at his hip, the free one going up to her shoulder to grasp it gently. The action dislodged her loosely tied robe, and it gaped open, revealing that she was nude beneath it. "Scully, you're scaring me," he said. "Is something wrong?" "Wrong?" she repeated, almost stupidly. She gave a small shake of her head. "Um, no. No, nothing's wrong," she finally replied, and lifted her head to meet his eyes. Her next words stunned him completely and he lost his grip on the towel, feeling it fall to the floor. His mouth hung open slackly as he stared at her in shock. "My water broke." 6:45 am The shifting of the mattress, followed by the semi-quiet sounds of Mulder rising, awoke Scully. But in a vague, distant sort of way that she planned to ignore. And she actually did ignore it for an all-too brief moment, the one eye that had opened closing again as her head burrowed further into her pillow. It was when the pipes in her bathroom started their music for Mulder's shower that she felt the most unusual, indescribable sensation. One that urged her to rise. She did so slowly, reluctantly, gaining her feet with awkward, pregnancy-challenged motions, to stand waveringly beside the bed. Her left hand came up to smooth through her sleep-mussed hair, the right hand going to her belly in her long-habitual gesture to stroke over the tight, hard swell. Another odd feeling overcame her – a clinging, nearly choking feelg of restraint. A feeling of being weighted down, or that her skin was being smothered. It took her a moment to recognize it was due to her nightie. That was easily rectified. Lifting both hands, she quickly unbuttoned the row of tiny, pearl-like buttons on the bodice of the sleeveless gown, before pulling it over her head and tossing it onto the bed. Cool morning air caressed her nearly nude body, raising a rash of goosebumps that sent a tiny shiver throughout her. It was better without her nightgown, but not good enough. Hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her bikini panties, she shimmied them down her legs as far as she could without over-exerting herself, and then placed one palm on the mattress for balance to remove them completely. A flash of color- glistening, pale pink – on the white crotch of her panties caught her eye, and she looked down at the scrap of material on the floor. It was as she was staring stupidly at the evidence that her cervix had thinned and begun to dilate that her belly tightened suddenly. She lifted her hands to clutch at the unbelievable force, and an enormous gush from within stunned her. Warm, wet rivulets of amniotic fluid ran down her legs to puddle about her feet, and that little voice in the back of her mind absently noted that her bag of waters had ruptured. Blinking slowly, she realized she couldn't just stand there, she needed to...needed to...to do what? Get Mulder, the voice supplied. Oh. Mulder. She needed to tell Mulder. Scully opened her mouth to call him, and remembered he was in the shower. She'd have to go get him out of there. But she was naked, and all wet. That wasn't good. Her eyes scanned the room, not spying any towels. Of course there weren't any, she thought with a frown, she kept them in her tiny linen closet in the hall. Her eyes lit next upon the messed surface of her bed. But there was no way she was using the comforter, God knew if amniotic fluid stained or not. Grabbing her discarded nightie, uncaring as to whether it got stained or not, she took two steps back from the puddle of her water, and used the cloth to swipe at her legs and feet, huffing as she had to bend over to do so. She couldn't just leave the mess there like that, so she dropped the gown onto the floor and used one foot to move it around to soak the water up as best it could. That done, she started across the room to go to Mulder, and the breeze she felt then reminded her that she was naked, and a little chilled now. Her robe was at the foot of the bed, so she scooped it up and slid her arms into the sleeves. The belt was strangling her belly after she tied it, so she loosened it until it only barely held the robe closed, and left her room. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, and it moved silently when she pushed it open all the way. She entered into a warm, fragrant, steamy atmosphere, and the sight of Mulder's nude body behind the faceted glass of the shower door. The combination stopped her in her tracks. "Scully?" came Mulder's voice then, and it startled her. "Is everything okay?" Scully blinked. Without word or sound, he had known she was there. She forgot to reply as she mused about their undeniable bond, this incredible connection between them, and watched his hands move quickly over his body through the shower door. Her hands lifted of their own accord, moving to cup her belly once more. He called her name again, and the worry it contained knocked her mind free from whatever hold was upon it. Mostly. "Mulder," she said finally, and drew a blank, unable to find the words to tell him that her labor had begun. In moments Mulder had the water off and was stepping out of the shower, his towel around his waist. "Scully?" he asked again, and came to her, his hand coming up to squeeze her shoulder. Her hands fell away, and her robe, which had been on tenaciously at best, slipped free of its loose tethers and parted. "Scully, you're scaring me," he said then. "Is something wrong?" Scully knew she was frightening him, but her mind felt full of cotton. The tiny droplets of water that beaded his chest fascinated her, and she could only stare at them, and repeat his last word. "Wrong?" Her brain sluggishly tried to kick into gear, and she shook her head slightly to help clear the residual fog, and managed to say, "Um, no. No, nothing's wrong." She lifted her head to look into his eyes at last. The concern and caring – the fear – in the hazel orbs freed the last of her mind. "My water broke," she told him. Mulder gaped at her, his jaw slack with his obvious shock, and his towel fell to the floor with a soft plop. Scully's eyes followed it down, then traveled slowly back up along his damp, nude body. A silly giggle slipped from her mouth at the picture the two of them had to be presenting. Mulder's hair wetly spiked in every direction, naked as a jaybird, and her in a ratty robe that gaped open to reveal her own nude body with its distended belly. Which suddenly tightened and made her gasp. "Oh!" she exclaimed, and clutched at the swell again, fighting the urge to groan. Loudly. Gritting her teeth very tightly seemed to help. Sort of. "Was...was that a contraction?" Mulder asked, his face blanched white. "You're in labor?" he asked next, before she could reply to his first question. His hand came up, wavering slightly, and hovered in the air just above her belly. "Uhhhhh...huh," she got out between her teeth, bending slightly at the waist to try and ease the pressure within her womb. "Shit!" he exclaimed and she felt his hand come to rest lightly on the curve of her spine. "Do you need...can I help?" he asked, and as he bent over, his head knocked into hers. "Ouch!" "Ow!" she cried and took one hand off her belly to rub at her head instead. The contraction released her from its grip then, so she straightened. Unfortunately Mulder had not pulled away when their heads bumped, and they bumped again. Their cries of pain mingled together, and then his hands were all over her, touching her head, her face, her back, flitting over her belly. "Sorry, Scully, sorry, sorry," he was muttering. She couldn't help it; she had the urge to giggle again. She did, and saw his head come up to stare at her in baffled shock, his eyes wide, barely blinking. "Mulder, it's okay," she told him. "Just a bump. Besides, I think we have more important things to worry about." Her hand gestured towards her belly with that last sentence,and got another comical reaction from him. Mulder's gulp was very audible, and she swore he paled even further. His Adam's apple bobbed as he attempted to speak, managing to sputter out, "Shit!" He straightened, his hands going up to rake through his hair, and looked rather wildly around the bathroom. For what, she did not know. She was pretty sure he'd also forgotten he was naked. Remembering she was too, she shook her head and gathered the sides of her robe together, holding them closed with one hand. The other went to support her back, which was starting to ache, and she turned to leave the bathroom. Seeing him so scrambled and uncertain had been just what her brain had needed to finally get into gear. "Scully!" Mulder cried. "What...where are you going?" He moved – to help her through the door, she thought – and end ed up squeezing her into the doorjamb as he pushed past her. He then planted himself firmly in front of her, blocking her way to the bedroom, his body almost vibrating with his tension. "To get my things for my shower," she answered calmly. "I don't know about you, but I'm not going to the hospital like this." Although it certainly was a nice view, she added silently, quickly eyeing the expanse of bare flesh he was flashing her. "Huh?" he asked, and then looked down at himself. The tips of his ears turned adorably red, and he made a strangled noise, "Garghhhh," and then he was bolting into her bedroom, once again treating her eyes to another fine view – that of the flexing muscles of his beautiful ass. Scully waddled along behind him and entered her room to see him hopping about on one foot, struggling to pull a sock on. With each hop he took, a certain part of his anatomy bobbed in an entirely amusing way. She hid her smile and moved over to the dresser to get clean underwear and a comfortable, loose, stretched tee shirt to take back to the bathroom. She hoped the heat and the water would help with her backache. She also hoped her labor was going to be a quick one, but was realistic enough to know it could be a very long day. 7:30 am Mulder could not understand how Scully could be so damn calm. She was actually in the bathroom blow-drying her hair, for Frohike's sake! After dropping her little bombshell about being in labor, she had proceeded to take a shower – a long shower, he might add – and then take her sweet time getting dressed. The debate over which pair of maternity tights would be most comfortable had confounded him, as had her announcement that she had to do her hair and make-up. What the hell did she need make-up for? He had asked her precisely that, and received one of her patented 'Mulder don't be an ass' looks she excelled at, and said, "Mulder, just because I'm in labor does not mean I have to look like I just rolled out of bed." He still wasn't sure if her reply had been a dig at his own appearance, freshly showered or not. But he had gone back to the bathroom anyway, to tame his hair and retrieve his jeans. After pausing to watch Scully, musing that she had appropriated one of his tee shirts and stretched it all to hell, as she smoothed cream on her face and neck, he returned to her bedroom. The track pants he was wearing, complete with obligatory hole in the knee, were exchanged for the jeans and then returned to the pile of his dirty laundry in the corner. Which was where he had grabbed them from in his haste to get dressed and get Scully to the hospital. Remembering that haste, Mulder lifted his left arm to glance at his watch, and found it missing. Not surprisingly, considering the state of his mind since said bombshell had been dropped, he found it strapped on his right wrist instead. He didn't bother to switch it to the correct arm, merely resumed the pacing he had started when the sound of the blow dryer had reached his ears, his feet quickly navigating the small stretch of hardwood floor in Scully's bedroom. Shouldn't they get going? What if the baby decided to come now? There was no way he could deliver it by himself, not even with the fact that Scully had gone over emergency procedures with him, just in case she had said with complete faith that it would not be so, and that he would be able to handle it, several times over the last week. Just as he was about to go check on her again, Scully walked into the room. Her hair was neatly arranged in its usual style, and as far as he could tell, her face was still unadorned. In particular, the beauty mark above her lip – long a favored spot of his – was uncovered, and he was glad. He had never understood why she felt it necessary to disguise it, though he had never asked her the reason. Scully caught his gaze and smiled slightly, easily discerning his thoughts. "You were expecting war paint, Mulder?" she asked. Before he could reply with a question of his own – what had she meant by make-up, for it seemed she wore none – her smile turned to a frown, her eyebrows knitting in concentration. Or pain. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and watched as she bent at the waist and brought her hands up to clutch at her belly. "Ooooh," she moaned out. His entire body went cold. He moved to her side, unsure of what to do, or whether his touch would be welcomed or repelled. Hesitantly he settled his hand on her lower back, and he interpreted the sound she made then to be one of relief. Feeling bold, and now not quite as useless as a green Quantico graduate sent on his first case, he tentatively began to rub her back in the tiny circles he had learned soothed her best, hearing her faintly huffing, "Hee, hee, hoo," as she breathed through her contraction. The sound reminded him of their brief attempt at attending Pre-Natal classes together. He could still hear the rest of the class, nine couples in all including he and Scully, 'hee-hee-hooing' in unison while Scully tried to ignore his snorting, muffled laughter and concentrate on the exercise. That first class together had also been the last. Fortunately there had only been two remaining after Scully had decided they would not attend any longer, and she hadn't seemed overly disturbed about missing them. He had apologized profusely all the way home; until Scully had surprised him by suddenly bursting out laughing before telling him how ridiculous she had felt there. Her breathing got a little louder, and it pulled him away from his thoughts. "Uh, Scully. This is your second contraction, right? Shouldn't we be going to the hospital now?" he asked quietly. The sounds she made were rather hypnotic, and Mulder found himself breathing softly along with her, "Hee hee hoo. Hee hee hoo." "Fourth," Scully huffed out, managing to sound faintly amused even with the rather undignified response, and then she exhaled noisily. Straightening up, she continued with, "That was my fourth contraction. They're about 10 minutes apart, and lasting about 45 seconds to one minute. And it's a bit too soon to go to the hospital, Mulder." Mulder felt like smacking himself in the forehead. Scully had told him that when her labor started, they would need to keep track of the frequency and duration of each contraction. Thank goodness Scully was on the ball, he didn't seem to be of much help as of yet. Other than maybe being around for comedic purposes, he thought with an internal self-depreciating groan, recalling his naked sock dance of not too long ago. Though he supposed if he could make her smile, or take away her back pain, it was a job well done. The second part of her reply registered. "Well when do we go to the hospital then?" he asked. Since hearing the 'L' word, his mind had one focus, and one focus only. Get Scully to the hospital. At least he had that part of his 'job' straight. As long as he didn't crash the car or anything on the way, that is. "When the contractions are 5 minutes apart," she told him. Ah. That told him to next to nothing. "So, any idea when that will be?" he queried next, trying to pin down some sort of definitive answer. "After me, you'll be the first to know," was her smart-ass reply, although she did punctuate it with a nice little pat on his derriere and a smile as she turned to leave the bedroom. Still not much help. Shoulders slumping, he hastened after her, calling, "So what do we do now?" Hoping he didn't sound as whiny as he thought he did. He had to love her reply. Really, he did have to love it. She was the mother of his child. "We wait." Mulder's Car Scully could feel Mulder's eyes on her as she breathed through her latest contraction, but she had no time to spare him a glance, or offer reassurance. She was too busy concentrating on the license plate of the car in front of them, which was her current focal point, and trying to hold back the grunt that was fighting to escape her lungs. He wisely held his tongue. It had taken him quite a while, but he had finally recognized and understood her need for silence and peace as she had walked through each contraction, slowly and methodically traversing her entire apartment. With him right at her heels at first, of course. Until there had been one too many instances where they had bumped into each other and he had gotten the hint that he was more of a hindrance than help. And now that they were in his car, heading to the hospital on her doctor's instructions, she was unable to move about, and needed to be undisturbed, as much as was possible anyway, more than ever. The contraction released her from its grasp, and Scully exhaled heavily in relief, sagging slightly. The hand that had been gripping the shoulder strap of her seatbelt relaxed, and she felt the blood rush into her fingers, making them ache. Her other hand remained steady on her belly, rubbing in tiny circles. A muttered curse from Mulder had her looking outside the front windshield, seeing their surroundings for the first time in a long minute. Traffic. Bumper-to-bumper, with no escape. A horrifying vision formed in her mind – she in the back seat of the car, legs sprawled wide open, panting and heaving with the effort to expel the baby from her body, while Mulder looked on with panicked eyes. She scrunched her own eyes shut. Nononononono. That was not going to happen. This baby was going to be born in the hospital, with her in a proper birthing room on a proper bed, with Dr. Newall attending and nurses aplenty, and soft music playing in the background, and a calm, rational Mulder at her side. Involuntarily she also squeezed her legs tightly shut, as if to ensure the baby would not attempt to leave right there and then. Wincing at the discomfort that caused, she forced herself to relax and open her eyes again. And to take slow, deep, even breaths. Calming breaths. Okay, that was better. She glanced over at Mulder and frowned. He was still mumbling curses under his breath, his hands clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel. So much for calm and rational. But there was always her mother. Her mother. Oh, God. Did they call her mother? The memory of her mother's voice, excited and thrilled and happy through the telephone line, settled her heartbeat, which had accelerated in alarm. Yes, they had called her mother. And Skinner. And Doggett. And the Gunmen. And they had her bag, in the trunk. God, she had to stop doing this to herself. She needed to stay calm and focused. Getting worked up about something beyond their control would not help matters. Besides, her contractions were still only about seven minutes apart. More deep, slow breaths, similar to the breathing technique she had been utilizing during her contractions. They actually worked. "Mulder," she said then, reaching out to touch his upper arm, feeling the muscles tightly bunched beneath her fingers. "Relax. We have plenty of time." His head whipped to the side, his eyes boring into hers. They were wild and dark. "But Dr. Newall wants you there for observation." "Dr. Newall's just being precautionary, Mulder. Everything's fine. This labor could go on for hours and hours." God, I hope not, she added silently. "I could call an ambulance on my cell," he offered then, still studying her. She smiled at him, and watched as he visibly relaxed, his hands falling from the wheel to land in his lap. "We're fine, Mulder. All three of us." "We're fine," he echoed, and exhaled heavily. "Okay, we're fine. That's good." He scanned the road ahead of the car, straightening up and craning his neck for a moment, before slumping back into his seat. "And apparently not going anywhere for some time," he added, with a touch of sarcasm. "Well then, you'll just have to keep me entertained, won't you?" she teased, reaching out again to touch his arm, stroking her hand up and down the warm, bare flesh. "Here, Scully? Now?" he asked in a falsetto, bringing his free hand up to his chest in mock surprise. "You hussy, you!" She merely shook her head at him. "Not like that, Mulder, thank-you very much. Talk to me." He grinned at her, and then sobered up. "What do you want to talk about, Scully?" "I don't know, Mulder," she said. "Anything." She pursed her lips and then slowly added, "An interesting case story. A good memory from your childhood. What sex you think the baby is." He had made a face when she mentioned a case story, and another one when she had said a childhood memory. But his eyes and mouth had gone soft when she had said the word 'baby'. His voice was low, and slightly hesitant when he replied. "I've had dreams of us with both a baby boy and a baby girl, and they both feel right." He turned his hand when hers made its next pass along his wrist, until they were clasped together. "A little girl with your eyes and light brown hair with hints of red. Your nose. My curiosity and our determination." She saw the little girl as he described her; only her eyes were his beautiful hazel. And hard on their daughter's heels was a dark-haired, hazel-eyed boy chasing after her with that determination Mulder had mentioned. She cleared her throat, which had become clogged with unshed tears, and husked, "I see a dark-haired boy, a little Mulder, chasing after that little girl." "Ugh," he said, grimacing and putting on an exaggerated shudder. "Don't spoil it with an image of a little mini-Mulder, please." Although the words were seemingly said jokingly, she heard the truth behind them. "Mulder," she said, shocked. "How can you say that?" "I -," he started to say, then stopped. He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know. I guess because I wasn't...I wasn't the greatest of kids, Scully." Her mind suddenly flashed back to a day not so long ago at the Bakersfield Chronic Care Home. To a moment by the window in Fox's room as the two of them flipped through the pages of a book. The Best Book of Spaceships. She had that book, and the others she had bought him, tucked away in her closet. Maybe one day she and Mulder would read it to their son. Or daughter. Or maybe even one of each. Somehow, with all the excitement of his recovery, and her return to work, and then her near scare with the baby, she and Mulder had never talked about what had happened after he had first awoken from his coma. Was now the appropriate time to bring it up? She cleared her throat again. "You've forgotten, Mulder, that I've met you as a little boy." 9:25 am Shit, Mulder thought, barely managing to contain the expletive. Traffic. Lots and lots of traffic. He couldn't even get Scully to the hospital without incident. Just like he had pessimistically predicted. Even if a major traffic jam was beyond his control. Although, he had to admit, traffic was infinitely preferable to a car accident. Unless one considered the fact that he was in no way prepared to deliver their child in the back seat of the car. Or any seat for that matter. He thanked whichever deity was looking over his shoulder at the moment and keeping Scully's contractions fairly far apart. He hoped they had no intention of speeding up any time soon. Though with his luck, she'd start crowning, or whatever the hell they called it, right there and then. The thought sent a shudder throughout his body. This time his curse leaked out, though it was muttered quietly under his breath. Mulder had been feeling extremely superfluous back at Scully's apartment. Nervous, worried, and excited, he knew he had been continually in Scully's way. But he had been unable to help himself. A momentous occasion was happening, and he wanted to be a very big part of it. Finally on their way to the hospital as per instruction from Dr. Newall, he had instead started to feel important, needed - necessary. He had a purpose. Carrying her overnight bag and ensuring she made it safely out to the car, and then being her chauffeur, true. But purpose nonetheless. And here they were. Stuck. And here he was – purposeless. Helpless. Hopeless. His hands squeezed the steering wheel as he imagined revving the engine of their fully loaded, brand spanking new 4X4 – totally equipped with monster truck tires – and driving it up and over the other cars, clearing their way to the hospital. Unfortunately, the 4X4 was just that, part of his imagination, a pipe dream. The traffic was not a dream. It was a horrible, horrible reality. And it was not budging. Their car had not even moved an inch in the last couple of minutes. Oh, this was so not good. The 'what ifs' were starting to set up camp in his mind, and they seemed like they were mighty comfortable there. What if the baby came now, as in the very next minutes? What if something was wrong with the baby? What if something happened to Scully? It was not until Scully's fingers touched his arm did he realize he had been muttering an almost continual string of curses beneath his breath. His arm flexed involuntarily at the contact, and when she told him to relax, that they had plenty of time, his head turned so fast it actually made him slightly dizzy. Despite her calm tone, the desperation was obvious in his voice. "But Dr. Newall wants you there for observation." She continued her attempt at soothing him, and he had to marvel at that – the pregnant woman stuck in traffic while in labor was calming him, instead of vice versa. Scully was an incredible woman. At the same time, the words 'hours and hours' had him wondering which aspect was more frightening – a long labor, or delivering the baby in the car. Mulder tried some levity – offering to call an ambulance on his cell phone. Only half-jokingly too, he was ready to do it if she said the word. She did not however, merely smiled instead, and said, "We're fine, Mulder. All three of us." Her smile calmed him at last, and he released his stranglehold on the steering wheel, letting his hands drop to his lap. He repeated her, "We're fine. Okay, we're fine. That's good." Still, he couldn't help trying to get a look ahead, hoping to see the cars in front of them actually moving again. No such luck. His sarcastic side shone through then. "And apparently not going anywhere for some time," he remarked. He shifted the car into park, moving his foot from the brakes. Scully ran her hand up and down his arm, and the contact felt good. Her next comment, about him keeping her entertained, increased the feeling, and he couldn't resist teasing her, calling her a hussy. She did not get angry, but she did not laugh either. She asked him to talk to her, with emphasis on the word 'talk'. He matched her sober tone when he asked, "What do you want to talk about, Scully?" He couldn't help the frown that twisted his lips when she mentioned a case story, or the next one at the mention of a childhood memory. But when she asked what sex he thought the baby was, it left him with a warm, tender feeling. He'd tried to picture what their child might look like so many times, had poured over Mulder and Scully family albums for hours, had even dreamed of little girls that looked exactly like Scully, and even of boys that resembled her. But he'd had no feelings of intuition. No sort of 'spooky' sixth sense. And it didn't matter; because of course he would love it no matter its sex. He spoke slowly, finding his words as he tried to explain his train of thought. "I've had dreams of us with both a baby boy and a baby girl, and they both feel right." Her hand had continued to stroke his arm, and when she moved along his wrist, he turned his hand until their fingers were entwined. He rambled on, his voice still low, "A little girl with your eyes and light brown hair with hints of red. Your nose." He wouldn't wish his nose on any child. "My curiosity and our determination." A trait he had recognized and come to admire in himself, and one he had admired in both of them. Scully sounded a little water-logged when she said, "I see a dark-haired boy, a little Mulder, chasing after that little girl." For some reason, a replica of himself did not appeal to him. He'd much rather see a carbon copy of Scully - for he loved her every feature - or maybe a child with the best of both their features. Again he was semi- serious when he said, "Ugh. Don't spoil it with an image of a little mini-Mulder, please." He could hear the shock in Scully's response, asking him how he could say that. It was something he wasn't sure he could explain. There were deep-rooted fears inside him, regarding some of his less than admirable traits, and those of his father. Fears that he was not yet ready to face. "I -" he began, and wasn't sure of what to say. He exhaled heavily, lifting his shoulders in a gesture that bespoke of his confusion and difficulty, and said, "I don't know. I guess because I wasn't...I wasn't the greatest of kids, Scully." He hadn't been looking at her, but now he turned his head slightly, still ducked down, to peer at her from beneath his brows. She had been facing him, twisted a little in her seat, but her eyes now seemed to look inward. She seemed melancholy, lost in her thoughts, and he wasn't sure if they were good ones or bad ones. After a moment or two, Scully cleared her throat and said, "You've forgotten, Mulder, that I've met you as a little boy." It was totally unexpected. Way out from left field, and nearly beyond his comprehension. Baffling. His head snapped up, and he gaped at her. "What?" he blurted out. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. She was talking about when he had awakened from his coma. He remembered her words with a sudden chill. 'Mentally, you were a child'. Before he could say anything else, Scully spoke again. "When you came out of your coma, a couple weeks after you were found, I was there with you at the hospital. The first thing you asked me was if I was your mother." Her voice was hoarse, and low, and her fingers were restless in his grasp. He squeezed them, both offering and drawing comfort from the contact. It was also a wordless plea for her to continue. In the back of his mind, he was trying to imagine how she must have felt to hear those words coming from him, but yet not really him, and could not. In a way he was glad when she didn't go into much detail about her reactions and feelings then. He sensed that she couldn't. Maybe someday they would both be able to discuss it further. "After my initial shock, and several days had passed and it became apparent your ...condition might be permanent, I had to make some difficult decisions regarding your health care. Physically you were very weak, with muscle deterioration from your abduction, and the hospital wasn't really equipped to deal with all your needs. So I found a chronic care home for you. I visited as much as I could, and had the Gunmen and Walter and my mother come as well. You were getting better physically, but your mental condition did not change." Hearing her relate the story was quite painful. He imagined living it must have been hell. His neck was tight, as was his jaw, from holding himself so stiffly. He couldn't help it. He knew too that his face was probably a blank mask, the one he hid behind when he was forced to deal with difficult things. Scully made an odd sound then, kind of choked and angry, and he looked at her again, having apparently looked away at some point, although he could not recall doing so. She was blinking rapidly, her eyes wet, and her face was sad. "When I said that, about having met you as a child, I hadn't...I didn't mean to bring us both down like this. I was trying to tell you about what you were like as the boy I met. Fox." She brought her free hand up to scrub at her eyes, sniffling. "Even while my heart was breaking because I had lost you, I had this incredible little boy in your man's body. You were funny and end earing and sweet, and all I could do was think about whether our baby would be a boy, and if he would be like you." Her eyes closed then, scrunched tight, and her head dropped. The hand that had wiped her eyes moved to cover part of her face, and she tugged at the one in his hold, obviously intending to bring it to her face as well. A futile tug, for he would not release it, would not let her hide behind her hands. "Scully," he said. Then could think of nothing more. He swallowed the lump in his throat and finally said, "It's okay, Scully. Come here." It was his turn to tug at her hand. With his superior strength, plus some careful maneuvering of his own body, he managed to pull her into his arms, in an awkward hug. Mulder rocked her, hearing her sniffle again, and feeling her body fight her tears. He felt a little emotional himself. A sudden loud blasting of a car horn had them both jolting. They separated slowly, Scully shifting more fully onto her own seat. Mulder looked out the front windshield and saw that the traffic jam had cleared. Another honk came from behind him, so he hurriedly straightened in his seat, shifted the car into drive, and tapped the gas pedal. Beside him, Scully began to breathe through another contraction. Georgetown University Medical Center Her labor had finally started to progress, rather quickly actually, for which Scully was eternally grateful. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and wanted the baby out – to finally see her child at long last, and so that she could get some much-needed sleep. Now in transition, her last exam had shown she was eight centimeters dilated. Her contractions were roughly two minutes apart, steadily increasing in intensity, and she was no longer comfortable standing or walking. Fortunately, the intermittent attacks of uncontrollable shivering, or 'the shakes' as the nurses had pragmatically termed them, had not lasted long. Those had been unnerving for both she and Mulder. Mulder. He had become an unbelievable tower of strength. Somewhere in between the babbling, nervous wreck he had been back at her apartment after she had told him her water had broke, the traffic jam on the way, and arriving at the hospital to be admitted around 10:30 am, he had done a complete 180. He was calm, supportive, and not at all offended whenever she got grumpy and started calling him every bad name she had ever heard. And he took it in stride when her grip on his hand became bruising, teasing her with comical winces and expressions of pain. She apologized after each round of course, and he merely kissed her forehead or stroked her hair, or fed her ice chips. He had left the room a few minutes ago on an ice run, and her mother had come in to keep her company. She was regaling Scully with her own childbirth experiences, although keeping her stories light and cheerful. Scully knew better however, she had heard many a time how her mother had been in labor for 36 hours for Bill's birth, and anywhere from 12 to 18 hours for Melissa's, hers' and Charlie's births. Thankfully that did not seem like it would be the case for this particular birth. Another contraction was already building, coiling from deep inside, radiating out from her lower back. Tensing up was an automatic instinct, and Scully forced herself to relax, to breathe slowly and deeply. But her clasp on the hand in hers remained tight, and she caught the wince her mother did not or could not conceal. Scully sent a silent apology with her eyes, unable to speak in her fierce concentration, and her mother smiled gently, giving her hand a squeeze in return. She also panted along with her, and in the back of Scully's mind it was rather comical to see her do so. They huffed together through the contraction, and both of them sighed in relief when it was finally over. Scully released her mother's hand, frowning in sympathy and regret as her mother rubbed it with her other fingers. "Dana?" It was Traci, one of her nurses, speaking softly. She had quietly approached on soft-soled shoes, and reached out to touch Scully's arm gently. "I need to check you again, okay?" Scully nodded, and rolled with care onto her back. She had earlier found it much more comfortable to lie on her side, rotating from one to the other every so often, with Mulder or her mother adjusting the pillow along her spine when she did so. But she could not be examined that way, so she had to move. Her mother smoothed her hand along Scully's forehead and said, "I'll wait outside and be right back, honey." With her blanket-clad knees now up and her legs spread, Scully could not see her mother exit the room. However, she did hear the soft swish of the door as it opened and closed. Her mother had left the room each and every time a nurse or Dr. Newall had come in, despite Scully's protestations that it was unnecessary for her to leave. Scully stared up at the ceiling, studying the stained spot on one tile that she decided vaguely resembled the boot of Italy, and grimaced slightly as Traci's capable hands carried out their task. It wasn't painful exactly, but it was not pleasant either. The door swished open again, and then she heard a gasp that was distinctly Mulder's. One of either embarrassment or shock. "Oh, geez, Scully, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed next. "I...uh...I'll just wait outside." "Mulder!" she called, smiling despite the discomfort of the examination between her legs. "It's all right. Come in, you don't have to leave." After the number of people who had walked in her room, including a male janitor and two lost candy stripers, Scully was fairly certain both John and Walter, and all three Gunmen, could walk in right there and then, and she wouldn't care. Dignity had been thrown out the window after the first examination had been carried out with two medical students in attendance. She could almost sense the hesitation in Mulder's steps as he proceeded into the room, and a second later he was at her side, studiously ignoring what was going on below her waist. She was tempted to remind him he had seen it all before, particularly up close and way more personally, but held back. She didn't want to mock the fact that he was being considerate of any feelings of shame regarding her exposure, despite the fact she had none whatsoever right now. Instead, she smiled at him. "Hey, Scully," he said, the corners of his lips lifting in a smile of his own. One hand came up to stroke through her hair. "How are you doing?" Before she could reply, Traci was gently removing each of her legs from the stirrups. She readjusted the covers after, and then looked up to smile at Scully. "Nine centimeters," she reported. "You're doing wonderfully. I'll be back in a little bit, okay?" It was just after Traci left the room that things went wild. An alarm rang stridently. Loudly. The door flew open, Traci running back into the room. The next thing Scully knew, her bed was slanted at a 20-degree angle, with her head lower than her legs, and an oxygen mask had been strapped on her face. She was aware of more people entering the room, and through her mounting fear, Scully could hear Dr. Newall being paged to Labor and Delivery STAT. Her hands came up and she clutched at Mulder as he leaned over her, staring wild-eyed and panicked into her face. 3:40 pm Mulder yawned widely, his jaws cracking with the effort, and rubbed at his eyes before reaching out to open the ice machine for another refill of ice chips. He could not believe how tired he was. He who had often sat on 14 to 16-hour stakeouts, or traipsed through dense forest on elusive quests with unflagging energy and zeal, was exhausted from watching Scully struggle to bring forth their child. Whoever had termed the process of childbirth as 'labor' had done so aptly. He now had a newfound greater respect not only for Scully, but also for all women who had borne children, or planned to. On his return journey down the hallway back to Scully's room, large Styrofoam cup of ice chips in one hand, he saw Mrs. Scully exit the room. The dark-haired woman paused briefly, arching her back into her palms in a mini-stretch, and then moved off, away from Mulder. She had apparently not seen him approaching. Mulder knew she was as tired as he, so he did not call out to her. Nearing the door, he attempted to shake off the lethargic feeling that was close to overwhelming him. Scully did not need to see him dragging his ass while she was the one doing all the work. Plastering a pleasant, 'supportive man' expression on his face, he headed in. And then stopped dead in his tracks, his breath escaping in a noisy, grunt-like gasp. At some point in his sordid, pornographic-filled past, and with Scully now in his life he hadn't needed his movies, magazines or 1-900 calls for some time, something like this had once been one of his fantasies. Okay, it still was a fantasy; just one he knew had absolutely zero chance of being fulfilled. But this was not quite how he had pictured it happening. "Oh, geez, Scully, I'm sorry!" he managed to get out, feeling like the bumbling fool of earlier that morning. Why hadn't he knocked first? Or realized this was why Mrs. Scully had left the room without waiting for him to return? The two of them had made a pact when Scully had first been admitted, to not leave her alone if it could be at all avoided. "I...uh...I'll just wait outside." "Mulder!" Scully called to him, her voice sounding a little strained. And who could blame her? That brief glimpse he had gotten before he had averted his eyes had shown that whatever the nurse was doing was definitely not pleasant. "It's all right," she continued. "Come in, you don't have to leave." Oh, but Scully, I would really rather leave, he thought. At least until the nurse was finished. He'd come right back in then. Before, when either Dr. Newall or one of the nurses, usually the very friendly and helpful Traci, had examined Scully, he'd already been in the room, and had kept himself distracted from the goings-on by amusing Scully. But walking in while one was in progress was very different, and much harder to ignore. Why the hell did they have the foot of the bed pointed directly at the door? The door through which an odd assortment of people had already entered on several occasions. He walked stiff-legged to the head of the bed, focusing his eyes on her face, and her face alone. "Hey, Scully," he said, seeing her smile at him. That was enough to make him smile; forgetting all about what he had unintentionally interrupted. He lifted his free hand to run it through her hair, still amazingly silky soft and rather neat, despite the workout she had been through so far. The incredibly amazing, rapid-fire sound of the baby's heartbeat, loud in the small room, caught his attention yet again, and he looked away from her face for a minute to glance at the fetal monitor. The heart rate ebbed and flowed with each of Scully's contractions, and had a reassuring and hypnotic quality that held him rapt. He remained in awe of the sound, could not stop himself from thinking every so often 'That's our baby'. Movement from the foot of the bed had him shifting his gaze again, pulling his attention from the monitor, to see that Traci was apparently finished. She had put Scully's legs back down and was adjusting the blankets. The nurse smiled then and said, "Nine centimeters. You're doing wonderfully. I'll be back in a little bit, okay?" She left the room, and all hell broke loose. The alarm that was now sounding drowned out the fetal monitor, and had his own heart rate skyrocketing. He dropped the cup of ice chips and crammed himself against the bed, leaning over Scully, meeting her eyes. She looked as frightened as he felt, and her hands came up to grab at him. Traci came flying back in, followed by two other nurses, and in seconds they had Scully's bed cranked to some weird position, so that her legs were now elevated higher than her head, and someone had slipped an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose. He was aware of Dr. Newall being paged, and knew from the word 'STAT' that something was very wrong. Traci came up to Scully on the other side of the bed, leaning over to quickly say, "Dana, the baby's heart rate dropped. But I need you to stay calm for me, okay?" At those words, Mulder's heart nearly stopped. The room and the world itself warped into some strange, distorted reality, where time had slowed and felt oddly unreal. When Scully's nails dug into his flesh, he welcomed the pain, for it brought him back to himself. He shuddered, and made himself look to where the medical staff had huddled between Scully's spread legs, back in the stirrups. Dr. Newall had come in at some point, unseen by him, and was rapping out orders with the skill and precision of a drill sergeant. Traci came back to the head of the bed after what seemed like forever, but was probably actually only a minute, and leaned over, one hand stroking Scully's hair back from her forehead. "Dana, the baby was in distress, but he or she is fine now. When you rolled over onto your back, somehow the umbilical cord was being compressed, cutting off the blood flow, which lowered the baby's blood pressure and heart rate. We're going to monitor you both quite carefully from here on in." She gently removed the oxygen mask, and a moment later was slowly lowering the bed back into normal position. Dr. Newall had come to stand beside Traci. Scully was still breathing rather rapidly, as was he, and her face had not yet regained its usual color. "Are you sure?" she panted out, looking from Traci to Dr. Newall. Mulder did the same, scrutinizing both their faces for any telltale signs of worry. "I'm sure, Dana," Traci said softly. "Everything is just fine." "It is, Dana," Dr. Newall said. "That was quite a scare, but I'm confident if we keep you on your side, the problem will be avoided." She smiled and then said, "You're progressing quite nicely, almost at 10 centimeters. I don't think it will be much longer now." She patted Scully's leg and said, "I wont be far." With that, the doctor left the room. His legs went rubbery with relief, and he was glad he had the support of the bed to keep him upright. "Let's get you on your side, okay?" Traci said then. Scully sucked in a shaky, noisy, deep breath and blew it out, then nodded her head. Mulder helped the nurse roll Scully onto her right side, facing him, and Traci tucked the pillow in behind her. A contraction started, and while he breathed with Scully, Traci rubbed her back and talked her through it. Scully's face pinkened with her efforts as her hand tightened on his. Her mouth was twisted in a grimace, and he imagined her teeth grinding together. Softly he said, "Doing great, Scully." He inhaled and exhaled with her and then continued his hopefully soothing patter with, "Breathe, baby. In and out, that's it." When the contraction was over, Traci said she'd be right back, and left the room. Scully licked her lips, and Mulder looked ruefully down at the mess of ice chips on the floor, wishing he had some to offer her. There was no way he was leaving her side again, unless physically pulled away. And it would take quite a few big, burly men to do so. At that moment Mrs. Scully came in, and over to stand beside him. She was as pale as Scully had been, her eyes worried. "Fox? Dana? Is everything okay? I heard them page Dr. Newall while I was walking, and when I hurried back here, they wouldn't let me come in." "We're okay, Mom," Scully said, in a tired-sounding voice. Mulder added, "The baby was in distress, but Traci said everything's fine now, and that they're monitoring them both very carefully." He looked down at the mess again, kicking some of the slushy mess to the side with his foot. "Mrs. Scully?" he asked. "Would you mind grabbing some more ice chips for Sc...Dana? I dropped the cup." "Of course, dear," she said. She touched Scully's fingers, and then left on her mission. Scully had released his hand when the contraction end ed, and he brought it up to cup her face, his thumb moving caressingly along her cheekbone. He knew he probably shouldn't talk about it, but he couldn't help it. "Jesus, Scully," he said, and then stopped, his body going cold as he remembered the stark fear he had experienced. "I know," she whispered, and let out a shaky breath. He watched her eyes start to water, and then as she squeezed them shut. "Oh, baby, shhhh," he crooned. He leaned down until his forehead was touching hers lightly. "I'm sorry. It's okay. The baby's fine, you're okay." "Oh, God, Mulder," she gritted out. "I know, baby, it's okay. Shhhh," he said again. "No, Mulder," she said. "I meant...OHHHHHH!...Oh God, here's another contraction!" Her voice rose on the end , and her hand scrambled for his, squeezing with the most strength by far. "That was pretty quick, wasn't it?" he asked, his own voice a little high and breathless. She really had a strong grip. "Uhhhh..." was her only answer. 3:55 pm The latest contraction had completely sapped the remainder of her strength, coming right on the heels of such a fearful, adrenaline- surging incident. Her mind, however, remained very active. The problems earlier in her pregnancy, then later the cramping and spotting after Mulder had returned, and the most recent of all – the partial abruption – had all been frightening, in varying degrees. But when the alarm had gone off her panic had been immeasurable. And then when she had heard those words 'the baby's heart rate dropped', Scully had thought her own heart would stop. Now, as Mulder rubbed his thumb over her cheek and stared at her with eyes that still held traces of his panic, she understood why the nurses and Dr. Newall had reacted with such speed, changing the positioning of her bed and slipping the oxygen mask on without word or explanation, but at the time, their actions had been absolutely terrifying. For both she and Mulder. She felt completely drained now, and so very, very thirsty. Yet the thought of drinking made her nauseous, and had since her labor had begun in earnest, which was why she had been consuming ice chips at a surprising rate. Her mother had not yet returned with another refill. "Jesus, Scully," Mulder said then. That was all, but she understood exactly what he was trying to convey, knew exactly how he felt. "I know," she whispered to him, and breathed out shakily. Tears had been hovering, on the brink of welling, and now they did, stinging her eyes. She squeezed them tightly shut, to stop the tears from falling, and to ease the sting. "Oh, baby, shhhh," Mulder murmured with such tenderness that if she had not already been in tears, she would have cried. His forehead touched hers as he leaned over her, and he continued with, "I'm sorry. It's okay. The baby's fine, you're okay." The staccato sound of their baby's rapid heartbeat was a background noise under his soothing patter, as the next contraction began to build, so soon after the last one. "Oh, God, Mulder," she got out through achingly tight, clenched teeth. There was a new feeling to this contraction, a pressure of sorts on her rectum. It left her with the urge to bear down. To push. "I know, baby, it's okay. Shhhh," he said again. "No, Mulder," she said. "I meant...OHHHHHH!...Oh God, here's another contraction!" Her voice sounded high and breathless to her own ears, rising even more at the end of her sentence. She needed to hold onto something, and she searched blindly for his hand. Finding it, she clasped his fingers with an iron grip, knowing she was probably squashing them painfully. "That was pretty quick, wasn't it?" Mulder asked, the tight, high, pained tone of his voice confirming that she was indeed close to crushing them. She could also hear a touch of fear and excitement in his words. Their baby was coming. She could only respond with, "Uhhhh..." unable to say any more than that. She very briefly flicked her gaze to his eyes, and then returned it to his nose. It was her focal point, for she had found staring into his eyes, at all the emotions there, to be too much of a distraction. Mulder's voice was soft as he coached her through the contraction, uttering gentle commands. "Breathe, Scully. That's it." His voice was not a distraction. It was very welcomed, and needed. It helped her to keep focused. It was also a relief, and a reminder, that he was actually there with her. For the one thing she had feared so very much during his abduction and his hospitalization was that he would not be able to see the birth of their child, and that she would have to go through it without him. Alone. Mulder's free hand was stroking her forehead and through her hair, over and over again, slowly and rhythmically. The motion was also very welcomed, and extremely soothing. She thought about his other hand, how his fingers had to be feeling, and she loosened her grip slightly, hoping it helped. She caught a glimpse of his lips moving into a smile, and knew it had. Scully was vaguely aware of the door opening, and the sounds of footsteps. A second later she heard Traci's gentle voice commenting, "Well, you certainly are moving along, aren't you? I'd say you're definitely in transition and fully dilated now." More footsteps, and then the nurse was at Scully's other side, her hands rubbing Scully's lower back. "That's it, Dana. Breathe and try to relax. Don't clench your jaw. Relax it. Remember that causes your pelvic floor to relax?" If she'd had any spare energy, and was not deep in the midst of a contraction, she would have laughed as the memory of Mulder asking her about kegel exercises popped into her head. She had explained that they were beneficial for both during and after the birth of the baby, and he had teasingly asked for a demonstration. This had been before they had been advised to abstain from sex, and she had grabbed him and dragged him into her bedroom to show him one of the benefits of kegels, one that had nothing to do with birthing a baby. "Uh-huh," Scully groaned. "I remember." That strange feeling near her rectum was increasing, and she shifted restlessly, wanting to sit up, to draw her legs up towards her chest. And push. She huffed a few times, and then panted out, "I feel...like I need...to push." "I'll get Dr. Newall," Traci said. Rapid footsteps and another swish of the door signaled her exit. 4:15 pm Scully was incredible. The thought was continually in Mulder's head, and he had told her, and anyone who would listen, that same thing repeatedly in the last little while. In return, he received the ghost of smiles from Scully as she huffed and panted her way through her contractions, and tender, amused ones from Mrs. Scully, who remained in the room, but on the fringes. Close by if her daughter needed her, but out of the way of the nurses and Dr. Newall. Speaking of Dr. Newall, he lifted his head to look down at the foot of the bed, to where she sat on her little rolling stool parked between Scully's bent legs. The altered bed, he amended. Once Traci had returned with Dr. Newall on her heels, and the doctor had done another internal exam, confirming that Scully was indeed fully effaced and dilated, they had done the most interesting thing to her bed. A good section of the bottom of it had been dropped out of the way, so that basically, Scully's rear end was now right at the edge of the mattress. Her right foot was in the appropriate stirrup, but because of what had happened when she had lain flat on her back, she remained partly on her right side. That meant it was physically impossible for her left foot to reach the other stirrup. One of the other nurses, Mary, had the job of holding Scully's left leg up for her. He himself was perched on the side of the mattress; with Scully's upper body somewhat supported by his chest, and his left arm was around her shoulders. His right hand was of course available for squeezing and handholding, whichever was currently required. At that particular moment, Scully had merely threaded her fingers through his. The doctor had also said that the baby was at zero station. Scully had nodded, but he had not understood the term. Traci had obviously seen his puzzled expression, because she had explained that it meant the baby's head was right at Scully's pelvic opening. She had smiled and then added that delivery was very close. Mulder returned his gaze to the woman in his arms. She had lost some of her glow – her hair was damp with sweat, some strands matted to her reddened cheeks and others curling wildly – but she still looked amazingly beautiful to him. The pushing contractions did not come as quickly as the others had, which gave her a minute or two in between each one to rest. She no longer wanted the ice chips, and other than the occasional grunt, she made no other sound. Scully grunted then, a tiny expulsion of air, and her grip intensified on his fingers. He realized she was getting ready to push again, so he tightened his arm around her shoulders and sat up straighter to offer her some of his strength. She rounded her shoulders and tucked her chin down, and began to huff. "Okay, Dana, I want you to bear down through the contraction," Dr. Newall said, and then started counting. "1...2...3...4..." She counted all the way to ten, and Scully exhaled loudly and then sucked in another breath as the counting began again. This time when she reached ten, she told Scully to relax. "That's it, Dana, you're doing wonderfully." Mulder felt her sag back against him, and he brought his face down beside her ear, kissing her cheek. "You're doing great, Scully," he whispered. And said it again. "You are so incredible." He then used his hand to brush the wisps of her bangs that had fallen onto her face off. Scully surprised him by turning her head and cuddling into him. "Love you, Mulder," she whispered. "So glad you're here with me." "Me too, baby," he whispered back, and rocked her slightly. A whirring sound startled them both, and Mulder looked to his right to see Mrs. Scully lowering her camera and smiling with wet eyes. Scully gave a little sigh, and when he returned his gaze to her face, he saw that she was smiling at her mother. Completely unlike her reaction when Frohike had popped his head in about ten minutes or so ago, video camera in one hand, and asked if he could tape the birth. She had growled out, "Not bloody likely!" He had added his two cents – by pointing his finger towards the door and saying, "Out, Frohike!" The little man had shrugged in an 'I tried' manner, and left. "Do you want some ice chips or a drink of water or juice, Dana?" Mrs. Scully asked then, coming a little closer and touching Dana's shoulder gently. Scully shook her head and said, "No, thanks, Mom." Mrs. Scully leaned in to brush a kiss on Scully's cheek, and then straightened up. She patted his shoulder, and backed away, her hand sliding down his arm in a gentle caress as she did so. Yet another nurse was busy in one corner of the room, setting up the clear bassinet for the baby, and laying out sterile instrument trays. Obviously they thought things would not be much longer, which sent a feeling of ebullience through him. His mouth went dry as the reality hit him. The baby was coming, most likely very soon. He wasn't sure if he was ready for this. Scully and he had talked about the delivery, and she had told him what he would see, and that she wanted him to cut the umbilical cord. He had told her that of course he wanted to cut the cord, and he did want to, but he wasn't sure if he could handle it. She had also told him there might be blood, and what the baby might look like, and at the time, it was not exactly surreal, but it was still far enough away to not be real. And now it was. Great, now he was having hot flashes. He shot a quick look to his right, trying to spy the cup of ice chips. He didn't care if they were melted; he just needed something cold in his mouth and throat. But he never got a chance to reach for them or ask Mrs. Scully to pass them to him. For another contraction was starting, Scully already moving her body into position. Mary had Scully's leg lifted up again, having lowered it after the last contraction end ed, and she had Scully's knee bent towards her chest, her little foot dangling in the air. This time Scully curled her hand around her own thigh, as if to pull her leg towards herself even further. "Once again, Dana, bear down," Dr. Newall said. "That's it, doing great. 1...2...3..." And up to ten just as last time. Scully repeated her earlier actions, exhaling and then inhaling again as the doctor started to count yet again. "1...2...3... Oh! Dana, your baby's crowning. Do you want to see?" "Uh-huh," Scully panted out, and struggled up even further, releasing her iron grip on his hand. It took Mulder a few seconds to register the little exchange, and Scully's movements, but once he did, he helped her lean forward so she could look between her legs. "Ohhhhh..." she sighed, and Mulder heard her sniffle. "Oh, Mulder... look!" Even if he hadn't gotten extremely curious, and somewhat anxious to see their son or daughter, just hearing the awe in her voice, he had to look. He shifted a little so that he was not pushing on her, and leaned forward too. There was an area about the size of a silver dollar at Scully's opening that was wet and wrinkled and covered with a sparse amount of fine hair. It was the top of their baby's head. "Scuh-leee..." he husked. While all of his adult life he had not believed in God, right that very minute, he did. "Would you like to touch the baby, Dana?" Dr. Newall asked then. "It's all right if you do." "Ye-esss..." was Scully's somewhat shaky reply. Mulder felt his eyes well with tears as she brought her trembling hand down between her legs and laid her fingers tentatively on the little bit of their baby's head. She sighed again and ran them gently over the small surface, before taking her hand away and leaning back into his loose embrace with another gusty exhalation. He couldn't help tightening his arm around and tucking his head into the crook of her shoulder and neck. Both because he wanted to wrap himself and his love all around her, and to try and compose himself. He felt her arm move, and a second later, her fingers sifting through his hair softly. She was crooning too, almost a nonsensical litany. "Mulder, Mulder, so glad you're here, love you so much, Oh God, Mulder that's our baby there...*our* baby, so incredible, I can't believe it." Mulder lifted his head and kissed her ear. "Believe it, Scully," he whispered. "That's our miracle, about to come out into the world and meet it's mommy and daddy." 4:20 pm All of her focus and attention was on that visible little bit of their child. The awkwardness of her position, which enabled her to look there, along with her discomfort, was ignored, forgotten. There was no way she could not have looked, beyond being strapped down in four-point restraints. And even then, she would have been fighting with every bit of strength she could muster. Covered in vernix and blood, and wisps of what looked like it might be reddish-blonde hair, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was real. As her pregnancy had progressed, and she had stared wide-eyed and glazed at the ultrasound, seen and heard the baby's heartbeat, watched her belly grow, felt the baby kick for the very first time, all those things had made her pregnancy become more of a reality than a hopeful dream. Those things had pushed away the state of near-denial that stemmed from a belief that she was infertile that she had entered when she had first heard those two words, 'You're pregnant' in a hospital bed so long ago. Having a child, or children, had always been something she had thought about for the future. From her little girl days, pushing her dolls in a carriage and dressing them up, to her teen years when she had first gotten her mother's lecture on the birds and the bees and abstinence, to her first serious relationship, the thought had been there. After joining the FBI, it had become a goal she willingly put aside for the moment while attempting to establish her career. Only to learn it was because of her career, or her association with Mulder, that the ability to do so had been taken away. That knowledge had nearly destroyed her, although she had as usual, put on a brave front. One Mulder had seen through, but allowed her to keep wrapped around her like a tattered shroud. For it turned out, it had nearly destroyed him as well. Whether it was irony or fate, it was most likely because of Mulder that she had regained the ability to bear children. Perhaps it did not matter. All that mattered was that they were having one now. Scully heard Mulder's husky exhalation of her name, and Dr. Newall's next question through a haze of fog, but the words did register, pulling her from her thoughts. Touch her baby? Oh God. To touch her baby at long last. God, yes. "Ye-esss," she answered, her voice trembling as much as her hands and body were. She brought her shaking fingers down, between her legs, and let them glance over the small surface, hardly daring to breathe, let alone apply pressure. The fleeting touch was not near enough. In fact, nothing would be until she was nestling the baby in her arms, bringing him or her to suckle at her breast. But this would have to do until that actual glorious moment. Sighing, she allowed herself to trace over the baby's head for a second or two, before sagging back into Mulder's semiembrace. When she relaxed, it felt like the baby had receded back up into the birthing canal. This was normal she remembered, as the contraction eased there was nothing forcing the baby down further. Mulder responded to her leaning back into him by burying his head in her neck and squeezing his arm tighter around her. Because he held himself so still, she knew he was experiencing some very deep emotion. She brought one hand up, and managed to touch his head. She stroked through his hair, and spoke softly to him, almost crooning the words. "Mulder, Mulder, so glad you're here, love you so much, Oh God, Mulder that's our baby there...*our* baby, so incredible, I can't believe it." Mulder moved, raising his head, and she felt him press his lips to her ear in a sweet kiss. "Believe it, Scully," he whispered. "That's our miracle, about to come out into the world and meet it's mommy and daddy." "Mulder," she murmured, touched. She remembered her words to him after he had awoken from his medically induced coma, about having her two miracles – he and their baby. "How are you feeling, Dana?" Dr. Newall's voice interrupted their little moment. "Tired, but good," Scully answered honestly, shifting her gaze to meet the doctor's eyes, her hand sliding from Mulder's head to drop onto his thigh. It was covered a millisecond later by his. "A little nervous, but mostly excited." The doctor smiled and nodded, and then said, "I'm going to be applying some warm compresses to your perineum, just like we discussed at your last visit. Hopefully an episiotomy will not be necessary." Or tearing, Scully thought silently to herself with a little internal shiver. That was a very unpleasant possibility. She nodded her understanding and thanks to Dr. Newall, and a moment later felt some pressure between her legs, and soothing warmth. The doctor had been massaging her perineum already; to help stretch the tissues for when the baby decided to make its entrance into the world, but the warm compresses were an added comfort. The urge to push was building again, as was the pressure in her lower back and deep in her abdomen. She sat up a bit, fingers unintentionally digging into Mulder's leg, and started to pant. She bore down, Mulder's gentle murmurings in her ear, and heard Dr. Newall say, "That's it, Dana. Keep panting. Don't hold your breath." A few more contractions passed this way, with the baby's head advancing and receding as they ebbed and flowed. Her mother brought over a cool, wet cloth after the last one, and bathed Scully's face and neck. It felt wonderful, and she whispered her thanks. Her mom leaned in and whispered, "You're doing so good, baby." She backed away then, and returned to her chair out of the way. Mulder massaged her shoulders gently, and she rocked slightly with the motions of her body. Her eyes closed, feeling heavy, and she might have actually dozed. But another contraction started, and she was up again, now once more squeezing the life out of Mulder's fingers. Stretching. And a burning, stinging sensation. Scully gritted her teeth and kept pushing, letting her body guide her. Sweat was running down the sides of her face, and soaking her back, which was pressed up against Mulder's chest, and she could feel a straining in every muscle. Even her toes were scrunched up as she worked to expel the baby. "Ahhhhh...OOOOHHHHH!" she groaned as she felt something 'pop'. Then there was a lot of pressure and more stretching. "There's the head!" Dr. Newall cried out. "Okay, Dana, I need you to stop pushing now. We're going to suction the baby's nose and mouth." Scully scrunched her eyes shut and panted. She still wanted to push, very badly. A moment later there was a very weak, shivery cry. Followed immediately by a very loud, indignant bellow. "Scuh-leeee..." Mulder whispered in her ear, just as she let out a half-laugh, half-cry. "Oh my God, Mulder...listen," she sobbed/laughed, now blinking back tears of happiness and joy. She turned her head into his neck, and he lowered his until his forehead was resting on hers, just above her ear. "I'm listening, Scully, I'm listening," he said. "And it's so beautiful." The urge to push was even stronger, and another contraction had started again already. Scully straightened up and got ready to bear down again. "Okay, Dana, I'm turning the baby, and you can start pushing now," Dr. Newall said. "Don't forget to breathe with it, that's it." The pain was quite intense as the shoulders popped out, and then all of a sudden there was a whooshing, sliding feeling, and Dr. Newall was holding their baby up. "It's a boy!" she exclaimed, and after a moment, laid the baby belly- down on Scully's stomach with practiced ease. "Oh, Scuhleee," she heard from Mulder, along with her mother's happy crying. There were also several quick flashes and the whirring of her mother's camera, but all she could focus her eyes on was the baby lying atop her belly. Scully reached out with a trembling hand to touch their tiny son, her eyes running from the top of the sparsely-haired head, down his little, curled up legs to his surprisingly long feet. Mulder's hand followed and he placed it on top of hers. He whispered, "I love you so much, Scully. You were so incredible." "I love you, Mulder," she replied, and tucked her head into his neck again, but with her face turned out, still watching their baby. Traci stepped in then and draped a blue receiving blanket over the baby, who was shivering and wailing loudly with indignation, his face scrunched up and red. A second later, she had slipped a little knit cap, also blue, onto his head. "Okay, Dad," Dr. Newall said then. "Are you ready to cut the umbilical cord?" 4:40 pm Mulder had been in awe, and absolutely amazed when he had seen the top of the baby's head playing peek-a-boo. He had become even more so when he heard the baby's first weak, little cry, and then the very indignant wail right after, as its head had popped out. But when Dr. Newall announced 'it's a boy' and lifted his tiny, squalling, red-faced son up for them to see, he was only able to utter, "Oh, Scuhleeee." There were no words to describe what he felt. Over the sounds of Mrs. Scully taking several pictures of this momentous occasion, he could hear Scully's crying – relieved and happy, he knew. His own eyes were wet, and one tear had actually escaped to roll down his cheek, and now he could hear Mrs. Scully sniffling as well. Even Traci, who'd probably witnessed or assisted in hundreds of births, had a glistening of tears in her eyes. Dr. Newall then placed the baby on Scully's stomach, his belly down, his little head turned to one side. His legs were drawn up, and his hands were curled in tiny fists as he shivered and cried out all his indignities to the room. Mulder watched as Scully's still trembling hand lifted to gently touch their son's head, which was covered with what he hoped would be hair the color of Scully's, and with vernix, as was the rest of the baby's body. His mind quickly supplied the information he had read about vernix – that the cheesy, white substance was secreted by sebaceous glands at around the 20th week of the pregnancy to protect the baby's skin from the amniotic fluid. Without it, the baby's skin could get damaged, and would be very wrinkly. When it came off after birth, the skin of some babies even peeled. He leaned over, careful not to jostle Scully, and covered her hand with his. Even with her hand over the baby, he imagined he could feel the heat and softness of their child. He could also feel the tremors running through their son. Cold, and probably in a state of shock over this new world he had been thrust into. "I love you so much, Scully," he whispered into the side of her head. "You were incredible." That word yet again, and he smiled inwardly. Scully replied, "I love you, Mulder," and cuddled herself into his body, while still watching their son. As if reading his mind about the baby being cold, Traci stepped closer to the bed, and covered the baby with a square-shaped hospital blanket – receiving blanket, he corrected himself. Next was a little hat to cover his head. Dr. Newall spoke then, and at her words, he dragged his gaze from the baby to the doctor. "Okay, Dad. Are you ready to cut the umbilical cord?" she asked. Talk about a cold shower. Here he was in the warm glow of new baby love, and now he had to go cut the umbilical cord? Something that just moments ago had been his son's lifeline? Had been his connection to his mother, within Scully's womb? He and Scully had discussed this of course, a couple weeks ago, along with how actively he wanted to be involved in the birth. He had told her he was there from start to finish, that nothing would stop him. And that he did not think he would be disturbed by watching the birth of their child, and wanted to be the one to cut the umbilical cord. And he did still want to. Mulder took a deep breath and replied, "I'm ready." Scully let out a soft giggle and when he shifted his face to hers and quirked an eyebrow in silent inquiry, she said, "You're not facing a firing squad, Mulder." "Very funny," he told her, and carefully extricated himself from beneath her, and lifted off the bed. He pressed a quick kiss on her cheek and another one on the top of her head, and moved to where Traci indicated the doctor wanted him. He now had a bird's eye-view, so to speak, of what had occurred down 'there' while he had been helping Scully through her contractions. And if he paled somewhat, he was sure it was completely normal. He had expected there to be blood, yes, had been warned there would be, but not quite that much! Moving his eyes from Scully's still bared lower body, he saw that Traci had stepped in and lifted the baby, partially wrapped in the blanket and still squalling, and was holding him up. One hand was supporting his head and neck, the other cupping his bottom. Dr. Newall handed him what looked like a large pair of bandage scissors and then grasped the umbilical cord in one hand. "Cut right here, between these two clamps, Dad," she said, and touched the spot with one gloved index finger. His eyes followed her hand, and he saw the two clamps she had indicated – little blue plastic clips that were squeezed around the cord, about three inches apart. The cord itself was a pale grayish-blue, and looked wet – vaguely alien. Taking another deep breath, Mulder fitted the scissors into one hand and brought them to the cord. Opening them, he put them in place, and scrunching one eye shut while fixing the other one on the spot he was required to cut, he cut down. It was easier than he thought, and when neither Scully nor the baby cried out in distress or pain, he relaxed his shoulders, sighing audibly. "Good job, Dad," Dr. Newall said, and the baby was whisked over to the corner where one of the other nurses had set up an examination station of sorts earlier. Mulder retreated before he could witness anything the doctor might be doing down there next, and went back to stand beside Scully. She was regarding him with a proud smile, the exhaustion obvious on her face. "Hey," he said softly, bending down to prop one elbow on the mattress of the bed, bringing his face next to hers. "How are you doing?" "Good..." she sighed and leaned a bit closer to rub her cheek on his shoulder. "Go watch him please, Mulder," she said next. New mother nerves, he guessed. And to be honest, he was getting a bit antsy being this far away from his son. What exactly were they doing to him? Cleaning him up, he was sure, but what else? He kissed her head and headed over to observe. Mrs. Scully was there, camera in hand, and she smiled when he came to stand beside her. "He's beautiful, Fox," she said. Mulder looked at the baby, now naked in the bassinet, red face scrunched up in horror or fear or dismay, little nose flattened, his little fists and...really long feet...pulled tight to his body. Which was still not yet clean. Beautiful? Well... "Yes," he replied softly. "Yes, he is." The two nurses moved efficiently, putting an ointment in his eyes, weighing and measuring him, cleaning him up and diapering him, and then had Mulder wincing in sympathy when they pricked his heel for a blood sample. Then one of them listened to his heart with a stethoscope, and took his pulse, making notations on a chart when she was finished. She also suctioned his nose, which made him cry angrily, his whole body shivering with the force. Mulder realized they were doing the Apgar test on the baby. It was done to evaluate every newborn, and to recognize and identify distress. He wondered what the first score had been – for they did the test at one minute and five minutes after birth – on a scale of one to ten. Ten of course was a perfect score, and babies were rarely 'perfect' at birth. And generally scores under seven could be an indication of trouble or complications. The nurse efficiently bundled the baby with quick, economical movements, and scooped him up, like he was a football. She turned and smiled at him. She held the baby out, and said, "Here you go, Dad. Why don't you take this little guy to his mommy?" Mulder took him hesitantly, making sure one hand supported the head and neck as he had seen in illustrations, and Scully had demonstrated with a baby doll, and the other slid under the baby's back and rear end. He was so light. And still shivering, though his cries had muted somewhat. Mulder's arms instinctively tightened around his son, and he lowered his face to the tiny face barely visible through the folds of the blanket. He cooed softly, "Hey there, little guy." The flashing and whirring of the camera were distant distractions. He could not pull his eyes away from the miracle in his arms. But he knew Scully was anxious to see their son. Turning carefully, he began to walk slowly towards the bed; eyes still intent on his son's face. He looked up once to make sure his path was clear. Just in time to see the afterbirth slide into Dr. Newall's waiting hands. Now that was something he could have happily lived his life without ever seeing. He shuddered once and moved on, and saw that Scully was watching him and the baby, her expression both yearning and tender. Moving into place beside her, he bent over, watching her arms rise up to accept the baby. He placed the bundle into them, gently sliding his out from underneath, and then rested a hip on the mattress to sit beside her. His arm slid around her shoulders, and Scully automatically shifted so that she was nearly cradled into his chest. Propping the baby in the crook of her left arm, and letting his lower half rest on her belly, she lifted her now rock-steady right hand, and pulled at the receiving blanket. Her fingers then moved feather-light along his squished button-nose, over his lips and chin, and down his chest. She avoided the clipped end of the umbilical cord and then tugged more of the blanket aside to study his legs and feet, her index finger stroking each toe. His little hands were next, and then she bundled him back up, the blanket not quite as neatly arranged as it had been. "Dana, why don't you put him to your breast now?" Dr. Newall suggested, finally having risen from her seat on the low stool. She stood with her hands on her hips, regarding her patients fondly. Mulder watched with an amazed anticipation as she lowered her already loosened gown down on one side, exposing her swollen breast. With what seemed like capable, confident movements, she brought the baby up to her breast and settled him into position. She stroked his cheek as he rooted around for a second, and then he had latched on to her nipple with a ferocious move. Scully jumped and gave a startled "Oh!" and the women in the room all chuckled. He stared in fascination as his son's jaws worked furiously. He knew he had just seen the second most beautiful thing in his life. 4:50 pm Scully smiled as she watched Mulder preparing to cut the umbilical cord. He had one eye squeezed shut, and his face was twisted in a comical near-grimace. She could also see the tendons in his neck standing in sharp relief, and that his jaw was tight. When they had first discussed his involvement in the birth, and whether he would cut the cord, he had expressed a concern about it being painful for either her or the baby. And that if so, he did not want to be the one to cause them pain. She has assured him that was not the case – the umbilical cord, while a source of nutrients and oxygen for the fetus, was not a pain receptor. Scully thought that might be what he was remembering right then, causing his hesitation. But once he had snipped the scissors through the cord, his entire body relaxed. As did hers, for she had unintentionally been holding herself very still, which resulted in no small amount of discomfort. Sitting up as she was did not help either, so she gingerly lowered herself back down to the pillows, sighing quietly in relief. Her left leg ached from being held in mid-air during the delivery, as did her right hip from bearing most of her weight at the time. Other little discomforts, including a raging thirst and a grumbling stomach, had started to let themselves be known. She was still experiencing uterine contractions, though not quite as intense as they had been as she had labored to bring forth the baby. This was normal - the body waited for the placenta to spontaneously detach from the uterus, to subsequently be delivered. She would continue to have contractions even after the placenta had been delivered for up to a week to ten days, often called afterpains, while her uterus decreased to its pre-pregnancy size. Breastfeeding often made these contractions more intense because of oxytoxin, which was necessary for milk letdown, stimulated the uterine contractions. The other nurse, Mary, had come over when Mulder had vacated his spot to cut the cord, and began massaging Scully's fundus - the top of the uterus - by rubbing her abdomen. This was done both to aid in delivering the afterbirth, and to help prevent unnecessary bleeding. "Good job, Dad," Dr. Newall said then, and Scully saw Traci take the baby over to the examining station in the corner of the room. Although she propped herself up on her elbows once again, with her legs bent and partially draped with a sheet, she could see no more then the edge of the bassinet, and of the nurse's arms. But at least she could still hear her son's shivery cries. Mulder came back to her, resuming his position at the head of the bed, and Mary stopped her massaging and moved to assist Dr. Newall. He leaned over onto the bed, one elbow on the mattress supporting his weight. This position brought his face very close to hers. "Hey," he said low-voiced, his expression still one of awe and wonder. "How are you doing?" Surprisingly, she felt wonderful. "Good," she told him, and rubbed her cheek on his shoulder. She was tired, yes, and sore, but those things didn't matter right then. She was still caught up in the miracle of birth, and their son. Whom she missed enormously already. That brief contact when he had lain on her stomach, and she had been able to finally touch him, had not been enough. She needed to hold him, to examine him – counting his toes and fingers, looking at every inch of him – to see with her own eyes that all was well...and that he was completely normal. Suddenly anxious that the nurses seemed to be taking too long with their son, she said, "Go watch him please, Mulder." A thought flickered to life – had his first Apgar been too low? But there had been no panicked outcry, or the resultant flurry of activity if a low score on his Apgar had been the case, so she reassured herself that she was worrying needlessly. She hoped her face had not betrayed her thoughts to Mulder. He bent and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, not appearing distressed or worried, then straightened up and moved to the corner. To stand beside her mother there, whom Scully had just spied standing a short distance from the nurses, camera in hand. Dr. Newall called her name softly, and when she had met the doctor's gaze, the woman said, "Okay, Dana. We're going to deliver the placenta now. You will probably feel some discomfort, but I need you to push when I ask, okay?" Scully nodded, and a moment later felt the doctor's gloved hand palpating her abdomen. It was uncomfortable, and slightly painful, but at least she was fully on her back now, with both feet in the stirrups and could use that to push with her body more fully. She pushed when Dr. Newall advised her to, although she felt the need to do so anyway with each contraction, which seemed to last roughly one minute in duration. The doctor continued to massage her abdomen for some minutes during that time, before moving her hand away to examine her. Scully experienced three such 'pushing' contractions, and then felt an odd sensation as the placenta was expelled. "Good, Dana!" Dr. Newall said, apparently studying the afterbirth. A moment later she reported, "Placenta looks normal, completely intact." Scully looked over Dr. Newall's shoulder as she saw movement peripherally, to see Mulder standing frozen in place, the newly re- bundled baby held high and protectively in his arms, staring with dismay between her legs. She did not smile, but regarded him fondly. He had held up so well – she had seen him pale a few times during the delivery – and remained steadfast. She was tremendously proud of him, and grateful beyond relief that he had been there. That one of her greatest fears – Mulder never returning to see his child being born – had not come to pass. He walked on then, and came to her side, bending over and carefully extending the baby towards her, straight into her waiting arms. While she stared down into the baby's red, crying face, she was aware of Mulder slipping onto the edge of the bed, his arm coming around her shoulder. She moved slightly, until she was snuggled up against him. He was a warm, secure presence beside her, just as the baby was within her arms. It felt so right. At the end of the bed, Traci and Mary were easing her feet from the stirrups, and lowering her legs onto the now restored bed, having already cleaned her up and dressed her. One of them eased a clean sheet over her, and brought it to waist-high. Scully's desire to see her infant was burning. She arranged him properly, his head cradled in the crook of her left arm, his rear end and legs supported by her stomach, and tugged at the flannel blanket that concealed most of his tiny body. As she gently touched his little nose, flattened by the birth, and his rosebud lips and slightly pointed chin – hers! – she could hear her mother snapping more pictures. But she could not yet spare a moment to look up and smile. The time for formal poses was later; she had a baby to study. Running two fingers lightly down his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, she was careful not to jostle the clip that clamped off the end of the umbilical cord. He was diapered, so she would check that part of him later, and instead moved more of the blanket aside to look at his legs, his dimpled knees and his now kicking feet. Each toe was delicately touched, and counted, before she gently edged one finger into a waving fist, her thumb stroking over his knuckles, the skin petal soft. She marveled at how tiny his fingernails were, none coming close in size to the nail on her pinkie, and the strength he displayed with his grip, before finally rewrapping him. Not as neat a bundling job as the nurse had done, but she would soon have lots of practice. Movement at the foot of the bed had Scully looking up to see Dr. Newall standing with her hands on her hips, smiling gently. "Dana, why don't you put him to your breast now?" she asked. They had discussed breastfeeding almost from the moment she had first started seeing Dr. Newall, and Scully had always been a strong supporter of the act. Scully nodded again in reply, and used her right hand to tug the left side of her gown down, baring her swollen breast. She was very aware of Mulder's interested, heavy gaze, and that of her mother's and Dr. Newall's, all watching this first time. Somehow it did not disturb her as much as the thought might once have. Shifting the baby slightly – and bemusedly telling herself she and Mulder needed to choose a name for the baby, something they had not been able to agree on while reading baby name books – she turned him so that he was on his side, facing her breast and stomach, and stroked his downy cheek. He nuzzled her breast, rooting for her nipple, still whimpering, and then clamped down. Hard. She jumped slightly, her parted mouth releasing a loudly exclaimed, "Oh!" and heard the other women in the room laugh in support and commiseration. Beside her, Mulder made a funny noise – part sigh, part startlement. She turned her head to look at him, and saw that his gaze was fixed entirely on their son's mouth around her breast. He had the most beautiful look on his face, one she could not accurately describe to do it justice. The baby's hands and feet were moving against her body, contained by the blanket, and it pulled her eyes back to him. Her free arm curled around him, her hand almost cupping his head, and her fingers stroked the side of his face gently. The rhythmic sucking of his jaws could be easily felt, and his eyes fluttered open occasionally. She was certain the baby had latched on correctly – very little of her areola was visible, and the baby's lips flanged outwards, not sucked inward. She could only describe the sensation in her breast as a drawing feeling, or a pulling. It was strangely relaxing, and once her initial shock had worn off, not unpleasant in the least. At the most, the baby was only receiving colostrum, a protein-rich fluid that preceded the actual milk, along with some measure of comfort. As well, the contact with her was recommended, although it was best skin-on-skin. She would try that later, in the privacy of her hospital room, with only Mulder in attendance. "I don't think there's any problem with his sucking, is there, Dana?" Dr. Newall's voice interrupted the private little world she had entered, and she looked up in surprise at the distraction. The words registered a moment later, and she smiled and shook her head, before returning her eyes to her son. "No, not at all," she replied softly. "I'll say," Mulder said, equally soft, his lips just inches from her ear. "Takes after his father," he quipped next. She met his gaze again, dragging her eyes away from their son, and smiled. "Definitely a breast man," she agreed. Mulder leaned down to touch his lips to hers in a quick kiss, then said, "He looks so happy and content there. Peaceful." Her mother had finally joined them, standing on the other side of the bed beside Scully. She made a snuffling sound, and husked out, "Dana, baby, he's beautiful." Her hand came up to rest lightly on his little head, as she watched him nurse with moist eyes. She raised them a moment later to meet Scully's gaze and whispered, "Your father would be bursting with pride right about now." "I wish he were here to see him, Mom," Scully replied, rocking the baby slightly, feeling her own eyes fill. Her mom lifted her hand from the baby's head to cup Scully's cheek and said, "He is here, honey. Smiling down on us." She sniffled once more and then smiled with still shining eyes. Clearing her throat, she said, "I'm going to leave you three alone to get better acquainted, and go call your brothers." With that she kissed Scully on the cheek, bent and kissed the baby on his head, and after straightening up again, touched her hand to her lips in a kiss for Mulder, then left the room. "You okay, Scully?" Mulder murmured, his arm squeezing her shoulders a little. His other hand came up to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. She knew he was referring to the moment about her father, and sent him a small smile. But she hadn't just been thinking about her father, she had also been thinking about the absence of Mulder's father, and whether Mulder had been thinking about him too. "I'm okay, Mulder." She blinked a few times, to clear the tears that had not fallen from her eyes, and added, "I think I know what we should call him now." 5:10 pm Mulder felt a little pang inside when Mrs. Scully, standing next to Scully, her hand on the baby's cap-covered head, said to her, "Your father would be bursting with pride right now." The pang was for both women, but even more so for Scully, whom he knew missed her father dearly. The sadness in Scully's voice as she answered her mother, hurt even more. He hated to see her in pain – be it physical or emotional, wished there was some way he could make it go away, as impossible as he knew the wish to be. At the same time, the conversation between mother and daughter, particularly when Mrs. Scully mentioned calling her sons to tell them the news, brought a painful fact to the forefront of his mind. He had no family to tell. He could not phone his parents to tell them they now had a grandchild, nor did he have a sibling whom he could call and inform that they were an aunt or an uncle. He recalled with an inward smile how Samantha, despite being determined to do everything he did, absolutely loved to play with her 'babies' – her dolls. She would always tell him he was their 'Uncle Fox', to his horror and dismay. His mind flashed suddenly on a picture of his father's face – stern and unsmiling, and of his mother's – pale and still in death. Would the news of a grandson have brought a smile to his father's visage? Finally reached his mother, and thrilled her beyond anything if she had been alive to hear the news? Mulder forced the damning, haunting thoughts and images of his parents out of his head, and gave Scully's shoulders a little squeeze. "You okay, Scully?" he asked her softly. A strand of her hair was caught on her damp cheek, and he brought his free hand up to tuck it behind her ear. She still looked melancholy, but her voice was lighter when she replied, "I'm okay, Mulder." He watched her blink back the tears that hadn't fallen, or she wouldn't let fall, and was awed once again by her strength. She then said, "I think I know what we should call him now." Ah. A name for the baby – something they had not been able to agree upon. He hesitated before asking what it was. Something in her voice when she had said the words gave him an idea as to what it might be. Clearing his throat a bit, he said, "Hit me, baby." Maybe the lightness of his comment was inappropriate; maybe she'd appreciate it, he didn't know. She chuffed out a small laugh, shaking her head slightly. Her hand rose to adjust the blanket that wrapped the baby, bringing his attention down to the child. Mulder watched him for a moment, content to do so while waiting for Scully's reply. The baby was still and quiet, and seemed to have dozed off at her breast, though his jaw still moved every so often as he sucked in his sleep. He moved his hand to lay his hand atop Scully's, on the baby's bottom. Scully moved slightly, and Mulder lifted his eyes to see that she was regarding him solemnly. "William," she said. He had been correct. She wanted to name the baby after her father. A common practice - naming a first-born son after the father or grandfather - and seeing as there was no way in hell his son was going to be called Fox Junior, William was a logical choice. Scully spoke again. "William, after both our fathers. To honor and remember them both." Mulder blinked, completely stunned. And felt an inexplicable stinging in his eyes. Or perhaps it was explainable. He was touched. Touched that Scully wanted to honor his father with hers. "Scuhleee," he said, his voice husky. He stopped, turning his head to cough into his shoulder, not wanting to move his hand from Scully and...William. He tried again. "William is a perfect name, Scully." Traci, the nurse, interrupted their little private moment. "How's everybody doing here?" she asked softly, moving to just a foot away from Mulder. "He's asleep," Scully replied with equal softness. "Well, your room is ready now, and we'll be getting ready to move you, so it's good that we won't disturb his sucking," Traci said then. "Is he still latched on?" At Scully's nod, she explained what to do, demonstrating with her pinkie. "Curl your pinkie like this," she held up one hand, her last finger curled, "and slide it in the corner of his mouth. Pull gently, until the suction breaks, releasing the seal. You'll feel a small 'pop'." Mulder watched interestedly, his head craned for optimum viewing, as Scully followed the instructions and released William's mouth from her breast. The baby's lips puckered, then smacked together, though he never woke. "Why don't you let Dad take baby for a little while?" Traci suggested to Scully. "There's a handful of anxious men out there in the waiting room who say they're with you. Maybe you'd like to introduce them to your son? That way we can get Mom here all comfortable and ready to move to their new room." Mulder remembered the Gunmen, who had arrived a few hours back. They were his 'family', he supposed, and smiled. His kid would have three wacky 'uncles', that was for sure. And a grumpy one named Bill, he thought with an inwardly sardonic grin. Then he recalled Mrs. Scully telling he and Scully about an hour or so later that 'Walter' and 'John' had arrived – her use of their first names, not his. He looked at Scully. "That okay, Mom?" It hit him then. Scully was a mom. And he was a dad. Holy shit. Scully smiled softly. "That's okay. Dad." She slid the hand that had been cupping William's bottom a little further up, spreading it to support his back, and moved her other hand under him, to cradle his head, and lifted him from her stomach with a little sigh, that was probably of relief. Mulder had already slid his arm from around her shoulders and gotten off the bed, and was leaning over, ready to move his arms into position. It was a bit awkward, but they managed, and a moment later, he was standing with William cradled in his arms. He smiled at Scully, who had that proud yet slightly dismayed look on her face again. "We'll be right back, Scully, I promise." "I know," she said, her smile widening, the dismay gone. "I love you." He winked at her, and then turned and walked slowly and carefully to the door, an almost unconscious sway to his steps. Bending his head down closer to William's, he whispered, "We're gonna go meet lots of uncles, William. Now some of them are a little scary, but don't worry, they won't hurt you." When he reached the door, he had to juggle William a bit, and he was afraid he would drop him. But he managed without incident. It was cooler in the hallway, and William's little face scrunched up, a tiny little mewl escaping. Mulder fought down his panic. He could handle this. "Shh, shh, shh," he cooed to the baby, bouncing his arms up and down slightly, his body automatically adapting as he walked. Entering the waiting room across the entrance to the Labor & Delivery rooms, he encountered the oddest collection of waiting men he'd ever seen. It made him grin. Doggett and Skinner sat in one corner, both dressed in their FBI attire, the chair beside them holding their folded overcoats. In the opposite corner were the Gunmen. Byers, of course, was impeccably dressed in a suit and tie, hair neat as a pin. Langly's long hair was scraggly, though it appeared he had put on a fresh, clean tee shirt for the occasion. And Frohike, well Frohike wore a suit too, with a bow tie, and a carnation in his lapel. When he saw Mulder there in the doorway, he strode over, his face creased in the largest smile Mulder had ever seen on him. "Congratulations, Dad!" he said. His fingerless-gloved hand came up for a handshake, and then he realized Mulder's hands were full. The little man lowered his hand, and stuffed them both in his pants pockets. The other two Gunmen were on his heels, followed by Skinner and Doggett, all wearing expectant, excited looks. Mulder turned sideways a little, and lowered the arm supporting William's bottom half, while raising his other arm upwards, displaying the baby's face. "I'd like you guys to meet William." 5:15 pm Scully felt that telltale shift of Mulder's body – minute, and most likely missed by anyone other than herself. She was certain now that she had been correct in her assumption that Mulder had been thinking about his father. Her heart ached for him – so alone in this world. Except that now he had her, and their child, who was at that moment a warm and welcome weight at her breast. Finally Mulder responded verbally to her statement, first clearing his throat quietly. "Hit me, baby," he joked. Scully was not surprised at his attempt at humor – it was one of his deeply ingrained defense mechanisms. One she now understood, and accepted. However, there was no trace of the curiosity she knew had to be there. All attempts at choosing a name, or names, for the as-yet unborn baby, while light-hearted and fun, had been completely unsuccessful. She gave his comment the level of appreciation it deserved – a small, rueful shake of her head, and a chuckle. The baby seemed to shiver then in her arms, so she straightened the blanket he was wrapped in, tucking it more securely under his chin. Other than that one little shiver, and the occasional tug on her nipple as he sucked, he had not moved in the last few minutes. She thought he might have drifted off to sleep. Mulder had relaxed, his body was again loose and easy along hers, and he moved his hand to cover hers, which was cupped around the baby's rear end. She turned her head to look at Mulder, and saw that he was studying the baby. Obviously feeling her gaze upon him, he lifted his eyes to meet hers. "William," she told him, and watched the emotions flickering over his face. When he said nothing, she added, "William, after both our fathers. To honor and remember them both." His surprise was obvious – the startled blink of his eyes, and the slight parting of his lips. When his eyes went glassy, Scully realized it was more than surprise. Mulder was deeply moved by her inclusion of his father in her choice of a name for their baby. He said her name, his voice husky. The syllables drawn out as he did in extreme emotional moments, such as when he was angry, or aroused. He turned his head away then, and she wondered if he was embarrassed or ashamed to have shown such a reaction. She was saddened that he might be, for she had thought they had gotten past the bottling up of their emotions and feelings. After coughing into his shoulder, Mulder spoke again, his voice clear. "William is a perfect name, Scully." A contrite-looking Traci interrupted them then. "How's everybody doing here?" she asked quietly. Scully looked down. The baby...*William's* breathing had slowed and deepened, so she was now certain he was asleep. His mouth was still clamped around her nipple though, as if he were unwilling to let go. Definitely like his father, Scully mused with an inward smile. Lifting her head again, she told Traci, keeping her voice low, "He's asleep." Traci explained that their room was ready, and then demonstrated how to remove William from her breast. Scully had read several online articles, and pamphlets from Dr. Newall's office on breastfeeding, and the importance of both a proper latch and breaking the latch were stressed in every one. The complications could often be quite unpleasant for both mother and baby. She could feel Mulder's eyes on her as she gently inserted the tip of her pinkie in the corner of William's mouth. At the intrusion, he sucked strongly but briefly in reflex. When he stopped, she pulled gently, and felt the 'pop' Traci had described. William's mouth fell open slackly and she shifted him away from her breast. His tiny rosebud lips first drew closed, and then smacked them together, as if he were still nursing, for just a second. His eyes remained shut, his expression peaceful. Scully felt slightly nervous when Traci suggested Mulder take William outside to the waiting room, where several 'anxious men' were waiting. It was silly, but she wasn't ready to let go of William yet. In fact, she was certain she wouldn't be ready to let him go for some time. But Mulder had barely held him, and she had seen the look on his face when Traci had mentioned the Lone Gunmen. He wanted to show off his son. Mulder's expression was neutral as he looked at her, but she could see the need in his eyes. "That okay, Mom?" Smiling a little, she replied, "That's okay. Dad." She moved her hands to better support William as she lifted him, nearly groaning as his weight was removed from her stomach. Mulder's hands were there to replace hers, and with just a bit of awkwardness, William was in Mulder's arms. She watched them both, her arms already feeling empty, and tried to convey only her love and pride. But Mulder saw right through her, of course. His smile said it all. It said, 'Relax, Scully, I will keep him safe. You don't need to worry.' Then he reiterated his unspoken vow verbally, and said with a gentle tone, "We'll be right back, Scully, I promise." And he would be, she knew. She relaxed the muscles that had tensed up when William had left her arms, and let her smile widen. "I know," she told him. "I love you." She got a teasing wink in reply, and then they were walking away, towards the door. Craning her neck, she watched them, smiling softly at the 'baby walk' Mulder had instinctively adopted – that halfsway/half-step walk parents with a newborn seem to know automatically. His bent close to his son's then and he whispered something she could barely make out. She heard the words 'uncles' and 'scary', and knew somehow he was talking about the Gunmen. It was all she could do not to laugh. Once Mulder and William had left the room, Traci came over and said cheerfully, "Okay, Dana. I just need to take your temperature and blood pressure, then check to see if there's any excessive bleeding." The nurse efficiently did so, reporting everything was normal as she jotted the information down on Scully's chart. Putting it aside, she said, "Let's get you up and to the washroom." Scully shifted and tried to push at the covers, but was unable to reach them without causing undue stress on her still tender belly. Traci quickly whisked the sheet off of her, and then wrapped her hand around Scully's upper arm. She offered support as Scully swung her legs slowly and carefully to hang off the bed, and then inched herself forward until her feet had touched the ground. Standing, she wobbled slightly, secure in the knowledge that Traci was there. The nurse made sure she was stable before closing the back of Scully's hospital gown, holding it closed with her hand at the middle of Scully's back. Together they shuffled forward, Scully trying not to wince as her sore hip and leg complained. They took it slow, and at last they made it to the washroom. Scully was a little nervous about this part, she was certain it was going to sting. It did, a little, but not as badly as she had thought. Traci handed her a little bottle of distilled liquid soap, which she told Scully to squirt on herself. As Scully did so, Traci explained possible symptoms or signs that there could indicate a problem, and advised Scully to buzz for help immediately if she experienced any sharp or sudden pains in her abdomen. A bottle of plain water for rinsing was next, and after patting herself dry, Scully rose slowly and baby-stepped her way to the sink. There, she washed her hands and splashed some water on her face which she dried with a hand towel provided by Traci, before looking at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. She was a little pale, and her hair was somewhat lank, but all in all, she didn't look half-bad. Traci next handed her a clean gown, which she took and changed into, glad to be out of the other one, now a little worse for wear. A thin hospital robe was next, and then they headed out of the bathroom, Traci not supporting her, but walking close by in case. Instead of resuming her spot on the bed, she was directed to sit in a wheelchair, which she had not noticed before. Traci tucked a pillow behind her back and asked her if she needed a blanket to cover her legs. "No, thank-you," she replied. "I'm fine." She shifted a bit in the not quite comfortable wheelchair, still tender in her nether regions, and suddenly realized she didn't even know the statistics on her son. "Traci, what were William's Apgar scores? And his birth weight and height?" The nurse paused in the process of bundling up the dirty linen from the bed, and turned. "Apgar at one minute was 8, and at five minutes it was 9. Good scores. William weighed in at seven pounds, eleven ounces, and measured 21 inches long. I like the name 'William', by the way." Scully smiled at the nurse. "Thank-you. It has a special meaning to his father and I." "I'll go see if your two boys are finished visiting, and then we'll get you to your room," Traci said then, and headed out with the dirty linen in her arms. Scully sat in the wheelchair and awaited the arrival of her 'two boys'. 6:20 pm Mulder held the sleeping William in his arms, moving gently with the motions of the rocking chair he sat upon. It was comfortably padded, and he had pulled it right next to Scully's bed. His legs were stretched out in front of him and his ankles were crossed. One foot provided the occasional push necessary to keep the chair in motion. At a soft sigh from beside him, he lifted his eyes from his son, and turned his head to study the sleeping woman in the bed. With a fond smile, he recalled how they had been in the middle of a conversation about possible middle names for William when Scully just stopped talking in mid-sentence. He had been studying the baby's tiny facial features, and when her voice had trailed off, he had glanced up curiously. To see her with her head slumped to one side, her eyes closed and her mouth hanging open just slightly. He had been alarmed for the briefest of seconds, until he remembered reading that many women often came down from the 'adrenaline high' of childbirth not long after, and were exhausted. Her body needed to recuperate. Scully had been sleeping now; deeply it appeared, for the last half hour. Aside from the odd sigh or snore – despite her vehement protestations to the contrary, Scully did snore on occasion – she had not moved at all. Her face was still pale, and the tiny lines that bracketed her mouth had yet to disappear, but to him, she looked absolutely beautiful. He was completely content to watch both she and William sleep. Fortunately, William seemed to be equally tired from the ordeal of his birth, so to speak, and was not yet making any demands on his mother. In fact, the little guy had only awakened briefly while being shown off to the Gunmen and Skinner and Doggett, and had been asleep ever since. Mulder glanced down then at William, his smile widening as his mind replayed that first meeting. Langly and Frohike had behaved like strutting cocks, as if it had been they who had produced their progeny, not he. He was thankful they had contained their back-slapping to each other, and touched when Frohike had produced cigars for all – bluecolored bubble gum, labeled "It's a Boy!" Byers had been his usual taciturn self, albeit with a much wider then normal grin. A particular moment had caused Mulder to choke back laughter there in the waiting room, and to stifle a chuckle at the memory, so as not to disturb Scully or William. In his enthusiasm, Langly had gone to clap Skinner on one broad shoulder, and the AD had merely lifted a brow, enough to send the scrawnier Langly back a few steps, his hands raised in mock surrender. Then Skinner had turned his beaming face to William, his normally military stiff carriage relaxed, his facial features softened, and cooed at the baby. It was surely a memory for the books. Skinner cooing. And the AD's look, after realizing the five men around him were regarding him with stunned, bemused expressions, was also a keeper. Where had Mrs. Scully and her camera been when he needed them? Doggett had appeared as genuinely pleased as the rest, though he had been somewhat reticent in his congratulations. He had offered quiet words, and inquired into Scully's well-being, looking relieved when Mulder had replied that she was doing great. While Mulder thought it was unlikely he would ever consider John Doggett a close, personal friend, he had realized one thing earlier on – the man cared for Scully, and had been a friend to her during Mulder's absence. For that, Mulder would accept the man's continued presence in their lives, and be civil, if not friendly. Mulder knew Scully recognized and appreciated his efforts to do so. Doggett had joined them twice more for dinner, after their first, less-thanauspicious meeting. Once with Skinner present, and once when it had just been the three of them. Scully had made only one comment about hoping she would not need to play referee that night, and he had been on his best behavior. He had been handsomely rewarded much later that night too. It wasn't until after all the congratulations had been said that Mulder had noticed a grouping of shiny, helium-filled balloons clustered in one corner, bobbing slowly in the currents of air in the waiting room. He watched them spin and float gently, counting seven in total, and read each one. Two had the traditional "It's a Boy!" on a blue background, one had 'Congratulations' scrolled in pastels across its silver front and back, and two were pictures of stylized storks with a baby hanging from their mouths. Yet another one had a picture of Winnie the Pooh on it, with the words 'Welcome, baby' on it, and the last simply had a picture of pastel-colored teddy bears. Seeing Frohike's grinning countenance, he had suspected the balloons were from the little man. Confirmation had arrived in the form of Frohike's embarrassed shrug, and Langly's quipped, "Uncle Frohike went a little crazy in the gift shop." Mulder craned his head a bit, careful not to jostle William, to look at the balloons. Their ribbons were now looped around the back of a chair in one corner, out of the way but still visible. Scully's tired face had shone with pleasure, a smile slowly growing on her lips, when he had toted the balloons into the room, on the heels of Mrs. Scully, who was happily carrying William. Frohike had declined the invitation to bring the balloons in himself and visit briefly, saying all three of them would come back some time the next day, that Scully should get her rest. Mulder had easily seen that she had been touched by Frohike's thoughtfulness, but also glad the Gunmen's visit had been postponed for the time being. Skinner and Doggett had both asked him to pass on their congratulations and well wishes to Scully, saying that they too would visit the next day. Mrs. Scully had arrived then, and herded them all together for a picture, with he and William in the center. Mulder had then passed the baby to her willing arms, receiving her camera in exchange, and shook hands with the guys, thanking them for being there. After they had filed out of the waiting room, he had turned back to see Mrs. Scully rocking back and forth on her feet, talking soft baby nonsense to William. He had quickly snapped a couple pictures, before she noticed him watching her. Mrs. Scully had taken several pictures of the three of them, with he perched on the mattress beside Scully, and William in Scully's arms. She had then kissed them all one at a time after he had settled into the rocking chair with William, and told them to call her if they needed anything at all. Next she passed on Tara's congratulations, and the news that Bill was at sea, and that she had not yet been able to reach Charles. Promising to return in the morning, she had left after one last fond look at William. It had been nice to sit with just the two of them, and William, of course, after such a long day with people around them at almost every moment. And it was just as nice now, with both Scully and William sleeping while he sat guard. Suddenly in his hand, the one cupped under William's bottom, there was this odd stirring, or fluttering, accompanied by a most explosive sound. Which was immediately followed by a very obnoxious smell, one that had Mulder close to gagging. "Buddy!" he exclaimed in surprise, rather loudly. He looked quickly over at Scully, worried he had disturbed her, and saw that she had turned her head to the other side. She made a soft, sighing sound, but did not move further. William woke then though, with a very loud, unhappy cry, his face screwed up in righteous anger and rapidly turning quite red. His little limbs began fighting the restrictive blanket, and his cry turned into squalling. "Shhhh..." Mulder crooned, trying to keep his own tone of voice down, and started rocking William with more intent. He flicked his eyes to Scully again, and watched her stir. He awkwardly got to his feet, and began to sway, still saying, "Shhh, shhh, shhh." "Mulder?" asked Scully's sleep voice. "Is he hungry?" "Ahhhh, maybe," he said, finding it necessary to raise his voice to be heard over the volume of William's crying. "But he...uh, he...I think he pooped." "That is a normal bodily function, Mulder," Scully responded dryly, and started to push her covers aside, her tiredness obvious. "Hey, Scully. You stay there, I can handle this," he told her, still swaying, if a little more quickly now. He moved in a circle, looking for somewhere to lay William down. Despite being brand-new at this, even he knew a flat surface was required. And supplies. "I'll buzz the nurse," Scully said, and did so, while he rocked and swayed and made 'shhh' noises at William. A few minutes later, Traci bustled in. "How are you doing, Mom and Dad?" she asked cheerily. Her eyes lit on the squalling William. "Uh- oh. Someone's not a happy camper. Come on over here, Dad." 'Here' was the bassinette. It was basically a deep, clear plastic bed that sat atop a low, two-doored chest on wheels. There was a blue card tucked in a little sleeve at one end , and he could make out 'Boy – Scully' in black marker, along with William's birth weight and height, the room number, and the doctor's name. Traci opened the doors to reveal one shelf bisecting the chest in two halves. On the top shelf was a small stack of tiny diapers, a container of baby wipes, and what looked to be a stack of washcloths. On the bottom shelf, which was also the bottom of the chest, were several extra receiving blankets and a washbasin. She removed the basin, the wipes, several of the cloths, and a diaper. Closing the doors, she then demonstrated to Mulder, and Scully, now sitting up in the bed, how the bassinette turned into a change table, by sliding out a flat section of board from beneath the bed. "Come with me, Dad, to wash your hands first." He followed Traci obediently to the bathroom, where she took William from him easily, and held him while Mulder thoroughly washed and dried his hands. Oddly enough, William settled down in her hold, reduced to tiny cries. Once he was done, she handed William back to Mulder and said, "I'll fill the basin with warm water," Traci said. "You lay William down and unwrap him." Mulder carefully shifted William and got him situated on the makeshift change table. He slowly unwrapped the blanket from the crying baby, while making soft, cooing noises, trying to calm him down. But apparently William was having none of his soothing efforts. He also seemed to be quite averse to being nearly naked – he shivered, his hands and feet drawn into his body, and started his full-throated crying again. Traci returned then, and put the bowl of water to one side, as William did not take up the entire space. "Okay," she said. "Undo his diaper, Dad." Mulder's fingers felt enormous and clumsy as he plucked at the tabs on the sides that held the diaper on. He peeled it back hesitantly; the smell having been a pre-warning that something unpleasant was likely to be found within. His upper body recoiled when he was hit full force by the aroma of his son's very first bowel movement, and he automatically shut the diaper again. Eyes watering, he began breathing through his mouth, trying to lessen the effect. It was no use. The smell was in his very lungs. Holding his next breath, he yanked the diaper back again. And was promptly baptized by a stream of urine in the face. Slamming his stinging eyes shut, he slapped the diaper down over his son's 'weapon' in mid-stream, hearing Scully's giggle, and Traci's choked, "Oh, dear." A moment later a wipe was being pressed to his face, and she was telling him she had William. He stepped back and wiped his face thoroughly, before cautiously opening his eyes and blinking. Well, at least he could see. And hopefully Traci could scrounge up a scrub shirt to replace his wet tee shirt. "Mulder?" Scully called. "Are you okay?" For her words, she certainly didn't sound concerned, he mused to himself. She sounded downright amused as hell. "Just ducky, dear," he called back with mock-tenderness. "But you get the next diaper!" "Okay, Dad, let's try this again," Traci said, taking his arm and pulling him back to his duty. "For the future, and I'm sorry for not warning you sooner, little boys will always pee up. When you first undo his diaper, pull back slowly, and be prepared to cover him up again." Got it, he thought silently, while plotting a way to have Scully responsible for any and all diaper changes in the future. Traci removed her hand from the loosened diaper and gestured for him to proceed. Taking a deep breath and holding it, he lifted the diaper back slowly. William was done with peeing for now, but what he had done earlier was frightening. It looked like tar. Thick blackish-green tar. Traci saw him hesitate, and explained. "That is meconium. It's what filled his intestines before birth, and is completely normal. Once he's expelled all the meconium, his movements will be softer and lighter in color. Okay, lift his legs gently and pull the diaper out from underneath him." She took it from him, wrapped it efficiently, and laid it aside for the moment. She then handed him a cloth that she had soaked in the warm water. "Always wipe from front to back, and be gentle." One cloth was definitely not enough, he quickly saw, and realized that was why Traci had removed several. By the time he was done, William's bottom was clean, and he had the stuff in his fingernails. He held his hands up and away from his body, and seeing them, Traci laughed a little and said, "You watch me finish up, and then go wash your hands with soap and water, which you should do before and after every diaper change," the nurse then capably wiped William with one last wet cloth before patting him dry with another, then took his feet and legs in one hand and lifted him, sliding the fresh diaper beneath his bottom flawlessly. She picked up a small tube of ointment, and applied a scant amount to William's diaper area. Showing him the ointment, she said, "We recommend you use this or something similar with every diaper change." In seconds the tabs were sealed and William had been rebundled. "Go ahead, Dad. I'll take this little guy to his mom, I'm thinking he's hungry again." Mulder headed to the bathroom yet again, and spent several minutes with his hands under nearly scalding hot water to get the very sticky substance from beneath his nails. When he returned, Traci was waiting with a green scrub shirt for him, and William was at Scully's breast. Mulder changed from the wet tee shirt, laying it over the arm of the chair for now, and then eased onto the bed beside Scully. He put his arm around her shoulders, rubbing her upper arm gently. She looked up at him briefly, smiling, and then looked back down at William. The baby's eyes were closed, but his jaw was working furiously. Mulder could even hear tiny little noises that sounded like gulping. One hand had slipped out of the blanket, and his tiny fingers were clutching Scully's index finger, held near his cheek. "I have to say it again, Scully," he said softly. "You are incredible." He leaned closer and rested his head against hers, his nose almost buried in her hair. "I love you too, Mulder," Scully replied, her voice equally soft. Smiling, although she couldn't see it, Mulder carefully swung his legs up on the bed to make himself comfortable, and settled in to watch their little miracle. Georgetown University Medical Center Only mid-morning, and already her room looked like a florist's shop, a freshly showered, reasonably rested, and comfortably dressed Scully mused to herself. She used the words reasonably rested because only twice had her hungry son interrupted her sleep in the wee hours of the night... for a two am and a five am feeding. With a rather messy diaper change being necessary after the second. Mulder had arrived at 6:30 am, tiptoeing quietly inside the room until she had whispered that she was awake, holding the dozing William in her arms. When the charge nurse came in to suggest she have a shower, he had quickly volunteered his arms for baby-holding duty. Taking advantage of this 'free time', she had spent over twenty minutes in the shower, washing her hair twice, and just standing under the hot spray for a solid five minutes. The number of congratulations and well wishes had been heart-warming, leaving her with a near-permanent smile on her face. She and the delivery guy were on a first name basis now. The low dresser unit along one wall was full, as was the wide windowsill to the left of the bed. If much more flowers came, she would start donating them to the hospital floors, keeping only the plants that would last if looked after properly. Perhaps she could give her dormant green thumb a workout. She was perusing the arrangements and baskets again, for her back was a bit achy from the uncomfortable hospital bed, and standing and moving about helped. Turning her head she softly requested that her mother remind her to send thank-you cards once she and William were home from the hospital. There were fruit baskets and flowers from her immediate family, of course. A large, colorful bouquet of flowers, with a tiny balloon reading 'Welcome, baby' had arrived not long ago from Tara, Bill and Matthew, and a smaller, yet equally beautiful arrangement from Charles had been brought in not long after. It had been accompanied by a basket of fruits and cheeses and crackers, with a bottle of sparkling grape juice and two flutes in the middle. His brief note had teased about having to celebrate without champagne for the time being. Her mother had arrived precisely at nine o'clock, when visiting hours began, with a huge, cellophane-wrapped gift basket full of baby paraphernalia. Decorated in pale blue, with the now very familiar message "It's a Boy" across it, and artfully arranged, she and Mulder had thanked her mother with fond hugs and kisses. Not quite finished, her beamingly proud mother had then produced a gift bag full of genderspecific sleepers and outfits. William was wearing one of them now, a soft cotton, one-piece romper in royal blue, with a matching cap. He was sleeping peacefully in his grandma's arms in the rocking chair, a soft, baby's wool blanket she had knitted tucked around him. A beautifully crafted planter with a Peace Lily had been sent from Walter Skinner. And Scully had seen by the card...with a short note of congratulations written in his distinctive, heavy handwriting...that it had not been something he had asked his assistant to do for him, he had sent it himself. John had sent a fruit basket, with a card of congratulations, signed 'Best wishes, John Doggett'. The Gunmen had also sent flowers...a huge, colorful mix of beautiful flowers...and a large Fruit & Gourmet basket. All three men, with Langly and Frohike's scrawls barely legible, and Byers' in a notunsuspected, neat cursive had signed the accompanying card. And there had been cards and flowers from the Bureau as well. A surprising number, actually. Kimberley, Skinner's assistant, had sent a flower arrangement in a ceramic, baby bootie-shaped vase, and the Crime Lab had sent an enormous fruit basket. The secretarial pool had sent a potted fern. The few instructors at Quantico that she had kept in touch with had sent yet another Gourmet food basket. And last, a tasteful flower arrangement had arrived not too long ago, with a generic congratulations card and the name 'Alvin Kersh' printed in block letters, most likely ordered by his secretary. Scully shuffled back over to the bed, her feet clad in the slippers she had packed in her bag, one hand loosely cupping the slight remaining roundness of her belly. Once she was home, she was going to have to get started on an after-pregnancy exercise routine. Her balance was still slightly off, for she had not yet adjusted to no longer carrying around an extra 25 pounds, and she tended to lean back as she walked. She was also still a little sore. Mulder came in then, as she was gingerly lowering herself onto the mattress, two cups of coffee in his hands. He crossed the room and put both of them down on the little table, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bottle of apple juice. He presented it to her, and a straw, with a flourish. She took it with a quiet thank-you, and made room for him beside her on the bed. He settled there easily, as she made herself at home in the crook of his arm, leaning into his warm, accommodating body. The three of them had just started quietly debating possible middle names for William when there was a knock at the door. At Mulder's loud exaggerated whisper of 'Come in', the door creaked open, followed by Frohike's head peeking in. Scully smiled, and added her own welcome. His head retreated, there were the sounds of shuffling and muttering, and then the door opened wider. Next, what had to be the largest teddy bear Scully had ever seen walked inside the room. Easily two feet long, and at least a foot wide, it was rather cute, with a huge blue bow around its neck. Visible around its middle were Frohike's trademark fingerless gloves, and beneath the bear, the little man's legs. A moment later his grinning, bespectacled face appeared, ducking under one of the bear's arms. Flanking him were Langly and Byers, both bearing wrapped packages. It was to be expected that a Three Wise Men analogy would be made, how could it not? "Okay," Mulder said. "Which one of you brought the gold, and who's got the myrrh?" Three slightly confused faces stared at him, unblinking, while Scully hid a smile. Then Byers cleared his throat and with a straight face said, "Would you settle for diapers and a baby keepsake book?" Before Mulder could say anything further Scully interjected with, "That's very sweet of you all. Thank-you, for the gifts, and for the flowers and gift basket." Frohike had already placed the bear as out of the way as possible, and had moved to stand by her mother and William. He bent slightly, his hands on his knees, and leaned over to look at the sleeping baby. Whether it was coincidence or not, it would never be determined, but William woke up then, his face scrunching up, and emitted a tiny, distressed sound. The sound built to shivering cries, and her mother's efforts to soothe him were to no avail. The crying turned to fullthrottled wailing. Frohike did not panic, as Scully had thought he might. Instead, he held out his arms, asking, "May I?" Her mother looked to Scully for approval or confirmation, and with a little shrug, Scully granted it. The baby was handed over to Frohike with a surprising lack of awkwardness, and in moments the little man was swaying in place, rocking William in his arms. "There, there, little buddy, it's okay, I got ya," Frohike was saying low-voiced, seemingly unaware of being the focus of attention. And William calmed. Though he still cried, it was with far less force and volume. Scully knew it was hunger that motivated him, for his last feeding had been almost three hours ago, and only her breast would stop him completely. "Whoa. Uncle Frohike has the magic touch," Langly crowed. Frohike turned to face them, a toothy grin on his face. "Piece of cake," he said. The grin slid away when William, cuddled against the little man's chest, began rooting for something more than was offered, or even available. "Ahhhh...Scully...Dana...uh, what's he doing?" he asked. "He's hungry, Frohike," Scully told him, grinning herself. As Langly and Byers took a backwards step in tandem, looking panicked, Frohike blanched, then turned beet red. He quickly brought William to the bed, leaning practically in Mulder's lap to hand the baby over. "Sorry, little buddy," he muttered. "Can't help you there." He straightened, his cheeks still red, and said, "We'll take off, leave you some privacy." "Thank-you again, all of you," Scully said, accepting William from Mulder. The baby's cries were getting louder again, his mouth rooting at Scully's still covered breast even as she was settling him into position. The three men bobbed and blushed and backed out of the room, Byers calling out, "You're very welcome, Scully." Once the door had closed behind them, Scully quickly one-handed the buttons of her casual shirt open and parted it. She fumbled a bit with the clasp of the nursing bra, not quite used to it, and pulled the flap down. Bringing William's face to her breast, she stroked her nipple across his lips. His mouth opened immediately, and he clamped down with an eager, gulping snort that made the three of them laugh. "Did you see Frohike's face?" Mulder asked, his attention fully on the nursing child. His fascination with the process of breastfeeding was total and absolute. "That was priceless!" Scully had to admit it had been rather funny, and nodded. "He was very good with him though," she said softly, staring down at the contentedly nursing baby, one finger lightly skimming back and forth over his downy cheek. "Back-up babysitter candidate?" Mulder quipped. "We'll see," was her reply, her voice neutral and non-committal. After he passed a few more tests, and William was fully weaned, she'd think about it. Maybe. Her mother came over, and Mulder slid off the bed and moved aside to give her some room. She bent to kiss Scully on the cheek, one hand just barely skimming over William's cap-covered head. "I'm going to run some errands and have lunch," she told Scully. "I'll see you later tonight, okay?" "Okay, Mom," Scully replied, lifting her eyes from William to meet her mother's gaze. "Thanks, Mom. I love you." "Love you too, dear," her mom replied, then straightened and touched Mulder on the cheek in farewell, before heading out. Once she had left, Mulder moved over and started perusing all the arrangements and baskets, while Scully nursed their son. "I'm going to have to rent a mini-van just to get all this stuff home," he called over his shoulder. Scully smiled, and hummed her agreement. "Home," she repeated. She liked the sound of that. "Soon we'll take William home." Epilogue 6 Weeks Later Scully's Apartment Mulder laid back into the cushions, swinging his bare feet up onto the couch, his eyes closing. The apartment seemed extra quiet with William gone. No familiar baby patter as Scully bathed and prepared him for bedtime. No 'feed me now!' wails from William if she wasn't quick enough to offer him her breast. He missed it, and their son. And William had only been gone half an hour. Picked up by his extremely happy Grandma, along with enough baby paraphernalia to last a month, at least, although he was only staying one night. Scully had wanted to make sure she had covered all the bases. Which included pumping extra breast milk. Though Mulder was certain William would not be guzzling down the eight 8 oz. bottles in the ice-packed cooler. She had fed him just before her mother had arrived, and he was now down to only two feeds during the night. Thinking of Scully breastfeeding William brought a sudden, vividly clear memory to his mind. Of waking that very morning at 5 am, his face mashed into Scully's pillow, and sweeping his arm out to encompass her in a hug. Only to find that the bed was empty. Rolling over and blinking blurred eyes to be greeted with a most beautiful sight. A sleep-tousled Scully, clad only in a nightshirt, nursing William in the rocking chair by the window. Pale, early morning sunlight had been streaming through the partially drawn shades, bathing them both in an ethereal glow. Scully had been unaware she was the focus of all his attention, and he had watched with a tender smile as she had stroked William's downy head with her free hand, the other arm cuddling him to her body. She had been singing a lullaby, in her soft, slightly off-key voice, the chair rocking with gentle motions. He decided right then as he lay smiling on the couch that those times, when he could watch Scully with William, and she did not know she was being observed, were his most favorite. For while Scully had definitely opened more once they had begun a personal relationship, and even more so since William's birth, she had a natural reticence, or reserve, that she just could not overcome. Her actions were far more relaxed when it was one-on-one, particularly when it came to William. Not to suggest she was not loving or attentive...she showered a generous amount of love on he and William – in gestures and physical contact, and the tones of her voice. She just seemed hesitant to do so when others were around, even her mother. And sometimes when he was there while she interacted with William. She was far more comfortable alone with the baby, or it was just the three of them. His eyes opened again, a slight tension running through his body. The word comfortable had triggered his worry-button. Scully had gone to change into something 'more comfortable' after her mother had left, and had yet to emerge from the bedroom. She had not allowed the sheen of tears in her eyes to fall as she had kissed William goodbye, but her distress had been obvious to both he and Mrs. Scully. Yet she had not wanted to change their plans for an evening alone, their first since the birth of William. And having just received the all clear that day from her doctor to resume sexual activities. He hoped she was not in there, crying. Sitting up, his feet falling to the floor, Mulder was just about to stand when the sound of running water reached his ears. Not the taps of the bathroom sink, but those of the bathtub. His breathing quickened. Scully was running a bath. New tension raced through his body, from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, most of it centered in his groin. Scully in the bath was another favorite time. Topped only by the combination of Scully and he in the bath. He rose on suddenly weak legs, and managed to stride swiftly, and without stumbling, down the hall. A pool of light on the night- darkened floor spilled out from the open bathroom door. If the door had been closed, he would have left Scully alone, and waited anxiously for her to come out. An open door was, and always had been, an invitation. He hesitated though, hands coming up to brace himself on the doorjamb, and looked within. To see Scully, wearing a short - very short - silk robe, bent at the waist, and presenting her profile as she lit candles that were clustered together on a little table by the bathtub. Her hair was pinned up haphazardly, sexily, little tendrils caressing her neck and cheeks, and the front of the robe gaped open. Revealing that she appeared to be nude beneath it. He might have made a sound, he wasn't sure, but she looked up at him then, her cheeks flushing. "Hi," she said softly, and straightened, her hand shaking out the match she had used to light the candles. Turning aside briefly, she put it down on the edge of the sink. "Hey," he said back when she turned back, eyes sweeping her from head to toe. He smiled slowly when she visibly shivered. "I was...going to take a bath," she said next, her voice faint. Her gaze flitted from his chest, muscles delineated by his pose and his tight tee shirt, to his mouth. She licked her lips. His smile widened. "I see that." He lowered his arms, one hand flicking the light switch off during its descent, and advanced further into the bathroom, watching her eyes dilate. "Care for some company?" he asked her, making his voice the low rumble that always seemed to turn her crank, stopping just before her, mere inches now separating their bodies. Scully shivered again, visible even in the low light from the candles, and then took a deep breath, which immediately drew his eyes to her breasts. To her hardened nipples poking at the silk of her robe. Clearing her throat, she replied in a stronger, more assured voice, "As a matter of fact, I was hoping you might want to join me." "Always," he told her, and saw her flush deepen. He searched her eyes for any signs of distress, or dismay. Or sadness. And saw only desire. His already stoked arousal flamed higher, and he wanted nothing more than to haul her into his arms and throw her onto her bed. But he did not. He was going to take this slow, even if it killed him. At least he would die happy. Lifting one hand, surprised it was steady, he skimmed his knuckles down one smooth cheek, dropping off her jaw to land on the hem of her robe. The weight of his hand rested on her breast, and she inhaled sharply, noisily, her chest rising. Mulder could feel her heat, through the silk, and smell the wonderful scent that was Scully. Not perfume, for she would not wear any while nursing William, but her own natural essence, mixed with the heady aroma of her arousal. His nostrils flared, and his breath stuttered in his lungs. He felt himself swaying towards her, and took a small step back to slow down, his hand sliding from her body and falling to his side. Scully's body swayed as well, towards his, looking amazingly fragile and delicate. With an embarrassed laugh, she straightened her shoulders and took a step back herself. "Um..." she said, and waved her hand at the filling bathtub. "I hope you don't mind bubbles," she blurted then. She was nervous, he realized. He exhaled the breath he had apparently been holding, and scrubbed his hand through his hair. He was a little nervous too, but seeing her that way calmed him. Smiling again, he quietly said, "I don't mind them at all." Stepping forward once more, he cupped his hand on the cheek he had caressed moments ago, and leaned in to press a feather-light kiss on the other one. "Relax, Scully," he whispered, moving his lips to her ear. "It's just you and me." Sliding back to her mouth, he said against her lips, "Nothing has to happen, if you're not ready, Scully." A gentle kiss, then he pulled back slightly. Her eyelids fluttered, and she ducked her face into his hand, rubbing against his palm. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she whispered, "Thank- you, Mulder." She laughed then, a light, low sound, and continued with wryness, "I'm very ready, Mulder. Believe me. I just..." Her head ducked further, until she seemed to be studying their feet. Another small laugh, and then she lifted her head to meet his gaze squarely. "Just a little shy all of a sudden." She shook her head. "Silly." "It's not silly," he told her, his thumb moving along her cheekbone. He leaned in and punctuated his next sentences with butterfly kisses to her nose. "It's end earing." Kiss. "It's sweet." Kiss. "It's sexy." Kiss. He growled the next. "It's arousing." She had started to giggle, her body leaning against his, but at his last remark, it turned into a moan. "Mulderrrrr...God, I love you!" she exclaimed, voice low and very intense. Her hands came up to grab his head, rather forcefully, and she rose up on her toes, her lips landing on his, hard. He parted them instinctively, his hands landing on her hips, pulling her even closer, and her tongue invaded his mouth. Her breasts were pressing into his chest, her nipples hard points stabbing at his flesh, and his arousal surged against her soft belly. Time had absolutely no meaning. There was just he and Scully. Until she broke away and breathlessly panted, "The water!" Mulder staggered back a step and watched as Scully walked on unsteady legs to turn the bathtub taps off, the bubbles near to overflowing. He took a moment to suck air into his depleted lungs, before remarking, "Close." She met his eyes, hers dancing with laughter, and more. "Very." His next words stuck in his throat as her hands lifted to the sash of her robe and slowly untied it. He stared avidly as she shimmied her shoulders gently and the silk started to slide down her arms. But she crossed them in front of her body, her hands clutching the hem to her breasts, so the motion was arrested. He sighed, his breaths choppy and harsh. Her lips curved in a siren's smile, and then her arms swept down. The silk robe pooled at her feet. 9:00 pm This is ridiculous, Scully told herself, and forced her gaze away from the telephone on her night table. William would be fine. There was no need to call. Besides, her mother had only left a half hour ago. She probably hadn't even gotten home yet. And most likely he would sleep for a few more hours before his next feeding. But this was the first time he would be away from her, from them, for a visit longer than an hour, and she was a little apprehensive. She knew her mother was perfectly qualified to take care of William, and she trusted her implicitly. This was something her mother had been looking forward to - time alone with her newest grandson – for quite a while, but it was still difficult. Shaking her head, she rose from her seat on the edge of the bed where she had been staring ridiculously at the phone for the last ten minutes or so. There was a sexy man – her man – waiting down the hall, and she was in here moping, alone. When she could be with him. Should be with him. It was time to...Why was it the only words coming to mind were 'get it on'? She shook her head again. What a romantic way to describe what she knew was going to be a delightful interlude between two people who had been denied the company and pleasure of each other's bodies for far too long. Get yourself together, Dana, and seduce your man. A tiny smile on her lips, Scully moved to the foot of the bed, her hands going to the hem of her sweatshirt. Tugging it off, she draped it over the footboard, before bringing her hand to the waistband of her leggings. After removing them and laying them atop the sweatshirt, she unclasped her maternity bra and removed it with a sigh of relief. It was a rather uncomfortable garment, albeit a necessary one, unfortunately. It was also quite unattractive, in her opinion. No doubt Mulder's as well, though he had never said word one about it. She rubbed at the faint marks under her breasts before laying it aside, and then slipped her cotton panties off. A chill ran through her, and she quickly moved to her closet. Pulling the door open and stepping inside, her hand halted in mid-action, about to grab her robe. Her staid, dependable, plain, completely and utterly un-sexy terry cloth robe. Not very conducive to a romantic evening, that was for certain. Frowning slightly, she shook her head and dropped her hand to her side, shivering again. Her eyes landed on another robe – a very short, sexy, silk one that Mulder had once admired many, many moons ago. Perfect. Another smile lifted her lips, a naughty one, and she pulled the robe from its padded hanger. It was enough covering for now – she knew the silk covering wouldn't be on long, anyway. Once Mulder heard the bath water running, he would come to investigate, as she had planned. She was a little surprised he hadn't come looking for her already, she knew he had seen the tears she had managed not to let fall as she had kissed William goodbye. Okay, enough thoughts about William. He was in capable hands, and had been fine when he left. He was still fine, and he would be fine. Time to think about just she and Mulder. Scully slipped her arms into the sleeves of the robe, enjoying the feel of the cool silk gliding over her sensitive skin. Closing the closet door, she turned around and found herself staring at her own reflection. Hesitating before tying the robe's sash, Scully walked closer to the mirror and stared at her nude body critically, head tilting to one side slightly. A rather rigorous after-childbirth exercise program had helped her to easily shed the extra pounds, and toned her body, but she was...different. She was...rounder, softer. She could see it in her face. In her hips, her breasts, her belly. What would Mulder see? Her right hand left her robe and lifted towards her face, and she watched as the hand of the woman in the mirror did the same. Fingers touched her cheek with feather-softness, eyes remaining on her reflection, before gliding down her throat to her breast. Her nipple hardened as one fingertip skimmed it, and she shivered. Her hand went next to her belly, lightly palming the slight swell, the edge of her pinkie just brushing her mons. She shifted and turned to her left, her right knee bent, still eying her reflection. And knew Mulder would see a desirable woman, skin pliant and radiant, body ripe with want. With her cheeks blushing rose, she brought the hem of her robe together and tied it loosely with the sash. Turning to face her dresser, she found a small band for her hair. She gathered her hair up as much as possible, some strands too short to be up in a pony tail, and secured it with the band. Walking quietly, but with surety, she entered the bathroom, flicking on the light. She deliberately did not close the door behind her. Opening one of the cupboards, she gathered up a handful of candles, in varying sizes, and placed them on the little stand she kept by the tub, for holding her current paperback novel, or sometimes her portable radio. Leaning down, she plugged the bathtub before cranking the taps on, more hot than cold. Selecting bubble bath in a scent that wouldn't have Mulder later complaining he smelled like flowers, she poured some of it into the filling tub, and then replaced the recapped bottle in the little tray partly full of other similar bottles. A second later the room was redolent with the aroma of sandalwood. The next step was to light the candles for more ambiance. She moved back to the cupboard, feeling the silk slide luxuriously over her skin, imagining it was Mulder's hands instead, and removed a pack of matches. Back to the tub, where she lit one and bent at the waist to touch the small flame to each candle's wick. The sensation of being watched washed over her first, a not unpleasant feeling. Followed by the faintest of sounds - a man's breath, indrawn and rough. Mulder. Her hand shaking slightly, Scully lit the last candle and glanced at the doorway. She felt her cheeks flush, seeing him poised there, his arms up and hands on the doorjamb. He was so unbelievably sexy. All she could think of to say was, "Hi." Not quite the come-hither opening line she had intended to use when he joined her. Blushing even more, she stood upright, waving her hand to put out the burning match. Once it was out, she put it down on the sink's edge, to let it cool. "Hey," he said back, in low, intimate tones. As intimate as the look in his eyes when he ran them over her body. She couldn't help the little shiver that ran through her from his look, and saw him smile when she did. Oh, Lord, that smile. What it did to her insides. "I was...going to take a bath," she managed to get out, while wondering in the back of her mind where the smoothly confident, bent-on-seduction woman she had been had gone. Meanwhile, the witless wonder she had become couldn't help staring at his chest, at the muscles clearly defined by his tee shirt. Her tongue came out to swipe at her lips. That smile grew deeper. He sounded amused when he replied, "I see that." He stepped into the bathroom, one hand flicking the bathroom light off, and added in that purring rumble that made her insides quiver, "Care for some company?" He now stood directly in front of her, their bodies almost, but not quite touching. Scully felt her nipples harden beneath the silk at his proximity. Attempting to regain some control, despite the arousal that was zinging through her, she cleared her throat and remarked, "As a matter of fact, I was hoping you might want to join me." The words sounded confident, as she had intended. "Always," he intoned huskily. And then he was touching her. A light glance of his knuckles on her cheek, her jaw. Hand dropping to land on her breast, a warm, seductive weight. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly with her altered breathing, despite that weight. She heard herself babble something about him liking bubbles, and blushed again, from a combination of arousal, embarrassment and shyness. And he soothed her, teased her. Aroused her further. Somewhere in the flow of touches and kisses and the near overflowing of the bathtub, she found her inner seductress. Untying the sash of her robe, she let the silky material slide down her arms. Before it could continue downward, she brought her hands to her chest, halting its descent. Enjoying the look in his eyes, the sound of his aroused breathing. His sigh of dismay when the robe went no further. A thrill of power ran through her, a pleased smile crossed her lips, and she dropped her arms to let the robe fall all the way to the floor. Traces of a lingering shyness had her ducking her head slightly, starting to bring her arms up to cover her bare breasts. "Oh...Scuh-leee," Mulder sighed. "You..." His voice trailed off, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed noisily. "You are absolutely beautiful." She felt his gaze like a heated caress. Touching her breasts, the slope of her belly, the flare of her hips. Lingering briefly at the triangle between her legs before sweeping back up. All her shyness fled. Her head lifted, to meet his eyes proudly. "Our bath awaits," she said. Another thrill ran through her when he drew his tee shirt over his head in one fluid motion and tossed it aside. His hands were at the button of his jeans faster than she could believe, and a second later both jeans and briefs were gone. Her eyes were naturally drawn to the shadow of his groin, to his half- erect penis, when he stepped closer. Mulder said nothing, merely stepped over the tub's rim, into the mass of bubbles, and then held out his hand. Once she had placed hers within, he carefully helped her into the tub. His other hand skimmed down her belly, briefly touched her hip. "Turn around," was his huskily voiced request. She complied, and felt the water slosh and the brush of his body as he sank down in the water. His hands touched her outer thighs, and then she was seated between his legs, her back to his chest. As she wiggled about, tucking her head in the hollow of his neck and shoulder, she felt him hard against her lower back. She couldn't help wiggling more. 9:20 pm He had no words...she was absolutely stunning. Childbirth had merely enhanced the beauty that had already been there. Added a fullness to her body that made him weak in the knees. Her shyness touched him as she brought her hands up, and her head ducked to hide her eyes. "Oh...Scuh-leee," Mulder said softly, not surprised by the huskiness of his voice. It was a wonder he had one at all. He was certainly finding it difficult to breathe. "You..." His voice did fail him then, and he had to swallow thickly to ease the dryness in his mouth. "You are absolutely beautiful," he finally got out. He ran his eyes over her, letting his appreciation and desire shine through. Admiring her full breasts with their crinkled nipples, the sweet, gentle rise of her belly – not as flat as it had once been, but utterly sexy, inviting further caresses, from his hands and mouth. The auburn curls at the apex of her thighs received a protracted glance, and had his arousal stirring further. With pride flaring in her eyes, Scully straightened, her shoulders going back, thrusting her breasts forward, and said, "Our bath awaits." Suddenly eager to feel bare flesh on bare flesh, and feeling restricted by his clothes, he yanked his tee shirt off and sent it flying. His jeans and briefs came down together, and were discarded with equal quickness. Scully's eyes flicked down to his penis, which was at half-mast, and definitely interested in proceeding further. He, however, wanted to take things slowly, and climbed into the tub, holding out his hand to help her in. Carefully, he guided her into the tub, their hands clasped together. He couldn't resist the urge to touch her, and let his other hand glide over the soft skin of her belly to her hip. "Turn around," he requested, in the same husky voice. When she had, he sank down into the hot, bubbly water, letting go of her hand, his eyes caressing her backside as he went. Once seated, he laid both hands lightly on her legs, and she followed the unspoken appeal, sinking down into the water until she was cradled between his legs, her back lying along his chest. The feel of her body against his was beyond arousing. Her silky smooth legs, brushing his hairier, longer legs, her toes tickling his calves. Her soft, smooth back and her arms, draped over his on the rim of the tub. Her delectable backside, which was pressing his burgeoning erection into his own belly. She was wiggling about, getting comfortable. Only he was getting more and more 'un' comfortable with each delicious little wiggle, in a very good way. Oh. That last 'wiggle' seemed quite deliberate. "Ignore him, Scully," he whispered just above her ear, his lips pressing a kiss on the little spot behind it. "It's hard," she said. He knew she meant it in an entirely different way, but he couldn't help teasing her. "It certainly is," he whispered back, thrusting 'it' gently into her rear. "And all because of you." She made a sound of rueful dismay, and from his vantage point above and behind her, he saw her eyes close and a blush pinken her cheeks. "Mulderrrr..." she said then, with embarrassment, and a slight chiding, in her voice. "I know, baby," he murmured. "I'm a horrible tease. But you love me anyway, right?" She was silent; her eyes remained closed, body and face still. "Right?" he repeated, and nuzzled his nose into her neck. No reply. He nuzzled her again, then spoke a little louder. "Baby?" He got a reaction then - a breathy giggle and her attempting to squirm away from his nose. "Oh, I see," he said with mock-sternness. "What's good for the goose is good for the gander, huh?" His arms slipped away from hers, his hands going under the bubbles so he could glide his fingers teasingly along her ribcage, while his mouth took up the torment at her neck. "You can..." Breathless words that faded with a giggle and a wiggle. "...gander me..." A laugh this time, and her hands moved to try and stop his, sending water and bubbles sloshing over the sides of the tub. She screeched the last word as his fingers tickled unmercifully. "ANYTIME!" "With pleasure," he growled into her neck, and at the same time his lips suckled a section of her skin, his hands slid from her ribs to gently cup her breasts. He was careful not to tease her nipples, for she was still quite sensitive from nursing William. He also did not want to start the letdown process; it wouldn't exactly be conducive to romance if she had to go express her breast milk. Her head fell back with a sigh, her back arching slightly to thrust her breasts more fully into his hands. "Ohhhh..." she sighed. Pressing a kiss on the spot he had been sucking, he whispered, "Is this okay?" "Mm-hmmm," she sighed. Or was it a moan? Whatever it was, the throaty sound had sent a shiver through his body, and had him thrusting his hips up, pressing his erection into her again. She answered with a surge and a slow circling of her hips. "Feels so good to have your hands touching me, Mulder." Did it ever. "Yes, it does," he agreed. He slid his right hand down her stomach, over skin silky smooth and slick with bath oil, and toyed with her belly button. She sucked in her next breath noisily, body tensing infinitesimally. "Scully?" he croaked, his hand halting, starting to slide away from her stomach. "Did I –" His desire waned slightly. If he had hurt her... Her fingers grabbed his, halting his retreat, and she guided his hand back to her stomach, only lower, his fingertips just brushing the top of her mound. "Shhhh..." she said. "Don't stop, I'm fi...it feels wonderful, Mulder." "Are you sure, Scully?" he asked. "We don't have to do anything at all, you know that, right? I'm just happy to be here with you like this, it doesn't have to go any further." "Mulderrrrr..." Her voice was lower, and sounded embarrassed again. "I'm glad we're together too, just the two of us." She squirmed a little, her fingers flexing on his, still held over her heat. With a nervous laugh, she continued, "It's been a while, Mulder, and I'm..." "Horny?" he supplied with a grin, renewed arousal surging through his body. "Well, if you have to put it that...Yes, I am," she whispered. Her head turned, so that her lips were now on his neck, and she placed a kiss there, her tongue darting out to lick at a bead of moisture trailing along his skin. "And I want this to last, you know?" "It will, Scully," he said, trailing his hand up her belly, between her breasts to her face, tilting her chin up. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then he lowered his to stare at her lips. Her tongue darted out to lick the upper one, an unconsciously erotic move, and he groaned. He brought his face closer, and repeated in a whisper, "It will last, Scully." Her eyelids fluttered before slipping shut, his name escaping her mouth on a sigh. Their lips met, sweetly, and then the kiss grew hotter, more intense. 9:30 pm "It will last, Scully," Mulder whispered the statement a second time, and the words were both a verbal caress and a promise. Scully's insides fluttered pleasantly, and her heart began a steady thrumming. She sighed his name, her eyes falling shut, and felt his lips descend onto hers. The kiss was gentle at first, his lips soft. But it gradually became deeper, more purposeful, his lips firming, pressing harder upon hers. His tongue swept through her mouth then, teasing her gums, the roof of her mouth...her tongue. She moaned deep in her throat, her left hand coming up to cradle his cheek, just as his hand now cradled hers. Shifting slightly, she tried to gain better purchase within his arms, their position somewhat awkward in the confines of the tub. Her right hand was on his hip, as an anchor, and she momentarily tightened her fingers as she tried to move. Mulder's lips pulled away from hers, his breaths a harsh panting, and his head fell back against the porcelain rim. He answered her moan with a low groan that was her name. The fingers of his other hand flexed briefly into the flesh of her side, the tips just brushing the side of her breast. Raising a delightful trail of gooseflesh over every inch of her skin, even in the heat of the bathwater, and the heat of Mulder's body pressed all along hers. She shivered and husked out his name in drawn-out syllables. "Mul-de- errrr..." Her hand slid from his face to rest briefly upon her heaving breast before falling into the water at their sides. She let her head snuggle into the hollow of his neck and shoulder, and wiggled her hips so that her backside firmly rubbed the very prominent erection pressed between their bodies. Mulder's hips jerked, and his palm slid from her side to splay over her belly. While applying a light force with his hand, he also pushed upwards with his lower body, intensifying their contact. And apparently creating a very enjoyable friction on his penis - for he moaned yet again, a low growl that reverberated through her cheek, resting against his throat. He thrust like this with slow, gentle motions that rocked her body, and the water, for several moments, before stopping with one last, long push. After his hips settled back down, the hand on her belly began to rub over her skin in ever-widening circles. She shuddered, and her hand clenched on his hip when his fingers brushed first the undersides of her breasts, and then the top of her mound in one great, circling pass. Her legs unconsciously attempted to spread wider, inviting more of his touch, and they encountered his unyielding, firmly muscled thighs. "Wait," he whispered. His palm pressed down on her belly again, while his other hand curled around her upper arm and held her as he shifted until he had drawn his knees up. The water sloshed a bit, bubbles cascading over the sides, but she did not care. It would be easily cleaned up later. She slid along his body a little bit, but his hand on her arm kept her from sliding too far down, her head now on his upper chest, his chin nudging her scalp. His hand then left her bicep, and his arm slid across her midriff, just under her breasts, to hold her steady. With his legs up this way, she was able to spread hers a slight bit further apart. "Okay?" he whispered then, and she nodded. With each breath she took, the undersides of her breasts were pressed into his bubble-slicked arm, teasing her senses. He resumed the slow gliding of his hand on her belly, but did not rise above her belly button, with smaller circles, now that his other arm lay on her upper body. Another delightful tease. Finally his fingers trailed through the thatch of hair over her mons. Only a glancing touch, but her stomach muscles quivered in reaction just the same. Mulder did it again, still a fleeting contact, and on the next pass, he applied a bit more pressure, scratching lightly at the flesh beneath. This time she bucked upwards, and her hand left her side to curl over the one on her midriff, her fingernails digging slightly into the skin just below his elbow. He leaned his head down, his nose nuzzling through her hair until his mouth was by her ear. "You like, Scully?" he husked. "Ye-esss," she sighed back, hips moving restlessly, for his hand had gone back to rubbing her abdomen. "I like. Please, Mulder...more." His teeth nipped her lobe, and then his lips sucked it into his mouth, just as his palm slid down so that he was now cupping her entire mound. Tension, a pleasurable tension, zinged through her entire body, and once more she bucked her hips. He released her lobe and whispered, "Easy." Then he applied pressure with the heel of his palm, and began moving it in slow, firm circles. Directly on her clitoris. Her flesh, soft from the water, and highly aroused from the situation itself and Mulder's touch, had parted easily. His fingers were resting lightly on her entrance, brushing over her sensitized flesh with the motions of his hand that had further goosebumps rippling along her inner thighs. A second later he curled his long middle finger up, so that it slid through her folds and inside her. Still slowly grinding the heel of his palm over her clit, but now in an up and down motion instead of a circling one, he began to pump his finger in and out of her, with equal slowness. "A-hhhh...Mulder," she moaned, and started to thrust upwards with tiny jerks of her hips, her feet planted at the bottom of the slippery tub, and braced by the sides. Already she was feeling the deep flutterings that signaled the start of her orgasm. It really hadn't taken much. But then again, she had been primed for this all day long, even having had what could be called an erotic dream about she and Mulder the night before that she had recalled with vivid clarity upon awakening at five am. And being this close to him, and having his hands on her body, was always highly arousing. His index finger joined the middle one, and he sped up. After several deep, fast thrusts, he slowed again, and then pulled his hand back so that the tips of his two fingers were on her clit. At the same time his teeth bit down on her ear lobe, he pressed down in a hard, fast circle. And she came apart. "MULDER! Oh, God, Mulder!" she moaned, her core spasming and her hips jerking. She dug her nails into his flesh, not meaning to hurt him, but needing to cling to him. "Don'tstoppleasedon'tstop...MULDERRRR!" 9:40 pm Mulder was torn. Torn between his desire for he and Scully to be ensconced in her big, comfortable bed, and his desire to remain in the glorious cocoon of hot water, bubbles and Scully. His quandary was wiped from his mind completely by the feel of her body sliding along his – of her shapely little ass rubbing his erection. He automatically thrust up in response, and his hand moved to lie upon the softness of her stomach. Holding her in place, and also pressing her more firmly into him. A groan, guttural and deep, rose from his chest as the pleasure swamped all his senses. After thrusting against her with slow, steady lifts of his hips for long, end less moments, he forced himself to stop. It wasn't time yet. Not for him, anyway. But he had plans for Scully. Starting with a light stroking of his hand on her belly, that slowly moved to circles that grew wider and wider. Mulder ensured that his fingertips brushed first the sensitive undersides of her breasts, and then the top of her mons. Grinned to himself when she shivered, and her hand tightened on his hip in reaction. She then tried to part her legs, but was hampered by his legs. The limited maneuverability of her bathtub was both a curse and a blessing. He whispered for her to wait, and slowly shifted them both until his knees were drawn up, and his arm under her breasts kept her from sliding down further. Once he had confirmed she was okay, he resumed the motion of his hand, in smaller circles, concentrating only on her lower belly. When his fingers finally brushed her curls, the muscles of her stomach jumped and twitched. Pleased, he did it again, and again, slowly applying more pressure. Scully bucked her hips that time, and her hand came up to clutch at his arm, nails digging just slightly. He brought his head down to whisper in her ear, unable to resist nuzzling into her hair. "You like, Scully?" he crooned, equally unable to resist teasing her further by moving his hand away from her sex. Her sighing reply to his question revealed her pleasure, as did the tiny, restless movements of her hips. Her plea for more, in a husky moan when he stopped touching her, was his reward. He first bit her earlobe, and then sucked it into his mouth. At the same time, he slid his hand down to completely cup her mons. Scully bucked up again, sending a wave of watery bubbles cascading over one side of the tub, and Mulder let her lobe fall from his mouth to whisper, "Easy." Using the heel of his hand, he pressed down upon her clitoris, and began to rub in slow circles. He kept his hand flat, so that his fingers brushed her delicate lips with each rotation. She seemed to melt back into him. He continued to move slowly, teasingly, even though his mind screamed for him to move faster. Harder. He had to listen to those screams then, and the slight, telltale reactions of Scully's body. Curving his third finger on the next circle, he slid his third finger through her slick folds and up inside her hot, moist tunnel. Switching from the circling passes, he rocked his hand over her mons, slowly inserting and withdrawing his finger. Her inner muscles clenched at his finger with each thrust, and he gritted his teeth, his eyes momentarily falling shut, as he imagined how this would feel on his cock. But still he continued pumping in and out of her, rocking against her clit, never changing his pace. Until Scully moaned brokenly, and started thrusting her hips upwards in a counter-rhythm. Mulder knew she was close – could feel the trembling of her thighs, the tension in her entire body – and with the next glide, added his index finger, crossing the two for added stimulation. He increased the speed of his thrusts for several seconds, slowed once again, before totally withdrawing his fingers until the tips were touching only the hard little bundle of nerves. It began to pulse beneath his touch. With his eyes trained on her lower body, playing peek-a-boo through the dissipating bubbles, his teeth found her earlobe and nipped, at the exact moment he pressed down hard on her clit. Scully was an amazing woman every day, but in orgasm, she was fire. As her release hit, her hips began to jerk, sending water sloshing everywhere, and she moaned out, "MULDER! Oh God, Mulder!" Her nails dug into his arm, a stinging, delicious pain he willingly end ured, and she still thrust up and up, her breasts heaving and her core pulsing under his fingers. "Don'tstoppleasedon'tstop...MULDERRRR!" she cried then. His fingers continued to circle her hard little clit, gradually slowing as her hips lowered, and she came down from her orgasmic high, while he nuzzled her ear, her neck, anything within range of his mouth. "Oh baby, you're so beautiful," he crooned. "So beautiful when you come." "Ohhhh...Mulder," Scully sighed then, turning her head to the side, towards him, her eyes closed and her chin tilted up, blindly seeking his lips. Their lips met in a gentle kiss, while his fingers slowly eased away from her sex, coming to rest low on her belly. She twisted in his loose grasp, so that she lay partly on her side, and the kiss deepened. He broke the kiss finally, needing air and time to regain his equilibrium. It was also time to get out of the bathtub. Pulling away slowly, his teeth nipping at her swollen bottom lip, he murmured, "Can I wash your back?" Her eyes fluttered open, and a lazy, pleased smile lifted her lips. "Mm-hmmm," she replied languidly, and they both shifted until she was sitting up, still between his legs. She reached for, and handed him the spongy thing she called a loofah, and then the bottle of liquid soap. Liquid Scully, he thought, his nostrils flaring and arousal ratcheting up another notch when he opened the bottle to squirt some on the loofah. When it was sufficiently soapy, he began to smooth it over her creamy back, running it gently along her spine, dipping under the cooling water to tease the top of her behind. As he neared the nape of her neck, Scully tucked her head down, one arm rising to hold the wisps of hair out of his way. Swooping to that side, he ran the loofah from the curve of her armpit to her hip, then around to her belly. Up to her breasts, which had her back arching, and down again. "Lift your other arm," he said softly, and when she complied, lowering the first one, he repeated the motion, once again crossing her breasts. When he had washed her front and back sufficiently, he dipped the loofah under water once more, teasing between her legs. Scully sucked in her breath, and shifted restlessly. Reminding himself they were supposed to be getting out of the tub, he withdrew it reluctantly and dropped it to one side. Cupping water in his hands, he rinsed her carefully. "All done," he murmured a moment later. "Stand up, Scully." Scully turned her head, and regarded him with heavy-lidded eyes, before blinking slowly. "What about your back, Mulder?" she asked, her voice a seductive near-whisper. 9:50 pm Scully felt weighted, heavy – deliciously so. Satisfied. Tiny, lightning bolts of pleasure continued to run through her body, up and down her orgasm-weakened limbs. Pulsed between her legs. Mulder's lips were on her neck, her ear, while his hand still lightly teased between her legs, easing her down from her plateau. His seductively raspy voice crooned in her ear, "Oh baby, you're so beautiful. So beautiful when you come." She wanted his lips then, on hers. "Ohhhh...Mulder," she husked out, and lifting her chin up, turned her face to his. Her eyes remained lazily closed. Knowing their lips would meet instinctively, naturally. They did find each other's mouths, easily. Lips pressed together gently, and Scully found herself wanting more of him. Turning into him further, so that she was nearly on her side on top of him, enabled them to intensify the kiss. It was hungry, and wild, and beautiful. Mulder was the one who broke it, his breath washing over her face in warm, familiar pants. He nibbled on her bottom lip before huskily saying, "Can I wash your back?" A shiver skated down her spine, from his voice, the words, the thought of the loofah or his hands gliding along her skin. Her eyes slid open lazily, and she smiled slowly. "Mm-hmmm," she murmured. They moved together, until she was seated between his legs, her back to him. Scully handed over the loofah and the bottled soap she had selected, and leaned forward slightly to give him better access to all of her back. She heard the bottle lid flick open, and the slight expulsion of air as Mulder squeezed some of the soap out. He inhaled deeply with a tiny sound she recognized to be one of pleasure, and a second later she caught the faint aroma of her favorite scents. The loofah touched the middle of her back then, trailing down along the bumps of her spine, and her eyes fluttered closed in contentment and delight. When it teased the top of her behind, she shivered and exhaled heavily, knowing that it would not take much to arouse her anew. It trailed upwards next, and she lowered her chin to her chest, one hand coming up to hold her hair aside. Mulder followed her motions with the loofah, dipping into her armpit before traveling down her ribcage to her hip, and surprising her by sliding over to her belly. And up to her breasts. He was extremely gentle there, but she was extremely sensitive, particularly her nipples. The loofah scratched feather-light across them, and they beaded instantly into hard points. Her back arched into the caress, but it was already sliding away. "Lift your other arm," was his soft command, spoken close to her ear. She did, switching arms, and felt the soapy sponge traverse the same path it had on her other side. It once again slid teasingly across her breasts, and she once again arched into the light contact. When the loofah slipped between her legs, glancing over flesh still sensitive from her orgasm, that latent arousal did surge slowly to life. Her entire body twitched, and her next breath was a sharp inhalation. Mulder moved it away though, before she could lean back and give herself over. His hands sluiced water on her back and shoulders, and cooling droplets slid in teasing rivulets down her front, over her breasts and now softened nipples. "All done," he said quietly a moment later. "Stand up, Scully." She didn't want to leave the bathtub. She hadn't had her turn yet. Turning her head slowly, she stared at him before husking out, "What about your back, Mulder?" At the visible tremor that ran through his body, she smiled. His eyes went wild and smoky, and his Adam's apple bobbed convulsively. She maneuvered herself carefully, using first his knees, and then the sides of the tub, for support, until she was on her haunches facing him. Yet no longer touching him anywhere. Instead she let her eyes do the touching. Her gaze meandered over his chest, admiring the tight curls of hair and the equally tight, flat male nipples nestled there, and down his taut abdomen to his groin. His cock lay dark and heavy between his legs, partially erect, and as she watched, it twitched and thickened further. An idea blossomed, and the tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. Mulder groaned, low and deep. The sound danced along her skin, tightening her nipples again and sending little spasms through her core. Returning her eyes to his face, she caught and held his gaze. Deciding to forego the loofah, her hand began to search for the bottle of liquid soap. She deliberately and gently scratched her fingernails along the outside of his thigh as she retrieved it, carefully maintaining an innocent expression. He shuddered, and sucked in his next breath noisily. After holding it for several seconds, he formed her name with his heavy exhalation. "Scuh-leee." "Yes, Mulder?" she asked softly. When he merely shook his head somewhat jerkily, she held the bottle up, and with slow, deliberate movements, opened it and poured a generous amount of soap into her other palm. She then held the bottle out to him. "Could you close this, please?" Another jerky motion, that of his hand rising from the water to take the bottle from her, his fingers fumbling the lid closed, and then he laid it aside. His eyes had remained avidly on her hands, now rubbing the soap into a foamy lather. Rising onto her knees, she leaned forward, watching as his eyes dipped first to her breasts, and then lower. Placing her hands on his shoulder, she began to rub. Scully washed first one arm, and then the other, right down to his fingers, where she thoroughly soaped each finger, and the space between it. Her thumb swirled over his palms, feeling each hand flex instinctively, as if to grasp hers. Next was his entire trunk, treated to an equally meticulous cleaning, from armpits to belly button. That she had to tease a little, first circling it several times, before finally delving inside. She relished how his muscles skittered and jumped beneath her touch, and the soft, sighing sounds he made. She sank back down then, until her rear end rested on her heels. The bubbles were non-existent now, and she could see that his erection had not diminished in the least, and was in fact looking rather...intense. It was a struggle not to wrap her fingers around it, to begin to stroke and tug and guide him to completion, as he had done for her. But she persevered – she had other plans. Skirting his groin completely, hearing his husky moan of disappointment, she ran her hands down the taut muscles of his thigh. It did not matter that the soap was gone by now - it was the contact, the caressing, that was important. She danced her fingers over his knee, and under it, and then along his hairy calf to his foot. His long, incredibly sexy foot. Which flexed and jumped in her hand, much as the muscles of his stomach had reacted to her touch just moments ago. It was lifted from the water, his knee bending, and treated as his hand had been, before she switched to the other foot, also stroking each toe and between. On the return journey up his other leg, she stopped just shy of his groin, and leaned back. Running her eyes up and down his length with a pondering gaze, she brought an index finger to her mouth and tapped her lips. "Hmmmm...Now how can I wash your back?" she murmured breathily. Fully aware both of them knew that the washing was just a pretense. "Back's fine, Scully," he said quickly, his voice hoarse. His arms came up to grasp the sides of the tub, as if he were going to lift himself out. "Oh, but Mulder," she husked, and batted her eyelashes at him. "You washed mine, it's only fair that I wash yours." Besides, she wanted to feel her hands gliding along his slick back, to feel the muscles straining beneath her fingers. Not to mention his ass. "Turn around, Mulder," she ordered then, putting a little bit of steel in her voice. A somewhat difficult task if one did not stand and do so. He was a fairly large man, albeit long and lean, and while her tub was not standard size, it also was not sized for such things. She slid back a bit, to give him more room, and watched with hungry eyes as he came up on his knees, his cock jutting out proudly, the wiry nest of dark hair slicked straight to frame it enticingly. He posed for a second, sucking in his stomach and thrusting out his chest, and then turned without too much difficulty, presenting her with his back. It was her turn to swallow convulsively. Water coursed down his back and along the curves of his ass, still above the waterline, and she wanted to catch each and every drop with her tongue. Sliding forward again, she lifted her hands up from where they had been laying restlessly on her thighs, and brought them to his shoulders. Flattening her hands, she stroked them slowly up and down his back, her breaths shortening as her desire increased. Although he had not touched his hands directly on her breasts or rear end, or between her legs while washing her, she could not resist the lure of the two globes of firm flesh so tantalizingly close. On the next stroke, she did not stop at his waist and reverse direction as she had with the previous ones. She instead let her hands slick down over his cheeks in a light caress. They tightened, and Mulder's body quivered. "Scully!" he gasped, and his hands once again came down to grip the sides of the tub. Before he could move further, she came up on her knees, and aligned her body along his. She slid her arms around his waist, and pressed her stomach into his ass, her hands spreading flat and low on his belly. He quivered again, and she rubbed her face along his upper back before turning into his skin to press an open-mouthed kiss there. He inhaled and exhaled shakily, and jerked when one of her hands slid lower to wrap around his hard cock, unable to help herself. "Scuh-" his voice broke when she squeezed lightly and he moaned, thrusting forward into her hand. Sucking in another noisy breath, he tried again. "Scuh-leee...please, not here. Let's get out of the tub." One last stroke over his hardness, one last, wet kiss to the skin of his shoulder blade, and then she released him. She got to her feet slowly, watching as he did the same and turned around to face her. He held out his hand, which she took, and held her steady as she stepped from the tub onto the thick mat. A second later, he had climbed from the tub as well, his body brushing hers and raising goosebumps. Turning away from him, she reached out and grabbed the plush towel she had earlier laid on the edge of the sink. Shaking it out, she turned back to him, and holding the two ends, lifted the towel. With gentle touches, she blotted the water from his shoulders and arms before moving to his chest. After drying his stomach, not straying below the belly button, and ignoring the jut of his cock with supreme effort, she quietly said, "Turn, please." Mulder blinked heavy-lidded eyes at her, the move sensual and arousing, before complying. Stretching up on tiptoe, she gently rubbed the towel over his shoulder blades and down his back. Flat-footed once again, she smoothed the soft fabric over his ass, and then bent at the waist to quickly blot his thigh and calves. Straightening once more, she again said, "Turn, please." When he did, their gazes met for an instant. She then dropped gracefully to her knees. Mulder groaned again, his body swaying forward slightly. Concentrating on her task, each of his feet were patted dry, then his calves, his knees and his thighs. Scully let the towel drop from her hands, and looked up, to see Mulder regarding her with lust-filled, wondering eyes. Still maintaining their eye contact, she rose up so that her head was level with his groin, bringing her hands to rest on his hips, and leaned forward. 10:05 pm Although his mind was still reeling from Scully's seductively voiced query about washing his back, Mulder managed to hold it together. Even when she turned around to face him, and her hungry eyes trailed over his body, and had his half-erect cock stirring. He nearly lost it though when her tongue slipped out and traced her slightly kiss-swollen lips. Sheer force of will kept him in place, though he could not contain a deep groan. His seductress then dipped a hand beneath the water, her eyes remaining locked with his. A light scrape of her nails along one of his thighs had him gasping for breath, and had his body shuddering in reaction. He expelled the air he had unconsciously been holding. "Scuh-leee." "Yes, Mulder?" his Scully replied oh so innocently, her trademark enigmatic smile in place. That smile did delightful things to his insides. Not to mention other, more visible parts of him. After managing to shake his head at her, unable to form another word, he watched as she poured soap into one palm, then stared stupefied at the bottle she had extended towards him. Her words registered a slow, syrupy second later. Oh. She wanted him to close the bottle for her. His hand felt thick and clumsy as he lifted it up to take the liquid soap from her, his fingers equally useless. But he got the lid shut, without taking his eyes off Scully's own fine-boned, delicate-appearing hands, which were slowly and methodically working the soap into a lather. That very action had never before seemed so sexy...so erotic. Mulder was fascinated. His imagination kicked into high gear, and he fantasized about hearing Scully tell him to kneel. Fantasized she was coming closer, and her soapy hands were wrapping around his now straining erection. Beginning to squeeze, and slide up and down his length... And then Scully did rise, onto her knees. She was a vision to behold. A Venus rising from the sea. His eyes were naturally drawn first to her breasts, bobbing gently, water beading on the generous globes, and then to the shadowy, wet triangle between her thighs. Unlike his fantasy, her hands came to rest not on his cock, but on his right shoulder. She proceeded to wash him with a studied thoroughness that was both tender and arousing. His hands, his fingers, nothing was missed. The little minx had him close to jumping when she toyed with his belly button, and his muscles bunched from the ticklish torment. She teased him further by avoiding his very obvious erection, making him groan when her hands landed on his upper thigh instead. She stroked them down his leg, and knee, to one foot and then the other, washing them as she had his hands. It was the most sensual massage he had ever received, extremely heightened by the glide of the slick water. After she finished her worshiping of his feet, Scully trailed her fingers back up his other leg. Once again she stopped before reaching zero station, and leaned back. Coquettishly, she touched a finger to her lips, her eyes on his cock. "Hmmmm..." she sighed out. "Now how can I wash your back?" There was only one place he wanted her to touch him, with a need that had grown steadily in its desperation. And it wasn't his back. He told her so, his voice husky, the words nearly babbled. He lifted his arms and wrapped his fingers around the rim of the tub, preparing to haul himself, and then her, out. To any destination. The floor, the sink countertop, her bed. In the hazy sea of arousal he was functioning within, he heard her talking about fairness in a husking, teasing utterance. Then her voice strengthened, the tone similar to her G-woman persona – long a turn-on for him – and told him to turn around. Mulder obeyed instantly, moving to kneel before her. But upon seeing the diamond glitter of arousal in her eyes, and the rapid, shallow rise and fall of her breasts with their hardened nipples, he preened just a little. Not long after he turned with some difficulty, he heard the water sloshing, and a second later, felt Scully's hands on his shoulders. Using her palms, she ran them up and down his back with slow, caressing motions, never venturing lower then his waist. Despite his raging desire, it was very soothing. On the next pass however, her touch became far more then soothing. Her hands brushed over his ass, and his pulse leapt, fine tremors running through his body. "Scully!" he exclaimed on a hoarse gasp. This time when his hands went to the sides of the tub, it was to hold himself steady. And then her body was pressing firmly into his, her hands coming to rest on his lower belly. Those same tremors shook him again. Scully rubbed her cheek on his back, then kissed the same spot wetly. He felt it down to his very toes, but most especially all along his cock. Mulder drew in a rough breath, blew it out again, and nearly shouted when one of her hands wrapped around him. "Scuh-" he tried to say, and lost it when she squeezed. He moaned and thrust helplessly forward. Gasping in more air, he managed to speak somewhat coherently. "Scuhleee...please, not here. Let's get out of the tub." She stroked his cock and kissed his back again, before releasing him. Her weight left his body, and then there was more water sloshing, surging around his thighs. Knowing she had risen to her feet, he did the same, turning to face her. She took the hand he extended to her, and he helped her from the tub before climbing out himself. Their bodies touched, a glancing brush, and he had to hold himself back from hauling her into his arms. Just as he was about to reach for the towel Scully had put on the counter, she picked it up and shook it out. Stepping even closer to him, she began to dry him off, with gentle dabs of the fluffy terry cloth. Her quiet voice requested him to turn when she had finished his chest and belly. He did, slowly, and then felt the towel rubbing first along his shoulders, and then down his back. The soft cloth ran lightly over his ass, making him briefly clench his muscles, and a second later was moving along his thighs and calves. "Turn, please," she voiced softly again, and when he did, their eyes met. He expected her to hand him the towel, for him to dry her off. What she did instead had his heart actually stopping briefly. He groaned at the sight of her before him on her knees, and actually swayed towards her. If he had thought his cock was hard before, it was granite now. She slowly dried his feet with the towel, then blotted and patted her way up his calves to his thighs. He watched somewhat hazily as the towel fell from her hands and she lifted her head. While keeping her eyes on his, Scully slowly lifted herself up on her haunches until her face was only millimeters from his hardness. Her hands landed on his hips, sending a jolt of electricity through his entire body, and leaned close. His mouth open slackly, he stared down with avidness as Scully's eyes fluttered shut. And then she was nuzzling his cock with her cheek. Her skin was slightly cool, and the contrast with his burning heat was an incredible feeling. And it was soft as well, soft as the petals of a rose. His hands clenched into fists to stop himself from winding his fingers into her hair and thrusting against her. She continued to stroke his hardness with her cheek, moving her head gently from side to side to rub along him. Suddenly her lips were brushing his cock, pursed closed, and as light as butterfly's wings. "Ahhhh...God, Scully," he moaned, his head falling back and eyes slamming shut as waves of pleasure fluttered up and down his cock and gathered in his balls. Just from the mere touch of her lips. Afraid he would fall, he had to shift, to widen his stance. With her lips once again pressed to him, Scully made a pleased, humming sound, and the vibrations sent chills up and down his spine, and had him involuntarily thrusting after all. Her fingers flexed on his hips, and she made the sound again, while this time rubbing her lips along his shaft. His knees actually buckled, and he moaned her name again. Mulder felt Scully's smile against his turgid flesh, and then she was whispering, the little expulsions of air as she spoke a delightful tease. "Love you, Mulder, so very much," she was saying. "I missed this, I missed us." Before he could respond, her mouth had engulfed the head of his penis. 10:20 pm Inhaling deeply, Scully breathed in the scent of sandalwood, and beneath it, the male musk that was Mulder. Her eyes drifted shut and she nestled her face against his cock, let her cheek rub gently along his hot, hard length. Hazy, sweet, hot memories of loving him this way, of worshiping his body with her hands and mouth flitted through her mind, and sent arousal thrumming through her limbs, focusing and gathering in her core. Remembering the satisfaction he had wrought from her with his fingers just minutes ago in the bathtub, she wanted to bring him to that same delirious release. On the next side-to-side stroking motion of her head, she turned so that her lips came into contact with his flesh. She kept that touch light, and her lips closed. He shivered; she felt it through her lips on his cock, and her hands holding his slim hips. Victoriously, she heard his soft moan, "Ahhhh...God, Scully," and hummed her contentment and delight onto his flesh. This time he thrust forward. Smiling inwardly, Scully tightened her grip on his hips, and repeated the humming sound, while firmly rubbing her lips along his length. She was rewarded by the shudder that wracked Mulder's body and had his knees beginning to buckle, and a moan that was her name. Her smile could not be contained, was pressed into his cock. "Love you, Mulder, so very much," she whispered then, not moving her lips from him. "I missed this, I missed us." With a quick move, she slid her lips over the head of his cock, drawing it into her mouth. With her lips pressing her mouth closed around him, she swirled her tongue over the tip several times, listening to his little sighs. A moment later his hands came up – not clutching her hair, just resting lightly on her head, cradling her skull. She applied light suction, and then using the tip of her tongue like a pointer, traced the ridge where his shaft met the head of his penis. Mulder was extremely sensitive there, and always reacted strongly. She was not disappointed. He groaned low and deep, and his hands began stroking her hair. "Oh, Scuh-leee," he whispered then. "Baby, you don't have to...Ohhhhh." His voice trailed off, for she had sucked lightly while humming again, knowing the vibrations would be very intense. Wanting to tease him a little, to prolong the experience, she let his penis slip from her mouth, hearing his sigh of disappointment. "I know I don't have to, Mulder," she told him, opening her eyes and looking up to meet his. "I want to." Sliding her hands from his hips around to his ass, she began to knead the firm, tight flesh that began to flex beneath her touch. At the same time, she ducked her head to nuzzle at his balls, darting her tongue out to trace the papery soft skin that covered his sac. Mulder shivered again, and thrust forward very gently, his hands still moving softly over her hair. She switched from kneading his ass to smoothing her hands up and down with teasing glides from waist to where ass became thigh, while she resumed her earlier action of sliding her closed lips along his length. After several such caresses, she let her tongue slip out and ran it from base to tip and down again. This time he shuddered. His quiet moans and murmurs accompanied her every action, every slide and caress, every kiss, lick or suck. Encouraging her, rewarding her. When he was reaching the pinnacle, his orgasm imminent, he uttered her name in a warning. One she ignored. After, his breaths still uneven and harsh, he sagged to his knees and pulled her to him, one hand sliding around and up to cradle her skull at the base of her neck, and the other spreading wide on her lower back. Holding her to him as if it were possible for their bodies to merge into one. She returned the embrace, both her arms wrapping around his waist and squeezing tight. He ducked his head and nuzzled her, before the hand at her neck slid around to tip her chin up. His lips descended and engaged hers in a deep, soul-binding kiss. One that she could feel clear down to her toes. Pulling away at last, his hands moved to frame her face, holding her still as he stared into her eyes. "I love you, Scully," he said then. Scully smiled, her heart racing, from the kiss, and from the intensity of his declaration. Silly, happy tears rose in her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to clear them. "I love you too, Mulder. So very much." Mulder smiled back and brought his face down to hers again. He feathered tiny kisses down her nose, across her cheekbone to her ear, which he nuzzled before moving back towards her mouth. Before he could entice her into another kiss, she spoke reluctantly, but with necessity. She could not remain in her current position any longer. "And as much as I love this, Mulder, we've got to get up. My knees are killing me!" His eyes turned somber, looked penitent. "Oh, Scully, I'm sorry!" he blurted, getting hastily to his feet. Yet his hands were gentle as he helped her up, both of them laughing softly when her knees creaked in protest. "Don't be sorry," she said softly, palming his cheek, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. "I'm not." A second later she was gasping in surprise, and then sighing his name. For he had swung her up and into his arms, cradling her carefully against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and was carried down the hall to her bedroom, both of them completely nude. It was decadent, and sensual, and erotic. Beside her bed, he released her so that she slid slowly along his length, his hands coming to rest low on her back, holding her to him. A quick press of lips, and he was releasing her to tend to the bed. He folded the covers back, right to the bottom of the bed, and then held his hand out to help her into it. Once she was there, had gotten comfortable on her side, propped on one elbow, Mulder murmured, "I'll be right back," and left the room. True to his word, he returned in seconds, carrying a matchbook, most likely the one from the bathroom. She watched as he proceeded to light two fat candles on her dresser, and the tealight candles on her night table. Admired the flex of muscles, and the play of candlelight over honeyed skin. His masculine beauty nearly took her breath away. After turning the little lamp there off, he climbed into bed beside her, and turned onto his side, facing her, mimicking her pose on propped elbow. "You're even more beautiful by candlelight," he murmured, and lifted his hand to her face. His index and middle finger glided along her cheek, from the corner of her eye and down, to stroke across her lips. They parted on a soft expulsion of air, her eyelids fluttering shut. She swayed toward him, and felt his warm breath wash over her as his lips neared hers. He brushed the lightest of kisses on her mouth, and then he was softly, slowly, kissing his way along her jaw. Shivering in delight, she sighed, and tilted her head back, allowing him better access to her neck. His hand had moved from her face, and was on her shoulder, applying gentle pressure. She allowed him to push her into the pillow, rolling easily onto her back. He followed, his body a pleasant, heated presence aligned along her body. His lips then continued their teasing seduction of her body and senses. 10:30 pm All motor functions and intelligent or rational thought had fled long ago. Probably at about the same time he had watched Scully's gorgeously sexy, swollen lips wrap around his erect, straining cock. In no time at all, his speech had been reduced to moans and sighs, and approximations of her name. The pleasure continued to build and build, wrought by Scully's skillful mouth and hands. Mulder reached the pinnacle at last, a hoarse shout escaping, and seconds later, fell to his knees, unable to support his own weight any longer. Still, he was able to reach out and gently haul Scully against him. His hands went to their favorite positions – one cradling the back of her fragile neck, the other palming her lower back. Nearly crushing her to him. Doing his best to wrap himself completely around her. Scully didn't seem to mind though. Her arms came up and wrapped around his middle, squeezing him as tightly as he was squeezing her. Bringing bare skin firmly against bare skin, cushioning her soft breasts into the harder planes of his lightly furred chest. The curls of her sex tickling his abdomen, faintly stirring just satiated desires. Mulder lowered his head, nuzzling into her neck, inhaling her familiar, natural, clean scent beneath the heavier, muskier sandalwood. Moving his hand from her neck to skim along her jaw line, he nudged at her chin to lift her face up. Tilting his own head, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a long, deep kiss. As much as he wished it would never end , that they could stay in that particular moment forever, he had to pull his lips from hers. Lifting his head slowly, he cupped her face in his palms, and looked into her eyes. "I love you, Scully," he told her. Her smile was radiant, the love obvious in her voice. "I love you too, Mulder. So very much." His own lips curled in an answering smile as he lowered his head towards hers again. He trailed light kisses over her nose, her soft cheek, veering to her ear, which he nuzzled briefly before returning to her mouth. Scully stopped him just as his lips were descending for another kiss, telling him her knees were killing her. He immediately felt guilty, remembering with a start that they were kneeling on the floor of the bathroom. "Oh, Scully, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, and got to his feet quickly, his hands gentle and reverent as he assisted her up as well. Despite that, he couldn't help chuckling softly when her knees made their complaints known. She stepped closer, her hand on his cheek and her thumb stroking, and murmured, "Don't be sorry. I'm not." On an impulse, one he could not explain, he moved and swept her up into his arms, holding her gently to his chest. Scully gasped, a purely feminine sound that made him feel powerful and male, and capable of anything, and flung her arms around his neck. He carried her thusly, down the hallway to her bedroom. Enjoying the feel of her soft, smooth, naked skin against his. Coming to a halt beside her bed, Mulder lowered the arm that had been curled under her legs, letting her slide sensuously from his hold. Once her feet were on the ground, her lips lured him in, and he pressed a quick kiss on them, before sliding his arms from her and moving to turn the bedclothes down. He folded them all the way to the foot of the bed. After helping Scully into bed, and watching her make herself comfortable, he said softly, "I'll be right back." Striding quickly to the bathroom, he retrieved the book of matches Scully kept there, and hurried back. He was sure he could feel her eyes on him as he proceeded to light the candles in her room – the two fat ones she called pillars on her dresser, and the tiny ones on her night table. Tealights, she had told him once. When he turned to face her, it was to indeed find her eyes on him, a tiny smile on her face. He slid onto the bed beside her, until he was lying facing her, propped on an elbow as she was. With just the light of the flickering candles to aid him, he studied her. They added a warm glow to her pale, milky skin, and a glossy shine to her hair. "You're even more beautiful by candlelight," he told her, his voice sounding low and gravelly in his own ears. His free hand came up, and he stroked two of his fingers along her cheek, smiling slightly when she ducked into his touch, her head tilting. And when he gently traced her lips, they parted on a sigh, her eyes falling shut. He leaned in as she seemed to sway towards him, and he skimmed his lips over hers before trailing tiny kisses along her jaw, his fingertips resting butterfly-light on the rapidly beating pulse of her carotid artery. Scully shivered, and her head fell back as she sighed. With that same hand, he pressed gently on her shoulder, encouraging her to lay back. She did, moving easily and rolling onto her back. He shifted, and aligned himself along her body, nipped her ear lobe, chuckling when she shivered again and sighed his name. After tracing the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue, he meandered down her neck to her clavicle. He alternated between nipping the delicate flesh that covered the fragile bone, and placing wet, open-mouthed, sucking kisses there. One of Scully's hands was in his hair then, her fingers weaving gently and scratching lightly at his scalp. Turning his head a little, lips still busy on her flesh, he saw that her other arm was flung up over her head, and her hand lay on her pillow in a loosely curled fist, fingers flexing. "Mulderrrr..." she sighed, and tossed her head slowly from side to side. Resuming his task, his lips trailed along the slope of her breast. He paused to murmur, "Love you, Scully," before darting his tongue out to flick at her already hardened nipple. Scully inhaled deeply with a gasp, her back arching. Which also thrust her chest upwards. Mulder needed no further encouragement. Taking a breath, his mouth descended, his lips surrounding her areola, and he sucked lightly. He released it after a few seconds and trailed his lips down the generous mound to the valley between her breasts. He nuzzled there, rubbing his nose lightly back and forth, knowing this always sent her pulse soaring, and the hand in his hair tightened. The other wrapped around him and began stroking up and down his back from the nape of his neck to the tops of his ass. Her legs were moving restlessly beneath him as well. He nibbled his way up her other breast, briefly tasted her nipple, then shifting on the bed, headed downwards, his lips gliding over the soft skin of her belly. 11:20 pm Scully sighed gustily, and stretched, her back arching slightly, arms reaching above her head, and her toes dipping momentarily to touch the mattress. Her desire had been slaked, and in a most thoroughly satisfying way, and she felt loose and relaxed. But surprisingly, she was not sleepy at all. Mulder grumbled good-naturedly as he was dislodged from his place, which had been lying on his side next to her, one leg curled across hers, with his head pillowed on her belly. One of his arms was slung across her abdomen, his hand resting lightly at her waist. It tightened briefly, as he shifted and rubbed his head teasingly back and forth over her stomach before settling down again. The soft strands tickled her bare skin, and had her squirming slightly. He chuckled, but remained still. Lowering one arm, she began to trace tiny patterns on his upper back with her fingertips, feeling him snuggle deeper into their embrace. A sigh of contentment wafted up to her ears, her lips curving in a gentle smile. After a short length of time, she became aware that something else was effectively rubbing against her – something hard and velvety soft, pressing into her lower leg. Her smile deepened. She nonchalantly stretched again, a kittenish sound accompanying the motion, and gently moved her leg, so that it brushed his erection. His whole body quivered against hers, his hand once again flexing in the flesh of her side, moving to grasp her hip. A low rumble that might have been her name, and then he was turning his face into her belly, his lips peppering tiny kisses around her belly button. Scully sucked in her breath, and fisted one hand in her pillow. The other settled on the top of his head to scratch at his scalp. Her leg flexed involuntarily, and brushed his hardness again. This time he began a slow rocking of his hips. Pliant, Scully moved with him, easily, letting his motions rock them together. Leading them gently toward a timeless dance of pleasure. Her hand gripped, then loosened in his hair, before she began to weave her fingers through it, from his scalp to the nape of his neck, over and over. Her arousal was already building so soon after her last release, the need and want gathering anew in her core and tightening her nipples. She marveled at the power he held over her, over her body, and at the ease at which her body responded to him. He plied that power so skillfully. The only sounds in the room were the shifting of their bodies against the bed sheets, and their combined accelerated breathing. In her ears however, her own heartbeat thudded – fast and loud. Neither of them spoke a word. No words were necessary. Mulder rolled over her then, until he was cradled between her legs, and resumed rocking. With his elbows bent, his upper body rested on her pelvis, a pleasing, familiar weight. His hands, which had settled lightly at her sides, began to skim up and down her ribcage while his lips blazed a trail of fire up her body. His weight also created a hint of the delicious friction she knew was waiting for her. If she tilted her hips up just...*so*, his body would grind against that spot that would send her arousal soaring, and her soul flying. As his lips grazed the underside of her breast, awakening every single nerve end ing in her body, she did move. Drawing her feet up so that they teased his calves, and letting her thighs fall open wider, she arched her lower body up. Mulder obviously deduced her intention, and began to rock a little faster, adding a bit more of his body weight. His mouth also continued its exploration of her breasts, once again being extremely gentle with her now turgid nipples. His lips and tongue danced over and lathed every inch of her, and had her head tossing restlessly on her pillow. He moved upwards again, his lips now buried in her neck, his hardness nudging determinedly at her opening. Scully moved her hand from the pillow to his back, and began to glide her fingers up and down, feeling the fascinating play of his muscles as they shifted with his every movement. His tongue traced the shell of her ear, sending shivers throughout her body. He followed that with nipping little kisses of her earlobe. In reaction, her hand first clutched at his back, then traced his spine, following the hollow dip to his ass, where she began to knead the tight, firm flesh. Mulder's hips began to move a little faster, and his mouth became more ravenous. His lips trailed along her jaw line, up to her mouth, and descended onto hers, just as the head of his cock slipped easily inside her wetness. 11:30 pm It still amazed Mulder how easily he was aroused by Scully, all the time. From the simplest of gestures, her scent, a certain look in her eye. And of course, when she launched a full out assault, he had no chance in hell of resisting. As if he would ever want to resist. Right now he was slowly becoming hard just from the light touch of her fingertips teasing over his back. His heart rate was increasing, his breathing was altered, and he could feel that familiar tingle low in his belly. He did not move, however, for this was one of his favorite moments – although really, there were so very many of those. He relished that initial surge of awakening arousal, before things got heated and hurried. When things were slow and lazy, gentle and easy. Scully was the one to initiate more. Mulder knew immediately her stretch was patently false – her body had tensed just slightly before she moved, and the accompanying sound, an almost kitten-like purr, was no accident. He was unable to control his own body's reaction, a tremor running through him from head to toe, and moved his hand to clutch at her hip in an effort to hold reasonably still. He muttered her name, his face already half-pressed into her belly – a surprisingly comfortable pillow for his head this last little while - and turned further so that his lips could make contact with her skin. His teasing over her belly button garnered several responses from Scully. He felt her tummy tremble as she inhaled quickly, and her hand moved up into his hair. Her leg also rubbed his erection again. Again he had no control – his hips started moving, in a gentle, rocking motion that intensified the contact between her leg and his cock. Scully moved with him, her fingers starting to weave through his hair, sending a wave of goosebumps rippling over his scalp. As incredible as it felt, it soon was not enough. Mulder gently rolled until he was lying on his stomach between Scully's legs, his lips a few inches above her belly button. He was careful to hold his weight in check as he continued to rock, so that he would not press down too much and hurt her. He began to glide his hands up and down her sides, straying ever closer to the curves of her breasts, while trailing his lips upwards over her stomach. When he brushed the underside of one, Scully shifted beneath him. Her legs opened wider, her feet tickling at his calves, and her back arched upwards. Smiling to himself, Mulder increased the speed of his rocking, while letting more of his weight press into her. He let his lips move slowly and softly over the mound of her breast, to her erect nipple, sucking it briefly and gently before kissing and nibbling his way over to its mate. When he moved up to her neck, Scully's free hand began stroking his back, the other one still fisted in his hair. As his cock nudged at her sex with exquisite friction, he nibbled up to her ear. He first traced the delicate shell with his tongue, delighted with her little shivers and sighs, and then started to nip at the lobe. That had her fingers digging into his back momentarily, before she was sliding her hand down to squeeze and knead at his ass. Which of course sent his arousal skyrocketing, and had his hips thrusting a little harder, a little faster. Urgent now, his mouth slid along her jaw to engage her mouth in a hard, hungry kiss while his cock slipped partially inside her. Scully's body arched, her mouth pulling from his, and she made a tiny sound, a near breathless 'oh', as she quivered against him. He buried his face in her neck, and felt her hand slide over the nape of his neck and down as the one on his ass slid upwards, so that both now clutched at his back. She tilted her pelvis with his next rocking thrust, and he surged into her completely, buried from tip to root. His groaning sigh was followed closely by Scully's, and then her legs were wrapping around his waist, her heels digging into his ass, silently urging him to move. Their bodies moved in glorious unison, familiar partners in this dance as old as time, rocking and thrusting in rhythm. And after they had reached the pinnacle, Mulder's powerful release triggered by Scully's equally strong orgasm, they rolled over as one, spooning together. "Scully?" he whispered after a moment, listening to her soft, slowed breathing. "Mm-hmmm?" She murmured the query sleepily. "Love you." "Me too...always." June 23, 2001 Scully awoke with a little start, with the feeling that something was wrong. Her eyes sought out her alarm clock on the nightstand, and when she saw the time, her heart started to pound. William! He had not cried yet, looking for his morning feed. With growing alarm, she recalled that he had not cried once the entire night. Her heart now thudding heavily, she sat up, or tried to anyway, for she was being held in place by the heavy arm around her waist. A muffled snort, followed by a mumble that was her name, made her realize it was Mulder, spooned up against her so completely, it was as if they were one. She remembered then that William was with her mother, and relaxed, heaving out a small sigh of relief. Her eyes still open, a tiny smile now on her lips, she saw the remnants of the tealight candles they had burnt the night before. A hazy memory, of the two of them sleepily rising some time after midnight to gut the candles and get ready for bed, flitted through her head. With a tiny smile, she mused that they had apparently been very tired – they were both completely nude. Scully shivered a little, for Mulder's lips were on her neck, occasionally moving against her skin in tiny, nibbling kisses, though she sensed he was not yet fully awake. There was also his arm on her waist – he had moved it so that his hand lay low on her abdomen. Already she could feel the vague stirrings of her body, from his nearness, his lips, his touch. But she was content to lie still for now, relishing their closeness. She let her eyes slip closed once more, settling drowsily back into her pillow. Some time later, Mulder mumbled again, and his fingers fluttered against her lower belly, brushing the top of her mound. Gooseflesh rose, and she moaned, very quietly, deep in her throat. Until he repeated the action, with obvious purposeful intent, she had assumed the touch had been accidental. Shifting and stretching out from her curled position, she let her legs tangle with his, and her rear end push back into his groin. Noting with pleasure that other things were...stirring. "Scuh-leee," Mulder husked into her neck, raising yet more goosebumps, and eliciting a shiver from her. "Good morning." "I hope it will be," she murmured, and wiggled her butt again. "Certainly starting off that way," was his rejoinder. He flattened his palm on her abdomen, pushing her backside into his rapidly growing erection more firmly, and began to rub her skin in small circles. His mouth was busy as well, once again nibbling her neck, venturing up to nip at her earlobe. "Mmmmm," she purred. "That it is." Her every nerve end ing was humming with pleasure, her arousal building and building. The only drawback to their delightful position was that she was at a slight disadvantage – her hands had limited access to his body, and her mouth, no access at all. She could rectify that, she supposed, by rolling over, but what he was doing now felt so good, she couldn't move beyond the gentle rocking of her hips. Needing more contact though, she lifted one hand to rest on his forearm as his hand dipped lower, between her legs, and ran her fingers up and down in a light caress. Feeling the soft tickle of fine hairs, and the flex of muscle as Mulder began his own caressing – a slow, steady stroking over her sensitive flesh. There was no sense of urgency. No hurried or rough movements. It was gentle, and sweet, and blissfully slow. Soft sighs, and murmurs of pleasure and encouragement and love were the only sounds in the room. While Mulder's mouth worked its magic on her neck, his fingers teased her to readiness, and their bodies began to rock in tandem. Scully moaned his name breathily, and her hand slid from his arm to reach behind them both, so that she could touch him further. First squeezing his hip, she then glided her palm along the length of his muscled thigh and back again. Squeeze and glide, over and over, in a rhythm that matched the stroking of his hand, and the thrusting of their bodies. After a few minutes of this, Mulder's hand slid from between her legs, and trailed down her thigh to her knee, curling beneath to cup it in his hand. Gently, he lifted her leg, and draped it over his, so that her foot brushed the back of his thigh. Her heart rate accelerated as she divined his intent, and her breathing quickened, became erratic. His hand then glided up her leg and over her ass, caressing gently, as his fingers slid between their bodies. A second later, she felt his turgid cock nudging at her entrance. Mulder's hand moved to her hip, squeezing gently, and he thrust forward with equal gentleness. His breath hissed beside her ear as he slowly filled her, turning into a softly uttered, "Scully." "Oooooh, Mulderrrrr," she sighed, and could not stop her instinct to surge backwards, sending him deeper. "That feels so gooooood." His mumbled reply was lost to her, for he had begun to move, swiveling his hips at the end of each slow, gliding thrust, and she could no longer think. She could only feel. And it felt amazing. 6:20 am From sound sleep to drowsy half-awareness to slow, burgeoning arousal. It was a wonderful way to wake up, Mulder thought with an inward smile as Scully matched her body's rhythm to his, and they began to rock together. His face was buried in her neck, lips and teeth and tongue at play, and his right hand was equally busy in the cleft between her thighs. Each nip or suck of his mouth, or teasing glide of his fingers, was accompanied by soft sighs or throaty moans. "Mulderrrr," he heard her husk out, and then her hand slid away from where it had been stroking his arm. To land on his hip, which she squeezed, making his pulse leap, before she began smoothing her hand up and down his thigh. Repeating the pattern – hip, thigh – once again perfectly in sync with the movements of their bodies. Need. He needed. It swelled and throbbed within him. Sensing it was also greater in her as well, he withdrew his hand from her moist haven, and glanced it along her thigh, stopping at her knee. There, he slid his fingers underneath, to cup and gently lift her leg, bringing it over on top of his. So that she was effectively straddling his thigh backwards. Mulder listened as Scully's breathing grew heavier, louder. As loud as his own panting breaths. Needier. Running his hand back along her thigh, he curved over the swell of her hip and then lightly stroked her ass before dipping lower. After taking himself in hand and positioning the head of his cock at her entrance, he brought his hand back to her hip. Tightening his fingers slightly, he gently thrust his hips forward. He was surrounded by heat – delicious, pulsating heat - enveloping his length inch by slow inch. Exhaling heavily, he sighed her name. "Scully." Scully responded with a low-voiced, "Oooooh, Mulderrrrr," and pushed her sweet little ass back further into his groin. "That feels so gooooood." His eyes slammed shut as his cock surged deeper, and intense waves of pleasure rippled through his body. He tried to agree with her, but his words were inarticulate sounds uttered into her neck. Neediest. He added a swivel of his hips at the end of his thrusts, while picking up their speed and intensity. Scully met each one with equal fervor, as her inner muscles began to clench around his turgid flesh. She had also begun to chant a litany of his name with each forward surge of his hips. "Mulder – Mulder – Mulder –" Her voice was still low, and very, very husky. It was the one he called her 'sex voice', the one that never failed to turn him on, or to send him spiraling ever deeper into mindless pleasure. On the backs of his tightly shut eyelids, he envisioned her luscious, pouty lips forming the syllables of his name, and gutturally groaned her name as his hips jerked forward in reaction. "Scuh-leee." She moaned, and then hissed out, "Again, Mulder. God, do that again." Her hand, which had been gripping the sheets in front of her, rose and draped over his, to clutch as his lower back, ineffectually pushing him against her. Mulder let a small grin cross his face, imagining it must look fierce with his teeth gritted as they were. Anything for his woman. His woman. He jerked his hips again, as she had demanded. Another moan passed her lips, and then she sighed, "Yesssss...like that." Her hips twisted, grinding herself into him. "So...so...good...Mulderrrr." The last part of his name was almost a wail, and Mulder felt her walls fluttering, gripping him even tighter as her orgasm built and built. Primal instinct, need, took over. His hand slid from her hip to flatten on her abdomen, and he used it to press her to him as he began to snap his hips forward. A second later he realized it was he who was chanting now. Chanting her name as she had chanted his. Mulder felt Scully's release, felt her body tremble and shiver all around him. Triumphantly heard her attempt at his name. "Mul...Ohhhhhhhhh!" And then all thought and reason was lost in a blinding wave of pure bliss. Afterwards, they remained sprawled together with tangled limbs, still spooning - in exhausted repletion. Heart rates slowed, returned to normal. Overheated skin cooled. Yet they remained - too tired to move, to rise and begin their day. Later, Mulder wasn't sure which one of them had fallen back to sleep first. 8:10 am This time when Scully awoke, she knew there was definitely something wrong. Her eyes saw the time on her clock radio, though it took a moment for it to register in her brain. When it did, she gasped out, "Mulder, we have to get up!" Sitting up, she threw the covers off her body, partially dislodging them from him in the process. He groaned a complaint, and turned to burrow into his pillow, one hand flailing weakly for the blankets. Clearly trying to cover himself up again. Despite the fact that she wanted nothing more than to snuggle up against him and sleep a little longer, she knew they had to get moving. "No, you don't, Mulder," she said, coming up on her knees to yank them completely off of him, to reveal him in all his bare glory. "We have to get up and get ready, Mulder. My mother and William are going to be here at nine!" Mulder groaned again, as one eye slowly opened to peer at her blurrily. "Timezit?" Then the eye blinked a few times and he asked, "Weren't you naked the last time I saw you?" Scully glanced down at her nightshirt. "Oh, I had to get up and express some milk," she said ruefully, a small grimace on her face. Her breasts had been very full, and somewhat sore when she woke up just after seven, having gone an entire night without William's feedings. "I got a little chilly, and slipped this on, then crawled back into bed with you to warm up a bit. Except I fell back asleep." She patted him on the thigh, adding, "And it's almost 8:15. Get that gorgeous ass in gear." With that, she climbed off the bed, and went to her dresser to get fresh underclothes. "You think my ass is gorgeous?" he asked, his voice sounding pleased, and just a touch embarrassed. She didn't bother to reply. In the dresser mirror, she could see Mulder behind her on the bed, rolling onto his back and stretching. Her mouth went dry as she stared at the flex and play of his muscles, at his long, lean body. At his... She forced herself to look away, down at the drawer of panties and bras she was searching through. They didn't have time, and she was a little sore from all their activities of the night before. Not to mention their early morning exertion. Finally finding her other nursing bra, she scooped it up, along with a pair of cotton panties, and headed to the bathroom. Just before partially closing the door, to help keep the heat within the bathroom, she called out one last warning, in case he decided to doze off again. "Move it, Mulder!" "Yeah, yeah," was his faint rejoinder. Smiling, she placed her underclothes on the edge of the sink, and then moved over to start the water, holding her hand beneath the flow of water until it was the desired temperature. Hot. After turning the showerhead on, she stripped off her nightshirt and hung it on the hook on the back of the door, then climbed into the stall. The slight sting of the needle-like spray was welcomed. It felt wonderful on her back and shoulders as she tipped her chin down and just stood there, directly under the water. But she had no time to relish the feeling. And she was eager to see her son. Smiling at the thought of his sweet little face, she straightened up, and wetted her hair thoroughly before turning to reach for the shampoo bottle. The shower door slid open just as she was about to pour some shampoo into her hand. Mulder poked his spiky-haired head in and smiled crookedly, the look in his hazel eyes playful, and very, very sexy. "Mind if I join you?" he asked. "I figure we'll be quicker this way." Her brain had heard 'quicker' but her hormones substituted the word 'quickie' instead. Her pulse leapt, and she was so tempted to throw him up against the tiled wall. She'd had dreams of Mulder in her shower. His shower. The showers at the FBI gym... "Scully?" she heard, and blinking, saw that Mulder had quirked his eyebrow at her in a credible imitation of her exasperated look, although it was tinged with amusement. She regretfully pushed aside all lustful thoughts, for now, and beckoned him in. Giving him an eyebrow lift of her own, she warned, "No funny stuff." Mulder gave her his innocent 'who me?' smile, then stepped inside. Obviously spying the shampoo bottle in her hand, he held out his hand. "Let me," he said. She did not hesitate, merely handed him the bottle and turned around, presenting him with her back. She loved to have someone wash her hair. The aroma of her shampoo filled the shower stall, and then Mulder's very capable fingers were in her hair. Massaging and scratching at her scalp, intuitively knowing how to do it just right. She had a momentary thought about who might have taught him this skill, before she locked the flare of jealousy away, and just enjoyed. All too soon he was whispering, "Okay, turn around so I can rinse." She did, his hands light on her shoulders to guide her. Her eyes were scrunched shut in fear of shampoo, and a jolt ran through her when she felt her body brush his. He was so close...she wanted to touch. Oh, boy. This was not good. She'd be on her knees in seconds if she didn't get them out of the shower. "Mulder," she sighed. "As much as I love the idea of us showering together...and believe me, you have no idea how much I've fantasized about us in a shower together, we've got to get moving. You get washing, I'll finish my hair, okay?" "Oooh, Scully. Hearing the word 'fantasy' coming from your lips..." Mulder let his voice trail off, sighing as well. A second later he queried with the slightest hint of panic in his voice, "Your mom has her own key, doesn't she?" "Mm-hmmm." "Okay, then. Please pass the soap." Scully laughed, and then ducked her head under the water to rinse the shampoo from her hair. By the time she opened her eyes again, her hair squeaky clean, Mulder was already waiting to rinse his own sudsy scalp. They switched places, and she slicked conditioner on while he was under the spray. Another little dance so she could rinse her hair again, and then both were scrubbed clean and ready to get out. Mulder stepped out first, and gallantly retrieved her towel. He wrapped it around her, taking time to tuck one end between her breasts, his knuckles gently grazing one mound, and then helped her out onto the mat. He quickly knotted his towel around his hips before grabbing another one and blotting at her hair. "Thank-you," she said softly, and rose on tiptoes to press a quick kiss on his mouth. It deepened naturally, as soon as their lips met. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, to help keep her balance, while his came to rest on her hips. This seemed to be a morning for regrets, she mused to herself, pulling her lips from his. "Hold that thought," she told him. "If William cooperates tonight, maybe you can help me have a shower then." He smiled and tapped one finger to his head. "Scully fantasies and holding that thought, right here." With that, he turned and sauntered out of the bathroom, his towel precariously low on his backside. She watched of course. Who wouldn't? 8:10 am This was nice, Mulder mused with sleepy satisfaction. Strong, soft, capable hands – Scully's hands – stroked slowly up and down his back in a gentle massage. He stretched and shifted lazily, moving with, and into the caresses. If he'd been a cat, he was sure he'd be purring. There was nothing overtly sexual in her touch – it was comforting. Soothing. Relaxing. But he couldn't help wishing that her hands might slide down just a little bit further, to begin stroking over his ass, and maybe lower. To see if things might develop. The possibility was certainly there – he was naked, he was always willing, and if one of those hands did move downwards, he'd be ready and able in no time. He heard Scully say his name, and something about getting it up, and he was just about to reply with a snappy comeback when he realized he was cold. Grumbling, he rubbed his face in his pillow and tried to grab the covers that had mysteriously disappeared. "No, you don't, Mulder," he heard Scully say clearly. Determinedly. Then the blankets were off him completely, and he knew he had been dreaming. She spoke again, saying her mother and William would be there at nine. Mulder groaned, and opened the eye that was not squished into his pillow. He wasn't quite ready to leave the pleasurable feeling of his dream-state, though he knew he would have to. "Timezit?" he asked, looking at Scully and immediately noticing she had on a nightgown. He was fairly certain she had been naked the last time he had seen her – when they had both fallen asleep after their mutually satisfying, early morning romp. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he voiced his concern out loud. "Weren't you naked the last time I saw you?" He listened as she explained about getting up to express milk, wincing in sympathy when she frowned. Then she gave his leg a casual pat, telling him it was almost 8:15, and to get his gorgeous ass in gear. Scully thought his ass was gorgeous. His mind was still wrapping itself around the gratifying yet slightly embarrassing thought as she left the bed and went to her dresser. He needed confirmation - perhaps he had misheard. "You think my ass is gorgeous?" The teasing woman that she was, she didn't answer. He rolled over slowly, onto his back, trying to see her face in the mirror, and saw that her eyes were focused on...his body. Focused rather intently as a matter of fact. Gratification won this time. He preened just slightly, smiling to himself when her eyes dipped lower, then darted away. He wondered if she could be talked back to bed, he was feeling rather sporty all of a sudden. They'd be done in no time, and they could always shower together to save time. Oooh, now there was an idea... Scully retrieved what looked like a bra and panties, and left the room without looking at him again. He sighed. There went the sexy, come- hither look he'd been trying out. A second later he heard, "Move it, Mulder!" Aye, aye, Cap'n Scully, he thought. Wisely he stuck with calling back, "Yeah, yeah." The shower idea still had merit. He rolled out of the bed, and stood, stretching his arms up over his head, hands reaching towards the ceiling. His spine popped, and he lowered his arms and did a few loose neck rolls before heading after Scully. After taking care of his morning business, which including brushing his teeth, he moved over to the shower stall. Through the frosted door of which he could see Scully's hazy profile - her trimmer, but still very curvy profile. Sliding the door open, he stuck his head inside and tried out his lady- killer smile. The one that either made Scully laugh herself silly or drag him to bed. "Mind if I join you? I figure we'll be quicker this way." He didn't specify what exactly they'd be quicker at. When she didn't respond right away, and in fact seemed to be tongue-tied, he called her name. She blinked, seemingly stunned, and he lifted his eyebrow at her. Scully flapped her hand at him, giving him permission to enter, but the look on her face and her words, 'no funny stuff', told him there would be no fun in the shower. He smiled again, his harmless guy smile, and entered the shower, sliding the door shut behind him. She was holding her bottle of shampoo in one hand, so he extended his own, saying, "Let me." She agreed promptly and silently, giving him the shampoo before spinning around and tilting her head back slightly. Pouring a quarter- sized dollop of shampoo into his palm, he put the bottle down on the small ledge and brought both hands to her hair. He moved by instinct, remembering how Scully always responded when he played with her hair, his fingers scratching gently at her scalp, running the soap through the longish strands. It amused and pleased him to hear Scully's little sighs and breathy sounds – he was sure she was unaware of them. He couldn't wash her hair forever, as nice as it was, so he quietly said, "Okay, turn around so I can rinse." He lowered his hands to her shoulders to help guide her around, certain her eyes would be closed. They were, adorably scrunched. She surprised him then, with her next words, spoken regretfully. Particularly the ones about her having fantasized about the two of them in the shower. Despite her reminder, he had to tease her a little. "Oooh, Scully. Hearing the word 'fantasy' coming from your lips..." He let his voice die off, she was right. They really should get going. Suddenly there was an image of Mrs. Scully in his head. She was walking down the hall looking for them, and she came into the bathroom, to find them doing the vertical mambo in the shower. "Your mom has her own key, doesn't she?" he asked, now just a slight bit worried. "Mm-hmmm," was Scully's reply. Shaking the image of Mrs. Scully's shocked face out of his head, he resolved to get his gorgeous ass in gear, and said, "Okay, then. Please pass the soap." Scully merely laughed and started to rinse her hair. He found the shampoo bottle, poured a much smaller amount into his hand, and quickly washed his own hair. When Scully moved aside, he took her place and ducked his head under the hot spray to rinse out the soap. With very little awkwardness for two people who had never showered together before, they managed to maneuver about until they were both washed and rinsed. Mulder exited the stall while Scully was turning the water off, and got her towel first, uncaring as rapidly cooling water ran down his nude body in tiny rivulets. He put it around her while she was still in the stall, so she wouldn't get chilled, carefully tucking one corner of the terry cloth between her breasts, before assisting her out onto the mat. Then he grabbed his own towel, twisted it around his waist, and got a third towel, for her hair, which he started to help dry. Scully's soft voice said thank-you, and then she was up on her toes to kiss him. His mouth opened, as did hers, and his hands moved to hold her hips, feeling hers on his shoulders, as the kiss grew more intense. Again it was Scully who had the willpower to stop them, although she sounded as reluctant as he felt to end it. "Hold that thought," she said. Then made his day by adding, "If William cooperates tonight, maybe you can help me have a shower then." No maybes about it, he was there! With a smile on his lips, he brought one index finger up to tap the side of his head. "Scully fantasies and holding that thought right here," he told her, and headed out of the bathroom to get dressed. He put a little effort into his walk, knowing she was staring at his gorgeous ass. 8:55 am Scully found herself nervously pacing by the windows once she was ready, her hair casually blow-dried, and dressed in khaki pants and a sweater. This way she could glance out every so often to look for her mother's car, or possibly a glimpse of her and William as they came up the front walk to the apartment's entrance. She was anxious and eager to see William; had missed their son immensely. Though she and Mulder had not spoken of him, he had never been far from her thoughts, and she was certain the same was true for Mulder. Last night without William had been necessary for both of them, for so very many reasons. It hadn't been just the sexual contact either, though that had certainly been an extremely important and integral part – a physical reaffirmation of their love. It had been a chance to rediscover themselves as a couple, for them to spend quality time together, without any distractions or interference, as cherished as those might be. A sound disturbed her musings, and she turned her head to see Mulder standing a few feet away, dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, his feet bare. He also wore a tender, amused smile. "Relax, Scully," he murmured, and came up behind her, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her into the warmth and strength of his body. "Your mom is always on time, they'll be here any minute." "I missed him, Mulder," she said simply, and brought her hands up to curl around his forearms. Squeezing so that he automatically tightened his hold on her, intensifying their reversed hug. His chin rubbed the top of her head. "I know you did, baby. I missed him too," he replied. "Not that I regret last night," she quickly added, craning her head sideways to try and look at him, her eyes earnest. "I don't, you know that, right?" At his reassuring smile and nod, she let her own lips curve into a smile, a dreamy one of remembrance. Her eyelids lowered, and she sighed gustily. "I couldn't. It was –" A knock at the door had her voice trailing off, and she pulled free from his hold with such enthusiasm and speed, that she actually sent Mulder staggering back a few steps. She paused, looking from the door back to him, with an apologetic yet impish twist to her smile, then rushed the last few steps to the door to yank it open without peeking through the spy hole. Her mother stood there, one hand still poised in mid-air. Scully barely noticed, she had already shifted her gaze, to take in the sight of William, apparently sound asleep in his baby carrier, held in her mother's other hand. "Ohhhh," her breath escaped her in a shuddery sigh of happiness and relief. "William." "Good morning, Dana," her mother said pointedly, though her tone was kind, and understanding. Flushing pink, Scully lifted her head and smiled sheepishly at her mother. "Hi, Mom." After giving her mother a quick kiss on the cheek, she stepped back, opening the door wide. Mulder had joined her by then, and he immediately stepped forward to take William's carrier from her mother, lifting it up with ease and carrying the sleeping baby inside. Her mother followed, having bent and picked up the well-packed diaper bag that had been resting at her feet, but came to a stop just inside the doorway. "Mom?" Scully asked quizzically, hands already reaching out to take the bag from her mother. "I've got errands to run, and I'm sure you two have missed this little guy. You don't need me hovering over you," her mother said in explanation. "You can give me all the details later," she added, her eyes twinkling and a broad smile on her face. "You're both looking...well-rested." Scully blushed again, shooting a glance at Mulder who was standing beside her, but smiled back. "It was a good night," was all she said, and saw Mulder's rather emphatic nod out of the corner of her eye. "Well, William and I had a wonderful time," her mother said, changing the subject. "He was as good as gold, Dana, Fox. And I only had to get up twice to feed him during the night. I'm looking forward to watching him again, and I'm sure you two wouldn't mind a night off again, so don't hesitate to ask." Her eyes twinkled again as she looked from Scully to Mulder. "We won't, Mom. Thank-you," Scully said, and moved to embrace her mother. After a long hug, she kissed her mother's cheek again, then stepped back so Mulder could also give her a kiss. "Thanks, Mrs. Scully," he said. "You're welcome, dear," she told him, then turned her head to look at Scully again. "I'll talk to you later, Dana," she said, and headed out. Scully shut the door behind her and locked it, then placed the bag off to one side, out of the way for the time being. Mulder had moved over to the couch and sat down, and she headed over to join him. William was still sound asleep in his carrier, which was beside Mulder on the couch. He was fully engrossed in a study of their son's face, one hand gently rocking the carrier. Scully sat down on the other side of the carrier, so that William was between them. She longed to pick him up and cuddle his sweet baby warmth against her, to inhale his sweet baby scent, but she did not want to disturb his peaceful slumber. They sat quietly, enjoying the quiet time with their sleeping child. It was she who broke the silence though, speaking softly. Bringing up a subject that had weighed on her since its conception, just that past week. "Mulder, do you regret..." she paused, and then continued, changing her question. "Are you all right about no longer being with the Bureau?" Mulder looked at her, his expression growing puzzled. "What brought that on?" he asked, his hand leaving the carrier to reach for hers, lying on her thigh. He picked it up and gave it a squeeze before entwining his fingers with hers. "We've talked about this already, Scully. Of course I have regrets, it was a very major part of my life for a long time. But my life, our lives have changed, and I think this is for the better, for all three of us. With this consultant's job, my hours are practically my own, which gives me a lot of time with William, and you." He lifted her hand up to his mouth, rubbing his lips along its back. "What about you, Scully? Are you all right with returning to the Bureau, to the X Files, after your maternity leave? To being partnered with John Doggett?" "I think so," she answered slowly. "I'm willing to give it a try, that's for certain. And if I find it's not something I feel I can do any longer, I'm sure I could find a position at Quantico. Or even something in pathology outside the Bureau." "You could always stay home and be my little housewife," he said in a teasing voice, although both his tone and his eyes were semi-serious. She smiled at him, her eyes misting slightly. Technically his words could be taken as a proposal. Her throat suddenly thick, she swallowed and replied, "There's an option, yes." Technically an acceptance. They grinned at each other, but said nothing further. Both she and Mulder jumped slightly then, for William stirred in his carrier seat, emitting a small whimper. Scully stilled her instinctive need to scoop him up out of the carrier, and instead watched as his face scrunched up momentarily and another tiny, distressed cry passed his rosebud lips. He did not wake, however, though a frown remained. After a few seconds and another whimper, Mulder leaned towards the carrier and carefully eased his hands in, one under William's bottom and the other cupping the baby's fragile neck and head. Lifting him, he slowly straightened until he had William cradled in his arms, then leaned back into the sofa cushions. Scully's heart melted at the look of absolute adoration on Mulder's face. She lifted the carrier up and put it down on the floor to one side, so that she could lean against Mulder, craving contact with both he and William. After first pressing a kiss on his cotton-covered bicep, she put one arm around Mulder's shoulders, her cheek resting on the spot she had kissed, and brought her other hand up to gently stroke the baby's tiny hand, lying on his little belly. William's hand flexed, briefly clasping in a fist before relaxing again, and his lips pursed together, moving in a sucking motion. His feet kicked then, and he broke into a yawn. "He's waking up," Mulder whispered, and Scully nodded against his shoulder, still as fascinated with the process as she had been each and every time she had witnessed it. A moment later, William's tiny eyelids began fluttering, then finally opened, and Scully and Mulder were looking into the eyes of their child. The end feedback appreciated and fawned over at lovesfox@rogers.com
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