Title: ...and Baby makes Six! 
Author: Skinner'sVieja

Preface: This is a sequel to another story, and I'm hoping I can keep continuity better than Carter ever did. Probably not, but well, I'll give it my best shot. Also, there's a lot of Skinner/Scully involvement with this one, so please forgive me. They figure prominently in the story, so if you're not a S/S fan, I ask for your patience. 
************************ 
It was a cold, bleak, snowy Saturday in Washington, D.C. Mid February could be that way. Bright and almost spring-like one day, then bitter and dreary the next. 
Two women, one in a high rise apartment, the other in a brownstone, came out of their respective bathrooms, small plastic wands in hand. They sat on the edges of their respective beds and counted off the minutes. After the requisite amount of time, each looked carefully at the wand in her hand. Both check again to make sure she had read the instructions carefully. 

One woman, a small fair-skinned redhead bit her lip nervously. What was he going to say? What was he going to do? This was not something they had planned or even talked about. She got up and walked slowly down the stairs to the living room where a slightly older bald man sat watching a basketball game. 

“Walter,” she said. 

“Hang on, Dana, it’s almost over,” he said, holding up his hand, his eyes still glued to the screen. She sat down carefully beside him and waited. 

The other woman, a tall olive skin brunette closed her eyes and smiled happily. She jumped up and almost ran to her living room where an equally tall man with wiry hair sat watching the same basketball game. She plopped next to him on the sofa. 

“John,” she said, almost giddy with happiness. 

“Wait, Hon, it’s almost over.” He leaned slightly to one side as her shoulder partially blocked his view. 

“But, John!” 

“Wait, wait. I’ve got money on this game. If Duke wins Skinner owes me a hundred bucks.” 

Monica Reyes rolled her eyes and sat back, her arms folded. 

Finally the buzzer sounded and the two men reacted to the end differently. 

“Damn, I owe John Doggett a hundred dollars,” moaned Walter Skinner as he sprawled back on the sofa and covered his face with his hands. “Oh well, you think I’d learn. Now, what’s up, Dana? What’s so important you interrupt a man while he watches his team get the sh*t kicked out of them?” He tilted his head to look at her. She looked back with a serious expression. 

“Walter, I..I’m pregnant.” Her eyes darted over his face, worry making her mouth turn down. 

“Pregnant. You’re…you’re sure.” He swallowed nervously. She held out the plastic wand with its two pink stripes. “And this is a good thing? Or a bad thing?” 

“Depends.” She spoke so softly he almost couldn’t hear her. 

“On?” 

“On you.” She dropped her eyes. 

“Me? Why me” 

“We’ve never talked about children, or..or even the possibility of a pregnancy. And now…somehow we..I seem to be pregnant. So, if you don’t want…if you are against the whole idea, well, then, um, I…I guess I need to…I mean, I’ve done this once by myself, I can do it again.” 

“Why would I not want you to be pregnant?” He took the wand from her and looked at it careful. “And what makes you think I’m going to let you go off and have our child by yourself? And if you’re expecting me to kick you out the door, then you’re going to be sadly disappointed.” 

“Then…then you…you’re okay with it?” She pressed her lips together to keep the happiness she was beginning to feel from bursting out. 

“Are you?” He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “You don’t look very happy about it.” 

“Oh, Walter!” she squealed, clapping her hands like an excited child. “I’m pregnant!” She clasped her arms around his neck and kissed him with a loud smack. 

“Well,” he said with a laugh, “nice to know the equipment still works okay.” 

At the brownstone, John Doggett jumped up and pumped his fist. “Yes, DUKE! Ol’ Skinner owes me a hundred big ones. I’m gonna call him and rub his face in it.” 
“John! Wait,” said Monica Reyes as she too stood up. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry, babe, what’s up? What did you need to tell me?” He put his arms around her waist as she clasped her hands behind his neck. 

She smiled happily into his face as she leaned her forehead against his. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

He stood rigid as her words sank in. 

“You’re...you’re sure?” 

“As sure as a home pregnancy test can be.” 

He closed his eyes and muttered softly, “Thank God.” Then he lifted her off her feet and spun her around. “Thank you, Dr. Lewandowski. And,” he stopped and looked down at his crotch, “thank you, boys. You didn’t fail me!” 

“John!” she laughed. 

“Oh, sh*t!” he exclaimed. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked. 

“Your father’s gonna f*ckin’ kill me!” 

With that pronouncement, both women smiled sweetly at their men and kissed them gently. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Daddy!” they both said. 

The two women who were now being tenderly kissed by their lovers had both experienced pregnancies one other time. 

Dana Scully had become pregnant by her former FBI partner and lover and had to struggle through a difficult time alone when Fox Mulder had been abducted by forces unknown to most inhabitants of this planet. After giving birth alone, with only her friend Monica Reyes present, she had re-united with Mulder, only to have him disappear once again in order to keep from being killed by those same forces. Eventually she had to give up her child in order to protect his life also. It was a pain she carried with her every day of her life, for her pregnancy had been nothing short of a miracle and she suffered untold heartache when she realized she could not keep her son. Not long after that, her former lover reappeared, and she had hoped that finally she would be able to start over and build a life with him. But, much to her bitter disappointment, he had not understood why she had given up their child, and had accused her of not loving him or the child, and once again had left her, this time utterly alone with no one to love. 

It was during this dark time that a man who had stood on the fringes of her awareness for as long as she’d worked with Fox Mulder suddenly stepped forward and she realized that she had wasted precious time loving the wrong man. 

And now she was carrying his child and she couldn’t have been happier. And more importantly, neither could he. For even though he had been married before and was now slightly more than half-a-century old, he had never been a father. He was thrilled and scared, nervous and overjoyed all at the same time. 

As for Monica Reyes, she too had known the loss of a child. Or more correctly, the loss of a embryo. She and John Doggett had been lovers for a while when on a trip to Mexico to introduce him to her family, she had become deathly ill. She was surprised and horrified at the time to find out that she had a tubal pregnancy that had to be removed in order to save her life. The surprise had been far greater for John Doggett, who had had a vasectomy after the death of his son more than sixteen years before, and assumed, incorrectly it eventually turned out, that he was unable to father any more children. 

He had accused Monica of infidelity and the rift that accusation had caused was almost beyond his ability to repair. Eventually, though, after many hours of introspection into his behavior, he had begged Monica to forgive his lack of trust in her, and through the grace of God, she had accepted his apology. 

Now she was pregnant again with his child and he couldn’t have been happier. They had talked about having a child, but there had been some doubt as to their chances of getting her pregnant again, especially with his low sperm count and the removal of one of her ovaries. For he had undergone microsurgery in order to reverse the vasectomy, and while he was once again producing sperm, he was still considered an unlikely candidate for conception. And as for Monica, she was thrilled and scared, nervous and overjoyed all at the same time. 

So, now the four friends were embarking on a journey together that could end happily or tragically for one or both couples. With luck, though, and good medical care as well as God’s good blessings, things would turn out well for them all. 

And if any four people on earth deserved good things to happen to them, it was these four. 

Right now, though, the single most important thing on all their minds was how were they going to tell their families? Or rather, the families of Monica and Scully. Especially Monica’s. For as John so bluntly put it, her father was gonna f*cking kill him. 

 “Mmmm,” murmured John as he nibbled at Monica’s neck, his arms wrapped around her waist. “Your little announcement sure overshadows MY Valentine’s gift.” 
“Oh?” she said tilting her head to one side. She tangled her fingers in his hair. “You got me something? How sweet! What did you get me? Another Oaxacan carving?” 

She opened her eyes long enough to glance over at a small wooden palm tree painted in garish colors. It had been a surprise for her after their trip to Malinalco, Mexico. He had not been able to give it to her, though, until their reconciliation the month before in Miami. 

“Nope,” he said as he kissed the bridge of her nose, then leaned his forehead against hers. “Remember you said the only way I could get back into your good graces was with roses and expensive dinners at high-falutin’ restaurants?” 

“I also said something about sex anywhere and anytime,” she teased. 

“Yeah,” he smiled, “that too. Well, I’ve made reservations at that French restaurant you’ve been dying to go to, and I had ordered some…” 

Just then there was a knock on the door of the apartment. He sighed, hugged her tight, and then released her so she could go answer the door. He went to stand behind her as she opened the door to find what appeared to be two dozen pink roses standing in the hallway. There also appeared to be a tired-looking man buried somewhere behind the mass of flowers. 

“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed. “They’re..they’re beautiful! Oh, John! I was only kidding about the roses!” 

“Now you tell me,” he laughed. 

She rescued the flowers from the man, thanking him profusely, and took them into the living room. 

“’Bout time you got here,” muttered John as he tipped the deliveryman. “It’s 4:30, Valentine’s Day is almost over” 

“Look, Buddy, do you have any idea how many of those damn things I’ve had to delivery today? And I’m not through! This is the busiest day of the year for florists, so cut me some slack, okay?” He snatched the money from John’s hand and stormed away. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too,” called John to his retreating back. “Assh*le.” 

He closed the door and turned around to see Monica’s smiling face as she stepped back to admire the flowers. He went to stand behind her and put his arms around her waist, kissing her neck. She wrapped her arms over his and tilted her head to kiss his cheek. 

“Like them?” he asked softly. 

“They’re absolutely beautiful, John. But two dozen? That seems a little…expensive.” 

“For the mother of my child, no expense is too great.” 

“You didn’t know I was pregnant until twenty minutes ago,” she laughed. 

“Okay, so we’re ahead of schedule. I wasn’t expecting results quite so soon, but hey, give a Doggett a goal and he’ll do everything in his power to achieve it as quickly as he can,” he chuckled. Sobering he turned her in his arms and looked at her seriously, “Monica, you…you are happy about this, aren’t you? I mean, you don’t think it’s too soon after…after losing our other baby? Maybe…maybe you’re not ready to…” 

She answered him by kissing him so deeply and so intensely, her arms holding him tightly against her, that he could hardly breathe. She slowly released him and he buried his face in her neck. 

“John,” she whispered, “God gave us this baby for a reason and we’re not going to question it, all right? We’re going to love it and each other and be the best parents we can. And am I happy? Yes, happier than I’ve been in a long time. Happier even than that night in Miami when you came storming into my house demanding I forgive you.” 

He laughed, “I didn’t demand. And I certainly didn’t storm. I was scared to death you’d say no. Especially when Brad Follmer came crashing out of the front door. I thought for sure my chances of winning you back were dead in the water.” 

“Silly man,” she said as she kissed his ear. “Brad’s bloody nose should have been one clue that AD Follmer had been an unwanted visitor.” 

“Yeah, but I was also afraid I’d be leaving in the same condition.” 

“Never,” she said as once again they kissed. 

“I love you, Monica,” he said, holding her face in his hands. “Truly, deeply, eternally.” 

“I love you, John,” she answered with tears in her eyes. "And you don’t have to give me another thing for Valentine’s Day. You’ve already done that with the gift of this child.” 

They embraced again as they both wept silent happy tears. 

“You know,” he said, sniffing loudly and smiling through the tears on his cheeks, “that’s the same night I caught you in bed with AD Skinner. Maybe,” he teased as he held her by the shoulders, “maybe this isn’t my baby, maybe it’s his.” 

“Ha!” she snorted, wiping the moisture from her own face, “I told you, nothing happened. You rescued me just before anything…ANYTHING could. Besides, I’m not sure he’s, um, capable of fathering children. After all, he was married for a long time and he and his wife never conceived. So, maybe his boys aren’t as, shall we say, ambitious as yours.” 

“Maybe he’s just not as vigorous as I am,” he laughed. 

“I don’t know,” she said with a shake of her head. “Remember all that noise they made in the room above us? I’d say on a scale of one to ten with ten being John Holmes, I’d say he’s about a seven.” 

“Where do I rank?” he asked, rubbing his hands up and down her back as they rocked slowly from side to side. 

“Oh, you’re an eight, eight and half, easy.” She started to unbutton his shirt. 

“Only an eight and a half? Jeez, I’m…I’m stunned. I was hoping at least for a nine.” He cupped her buttocks and pulled her against him. 

“Well, maybe it’s time to re-evaluate,” she giggled. “I mean, the test could be off by a point or two.” Her hands slipped to his belt buckle. 

“Yeah, I think I need to protest the scoring and ask for a chance to prove myself again.” He tugged at her tee-shirt, pulling it from her jeans. 

“Sounds good to me,” she whispered as his hands touched her bare flesh. 

Just then, the phone rang. 

“Let the machine get it,” he whispered against her lips as he unfastened her bra. 

They continued to undress each other as her answering machine started to record. 

“Monica, it’s Dana. If you’re there pick up. If not, please call me immediately. It’s very important!" 

“Monica,” Scully’s voice came again. “Please, if you’re there, pick up. I..I really need to talk to you.” 
Monica leaned her head against John’s , panting slightly. “I’ve got to get it,” she said. She turned from him, pulling down her shirt as he looked up to the ceiling and breathed deeply 

“I’m here,” she said as she picked up the cordless phone. “What’s wrong?” 

“N-n-nothing, I just wanted to…uh…were you, um, occupied?” 

Yes, Monica thought irritably. 

“No,” she lied, “I was um, looking for the phone. You know how it is with a cordless, lay it down in one place and immediately forget where. Um, why…why did you call?” She shook her apologetically and shrugged. Her friend needed to talk and she couldn’t say no. 

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to interrupt anything…” Scully sat snuggled next to Skinner, his arm around he back and his hand resting on her hip. She held the phone in her left hand, pressing it to her ear as he kissed the right side of her face and head. She turned to look in his face with an abashed look. 

She covered the receiver with her hand and whispered, “I think I may have stopped their Valentine’s party.” 

Skinner chuckled softly, “I told you to wait.” 

“I’m sorry, what did you say, Monica? You’re sure? Okay, I just wanted to ask you what you might be doing in October, say around the thirteenth or so?” Scully’s grin almost split her face. 

“October? I don’t, why? What’s up?” Monica leaned back against John as he came and put his arms around her waist. 

“Well, um, I was hoping you might be available to, um, help me when I deliver. I…uh…I’m not sure how much use Walter’s gonna be and I thought that since you already know the drill…” 

“Deliver…what, Dana?” Monica stepped away from John. 

“My baby, Monica,” said Scully with a soft laugh. 

“Your…your baby?” Monica turned around quickly to look at John with wide eyes. 

“Oh, my God! OH! MY! GOD!! When…when did you find out?” 

“Today. I used a home pregnancy test and well, eureka!” Skinner squeezed Scully as she smiled. 

“What does Skinner think about it?” Monica closed her eyes and bit her lip. John pulled her into his arms as a lone tear coursed down her cheek. 

“He says it’s the best Valentine’s Day gift he’s ever received. But I’m not exactly sure the whole thing as sunk in yet. He may have a different opinion after the shock wears off.” 

“I don’t think so,” whispered the prospective father. 

“So, can I count on you on or around the thirteenth of October?” 

“How...how do you figure that’s when the baby’s due?” asked Monica. 

“Simple,” explained Scully. “A normal pregnancy is forty weeks. Now, I’m no math whiz and I’m not about to sit down and count ahead, so I use a method they taught us in medical school. You take the date of the first day of you last period. Mine was January 6. Back count three months. You can count forward nine, but to me that takes too long. Okay, that makes it October. Then add one week. October 13, although it is really on a guesstimate. It can be one week either way.” 

“So, if say my period was January tenth…” 

“If you were pregnant, the baby would be due October 17. It’s easy, really, once you get the hang of it. Anyway, will you be there to help me? Please?” 

“I’m sorry, Dana, but the answer is no.” 

Scully sat stunned. “Why..why not? Was it that bad when you delivered William that you…” 
“No, it’s not that. In fact, I thought it was the most wonderful thing I had ever participated in. But, I’m gonna be busy about that time and I don’t think…” 

“Busy? How the hell can you know you’ll be busy eight months from now?” protested Scully. Her feelings were hurt. She moved away from Skinner. “If you don’t want to do it, Monica, just tell me!” 

“Well, it’s not that I don’t WANT to,” explained Monica as she tried to keep from laughing, “it’s just that I’m gonna be kinda occupied with my own labor and I’m not sure I’ll be in a position…” 

“Wha…what do you mean, labor? Monica,” Scully stood up, her heart beginning to race. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“There must have been quite a run on those home pregnancy tests,” Monica said, unable to contain her excitement any longer. “Dana, I’m…” 

“Oh, my God! OH! MY! GOD!!” Scully whispered hoarsely. “Are…are you SURE?” 

“Eureka!” 

Both women laughed as Skinner and Doggett shook their heads. 

“Oh, Lord, what a day!” exclaimed Scully. “Look, we need to get together to celebrate. What have you got planned for tonight?” 

“Tonight?” Monica looked at John with a questioning look. He shook his head quickly. 

“Um, I’m not sure that’s a good idea, tonight, Dana. Why don’t we make it another night?” 

“We-e-l-l,” Scully said slowly. 

Skinner was mouthing at her, “Not tonight!” 

“Yeah, maybe we’d better wait. Um, I’ll call you tomorrow,” again Skinner shook his head, “um, I mean Monday. I’m so thrilled for you, Monica. Congratulations to both of you!” 

“You, too, Dana. I’ll…I’ll talk to you Monday. Give Walter our love.” 

The two women hung up and turned to their men. 

“Can you believe it? She’s pregnant!” they chorused. 

“That ol’ son-of-a-b*tch!” laughed the men. 

John took Monica to the expensive French restaurant she had been wanting to try and let her order whatever she wanted. He protested, though, when she wanted to order wine. 

“Nope, sorry, Monica. No wine, not for a while. And that goes for beer and any other alcohol. You’re pregnant now, and you have to watch what you eat and drink. The alcohol can cross the placental barrier and…” 

“John, one glass of champagne isn’t going to…” 

“No,” he said emphatically. “If you don’t believe me, call Scully.” He reached for his cell phone and started to hand it to her. 

“No, I’m not going to call her. The last thing we need to do during this pregnancy is bother her. She’s going to have enough with her own, much less have to mentor me through mine. I’ll…I’ll call Monday and get an appointment with an ob-gyn, and start prenatal care. That way I’ll have someone I can call without feeling guilty. And I guess I’ll have,” she clicked her tonuge in disappointment, “I guess I’ll have a mineral water.” She looked up at the waiter who took her order with disapproval. She shrugged and he shook his head and rolled his eyes. 

They left the restaurant arm-in-arm and he drove to his house. 

“I thought we were going back to my place,” she murmured sleepily. 

“I..I have something to pick up,” he said as he pulled up in front of the small house. “Go on in and I’ll be there in a bit.” 

“Why?” she asked with a yawn. “I’m sorry, all that food is making me a dull companion.” 

“Just, uh, go in and um, I’ll be right there. Go on,” he insisted. 

She shrugged and got out of his pick-up and climbed the steps and opened the front door. He had left a light on in the entrance and she looked down at the floor to see pink rose petals covering it. She looked around and saw that the rose petals trailed up the stairs. She climbed the stairs and followed the fragrant markers to his bedroom. She stood in the doorway and gasped. There were roses everywhere, vases seemed to stand on every flat surface. The bed spread had been pulled back and the sheet covering the mattress was completely hidden by more rose petals. 

“I kind of had the idea that maybe we could make love in a rose bower,” he said as he came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “I thought it might be kind of romantic, especially for Valentine’s Day. You know, as kind of a way to celebrate our love and all,” he said with an embarrassed laugh. “But now, I don’t know. Maybe, maybe you won’t want to.” 

“Why?” she asked as she turned to look at him, her eyes bright. “I think this is wonderful. For you, John, to do something this…this…” 

“Schmaltzy?” 

“I was thinking sentimental. It’s…it’s glorious. Thank you.” She took his hand and kissed his palm. She led him to the bed and they made love as rose petals drifted around them. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, Monica got up and went to John’s small spare bedroom and crawled between the sheet of the smaller bed. When John woke up at a little past 6:00, he stretched and reached for her, but only a found a few scattered rose petals where she should have been. He sat up and squinted into the dark and called her name softly. When he received no answer, he got out of bed and went to check the bathroom. As he walked he kept brushing off petals that clung to his body. 
This looked like such a good idea in that movie, he thought, but obviously he didn’t thing the whole thing through. Now petal were everywhere, and he had a feeling cleaning them up was not going to be nearly as much as scattering them had been. Or as romantic. 

He found her curled up on her side clutching the covers over her. He started to lie down next to her when she moaned slightly. 

“Don’t move the bed!” she whimpered. 

“Why? What’s wrong?” He kneeled beside her and patted the small amount of brunette head that was lying uncovered on the pillow. “Why did you come sleep in here? Was my snoring that bad?” 

“No,” she said in a small voice. “The smell of all those roses got to me and I thought that if I didn’t get out of there I was gonna…” She stopped and swallowed noisily. “Oh, God! MOVE” She jumped up so quickly he fell over backwards. 

She sprinted down the short hall and he could hear her as she vomited. Sighing, he picked himself off the floor and lay down on the bed, moving over as far as he could to give her enough room when she came back. After several minutes, she shuffled back into the room and he held the blanket up so she could lie down. She turned her back to him and he moved closer, putting his arm around her bare body. 

“Oh, sh*t!” she muttered. “John, we’re going to have to get rid of those petal soon. It smells like a funeral home out there and that aroma is getting to me. Something I ate at that restaurant made me sick. You don't think it’s food poisoning, do you? Or..or…Oh God, John!” She stiffened in his arms and her voice took on a note of panic. “John, you don’t think it’s another…another tubal pregnancy, do you? 

“No, darlin’, I don’t,” he said, tightening his arm around her. “It’s probably nothing more than normal morning sickness. You’re not having any pain, are you?” He put his hand on her abdomen near her hip bone. He could feel the small scar that had been left by her previous surgery. He slid his hand across her flat belly and pressed gently near where he thought her remaining ovary was. 

“No,” she admitted, “I’m just so damn nauseated. I wish there was some way we could check to make sure…” She bit her lip to keep from crying. 

“Hey!”, he said softly. “Everything is fine. It’s not going to happen again, understand? This baby is definitely going to happen and in two years when he’s having a major temper tantrum, you’re gonna wonder what you were worried about.” He kissed her neck and chuckled softly. “I figure by that time, you’ll be pregnant with his little sister.” 

“Uh, excuse me,” she retorted, “one pregnancy at a time, please.” She relaxed slightly, “Do you really think we don’t have anything to worry about? You think this might be just, you know, morning sickness?” 

“Of course. Tell you what, first thing tomorrow make an appointment with a doctor, tell him about what happened the last time, he’ll do a sonogram and the little booger will wave at you and everything will proceed apace.” 

“But, what if…?” 

“Monica,” he said sternly, rising on his elbow as he leaned over her shoulder. She turned her head slightly to look at him. “Nothing, not a damn thing is going to prevent us from having this child. I have you back in my life, and for the first time since Luke…since Luke died I feel like there’s a reason to get up in the mornings. 
This baby,” he rubbed his hand across her belly again, “this baby is the most amazing thing that could happen to us, and after everything that we’ve been through, God wouldn’t be so cruel as to take it away from us. Not again.” 

“I love you, John,” she whispered. “So, you don’t think I should worry?” 

“No,” he said firmly. “Not about carrying this baby to term.” 

“Okay,” she said meekly, “if you say so.” 

“What we need to worry about is when are we going to tell your family?” 

“I was thinking about waiting until the kid started kindergarten,” she said with a sigh. 

“Not a bad idea,” he chuckled. “But how are we going to keep it hidden until then?” 

“We’ll tell them it’s Dana’s and we’re permanently babysitting,” she laughed. 

“Sorta like what you told them when you moved back to Washington?” 

“I didn’t EXACTLY lie,” she hedged. “I told them that I was back in Washington because I needed to work more closely with Dana. I’m not sure my mother believed me, but I think she’s willing to go along with it for my father’s sake.” 

“He’s gonna kill me,” sighed John. 

“You didn’t exactly rape me, you know,” she said. “I was a very willing participant.” 

“Whatdaya mean, ‘not exactly’ rape you? You make it sound like I had to somehow force you. If I remember correctly, YOU were the one who crawled naked into my bed. Kind of like right now.” He kissed her neck as his hand moved down her hip to her thigh, then back up to her abdomen. “I’m so glad you’re back, I missed you while you were down in Miami.” 

She turned until she was lying on her back. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “We need to do something special for AD Skinner. I don’t what he said or did or who he had to grease in order to get me transferred back, but as far as I’m concerned, the man’s a saint.” 

“Mmm, we could name our son for him,” John muttered as he kissed the hollow of neck, then trailed kisses to the valley between her breasts. 

“You seem awfully sure this is going to a boy,” she said as he rubbed his cheek against one soft mound. 

“Doggetts are very prolific in producing boys,” he boasted “It’s all in the technique.” 

“Oh, really?” she teased. “Well, why don’t you show me?” 

And for the next little while, he did just that, much to her great pleasure. 

Morning started a little later at the apartment of Assistant Director Walter Skinner. He got up out of bed and went downstairs to find Agent Dana Scully pacing his living room rug. 
“What’s wrong, Dana?” he asked as he headed towards the kitchen and the pot of coffee he smelled brewing. 

“Walter, we have to tell my mother about us.” 

“I told you that when we got back from Miami. I thought that when John and Monica knew that we would be a lot more open. Or at least inform your mother.” 

“I know, but I just kept putting it off. Not for any particular reason, mind you. Its just things always came up that prevented me from going over there.” She sat down on the sofa and he sat beside her, cup of coffee in hand. 

He picked up the sports section of the Washington Post and shook his head at the picture on the front. It showed the last basket that won the game for Duke. 

“Well,” he said sipping his coffee, “we’re going to have to tell her as soon as possible about the pregnancy. She’ll be hurt if she thinks we’re trying to keep THAT from her, too.” 

“Couldn’t we just tell her about us, first? Then, when she’s comfortable with the idea, we’ll let her know about the baby.” She bit the inside of her cheek. 

“Sorry, kiddo, but that ain’t gonna cut it. We need to tell her soon, and I mean like real soon. Unless, of course, you’re ashamed to let her know about us,” he said absently. He put his cup down on the coffee table, propped his feet up and opened the newspaper. 

She stared at the newspaper that hid his face. She grasped the paper at the top and pulled it quickly from his hands, crumpling it as she did. 

“Hey!” he said in surprise, “I wasn’t through with that!” 

She quickly straddled his lap and placed her hands on the sofa behind his head. She leaned against him, kissing him so intensely he couldn’t breathe. He slowly let the shreds of newspaper he still held drift from his hands. He hesitated a moment before sliding them under the pajama top she wore to touch the soft skin of her back. 

She sat back and pushed her hair from her face. She was panting slightly, “Don’t you ever think I’m ashamed of us, or of you, for that matter. Just because I’ve been too happy to want to share the reason with anyone is not an indictment of you or us. Do you understand me?” 

“Mm-hmm,” he muttered weakly. 

“Good, now let go so I can get up. Walter, let go of me.” She tried to slide off his lap but his hands tightened around her waist. 

“Unh-unh,” he said. “Wait! I think…I think I need more instruction. Why don’t you show me again how…how unashamed you are. I mean, I’m kind of a slow learner.” He raised his head from the back of the sofa and kissed her again. 

“You’re not slow at anything,” she murmured, closing her eyes as his kisses lit a fire that could only be extinguished by a skillful lover. And Walter Skinner was reputed to be the best. 

Later, they lay together on the sofa, covered by an afghan; her pajama top and bottoms covered the coffee table, his boxers had somehow ended up near the sliding glass door to the balconey. The coffee had grown cold as their lovemaking had heated up. 

“Walter, about my mother…” 

“We’ll tell her this week. Let’s take her to lunch and let her in on our little secret then, okay?” he said as he snuggled closer to her. “Just leave her to me. I’ll charm the socks right off of her.” 

“Humpf!” snorted Scully. “You don’t know my mother!” 

Monica and Scully didn’t get a chance to meet that Sunday. Monica spent a significant part of the day in the bathroom vomiting while John took on the daunting task of removing all the rose petals that he had strewn from the entrance to his bedroom. He soon realized that vacuuming was not going to take care of the problem. He didn’t have that many vacuum cleaner bags. So, with broom in hand, he swept and scooped wilted petals for over an hour. 
Then he was faced with what to do with the six vases of the fragrant blooms he had placed in his bedroom. Monica was still having to lie down in the spare room between visits to the bathroom because the smell from the roses made her nauseated. 

“What should I do with the flowers, Monica?” he asked as he tied up the last plastic bag with the rose petals. “Do you want to keep any of them?” 

“Just one dozen, I think,” she said as she pulled a blanket up to her nose. “I still have those at my place.” 

“Oh, yeah. Well, I hate to throw them out,” he muttered. Especially considering how much the cost, he thought. 

“There’s not a nursing home, or a hospital or some place where you could take them? They’re so beautiful and it’s a shame that someone can’t enjoy them. I’m sorry, John,” she said tearfully. “I must seem like the most horrible person in the world, asking you to get rid of such a wonderful gift.” 

“Hey,” he said as he kneeled beside her as she lay on the small bed, covered almost completely by the blanket. “These are just flowers, Monica! They’ll wilt and die, leaving only a memory. You have given me the best gift anyone could give. You’re giving me a child. That’s a lot more meaningful than a bunch of roses.” He kissed the tip of her nose. 

She closed her eyes and began to weep in earnest. “That’s so sweet!” she sobbed. “I don’t deserve you! You’re so…so wonderful!” 

“It’s okay, honey,” he said soothingly. He chuckled slightly. “Man! You are on an emotional roller-coaster, aren’t you? And this is only one day after finding out you're pregnant. Can you imagine what it’s going to be like in six months?” 

“Why are you laughing at me?” she asked indignantly, wiping her nose on the blanket. “I’m trying to tell you how much I love you and you’re making fun of me?” 

“No, I’m not, Monica,” he said, brushing her hair from her eyes. “I love you, too, and I just…” He stopped, knowing he would not get anywhere with her by trying to explain he understood why she, a woman who seldom had emotional outbursts, was reacting as she was. “Look, I’m gonna take the flowers and distribute them to a couple of hospitals, okay? I’ll be back soon, you just rest.” 

“Now you think I’m ungrateful!” she said as the tears began to flow again. “You think I…” 

He leaned forward and kissed her to silence her. 

“I love you, Monica. I’ll be back in a while. Get some sleep and if you’re feeling better when I get back, maybe we’ll go over to Skinner’s and see Dana so you both can do a little victory dance, okay?” he teased. 

“Okay,” she said in a small voice. “Hurry back, ‘cuz I miss you when you’re gone.” 

He tucked her into the bed and as he left, partially closed the door to the bedroom so his footsteps wouldn’t disturb her. It took him a while to find a box big enough to hold all the vases and keep the flowers from crushing each other, but eventually he got them loaded into his truck and started his deliveries. 

He returned to his house a couple of hours later. He had taken two dozen to a nursing home he passed each day on his way to work. The lady at the front desk promised she’d put them in the dining room so all the residents could enjoy them. He left as quickly as he could; the sight of some of the old people strapped into their wheelchairs made him incredibly sad. At least the place smelled clean, although the odor of disinfectant was almost overpowering. 
Next, he delivered a dozen to a Ronald McDonald house near Georgetown Hospital. When he had opened the door to the entrance way, he was almost bowled over by a small girl dressed in a frilly red dress. An elastic hair band with a big white bow circled her bald head. She smiled up at him. 

“Hi,” she said, “are you Cupid?” 

“No,” he answered as he put the vase on a table by the front door. “Why?” 

“’Cuz you’re delivering roses. Are those for me?” 

“Could be,” he said as he kneeled down to bring himself face to face with her. “What’s your name?” 

“Darlene!” called a woman’s voice. “Come here, honey, I need to put your shoes…” A tired looking young woman walked into the entrance carrying a pair of shiny black MaryJane shoes. “Come here, Darlene,” ordered the woman when she saw the little girl talking to Doggett. “Can I help you?” 

“He’s Cupid, Mommy. See? He’s delivering flowers and he says they might be for me!” Darlene skipped over to her mother and took her hand. 

“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” said John as he stood up. “I was just leaving these for the house. I’m…my name is John Doggett.” He held out his hand, but the woman merely stared at him. He smiled awkwardly and put his hands in his back pocket. 

“I’m with the FBI,” he added hoping that might take the frightened look from her care-worn face. 

“Then you should know better than to talk to little children. I’ve been trying to teach her not to talk to strangers and you come in and…” 

“He’s not a stranger, Mommy,” Darlene corrected her mother. “He’s Cupid, see?” The little girl smiled again at John and his heart nearly broke. “Is my name on the card, Cupid? Who are they from?” 

“Yes, Darlene, it is. They’re from someone who loves you very much and wants you to be safe. So, remember, do what your mother says and never, ever talk to anyone you don’t know, understand? Even if he says he’s Cupid, or…or Santa Claus. I’m sorry ma’am. You’re right. That was unbelievably stupid of me. Look, I’m gonna put my card,” and he reached for his wallet in his back pocket. The woman flinched. He held up his wallet for her to see. “I’m gonna put my card right her by the flowers, that way if you want to check me out you can.” 

He put his business card carefully beside the vase. “I hope you’re feeling better soon, Darlene.” 

“I am,” said the little girl as she jumped up and down beside her mother. “I’m going home tomorrow, right Mommy? I’m all done with my chemotherapy. I’ve got lu..luekemia and my doctor says I’m gonna be all better now.” 

Her mother closed her eyes and when she opened them they were bright with tears. “That’s right, Darlene. All better. But, you need to get you’re shoes on so we can go to church. Hurry now!” 

“I’m glad, Darlene. Now I’ve gotta go, ‘cuz I’ve got some more flowers to deliver. You take care of yourself, okay?” 

“Okay,” Darlene said as she skipped out of the entrance. 

“I am sorry, Ma’am, I shouldn’t have started talking to her. I’ll just leave…” he said as he started to turn. 

“Thanks for the roses,” the woman said. “They are beautiful. But, why…?” 

“My…um…my lady and I just found out she’s pregnant, and the smell of the flowers was making her sick,” he shrugged. 

“Oh, Lord, I remember that,” laughed the woman. John realized then how very pretty she was, but the worry and stress of caring for an ill child had diminished her looks somewhat and made her look older than she probably was. “Well, um, good luck. Is…is this your first child?” After her initial fear of him was gone she seemed to want to talk. 

“It’s our second attempt together,” he explained. “We lost a pregnancy not too long ago.” 

“That’s too bad,” she said. “Do you have other children?” 

“I…I had a son, but he um…um…he died.” 

“I’m so sorry. Was…was it cancer?” One parent of a child with cancer, looking for support from another. 

“No, ma’am. He was…no, ma’am.” John looked away. 

“An accident?” 

“No, he…he was abducted and murdered.” John attempted to leave again, but stopped once more. “Make sure you keep an eye on her. Never let her out of your sight.” 

The woman nodded her head. “Not for a moment. I couldn’t anyway. I’ve learned over the past few months that you just never know when you might not have them to watch over anymore. I don’t know which is worse, to lose them suddenly, or to watch them die one day at a time.” 

“I think one is just as bad as the other, ma’am. No matter what, losing a child is the worst thing a parent can experience. Good luck to you, ma’am. I hope everything turns out all right.” 

“Me, too,” smiled the woman and he was struck again by how pretty she was. “And good luck to you and your lady. I’ll pray for you today, if that’s all right with you?” 

“Yes, ma’am, that would be most generous. And…and I’ll pray for Darlene.” He left before the woman could see the tears on his face. 

When John walked into his house after delivering the last three dozen roses to Georgetown Hospital, (one to the mother/baby unit, one to newborn ICU and one to pediatrics) he noticed a very…different bouquet in the air. Something was cooking, and it smelled wonderful. He went to the kitchen to find Monica stirring one pot while two others steamed and bubbled. 
“Whoa! What’s all this?” he asked as he lifted the lid on a large pan. Inside was chicken simmering in a dark, spicy sauce. “Mole? You’re making mole? I thought you said it took too much time. And…and beans? Where’d you find beans?” 

“They’re canned beans, I’m just dressing them up somewhat. Don’t you take the lid off that pan,” she said as she slapped his hand gently. “It’s rice and it’ll get gummy if you let the steam out. Now, just sit down and lunch will be ready in a little while.” 

“I thought you were sick?” he asked as he sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. 

“I was, but I slept for a bit and when I woke up I just had this urge to cook. By the way, your refrigerator was a mess, so I cleaned it out.” She opened the fridge door to show him the spotless interior. “I threw out some things that I couldn’t identify, if that’s okay.” 

“What in particular did you throw out?” He couldn’t remember anything that had looked especially disgusting. 

“Some green things that I didn’t know if they were meat or cheese, some horrible brown lettuce, a couple of plastic containers with completely unidentifiable foodstuff. At least, I’m assuming it was food. I was afraid to smell or touch, so unless they were the cure for the common cold that you were trying to grow, I tossed them, container and all.” She went to stand next to his chair. “You are lucky the chicken was in the freezer, otherwise it would have found a new home in the garbage.” She put her arm around his shoulders. “Don’t get too comfortable, I need tortillas.” 

“Do I have to go out again? Can’t we just eatit with regular sliced bread? Or did you throw that out, too?” He lay his head against her abdomen. 

“Chicken mole, Mexican rice and beans a la charra do not go with bread, white boy. We need tortillas. Now, go, it won’t be long before this is ready.” 

After they had eaten and John had cleaned up the kitchen (“The least I can do,” he said.), he took her back to her apartment. 

“I don’t see why you just don’t stay with me,” he protested. “I mean, Monica, we’re eventually going to have to move in together. I don’t want our child to be one of those kids that spends half the time at Mommy’s and the other half at Daddy’s. We really need to talk about this.” 

“I know, John, but not yet. I…I have to talk to my parents first. I promise, as soon as I let them know what’s going on, we’ll…we’ll talk.” The look she gave him begged for his understanding. 

“Marry me.” 

“Not…not yet, John. Not until…” 

“Until what? You get your parents approval? It might not happen, Monica, you know that. And if they don’t approve, what then? You won’t marry me at all? Sorry, but that’s not going to cut it. Our child…MY child will not start off life in a broken home. He’s gonna live in one place with two parents, understand?” His tone was such that it didn’t brook any dissension. 

“I know, John, and I agree. But…” 

“No buts. Marry me and they’ll have to agree that it’s for the best, especially if it’s a done deal.” 

“I can’t do that to them, John. I can’t just announce to them that I’m married AND pregnant. It would hurt them deeply.” She looked out the window as they pulled up in front of her apartment. 

“But announcing to them that you’re pregnant by a man they can’t stand is not going to hurt them?” He stopped the truck and turned towards her. “Listen to me, Monica. Its not like we have a whole lot of time to let them get used to the idea that I’m part of your life now. I want them to know about what’s going on long before our baby arrives. I want them to be prepared for the inevitable, and to make peace with the idea that I’m in your life forever.” He brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “That is, if you want me.” 

“Of course I do,” she whispered. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly. “Let’s go upstairs and call them.” 

As they entered her apartment, she saw the message light on her answering machine flashing. She hit the replay button and her mother’s voice surprised her. 

“Hola, Monica, its me. If you’re there, darling, pick up.” There was silence for a few seconds. “Ah, I’m sorry, it is early, maybe you are sleeping in. Anyway, call me when you get this message. Your father and I will be coming in on Thursday for a meeting at the Smithsonian and we want to stay with you. Please call me back so I can tell you when we will arrive.” The call disconnected and the answering machine clicked off. 

Monica closed her eyes and sighed as she dropped her chin to her chest. “Oh, sh*t!” 

The next morning, both Scully and Monica were late to work. The women had finally talked to one another and agreed to call Scully’s ob-gyn on Monday morning to see how soon they could get in. Scully had no problem getting an early appointment, but Monica was told that the soonest she could be seen was in two weeks. Scully called and spoke directly to her physician and within a few moments, the receptionist called back and informed Monica she could be seen at the same time as Scully. 
“But,” warned the receptionist, “you’ll be seeing our nurse-midwife for the first exam. Dr. Brownlee is extremely busy today, and if you want to be seen that’s the best we can do.” 

“Fine, I’ll see the midwife. I just…I just want to make sure everything is all right.” 

You and every other pregnant woman in town thought the receptionist. Aloud, however, she said, “Then we’ll see you at ten o’clock. Make sure you bring your insurance card.” 

By nine o’clock both women were sitting in the small waiting room. Scully was flipping through a magazine while Monica nervously filled out forms and tried to remember exactly how old she was when she started getting her period. Why the hell did they need to know that?” 

Scully was called in first and Monica was left sitting alone as women at various stages of pregnancy came and went. She got to daydreaming about how she would look at six months, seven, eight and then finally at term. It seemed so far off. And yet so close. 

At last, she was called in and she went through the formalities of a new patient exam. Her vital signs were taken, her weight recorded and then she was handed a small cup and told a urine sample was needed. 

“But, I’ve already done a pregnancy test,” she protested. 

“Yes, ma’am, but we need one to record in your chart, just to make sure,” explained the little nurse who was triaging her. “Plus, we need to check your urine for protein, blood, things like that.” She smiled at the taller woman as she tried to hide her impatience. She had three more women to bring in and she wanted Monica just to move along. 

After giving the requisite sample, Monica was ushered into a small exam room and told to strip. 

“Buh…but won’t I get a chance to speak to the midwife?” she asked as the nurse started to leave. 

“After the exam,” the nurse said as she closed the door. 

Monica sighed and undressed, putting on the paper exam gown before sitting down on the table. She barely had time to put a paper drape over her lap before a woman came in, medical chart in hand. 

“Hello,” said the pleasant looking woman. She was about forty years old with a shy smile. “I’m Helene Brown, I’m one of the nurse-midwives, Mrs. Reyes.” 

“Um, Ms. Reyes. I’m…I’m not married,” said Monica with a note of defiance. 

“Ah, well, okay. Is the…the father going to be involved with the pregnancy, or um…” 

“He’s very involved,” said Monica. “VERY!” 

“Great! Wonderful! I’m always thrilled when a man wants to share in the birth of his child, especially if the couple is not married. You’d be surprised how many husbands prefer to be uninvolved. Now, let’s get down to business.” 

She sat down on a stool and proceeded to ask Monica all the questions she’d just answered on the forms. However, the midwife took time and listened to Monica’s responses, asking more questions when some point was not clear. She was especially interested in the pregnancy that had ended with the removal of Monica’s fallopian tube and ovary. 

Finally, though, she had Monica lie back so she could do a physical exam. Another nurse came in and bustled around handing Helene various pieces of equipment, and smiling reassuringly at Monica and holding her hand as the midwife inserted two fingers into her vagina and pressed down on her abdomen. 

“Nice, roomy pelvis,” muttered Helene. “You won’t have any problems delivering a good-sized baby.” 

“Thanks, I think,” chuckled Monica nervously. “Um, I know this is a stupid question, but does…does everything feel okay? I mean, does it feel like…? 

“Like the embryo is where it’s supposed to be?” 

Monica nodded, biting her lips. 

“Well, your uterus is slightly enlarged, which is what you’d expect with an early pregnancy. There doesn’t seem to be any swelling near the ovary, so my best guess is yes, everything’s fine. The only real way to tell, of course, is to do a sonogram. If you’d like and don’t mind waiting, we can try to get you in for one right now.” 

“I’ll wait,” said Monica without hesitation. 

Helene finished her exam and then sat and talked to Monica. She asked gentle probing questions and let Monica ask all the questions she had about the pregnancy and what to expect. She answered them calmly and fully, never hurrying through her explanations. 

At last, though, she told Monica to make an appointment to return in two weeks to see the doctor, then excused herself. The nurse told Monica to dress and go back to the waiting room, and they would be calling her in for her sonogram as soon as they could. 

She went back into the reception area and found Scully waiting for her. 

“How did it go?” Scully asked. 

Monica shrugged, “Okay, I guess. She said everything feels okay, but they’re going to do a sonogram just to make sure. I’m supposed to wait, so, um, I guess…I guess I’ll, um…” 

“Do you want me to wait with you?” asked Scully. 

“Would you?” Monica asked with a sigh of relief. “I…I don’t want to…I’m just a little…” 

“Nervous?” 

Monica nodded quickly. “I wish John was here, but we had a meeting with some agents from out of town and he’s handling it alone.” 

“I know,” said Scully as the two sat down. “Walter had to meet with Deputy Director Kersh. He insisted he wanted to be here, but I told him the first visit is kind of uninteresting. They can’t check for fetal heart tones because it’s too soon, and in my case there’s not reason for a sonogram so early. I told him he could come on the next visit. He actually seemed kind of relieved.” The two women chuckled. 

“Ms. Reyes,” called the nurse who had been in the room with her. 

Monica looked up to see the woman beckoning her towards a room marked ‘Sonography’. She took a deep breath and glanced at Scully. Scully looped her arm through Monica’s and they walked towards the room. 

It seemed to take forever before the sonographer said, “There it is. When you’re this early in the pregnancy, sometimes it’s hard to find the little booger.” 

“Is…is it all right? Can you tell if it…” 

“Well, it’s still pretty early to tell if it’s a girl or a boy…” 

“No, no!” Monica interrupted quickly. “That’s not what I want to know, at least not right now. I mean is it where it is supposed to be?” 

“Oh. Oh, yeah, it’s definitely in the uterus. It…” the woman chuckled. “Let’s call it something besides ‘it’. Do you want a boy or a girl, and we’ll pretend that’s the sex until we do a sonogram later.” 

“I don’t care,” smiled Monica, “as long as it…he is all right. My…the father insists we’re going to have a boy.” 

“Okay, boy it is, at least for a while. He is measuring about five weeks, which puts you pretty much right on target with your last menstrual period. So, I’d say it’s good to go.” The woman patted Monica’s arm and then wiped the blue gel she had spread over her abdomen. 

Monica covered her face with her hands and gave a relieved sigh. 

“Come on, Monica,” smiled Scully as she helped her friend sit up, “let’s go tell John.” 

"Look, John," said Monica on Wednesday, "just let me handle this my way, okay? My parents will be here tmorrow evening and I'd prefer to tell them about us by myself." 
"Your father is going to think I'm a coward for not being with you when you announce to him that the man he thinks is lower than a snake's belly is back in your life. And imagine how thrilled he's going to be with me when he finds out you're pregnant. I might as well move to Timbuktu." 

"You can't," she teased as she poured herself a glass of milk. "And don't think you're going to use that as an excuse to get out of helping me raise this child." She raised the glass to her lips and drainied it. 

"Like you could keep me away," he laughed. "And what's with the milk?" She was pouring herself another glass. "I've never seen you drink milk." 

"Yeah, I know," she said as she drained the second glass. "I don't even like milk, but suddenly, I just had to have some. Weird, isn't it?" 

She put down the glass and wiped her milk mustache with the back of her hand. She smiled sheepishly as John rolled his eyes. 

They were standing in her small kitchen as he tried to convince her he should be with her when her parents arrived. 

"Please, John," she said tilting her head to one side, "I know you want to be there to give me support, but I know my family and I think it's best this way." 

"All right," he said reluctantly. "I think it's a mistake, but if that's they way you want it." 

"It is," she said with a relieved sigh. "Now, have you got everything? Maybe we should go through the apartment again and make sure you got all your things." 

"I've checked it twice, Monica, there's not a sock, a razor, a pair of dirty underwear, or any other incriminating evidence left to show that I even exist. So far as this apartment goes, I've never set foot into it." 

"Good. Now, leave so I can finish cleaning." She took his hand and led him to the front door where a white garbage bag held the few items he had left over time. 

"Marry me, Monica," he said as he stopped and jerked on her arm, pulling her close. He kissed her with such intensity at she had to hold on to him to keep from falling. 

"You're becoming very repetitive," she said breathlessly as he kissed her neck. "Besides, you're only wanting to get married because you think that'll keep my father from being so angry." She tightened her arms around him. 

He stopped kissing her and stood very still. She thought for a moment he was angry at her teasing accusation. She pulled away from him as far as his arms would let her. 

"I..I'm sorry," she said. 

"I love you, Monica," he said softly, his eyes watching her face. "I have for a long time. I want to be with you and build a future together for us and our child. It has nothing to do with any concern for your father. I would want to marry you even if you weren't pregnant. I don't think you know how much I want to be with you. I want to raise our child together in a stable home with a mommy and a daddy who are committed to each other and love one another." 

His forehead creased as a sudden, unhappy thought crossed his mind. "Maybe...maybe you don't love me and that's why..." 

His next words were cut short as she put her hand over his mouth. 

"Don't you say it! And don't you dare believe it! I love you! Of course, I love you! How could you think otherwise?" 

"Then, why won't you marry me?" 

She licked her lips before speaking. 

"Because I don't want you to think you have to ask me just because I'm pregnant. I don't won't you to feel obligated." 

"Aren't you listening to me?" he said in exasperation suddenly releasing her.. "It doesn't matter that you're pregnant! I love YOU! The baby, the baby is an added bonus. What do I have to do to convince you?" 

He stopped and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Getting angry was not going to help right now. 

"Look, I'm sorry if you feel I'm pressuring you. I...I won't ask again. Just remember, though, that the offer stands. When you're ready, let me know." He turned to leave. 

She stood looking at him with her eyes rounded in surprise. "Ah...all right," she muttered softly. 

When he started to open the door, she reached out to stop him. 

"No...no kiss?" 

"I all ready kissed you." 

"Um, yeah, but I thought..." 

He smiled slightly and cupped her face with one hand. He gently kissed her lips before opening the door and leaving her standing with her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted. 

She opened her eyes to see him walk down the hallway to the front entrance to the building. He turned and waved at her before going out into the night. And she suddenly felt as if the light had gone from her life and she was utterly alone.

"She's late," fussed Scully as she glanced at her watch. 
"No, she's not," soothed Skinner as he smiled his thanks at the server who was filling his crystal glass with water. The woman almost overflowed the glass as she smiled back. Damn, why were all the handsome ones taken? And by such a puny little thing as that red-head sitting next to him? 

"Your mother will be here in a couple of miinutes, so calm down, Dana." He reached over and patted her hand. "Take a deep breath and relax. It's not going to be that bad, you'll see." 

"I hope not. Oh, God! There she is!" Scully raised her hand and waved as her mother approached, a quizzical look on her face. 

Skinner rose from his chair to greet her. Scully stood also. She was too nervouc to sit. 

"Hi, Mom," said she said. "Um, you remember Walter Skinner..." 

"Of course, I do," said Margaret Scully, shaking the big man's hand. "He was your superior when you and Fox worked together. How do you do, Mr. Skinner? It's nice to see you again." 

"Mrs. Scully," he said, giving her his best smile. "It's nice to see you, too. And I must say you're looking as lovely as ever." 

Scully rolled her eyes. Don't lay it on so thick, Walter, she thought. 

"Why, thank you!" Margaret blushed sat down as he held her chair for her. He winked slightly at Scully as he helped her to be seated also. 

"I hope you don't mind me barging in on your lunch with Dana. She told me you usually bring her her for her birthday, so I thought I'd tag along and pick up the bill. That way, maybe you two can go shopping afterwards. I'm pretty sure I can arrange for her to have the rest of the afternoon off. 

"Yes, I do," said Margaret as she reached for her own water glass. "I usually take her on her actual birthday, but I'll be out of town next week, so I thought I'd do it early. And you're most welcome to join us. And that would be nice if we could spend some time together. I hardly get to see her lately. I think she must have a new beau or something, because she's seldom calls and I can't seem to catch her at home." 

"Funny you should day that, Mom...." Scully started, but her mother continued without pause. 

"Oh, Dana, guess who I saw?" 

"Um, who, Mom?" 

"Do you remember when we were stationed in Newport News for a while?" 

"Barely." 

"Well, I had a good friend there by the name of Wilma Black. She had six children, nice well-behaved family. Anyway, you were friends with her daughter Jenevieve. You have to remember her, tiny little thing even as an adolescent, big black eyes, wore her hair in cornrows for a long time, then switched to dreadlocks when you all were in junior high. You wanted to try to wear your hear like that but you ended up with this..." 

"Oh, I remember her. Yeah, my brothers called me Dreadful Dana with the Disappearing Dreadlocks. My hair didn't exactly take to the chemicals and some of it fell out. I must have been twelve, thirteen at the time. Not the best time of life to be bald." She gasped and looked quickly over at Skinner, who raised one eyebrow. 

"There's never a best time," he said. "Although, by now, I'm pretty used to it. Some people even think it's kind of...sexy." He sipped water to keep from laughing at the embarrased flush that was creeping up her neck. 

"I find it very attractive on you, Mr. Skinner," said Margaret as she patted his hand. "In fact, if you were a little older, or I were a little younger..." 

"Um, Mother, what about Mrs. Black?" Scully tried to get her mother's attention back to their conversation. She couldn't believe her mother was actually hitting on her boyfriend. 

"Oh, well, Wilma said that Jenevieve is married to an agent with the FBI and they are being assigned to Washington. I think they've been down in Alabama, or Mississippi for a few years. Wilma told me but I forgot. Anyway, they're moving up here and I thought it would be nice if you could sort of get reacquainted with her. She's not going to know a soul up here, and you could help her get settled. Wilma says she's pregnant and is going to need a doctor. Maybe you could recommend one for her." 

Scully froze in place. Skinner looked over at her, waiting for her to speak, but the waitress came up to the table to take their orders and for a few moments conversation stopped untl they had all decided on what to eat. 

At last, though, they were sitting once again alone. Skinner once again glanced over at Scully and gave her a little nod of encouragement. 

"Um, s-s-speaking of pregnant, Mom, uh..." 

"Oh, dear," interrupted Margaret. "I forgot to tell the waitress that I wanted low-fat dressing on my salad. Mr. Skinner, do you see her anywhere? I need to tell her..." 

"Mom, I..." 

"Oh, there she is! What was her name again? Dorothy? Dorothy," called out Margaret softly. She waved the young woman over to the table and told her to make sure the dressing for her salad was low-fat. 

After the woman left to go correct her order, Scully tried again. 

"Mom..." 

"So, Mr. Skinner what have you been up to lately?" Margaret smiled benignly at him. "I don't believe Dana's mentioned you since...since Fox left." 

"Uh, well, now that you mention it..." he started. 

"Mom, I'm pregnant."

"That's not funny, Dana," said her mother with a frown. 
"I..I'm not kidding." 

Margaret Scully carefully moved her water glass to one side, avoiding her daughter's eyes. 

"Dana, you are a bright, intelligent woman, and I realize I have absolutely no say in your life. I have supported you in everything you've ever done, from medical school to joining the FBI, even though your father was dead-set against it. I was there for you when you were sick, and I tried to be as supportive as I could when you got pregnant out of wedlock, even though it went against everything I believed in, because I knew how much that baby meant to you. 

"And after William was born, I gladly took care of him when you needed me; I loved him almost as much as you did. And I cried with you when you had to give him up. But Dana, I don't know if I can do it again. You profess to follow the teachings of the Church, and yet you seem to flaunt your defiance of those same teachings at every opportunity. I know to you they mean seem out-dated and out of step with modern society, but I don't. I know I've never said anything before, but I find that as I get older I believe that a lot of the world's problems are due to people NOT followiing those supposedly out-dated teachings. 

"I can understand your desire for another baby..." 

"But, Mom..." 

"Please, let me finish. I can understand your desire for another baby, but I would at least have hoped that you would have waited until you found someone with whom you could settle down and raise a child. Instead, you go off and get pregnant by who knows what means..." 

"Mom..." 

"How can you want to put yourself, and me, through all that again? Wasn't it bad enough the first time? Don't you want the love and support a husband can give?" 

"Please, Mom, not all husbands are supportive," Scully said sullenly. "And besides, what makes you think that I won't have..." 

Margaret turned to Skinner,who had sat silently through her discourse. "I apologize to you, Mr. Skinner, that Dana dragged you along to witness this. I'm surprised she felt she needed to have someone act as a buffer. I guess she felt it would be easier to tell me, and that I would be less likely to say anything if there was someone else present." 

"Don't apologize, Mrs. Scully," he said softly. "Dana didn't drag me along. I volunteered to come. And not as a disinterested bystander. I'm here because I wanted to reassure you that she will not be alone this time, that I'll be there with her every step of the way. You can count on that." He reached out and laid his hand on top of Scully's. She looked at him with grateful eyes. 

"You are a good friend, Mr. Skinner, and Dana's fortunate to have someone who cares enough to stand by her." 

"I'm not doing it out of friendship, Mrs. Scully. She's carrying my baby." He interlaced his fingers with Scully's and gave her a look of such love that if she had been standing, her knees would have buckled. 

Margaret Scully, however, was neither amused nor impressed. 

"And this is supposed to make me feel better?" she said angrily. "I still have a 35-year-old unmarried pregnant daughter! Tell me, Mr. Skinner, exactly how long do you think you'll be sticking around? Until the first dirty diaper? The first time someone has to sit up with a sick child? Or until Dana can't be at your beck and call because of the baby?" 

"Mother!" exclaimed Scully. 

"It's the truth, Dana," replied Margaret as she sat back and crossed her arms. "Most men..." 

"Mrs. Scully," said Skinner as he leaned forward. "I am not most men and I am definitely NOT Fox Mulder. I love your daughter, and I plan to be with her no matter what happens for as long as she'll have me. I'm sorry this has upset you and I respect the reasoning behind your anger. But, Dana and I could not be happier about this baby. And we wish that you would be happy for us as well." 

His eyes held the older woman's and she could see the strength and determination in them. This was a man to be reckoned with, she could see that. He was not one to run away from anything or anyone; she wondered if Dana knew what she was getting into with this one. He was right about one thing; he was no Fox Mulder. 

"How long have you two....?" asked Margaret, waving her hand back and forth towards them. 
"Almost a year," answered Scully. Skinner's hand tightened on hers. 

"And why didn't you tell me?" Margaret watched her daughter closely. Was she lying? Had they really been going out for that long? 

"Mom, I...I..." Scully stopped and sighed. How to explain to her mother that she had not wanted to jinx what she and Skinner had? 

"I didn't want to tell you, Mrs. Scully," Skinner interrupted. "I thought it might be difficult for me if word got out that I was involved with an agent who had been under my supervision. So, I asked her..." 

"That's not true," said Scully with a shake of her head. "Mom, look. It has been a long, long time since I've been this happy. And Walter, Walter makes me very happy. I love him and he loves me, and...and I guess I was afraid if I admitted to anyone, including you, how I felt that something bad would happen. I'm sorry, I know I should have told you, but...but after everything that I've been through, I just...I just wanted to enjoy this time before..before.... I know it was selfish, Mom, but..." 

At that moment the waitress brought their lunch orders and no one spoke until she had left. Margaret sighed. 

"I suppose I should be grateful that this," and she glanced towards Scully's lap, "isn't the result of a one night stand." 

"Mother!" Scully was stung by her mother's words. 

"Mrs. Scully," said Skinner in his most fearsome assistant director's voice, "I know this must be upsetting for you, but I can not sit here and allow you to degrade Dana. I insist you try and maintain some..." 

"Insist?" laughed Margaret. "Allow? Who do you think you are? I'm her mother. You...you, for all I know, are the flavor of the month." 

Walter Skinner leaned forward and fixed Margaret Scully with a look that had caused trained professional agents to quail in fear. She glared back at him. 

"YOU owe your daughter an apology. I’m a patient man, Mrs. Scully, and a thick-skinned one, so anything you say about me doesn’t bother me at all. But when you start to insult Dana, then I will take exception, even if you are her mother. I think you ought to be very careful about what you say; eventually you may have to eat your words. I’m sure Dana is going to want you around when…” 

"To what? Pick up the pieces again after YOU have left her and the baby? Who do you think you are to demand anything from me? You're not her husband. From where I sit, all I see is a man who jumped in and took advantage of her when she was the most vulnerable. If you love her as much as you say you do, then marry her." 

Scully had sat stunned through the acrimonious exchange. The two people she loved most in the world were arguing bitterly. 

"Stop, both of you!" she hissed at them. "Stop! Walter, please!" 

She looked at him with tears in her eyes. He sat back and folded his arms, the only visible clue that he was holding in his anger was the muscle twitching in his jaw. 

Scully turned towards her mother. "Mom, I'm sorry this has upset you. I...I can understand how disappointed you are in me, but you should not blame Walter for what happened.” 

“Then who should I blame?” asked Margaret. “Hormones? Aliens? You?” 

“I don’t understand why you’re so angry!” Scully exclaimed. 

“If you don’t, then I suggest you wait until you have a daughter and she tells you she’s pregnant for the second time, by a different man, without benefit of marriage. Then, I think you will understand completely why I’m upset. I’m upset, Dana,” Margaret Scully continued as she refolded her napkin and threw it on the table, “because I don’t want to see you hurt again. And I’m sorry, no matter how much Mr. Skinner protests that he will be different from Fox, I just can’t help but believe that you’ll end up alone again.” 

“Mrs. Scully, I give you my word, she will not end up alone. I love your daughter with all my heart, I’d never do anything, ANYTHING, to cause her pain. I know you don’t believe that now, but you will. And in twenty years when you look back on this conversation, you’ll know I was telling the truth. And then I’ll expect an apology for doubting me.” 

“If you’re still with my daughter in twenty years, you’ll get one. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go.” 

“Mom!” cried Dana as her mother started to rise. “Please!” 

“Dana, I…I need some time to, to come to terms with all this. I’ll call you when I get back from Bill’s. Take care of yourself, darling. Happy birthday!” Margaret Scully stood and patted her daughter on the shoulder before turning and rushing out of the restaurant. She never looked at Skinner. 

“That went real well,” said Scully as she wiped her eyes with her napkin. 

“I’m sorry, Dana,” said Skinner. He put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned against his chest for a brief moment. “I guess I should have kept my mouth shut, but I just couldn’t sit back and let her say those things to you.” 

“It’s all right, Walter,” she sighed as she sat straight in her chair. “I should have told her months ago about us. I think that’s what hurt her the most. She might have been more understanding if I hadn’t sprung this little surprise on her so abruptly. And please,” she said rolling her eyes, “don’t say I told you so.” 

“Okay, I won’t,” he said. “You were right about one thing, though. I couldn’t charm her. And don’t say I told you so.” 

 John Doggett sat in his pick-up truck parked in front of Monica Reyes’ apartment building. It was Saturday morning, and he had not talked to her since Wednesday night. Her parents had flown in on Thursday, and she had taken off two days to spend with them. Some time over the last two days she should have broken the news to them about her and John’s newly restored relationship and the baby that was going to be the result. He had hoped that as soon as she had told them, that she would call him to come over and face their justified anger. But, so far, nothing. 
He had spent Friday night tossing and turning in his bed, going over every conceivable argument that her father could throw at them, trying to come up with rational answers and explanations. As dawn had neared he had decided that no matter what, he would face them and try to make them understand how he had changed since that disastrous trip to Mexico. 

He got out of the safety of his truck and climbed the steps to the front door of her apartment building. He stood for a moment in front of her door, then slowly raised his hand and knocked. 

He could hear her muffled voice as she started to open the door. 

“I’ll see if it’s your taxi, Dad,” she was saying. She gasped as she saw him standing there. She stepped out into the hall and pulled the door closed behind her. 

“What are you doing here?” she whispered. 

“I came to give you moral support. And to face the wrath of Andres Reyes like a man,” he said softly. He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’ve missed you. What did they say?” 

“I…I haven’t told them,” she admitted. 

“Monica!” he exclaimed. She shushed him with a wave of her hand. 

“Why not?” he asked more quietly. “They need to know, Monica.” 

“I know!” she said in exasperation. “But…” 

“Monica, is it our taxi or not?” Andres Reyes said as he pulled the door open. His eyes widened in anger as he saw John Doggett standing in front of him. 

“You!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here, cabron? How dare you come to my daughter’s home after what you have done?” 

“Dad, please!’ begged Monica. “Calm down! 

“Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down when the man who accused you of being a whore shows up on your doorstep? Am I supposed to welcome this b*stard with open arms?” 

“Mr. Reyes,” started John, but he was interrupted by Enriqueta Reyes. 

“What is going on?” she demanded as she came to stand beside her husband. “What are you doing here?” She glared at John, her arms folded across her chest. 

“I think we all need to go inside,” said John calmly. “I’m sure Monica’s neighbors would love for us to continue out here, but I’d prefer a little privacy.” He started to enter her apartment, but Andy Reyes blocked his way. John was not about to push past the older man, so he stood and waited. 

“Dad, Mom, let’s go inside, please,” said Monica quietly. “We…we need to talk.” 

“If it has anything to do with this…person, then I have nothing to say! And he is not welcome here!” Andy stood in the doorway with his hands clenched into fists. 

“Yes, he is, Dad. This is my home, and he is definitely welcome. Now, go inside. Please.” 

She put her hands on her parents’ shoulders and gave them a gentle push back into the apartment. John followed her, closing the door quietly behind him. 

“Monica,” demanded Andy, “you are not to see this man, I told you that before. He has caused you nothing but pain and sorrow and I will not allow…” 

“Dad, please, sit down. I…we need to talk. Mom, make him sit down, please.” Monica silently begged her mother to help her, but her mother’s face was rigid with anger. Monica sighed. 

“Monica, I know you are an adult and we cannot tell you how to live your life, but I think just this once you ought to listen to your father.” 

“No, Mom, not this time. I’m sorry. I…I should have told you earlier, but my cowardice got the better of me. Mom, Dad, John and I, well, we’ve…” 

“Do NOT tell me that you have gone back to this…this low-life scum. After what he accused you of, and after leaving you alone and ill in the hospital, I can not see how you could possibly…” 

“Mr. Reyes,” John raised his voice to interrupt the man. “I understand your anger and you are right. I was a b*stard for treating Monica as I did. I’m sorry. I have apologized to her and begged her forgiveness. And now I must do the same to you and Mrs. Reyes. I was a b*stard, just as you say. I…I was cruel and selfish. I thought of no one but myself…” 

“That is the truth,” muttered Andy. “And while Monica may forgive you, I can not. She is my daughter, and it is my duty as a father to watch out for her well being, even if she won’t. And I don’t think you are very good for her, Mr. Doggett. Not good for her at all.” 

“I understand, Andy…Mr. Reyes.” John figured it was best to keep his words formal until he could convince Andy of his sincerity. “If I had a daughter,” and he looked over at Monica and gave her a small smile, “I would feel exactly the same way.” 

“You can not know how you would feel until you are in the same position,” scoffed Andy. 

“You’re right,” agreed John with a shrug. 

“And I don’t know what you told my daughter to get her to forgive you, and to accept you back when she should have thrown you out the door, but I don’t think you’ll find me or my wife so easily to persuade.” 

“I’ll tell you what I said,” John said softly. “I told her I was a b*stard, that what I did was unforgivable and inexcusable. I told her that I let my stubborn belief in my own version of what happened blind me from seeing anything other than what I wanted to see. I told her that the time apart from her was the most miserable of my life and that once I realized how…unfair I had been to her that I despaired of her ever forgiving me. 

“I told her that during that time I had worked hard at getting my head on straight, that I had been in counseling to help me understand why I was so determined not to listen to her. I told her I loved her more than life itself and that even if she wouldn’t take me back into her life, that I would hope that she would at least forgive me. I do love her, Andy, I would do anything for her. And I can promise you, just as I promised her, that I will never do anything to hurt her again.” 

Monica went and stood next to John and put her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his. He held her tightly. 

“Those are very nice words, Mr. Doggett, but they are just words. Easily spoken, easily forgotten.” 

“Yes, they are,” agreed John. “That’s why I want to spend the rest of my life showing you and Monica they are more than just words” 

“Tell me, John,” said Andy as he crossed his arms and glared at the younger man, “if you were in my place, what would you do? Would you let your daughter go back to a man who treated her so cruelly, possibly to have it happen again? Or would you do everything in your power to dissuade her?” 

“Well, sir,” said John as he rubbed his hand up and down Monica’s back. “I would like to believe that I would look at the situation rationally and try to see all sides. I would hope that I would trust my daughter to know what’s best for her and to accept whatever decision she made. I would like to think that I could accept him and eventually learn to forgive him, if for no other reason than the fact that my daughter loved him.” 

“That’s very noble,” said Andy with a lift of his eyebrow. 

“That’s what I’d like to believe I’d do. But, to tell you the truth, I think I would be more likely to want to kick the sh*t out of the b*stard,” said John as he tightened his arm around Monica. “If any son-of-a-b*tch acted towards my daughter as I did towards Monica, I’d have him skinned and his head put on a pike. What I did as unforgivable, Andy, and you have every right to hate me.” 

“Good. Then you do see my side of it,” said Andy with a quick nod. “And you can understand why I will take a very long time before I believe any of your eloquent words. In fact, you do realize that I may never forgive you." 

“I understand and I’m willing to accept that. I hope one day that you and Enriqueta will forgive me, but until you do, I’m grateful that Monica has.” He looked at her and she gave him a quick smile. 

Enriqueta had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the exchange. She had watched Monica closely as John talked. She tilted her head to one side. 

“Monica,” she asked as her daughter and John exchanged looks, “are you pregnant?” 

“What?” exclaimed Andy. 

Monica closed her eyes and a slight flush crept up her neck. 

“Yes,” she said softly. 

“Dios mio! This gets worse and worse,” sighed Andy. “How could this happen? I thought you were…” 
“I was wrong before, Andy,” said John quietly. “I found that out after…after Monica moved to Miami.” 

“And that’s why you came crawling back? Because you knew she was telling the truth? A truth you couldn’t accept before? I would think you would be too ashamed to face her. Or us.” 

“I came crawling back because I love her. And you’re right, I was…I am ashamed of the way I treated her. And you. But it wasn’t the result of any test that made me try to make amends. I had decided at one point not to get tested at all, that I would beg her forgiveness and hope that she would take me back. I realized I should have trusted her all along. She’s not the kind of person that I accused her of being and if I hadn’t been such an assh*le I would have remembered that.” 

“Then why did you get tested?” asked Enriqueta. She was not about to forgive him for hurting her daughter. 

“Because, I love Monica…” 

“You keep saying that,” Enriqueta interrupted. 

“…I love Monica, and I hoped that if she did take me back, and if she wanted a child that I would be able to…to give it to her. It happened a little sooner than either of us expected,” John said with a sheepish grin. 

Monica tightened her arms around John, “I’m happy about this, Mom. I really am. It’s almost as if God is wanting this for us.” 

“But, Monica, your health; isn’t it too soon after losing the other one for you to get pregnant again?” Enriqueta’s forehead creased with worry. 

“I’ve been checked, Mom, and everything is fine. The midwife said that I was young enough and in good shape and that there should be no problems.” 

“Midwife? Why aren’t you seeing a physician?” demanded her mother. 

“Only the first visit, Mom, after that I’ll see a regular medical doctor, even though this woman is wonderful and I think I’d like to have her at the delivery. But while I’m pregnant, I’ll get checked by a physician, I promise.” 

Monica’s face was wreathed in happy smiles. Now that her parents knew, she could relax and enjoy the miracle that she was creating. Her parents, however, were still wary of John. 

“Sir,” said John as he stepped away from Monica while still holding her hand, “I do have one thing I’d like to ask.” 

“What?” Andy’s eyes narrowed as he waited for John’s question. 

“I would like your permission and your blessing to ask Monica to marry me.” John’s eyes locked with Andy’s and the older man could see his sincerity. 

“John!” exclaimed Monica. 

“Why are you asking my permission?” asked Andy. “I would think that you two would just do what you want. You are both way over the age where you have to get our approval.” 

“I know, sir, but I’ve asked her several times and she won’t give me an answer. I want her to be my wife, Andy, but she’s…she’s very obstinate. I was hoping that if I had your permission first, she might change her mind.” 

Monica jerked her hand out of John’s grasp and folded her arms, glaring at the back of his head. 

“You have a great deal of faith in my ability to make her do anything,” said Andy with a twinkle in his eyes. He wasn’t about to forgive John just yet, but he could see that his daughter was more than capable of keeping him in check. 

“Excuse me,” she said in irritation, “but I do believe this is the 2lst century and I’m not chattel that can be handed over from one man to the next. I believe I have some say in what happens to me.” 

“Monica, you are pregnant. You must think of what’s best for the child,” said Andy. “Consider his needs before letting your pride get in the way.” 

“You don’t think I’m…?” she started angrily. 

“Monica,” said Enriqueta forcefully, “you must get married. While I am not admitting that I would accept John willingly as a son-in-law, he is the father and he is willing to accept responsibility. And think of the child, as your father said. It would be better for all concerned if you two marry.” 

“Better for whom, Mom? The baby? Us? Or are you concerned about what your friends will say?” Monica glared at her mother. 

“Monica!” exclaimed John. “Apologize to your mother! That was uncalled for!” 

“Mi hija,” said Andy, “I think you go too far. Your mother and I…” 

“I do not concern myself with what my friends will say, Monica,” said Enriqueta softly. “They have no more right to criticize me than I do them. I am only thinking of you, and the baby, and…and John. It’s not fair to…to him if he can not participate fully in the life of his child. He should not have to stand on the sidelines and have little say in what happens.” 

“I would never do that to him, Mother,” Monica said angrily. “And I’ll marry him when I’m ready.” 

“And when will that be?” Enriqueta scoffed. “When you’re on the delivery table?” 

“If that’s when I’m ready, then yes!” 

“So you will marry me?” John asked quickly. 

“Yes. But when I’m ready.” 

“Good,” he said with a satisfied smile. “That’s what I wanted, either a yes or a no. I’m glad I got the yes.” 

“So, now you don’t think you need our approval?” asked Andy. 

“No, sir, that’s not what I mean,” said John seriously. “I still would like your permission. And your blessing.” 

“My permission is meaningless, John, if my daughter decides she is going to marry you. She is a woman who knows her own mind. If she wants to marry you, then I will have to bow to her wishes. But, as for our blessing,” and Andy looked over at his wife, “that may take a while to give. We love our daughter and we don’t want to see her hurt again.” 

“I understand, and I can accept that. I hope eventually that I can show you that I intend to do all in my power to be the best husband you could want for Monica. I do love her, sir, and I’ll do anything to protect her and our child.” 

Just then there was a knock on the door. Monica went to open it and turned to call back over her shoulder. 

“It’s your cab, Dad. Do you want me to send him away? John and I can drive you to the airport.” 

“No, Monica, it’s all right. Your mother and I need..we need to digest everything that’s happened this morning. Tell him to take our bags and we’ll be down in a moment.” 

Monica showed the cabdriver which bags to take and the four of them stood around in silence as he took the bags down to the waiting car. When the door closed behind him Andres cleared his throat. 

“I have only one thing left to say, John. I have no control over what my daughter does with her life, and even when I think she is making a mistake, all I can do is offer her advice and pray things work out. But I will say this, if she ends up hurt as she was the last time by something you do or say, I can promise you that you will learn the full aspect of my anger. I will do whatever it takes to make you pay for any pain she suffers. You may think I’m just an old man spouting meaningless threats, but you will learn to fear me, because I will not hesitate to kill you if necessary.” The old man stood straight and tall, his jaw set with determination. 

“Dad!” exclaimed Monica. 

“I understand, sir. And I fully believe your words and respect you for them, and would expect nothing less from you. But I can assure you, sir, that I will never do anything to make you follow through.” 

Monica stood open-mouthed, staring at the two men as they seemed to telegraph to each other the seriousness of their words. With a slight nod in John’s direction, Andy turned to his daughter. 

“All right, mi hija, we must leave. We will call you when we get to Mexico City. Take care of yourself, please, and if you need me…” Andy looked pointedly at John. 

“I know, Dad,” she sighed. 

After a protracted round of hugs and kisses, with John being left standing out of the circle, Monica’s parents finally left. As soon as the door closed behind them, however, she rounded on John. 

“Why the hell did you come over here this morning?” she said angrily. 

“I thought you might like some back-up when you told them about us. You hadn’t called since they got here, so I figured you were having some trouble. Besides, I needed to be here when your father was told. I don’t want to look like some kind of coward in front of him.” 

“Oh, so this was to save face for you, huh?” She stood with her hands on her hips, her lips thinned by anger. 

“No, Monica,” he responded in a reasonable tone of voice. This seemed to infuriate her even more. 

“Don’t be so damn condescending, John! Admit it! You just want to look like a macho man in front of my father! You’re as bad as he is! All that posturing and threatening, him telling you he’ll kill you if you step out of line! I swear, you men are so…so…” She stopped talking as he slowly walked towards her. 

“I missed you, Monica,” he said softly as he reached out and took her arm. “I missed you and it’s only been three days since I’ve seen you.” He pulled her gently to him and wrapped his arm around her waist. He cupped her face with his other hand, rubbing his thumb over her lips. He slowly trailed his hand down her neck, caressing the long slim column before slipping two fingers inside her shirt and into the hollow between her breasts. 

“John,” she tried to sound stern, “really, I..I think it was totally…” 

She was silenced as he kissed her lips, once, twice, three times. With the last kiss, though, she quickly threw her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. His hands drifted to her hips and he held her close to him, moving slightly against her. 

“I don’t think you missed me,” she whispered as he kissed her neck. “I think you just got horny and missed the sex.” 

“Mmm,” he murmured as moved his hands up her body from her hips to her breasts, “can’t have one without the other.” He stopped fondling her and once again cupped her face with his hands. “I missed you, Monica. I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone over such a short period of time, but I did. I don’t like being apart from you. I love you, do you understand? I love you and want you with me all the time, not just at work or when we can get together at night. I want to go to sleep with you and wake up with you. I want to share more than my bed with you, I want to share my life. Please marry me!” 

“We do all that now, John,” she said as she ran her fingers through his hair. “How will getting married change any of that?” 

“Look,” he said with a sigh, “right now, we’re like…like the ingredients for making pie crust…” 

“Making pie crust…?” 

“Hear me out. You can put flour and shortening together in a bowl, and what do you have? Nothing. Flour and shortening. They can actually be separated, with a little work. But then you blend them together until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. Each ingredient is important in its own right to the mix, but together they form a solid foundation. 

“Marriage would blend us, Monica, it would help us create that solid foundation. Your parents have it, you can tell in the way they work together, support each other, and care for one another. Neither subjugates or overshadows the other. They are individuals whose lives have blended together to create a loving environment for their children. I want that for us, for our child. Marry me, Monica!” 

Her eyes filled with tears and she bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying. He didn’t say anything more, only searched her face for a hint as to her answer. 

“Yes,” she finally whispered. “Yes, yes, yes.” 

He breathed a sigh of relief and smiled shakily at her. 

“You had me scared there for a minute,” he admitted. “I thought maybe you might say no and then I’d have to resort to begging.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I won’t ask you to set a date, I’ll let you tell me when you’re ready.” 

“It’ll be soon, John, I promise. I just…I just want to wait until after we’ve reached the half-way point in the pregnancy.” 

“Why?” He stroked her face and kissed her lightly on the lips. 

“In case…in case something happens before that. If…if there’s a bad outcome, then you won’t have to feel as if you were forced…” 

“Cut it out!” he said quickly. “Whether this pregnancy goes to full term or, God forbid, ends tomorrow, I still intend to marry you. I love you, Monica. The baby is an added bonus, but it’s not the reason I want to marry you, understand?” 

She nodded and he kissed her again. 

Later, as they lay in bed, she propped her head on his shoulder and asked him a question that had burning in her brain. 

“Who taught you how to make pie crust?” 

The days passed into weeks and John watched as Monica’s slow changes as the pregnancy continued without any complications. At first she wanted only to sleep as much as possible. He would go to her apartment, and find her stretched out on her sofa, fast asleep and covered by a woolen blanket. He would wake her gently and she would apologize for not being awake when he came in. They would eat something he had usually bought at any convenient take out, and before long, she would be curled up against him snoring lightly as he watched television. 
On the nights she showed up on his doorstep, she would demand to be allowed to cook and she would prepare elaborate meals that she would not eat. She’d push the food around on her plate, explaining that the smell of the food was making her ill. He’d clean the kitchen while she napped on the sofa, then he’d coax her upstairs to his bedroom where she would fall fast asleep, clutching a blanket tightly around her. 

There were some nights, though, that he would awaken slowly to her hands stroking him as she straddled his hips. Her naked body would be warm from the heat of her passion, even though the room might be chilled by an early spring cold front. On these nights, when her desire to make love seemed to energize her and push all thoughts of sleep from her mind, he was a more than willing participant. Afterwards, when they were both tired and sweaty and the flush of passion still on their skin, they would lie wrapped in each others arms and talk of their future together and of the child that slowly, steadily grew within her. 

That’s not to say that there weren’t a few bumps along the road. The first time she tried to put on a pair of her favorite jeans and she couldn’t get the buttons to even wave at each other, she took it out on John. 

“Look at this!” she exploded as he came into her bedroom. She was lying on her back, trying to flatten out her abdomen in order to fasten her pants. “This is all your fault!” 

“My fault? How do you figure that?” He sat down on the bed beside her and placed his hand on the slight mound of her belly. 

“You’re the one who had to go get unfixed and then seduce me so that I ended up in this fix! Look at me, John, I’m huge!” 

“Monica, you’re barely at the end of your first trimester, you’re not huge. You’ve got a cute little belly that’s housing my child, and I’ll have you know I wasn’t the seducer. I was the seduced, if you’ll think back to that night in Miami.” He leaned over and kissed the bare skin that showed through the opening of her jeans. “Hi, baby,” he whispered. 

“Stop that!” she ordered. “All you ever think about is sex!” She struggled to rise as he held her down. “You’d think you’d be satisfied, now that I’m a baby factory.” 

“Hey,” he teased as he threw one leg over hers, effectively cutting off any chance of escape. “I’m not the one who wakes up in the middle of the night, begging me to…” 

“John!” Her tone was threatening. 

“Let’s see, what was it you said last night? Oh, yeah, I believe the term was ‘plunge your mighty sword into my hot stone, King Arthur’,” he laughed. 

“I did not!” she protested. “I would never say anything that stupid.” 

“Then what did you say?” He kissed her neck as his hand moved towards the still unfastened opening of her jeans. 

“I said, ‘f*ck me till I scream’. Now, let me up,” and she struggled feebly against him. His hand was cool against her skin and his touch was lighting a new fire in her groin. 

“Not until you admit that’s what you said.” He slid his hand inside her jeans and stroked her inner thigh. 

“I…I don’t remember,” she muttered as she closed her eyes against the sensations he was evoking. 

“Admit it, Monica,” he whispered in her ear as he watched her lick her lips. “The other sounds so…nasty coming from the mouth of the mother of my child. Do you know how sexy you look right now?” He took the opportunity to kiss her. 

“No, I don’t look sexy,” she panted as his mouth moved towards her breast. He kissed it gently through the material of her shirt. 

“Yes, you do. Your hair’s all tousled, and your mouth is wet from my kiss. Your eyes are kind of unfocused and your chest is rising and falling with your rapid breathing. You want me to make love to you, don’t you Monica?” 

She nodded and inhaled sharply as his hand moved slowly from one thigh to the other, gently passing over her swollen anatomy. 

“Then just say it. Say what you did last night,” he whispered against her lips. 

“Plunge your mighty sword into my hot stone, King Arthur,” she said as she opened her mouth to receive his kiss. 

Only, he didn’t kiss her. Instead he sat back and removed his hand from her jeans and patted her on the hip. 

“Good girl, I knew I was right.” 

“Wha…what?” She snapped open her eyes and stared at his grinning face. “You…you b*stard! You did all that just to get me to say…?” 

He smiled at her and wiggled his eyebrows. 

“You ain’t getting off that easy, mister,” she said as she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back down on top of her. 

Their lovemaking was fast and furious and soon they were both tired, but content. 

“When am I going to get tired of wanting to screw you all the time?” she lamented. “I can’t seem to get my fill of you. If there was some way to do it at the office, we’d never get any work done.” 

He stretched one arm over his head as he pulled her close with the other. “Soon enough, sweetheart. In another couple of months, you aren’t even going to want to look at me, much less make love. And when you’re close to term and big as a house, you’re going to probably hate me, and sex will be the last thing on your mind.” 

“I’m all ready getting as big as a house,” she pouted. “I can’t find jeans that fit and my shirts all pop open across the bust. My waist is getting thick, my hips are getting wide, and my boobs…God, my boobs would make Dolly Parton green with envy.” 

“You went to the doctor today, right?” 

She nodded. 

“How much weight have you gained over the past three months?” 

“Five pounds,” she acknowledged reluctantly. 

“Five pounds. That’s nothing. So don’t say you’re getting fat. Your body’s changing to meet the requirements of the baby, that’s all. You don’t look any different now than you did three months ago. You’ve got a little tiny pouchy belly, which is to be expected right about now. And your boobs, well, while I’m not a fan of Dolly Parton’s and I don’t thing you’re anywhere near that big, they may have grown just a tad. But not enough to be…you know…grotesque. To me, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, and I’m lucky that you’d even look at an ugly mug like mine.” 

“You’re not ugly,” she admonished. “You’re wonderful. And handsome. And so understanding. How did you get to be so good at handling pregnant women, Agent Doggett?” she asked. Instantly, she regretted her words as pain flickered across his face and he buried his face in her neck. 

She wrapped her arms around him, “I’m sorry, John, I…that was thoughtless.” 

“It’s all right,” he muttered, his voice muffled. “It’s not like we can exactly tiptoe around the past forever. I mean,” and he turned over and lay on his back as she snuggled against him, “I was married before, and we did have a child. So, I’m probably going to be able to call upon a lot of those memories to get us both through the next few months. It was a good time for us, when she was pregnant. Just as it’s turning into a wonderful time for you and me.” 

He stared at the ceiling for a moment, in his mind’s eye he saw the tow-headed little boy that had been his whole world for such a short time. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. She let him lay quietly for a while with his thoughts. 

She was almost asleep when his voice startled her. 

“What did the doctor say? How is everything going?” 

“Fine,” she said as she tightened her arms around him. “Everything seems to going along quite smoothly. I got to hear the baby’s heart beat again today. It sounds just like a horse galloping.” 

“We ought to be thinking about names,” he said as pulled a blanket over them. “How about Trigger?” 

“Trigger?” she asked incredulously. “You want to name our child after Roy Rogers’ horse?” 

“Why not? Old Roy loved that horse. He had him stuffed.” 

“I don’t care,” she laughed. “I think we need to think of something a little more mainstream.” 

“But you said it sounded like…” 

“John,” she warned, “we are not naming our child after a horse, a dog, a bird, a university team mascot, or 
any old friends or boyfriends. Got me?” 

“So I guess that excludes Brad?” 

She shot him a glance that would have curdled milk. 

“Well, what about Pancho?” 

“Pancho? Good grief, no. Besides, that’s a nickname for someone named Francisco.” 

“What about ethnic names? Yes? No? Maybe? All ethnic? Part ethnic, part Gringo? What? What are we going to do?” He turned on his side and laid his arm across her hip as she turned also. 

“I think it would be nice if he had a middle name that reflected his mother’s heritage. But nothing exotic. I tell you what, you choose his first name and I’ll choose his middle.” 

“And if it’s a girl?” 

“You assured me it would be a boy,” she teased. “Are you trying to hedge your bet, Agent Doggett?” 

“No, I still say it’s a boy. But, just to be on the safe side, maybe we ought to have at least one name in mind. Just in case, you know, they switch the babies in the hospital, or something.” He kissed her bare shoulder. “Mmm, you feel good.” 

“So do you,” she said as she pressed closer to him. “You know what I want?” 

She turned slightly until she was lying partly on her back. She took his hand and kissed the palm. 

“I want something long,” she kissed his thumb. 

“Hot,” she kissed his index finger, 

“Wide,” she opened her mouth and covered his middle finger, sucking on it lightly as she slowly withdrew it. He held his breath. 

“And something only you can give me,” she bit the tips of his ring finger and his pinkie. 

“Um,,” he squeaked. He cleared his throat. “Jeez, Monica, I…I don’t know if I can do it again so…so soon. Give me a…a couple of minutes, and…” 

“I want a corn dog, John,” she laughed. “And you have been chosen to go buy me one. Or two, if you can’t find any jumbo size.” 

“That was very cruel,” he said with a shake of his head. “Getting’ me all hot and bothered and for what? A damn hot dog in an overcoat. Just for that I ought to…” He tickled her until she screamed. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” she yelled with laughter, “I surrender. You don’t have to go. You can just stay here and pout. ‘I’ will go.” She started to get up but he pulled her back down. 

“Oh, no, I’ll go. I promised your father I’d take good care of you and if that includes getting you corn dogs in the middle of the night, then so be it. But I expect to find you right here in this bed, ready to receive whatever punishment I decide to mete out. Understood?” 

“Aye, aye, Captain,” she said with a salute. “I’ll be right here, ready for action and contrite as hell. Just hurry. I’m starving! And don’t forget the mustard and ketchup!”    
 

It had been many weeks since John Doggett and Walter Skinner had actually sat down and talked privately. Therefore, John was not surprised when Skinner asked him to remain after a particularly long staff review meeting. Skinner waited until all the other agents had left before taking off his glasses and leaning back in his chair. 
“Those meetings couldn’t get any worse,” he sighed as he rubbed his hand over his face. “If you look up the word tedious in your Funk & Wagnalls it will have Agent Rivers’ picture along side. Not only are his reports dull, but his presentation is mind-numbing.” 

“I don’t know,” said Doggett as he stretched his long legs in front of him, “I find his monotone mesmerizing. And you gotta admit he’s got great breath control. He can talk for three minutes straight without taking a breath. I know, I timed him.” 

“Maybe he has two sets of vocal cords, like a cat. That’s the way they purr, you know. They can make that noise while breathing in or out. I think he’s equipped the same way. It would be interesting to dissect him to find out, wouldn’t it?” 

Doggett laughed, “That’s sort of an extreme way to get out of listening to him, don’t you think?” 

“I guess,” Skinner agreed reluctantly. “Oh, well, at least I don’t have to listen to him again for another month.” He yawned mightily. “Ahhh!” 

“How’s Dana?” asked John. “I haven’t seen her for a couple of months. Monica and I have been rather busy with those last two cases that fell into our laps, so I haven’t had the time to call her or anything. I think Monica’s talked to her a couple of times, comparing notes and all that.” 

“She’s..she’s fine,” Skinner said with a nod. “And Monica? How is she doing? I’ve seen her here, of course, but usually it’s only on business, so I’m kinda behind the times on her condition.” 

“She’s blooming,” said John with a happy grin. “She’s not showing yet, or at least not enough to jump into maternity clothes. She’s put on a little weight, and she finally got past the sleepy-puky stage. Now she’s nesting. She’s cleaned my place as well as her own. She’s decided my place needs ‘a woman’s touch’, “ and he crooked his fingers in the air to emphasize his words, “so she’s been buying curtains and tablecloths and coasters. You actually have to use a coaster now when you come to watch a baseball game. It’s unbelievable. She seems to have enough energy for ten people.” 

“Yeah, Dana’s not sleeping as much as she was, and thank God, she never had much morning sickness. She’s…she’s very emotional, though. Is Monica like that? I mean, does she jump down your throat at everything you say?” Skinner’s eyes reflected his concern. 

John looked intently at his superior. He hadn’t noticed before how tired the man looked, as if he were not sleeping, or maybe not resting. His face was lined with worry, and he nervously tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. 

“Well, yeah, she gets upset pretty easily,” John agreed. “It’s the hormones, I think. One minute everything is fine, the next, you’re the devil incarnate. And you don’t even know what you’ve done to cause the transformation. She seems to have two moods, happy and pissed.” 

“Dana seems to have two moods, too. But it’s more like sad and angry. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve actually seen her in a good mood, never mind happy.” Skinner rubbed his face again, “I thought this was supposed to be a joyful time for a couple. I can tell you, there’s not been much joy lately. I don’t know, maybe…maybe she’s regretting the pregnancy. I wonder sometimes if she’s beginning to agree with her mother that this is all a mistake.” 

“Is her mother talking to her again? I mean, I know that Mrs. Scully was upset for a while, did she finally come to terms with the whole idea?” 

“No. She, she talks to Dana when Dana calls her. But I can tell their conversations are not cordial. They’re basically a lot of, how are you? I’m fine, and you? I’m fine, too, kinda things. She never asks Dana about the baby and I think that hurts her.” 

“It probably does,” agreed John. 

“How about Monica’s parents? How are they accepting it?” Skinner leaned forward and put his elbows on his desk. 

“Well, over the last couple of months, they’ve been a little more accepting. They send her packages with little baby things in them, which thrills her to pieces. They’re ignoring me, which is fine. At least they haven’t severed their ties with her. I figure once they see that I’m not going anywhere, they’ll have to forgive and forget. Or at least tolerate my presence,” John said with a grin. 

When Skinner did not smile in return, John leaned forward also. 

“Listen, Walter, she’ll be all right. Sometimes it takes a woman a little while to get used to the idea of being pregnant.” 

“I don’t know, she didn’t have any trouble accepting it the last time,” Skinner sighed. “And she was totally alone then. She seemed so much…stronger. You would think that this pregnancy would be a breeze for her, knowing that she had someone who was going to be with her every step of the way. Instead…” he shrugged. “She won’t eat, John. She’s not put on ANY weight. In fact, she’s actually lost weight. They’ve been doing bi-weekly sonograms to make sure the baby’s all right. But it’s Dana that the doctor is concerned about. He says if she doesn’t start gaining weight, he wants to put her in the hospital and feed her intravenously.” 

John’s heart went out the big man who sat forlornly across the desk from him. He was worried about the woman he loved, worried that the life they had created might be causing her irreparable harm. 

“She sounds depressed, Walter. Has the doctor asked her about that?” 

“I don’t know,” he said with a shake of his head. “She won’t let me go to the appointments with her, so I have no idea what she tells him. Or what he recommends. I only know what he said about the weight gain is because I…I listened in on one of her phone calls to him.” He looked guiltily at John. “I know it was wrong, but she won’t tell me anything, John. And it’s my child, too!” 

“Then you need to call the doctor and talk to him yourself.” 

“She’d have my balls in a vise if she knew I did that. And if she found out that I had eavesdropped, oh man!” Skinner rolled his eyes. 

“Walter, I think it’s time to quit worrying about what she’ll say, and do what you know is right for her and the baby. Either call the doctor, or talk to her. I gather you haven’t tried talking to her about this, have you?” 

Skinner shook his head slowly. “She…she doesn’t want to talk about anything. In fact, when we’re together, all she wants to do is watch television. I don’t dare bring up the subject, in case it sets her off.” 

“You need to talk to her, Walter, and as soon as possible.” 

“I know,” he said softly as he covered his eyes with one hand. “I know.” 

The two men sat in silence for a moment, then Skinner spoke quietly. 

“Maybe…maybe she thinks I’m going to be a bad father. Maybe she regrets not the pregnancy but the fact that I…I’m the father and not…” 

“Stop that!” ordered John. “Stop right there. You know that’s not true. You’ll be a wonderful father, you’ll see.” 

“How do you know that?” asked Skinner ruefully. “I’ve seldom been around babies or small children. I don’t know the first thing about being a father. For all we know, I’ll hate having a crying infant around!” 

“And you don’t know that you won’t take to it like a duck to water. Look, Walter,” sighed John, “no man knows what kind of father he’ll make until he’s actually holding his child in his arms. We are all scared when we realize that now we’re faced with the biggest challenge of our lives. And once you hold that tiny, helpless little bit of your own humanity in your hands and feel your heart swell with love, all you can do is pray that you are up to the challenge. And you try to..to protect that precious…” 

Skinner watched silently as John struggled to control his emotions. God, this must be hard for the man, he thought. 

“How are YOU doing, John?” asked Skinner softly. 

“Fine. I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m just fine.” 

Skinner narrowed his eyes slightly. “You know any time you want to talk, my door is always open.” 

“I know.” 

“Good,” said Skinner with a smile. “Just, please, don’t bring Agent Rivers, okay?” 

Skinner decided to drive straight to Scully’s without calling ahead. He let himself in with his key, and just as he started to call her name, he heard music coming from her bedroom. He slowly pushed open the door and found her sitting on the floor with an open box in front of her. She was rocking back and forth and crying softly. 
“Dana?” he called to her softly. 

She turned and looked up at him, her eyes red from crying and her face puffy. She was holding a flannel infant blanket to her chest. 

“Dana!” he exclaimed as he rushed to kneel beside her. “Are you all right?” 

He wanted to take her in his arms but was afraid of her reaction. So he was caught totally unaware when she flung herself into his arms, crying almost hysterically. 

“William! William! My baby! I gave up my baby. I gave him up. I’m such a bad mother. Oh, my God, Walter, I’m such a bad mother!” 

He sat stunned for a heartbeat before wrapping her in his arms. She was so thin, so fragile, that he was afraid to hold her too tightly. But as her sobs increased in intensity, he crushed her to his chest. He grew increasingly afraid as she became more and more hysterical. He whispered to her over and over, but she could not hear him over her own sobs. 

Finally, in desperation, he took her by the shoulders and shook her gently. 

“Dana! Dana! Stop crying! Stop! You’re going to make yourself sick. Stop!” 

She shook her head violently and dropped her chin to her chest. 

“I’m a bad mother! I deserve to be sick. I deserve to die!” 

“No!” he shouted, startling her. “No, you don’t deserve to die. What about our child? Does he deserve to die, too? Because if you die, so does he. And I don’t want either one of you to die, Dana.” 

“But, Walter,” she continued to sob, “I gave William away. I don’t deserve another child. I’m a bad mother. I’m…I’m a bad…” She covered her face with the baby blanket. 

“You are NOT a bad mother. You’re a wonderful mother. A kind, loving, selfless mother who sent her child away to protect him, to give him a chance to live.” He brushed her hair back from her face. “Dana, look at me. LOOK at me,” he ordered. 

She slowly raised her eyes to his and the pain reflected there tore at his heart. She had been grieving for her son; all this time she had been quietly holding back her feelings of loss, hiding them from the one person she should have been most open with. It saddened him that he had been so blind to her pain. 

“Dana, before, with William, you had a lot of very hard decisions to make on your own. You were completely alone and had to decide the fate of your child. And it was a good decision, Dana, you know it was. His life…his life was in grave danger, and you did the only thing you could to insure that he did not come to any harm. That doesn’t make you a bad mother, it makes you one of the best.” 

She closed her eyes and her face crumpled as she started to cry again. He cupped her face in both his hands. 

“Dana, look at me. I wish to God I could have done more for you when you were facing all those problems before. I was afraid you might resent any intrusion. But not this time, Dana. This is our baby, yours and mine, and I swear on his life that neither of you will ever have to face the future alone. But you have to let me in, Dana. You can’t keep shutting me out. You have to understand that I’m here for you and for our baby. OUR baby, Dana.” 

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed softly. “I’m sorry.” 

He slowly stood, drawing her with him as he rose. She leaned against him, still clutching the blanket, as he stroked her hair. Slowly her crying slowed and he picked her up and carried her to her bed. She was light as a feather in his arms and that frightened him even more than her tears. He cradled her against him as he pulled the blanket back, then laid her gently on the bed. 

She sighed softly as her head nestled onto the pillow. 

“Dana, you need to put on some pajamas so you can rest better. Which ones do you want?” 

She shook her head, indicating she didn’t care. He rummaged through her chest of drawers until he found a pair of kelly green silk pajamas. He took them back to the bed and held them out for her to take, but she was almost asleep. 

“Not before you change, young lady,” he said as he started to undress her. 

His own eyes filled with tears as he saw how thin she was. Her hip bones protruded and he could count each of her ribs. The only area that had not wasted away was the round dome of her abdomen. Please God, let the baby be all right. Please let Dana be all right, he prayed as he started to pull her pajama bottoms up over her hips. 

Her sudden gasp startled him. He thought he had somehow hurt her. Her eyes opened wide and a look of wonderment highlighted her face. 

“Walter, give me your hand!” she said softly. 

“Why? What’s wrong? Are you…is the baby…?” 

“Give me your hand!” she ordered. She took his hand and placed it on her abdomen, pressing it tightly against the swell. “Feel it?” 

“Feel what?” he asked, puzzled. 

“There! That! Feel that!” She pressed his hand harder against her belly. 

He shook his head and started to tell her he felt nothing, when suddenly, faintly, as if a baby bird was caught in a paper bag, he could feel a gentle flutter. His eyes widened and he looked quickly at her. She smiled as more tears threatened to spill. 

“That’s our baby, Walter! That’s our baby!” 

“Come on, Dana, one more bite.” 
“I can’t, Walter. I’m full. I feel like I’ve been stuffed.” 

“You’ve hardly touched anything!” Skinner exclaimed. “Come on, just another bite and I leave you alone.” 

“But, I’ve all ready eaten one quarter-pounder and almost all the fries. Really, Walter, I can’t force another mouthful. Besides, this stuff is not very healthy.” 

“I know, but I wasn’t looking for healthy, I was looking for fattening. And McDonald’s was the first place I saw.” 

Scully was sitting on her sofa with her legs stretched out along the seat, a woolen blanket snugged around her. Skinner was leaning over the back of the makeshift bed, encouraging her as she ate. He had ran out and bought the food after their initial joy at feeling the first movements of the baby. They had shared tears and kisses as they both came to realize that this was no longer an abstract concept but an actual living being that they had created. 

He had returned from his hunt for fast food loaded with bags containing hamburgers, fries, hot apple pies, cookies, a salad, and various cups filled with soda. After preparing a tray, he went to the bedroom where she was dozing, scooped her up and carried her to the living room where he installed her in the corner of the sofa. He had watched her eat every bite, cheering her on as if she were a small child. At last, though, she had reached her limit. 

“Are you sure?”, he asked as he stroked her hair. “Not even a little more?” 

“Nope,” she sighed heavily. “Not another bite.” 

He leaned over the back of the sofa and kissed her. “I’ve got something special for dessert,” he whispered against her lips. “Something you haven’t had in quite a while.” 

“It has been a long time,” she purred as she rubbed the tip of her nose against his. “We need to make up for lost time.” She stroked his cheek to feel the raspiness of his beard. “Take me to the bedroom, Walter,” she whispered. 

“You don’t want it here?” he asked. 

“Well, the sofa’s kind of small for the both of us. But I guess if you don’t mind being a little uncomfortable, I don’t either.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t going to have any. It’s all for you.” 

“But…don’t you want to…?” 

“Maybe later. Which would you prefer? A bowl, or would you rather I just bring the whole containers?” 

“Cont…? Walter,” she asked in confusion, “what are you talking about?” 

“Ice cream. Chocolate chocolate chip, to be exact. Why? What did you think I meant?” 

“I thought…” she stopped and pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “Oops.” 

Now it was his turn to be confused. 

“I don’t under…” He stood up and shook his head. 

She looked directly at his crotch and licked her lips slowly, seductively. 

“Oh. Oohhhh,” he said as his face turned bright red. “Um, yeah, it has been a while. But I think it might not be a good idea tonight. I don’t want you to burn all the calories you just consumed. We probably should wait until you put on a pound or two. And then, young lady, you’d better watch out.” He leaned over and kissed her deeply. 

“Then, you’d better bring the whole container,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t think I’m gonna want to wait much longer.” 

He sat next to her as she ate, one of his arms along the back of the sofa above her head, the other hand resting lightly on her abdomen. He wanted to feel the baby again, even though she had informed him that sitting upright was not the best position to feel anything. He didn’t care, he just wanted to be there in case the butterfly decided to move. In fact, he wished there were some way he could feel every movement, but realized the impracticality of walking around with his hand permanent attached to her belly. Autopsies might be difficult for her to do, and he wasn’t sure how many meetings he could attend with her sitting in his lap. 
“Dana,” he said as she scooped the last bit of ice cream from the pint container. 

“Yes,” she said with a sigh as she leaned against his arm. 

“I’m sorry I was so insensitive. I should have thought about how hard this must be for you. All the memories it must bring back, all the…the grief you must be experiencing. I’m sorry, please say you’ll forgive me.” 

“It’s not your fault,” she sighed, turning her head to look into his eyes. “I should have told you, but I thought I could handle it on my own. I…I didn’t want to overshadow your happiness with my feelings of guilt and sorrow. After all, he wasn’t…he isn’t your child.” 

“No, but he’s our baby’s big brother. And our child will know all about him. William is not going to be a secret shame to be kept hidden. He’s your son, and he’s as much a part of this child as either one of us.” 

“Yes, but we can’t…I have to be careful not to make our child feel as if he has to compete with a picture on the wall. You are right, William is part of this child also, but it’s a delicate balance between letting our baby know of him, and not making him feel inadequate because he’s here and William is not.” 

She gasped suddenly. “Oh, God, Walter! What if…what if the baby develops some kind of neurosis because of the fact I put William up for adoption? What if he worries that we’ll do the same thing to him? Maybe we shouldn’t tell him about William.” 

“And what? Let him find out later that he has a brother and that we didn’t let him know? No,” said Skinner shaking his head vigorously. “He needs to know, and when he’s old enough, we will tell him the reason behind the adoption. And he’ll understand, hopefully, that it was the best decision you could have made at the time.” 

“So, do you really think it was the right thing to do?” She looked up at him, worry causing her eyes to darken. 

“Yes, Dana, I do. You saved his life, and gave him the opportunity to lead a normal, uncomplicated life. You did the hardest thing any mother has to do, give up her child in order to guarantee his happiness. You’re a wonderful, brave woman, Dana, and I hope some day William learns of your sacrifice and acknowledges you for what you are.” 

She buried her head in his chest as tears ran down her cheeks. She missed her son, and prayed he was healthy and happy and loved by his new family. Just as this child needed to be loved by her and Walter. 
She could no longer shirk her duty to provide a good home for this baby, and she knew that she would not be alone this time. She had someone she could depend on and who would stand beside her to help give him every opportunity to succeed. 

“I’m sorry I was so selfish in keeping you out, Walter. It must have been hard for you to stand by and watch me self-destruct.” 

“To tell you the truth, I thought you had decided that getting pregnant was a mistake. I thought that maybe you had decided I wouldn’t be a good father and that maybe your mother was right.” 

“My mother,” Scully said as she wiggled around to kneel on the sofa. “seldom knows best.” She took his face between her hands and kissed him soundly. “I love you, Walter. You’ll be a wonderful father. Just as you are a wonderful assistant director, and a wonderful man, a brilliant lover,” she grinned at him and wiggled her eyebrows, “and all round great human being.” 

“How about as a husband?” His eyes traveled over her face. 

“You are as bad as my mother,” she chuckled. 

“We need to talk about it some time, Dana.” 

“Yes, we do. But not tonight. Tonight I want to fall asleep next to you, and feel that for the first time in months I can now look forward to the birth of our child.” 

Later, in the middle of the night, Scully slowly woke from a dream in which she was drawing nearer and nearer to sexual fulfillment. When she opened her eyes and the feeling did not diminish, she realized that Skinner’s hand was down the front of her pajama pants and he was stroking her slowly between her legs. She had locked her thighs around his hand. She looked over her shoulder at his face and saw that he was asleep, even though he kept up with the motion. 

She moaned with passion and he opened his eyes. When he became conscious of what he was doing, he quickly tried to remove his hand, but she put both her hands on top of his to keep it in place. 

“No,” she whispered thickly, “don’t stop!” 

“But, Dana,” he said, “it…it might not be good for you or the baby.” 

“It’s not going to hurt either one of us,” she said as she moved against him. “In fact, it’ll probably make us both very happy. Now, either continue on, or move out of the way and let me do it.” 

“I told you, you’re not going to have to do anything alone any more,” he said as he resumed. He propped himself on his elbow and watched her face as she writhed on the bed, clutching the sheet beneath her. At last she cried out and lay still, panting heavily. He slowly withdrew his hand and kissed her. 

“Feel better?” he asked with a smile. 

“Like a million bucks,” she said as she stripped off her pajamas. “Now it’s Daddy’s turn!” 

 Is it me or is it hotter than hell down here?” Scully said as she walked into Monica 
and John's basement office. 
"It's definitely not you," called Monica as she swiveled in her chair to greet her friend. "It is very hot indeed." 

"No, it's not," said John as he came out of the small back room. "It's very nice for June. You two are just suffering because you're pregnant." He went over and kissed Scully on her cheek. "You're looking very nice, Agent Scully. I do believe you've put on some weight." 

"I'd better have," she snorted. "Walter makes sure I eat three meals a day, plus snacks. I've put on twelve pounds in the past six weeks. I guess it's a good thing, though," she admitted. "I'm now back up to the weight I was before I got pregnant. The doctor is happy, Walter's happy, even the baby's happy. The little butterfly moves all the time." She patted her now obvious belly. "How about you, Monica? Everything going all right?" 

"Oh, yes," sighed the brunette agent. "I'm having to watch my weight to make sure I DON'T gain. And our little guy seems to be the most active when I'm trying to go to sleep. It he's keeping me awake now, what's it going to be like when he's bigger? You know, Dana, we're at about the same point in our pregnancies, but you seem to be showing more. Is…is that normal?" 

Scully patted Monica's arm. "Yes, dear, it is. After all, this is my second pregnancy, and my muscles are not as taut as yours, so I'm gonna show more, at least for right now. And I'm shorter, so Butterfly doesn't have as much room to stretch out." 

"You don't seriously call him Butterfly, do you?" laughed John. "That's gonna be a hard name for him to shake when he's older. I can't believe Skinner lets you do that." 

"One, Agent Doggett, we don't know if it's a girl or a boy, and I much prefer giving him, or her, some kind of name instead of just saying 'he' or 'she' or 'it'. And Butterfly is just as good as anything. And Two, Walter's the one that started calling him that in the first place. So, if you have any complaints, take it up with the Man." 

"Take what up with the Man?" asked a baritone voice. 

"Agent Doggett is making fun of our nickname for the baby," said Scully with a grin. "I do believe he thinks it somewhat unmanly to call him Butterfly." 

"Agent Doggett can go to hell," said Skinner as he went to stand beside Scully. "Agent Reyes, you look positively…" 

"Pregnant, sir?" 

"Well, I was going to say radiant, but now that you mention it, yes you do look pregnant," Skinner said with a smile. His face quickly sobered as he turned towards Doggett. "John, you are…" 

"Radiant also, sir?" teased John. 

"No, late. I believe we're supposed to be meeting with Deputy Director Kersh in a few minutes." 

"What?" exclaimed Scully. "I thought we were all going to lunch. I wouldn't have left Quantico if I had known you had a meeting." 

"It's only a short one," said Skinner as he patted her back. "We won't be long. Why don't you go up to my office and visit with Arlene until the three of us get done." 

"Well, I suppose I could. Just don't take too long. I've got a body coming in from Phoenix that I need to do before 5:00, and I'm starved." 

"Dana, I wanted you to eat in order to gain weight. I didn't mean for you to become a cannibel," said Skinner with a grin. He looked at John and Monica, waiting for their laugh. John covered his mouth with his hand, while Monica rolled her eyes. 

"Your sense of humor leaves much to be desired, Walter," said Scully flatly. 

The four friends rode up in the elevator together. Scully got off on the fourth floor while the other three continued on to the fifth. She entered Skinner's outer office and was greeted by an enthusiastic Arlene. 

Skinner, John, and Monica had to sit in Kersh's assistant's office for a few moments. The two men sat silently, gazing at nothing, but Monica sat uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the blonde woman behind the desk. Monica tried to shield her abdomen from the woman's unabashed stare with her hands, placing them first in her lap and then on top of the small protrubance. But both sites made her feel awkward, so she crossed her legs and tried to act nonchalant. 

At last, the phone on the assistant's desk buzzed and she picked up the receiver. After a few brief words, she looked over at the threesome and smiled coldly. 

"Deputy Director will see you now," she said as if she wre announcing their subsequent dismissal from the Bureau.
 
Skinner and John both stood and held out a hand to help Monica to her feet. She looked at them as if they had suddenly grown another head and stood up unaided. The two men looked at each other and shrugged. 
She led them into DD Kersh's office and sat down in the middle of three chairs placed in front of his desk. The deputy director did not look up from the file he was perusing. 
The silence lengthened until all three started to grow restless. At last Kersh looked up and fixed Monica with a glare. 

"You're looking...well, Agent Reyes," he said. 

"Thank you, sir," she replied. "So are you." 

"Yes, I am. However, I'm not pregnant. And according to this little piece of paper that just happened to cross my desk, you are." 

Monica lifted her chin and stared back at the man as she waited for him to continue. 

"Well, Agent Reyes?" 

"Sir?" 

"ARE you pregnant?" 

She waited a beat before she answered. "Yes, sir." 

"Deputy Director," said Skinner as he leaned forward slightly, "May I ask what report your looking at?" 

Kersh shifted his gaze to the assistant director. At first Skinner thought he might not answer. 

"Insurance reports, AD Skinner. I have asked that anytime an agent uner my command starts accruing certain types of insurance claims that I'm to be notified." 

"Couldn't that be construed as an invasion of privacy?" Skinner asked. 

"Not necessarily, Assistant Director. It can help spot potential problems, such as drugs or serious chronic illnesses that an agent may be trying to hide out of embarrassment or fear of dismissal. It gives me an opportunity to make sure that agent receives the kind of medical care he or she might be reluctant to seek on his own. I'm not a complete assho*le, Mr. Skinner. I do worry about my agents." 

"I believe you, sir," said Skinner, staring directly into the deputy director's eyes. There was a brief flicker that Skinner almost believed was humor, but it was so quick he wasn't sure he hadn't imaginied it. 

"So, then, I guess congratulations are in order," Kersh said, though his tone indicated otherwise. "May I ask, if I'm not being too presumptious, who's the father?" 

"Is that relevant to anything, sir?" Monica asked, raising her eyebrow. 

"It could be, if the father is another agent. Someone you work closely with. I hope I don't need to remind you of the Bureau's policy concerning fratranizationi among male and female partners, Agent Reyes. If that were to be the case here, then I would be forced to reassign you." 

"I know the rules, sir," Monica replied. 

"Good. Then I don't think I have anything to worry about, now do I?" 

She didn't answer, instead she just smiled slightly and crossed her legs. 

"You know, Assistant Director, I do believe that this might be a case the X-Files should investigate." 

"I'm..sorry, sir, I don't think I understand." Skinner shook his head in confusion. 

"There has to be some reason why the female agents assigned to the X-Files keep getting pregnant. First Agent Scully, now Agent Reyes. Maybe we should have the environmental engineers come iin and check the air in that office. Or maybe it's the water. Certainly it's not the spirit of J. Edgar roaming the halls and impregnating them. ESPECIALLY not J. Edgar." 

"I don't believe Agent Diana Fowley was ever pregnant, sir," said Skinner. 

"Ah yes, poor Agent Fowley. She did meet an untimely end, didn't she? However, I have no doubt that if she had lived, she too would have ended up in the same condition. What do you think, Agent Doggett? Is it coincidence or phenomena?" 

"I...I hadn't really thought about it, sir," John said, clearing his throat. 

"Agent Doggett, is Agent Reyes' pregnancy going to cause any problems for you, in so far as your case load? Would you prefer she be reassigned?" Kersh watched John as he answered. 

For his part, John couldn't fathom Kersh's meaning. Did he know that he was the father of Monica's baby? Was he just toying with them, waiting for a chance to separate them? Kersh was still an enigma to John even after he had revealed his willingness to aid them in the never ending search for the truth. 

"I worked with Agent Scully while she was pregnant, sir, I think I can handle Agent Reyes. I mean, I shouldn't have any problem, um, working with her." He smiled nervously at the deputy director. 

"I certainly hope so. Any recommendations on your part, Assistant Director?" 

"No, sir. I don't forsee any problems, and if any do occur, I'm sure Agent Reyes knows she can ask for leave or temporary assignment to a more sedentary position until she's ready to resume full duty." 

"Good, I'm glad that's settled. Agent Reyes, I just ask that you keep AD Skinner or myself iinformed of your needs. If you don't want to go through my assistant, you can tell AD Skinner and he can come directly to me. Understood?" 

"Ye-yes, sir, I do. Thank you very much. I..I appreciate it." Monica was touched by the usually taciturn Kersh's concern for her well-being. 

"And you, Agent Doggett, I'm going to expect you to make sure she doesn't do anything to endanger herself or her baby. I want you to take full responsibility for her welfare; treat her as if she were someone important in your life. I can trust you with that, can't I?" 

"Yes, sir, you can." John glanced quickly at Monica. 

"I'm always pleased to have agents who show such...concern for their partners. I just wish Agent Scully had been more forthcoming when she was pregnant. We might have spared her some unhappy times, wouldn't we have, Assistant Director?" 

"I believe so, yes sir." Skinner squirmed slightly in his chair. 

"How is Agent Scully? Has anyone kept in contact with her?" 

"I...I believe she's fine, sir." Skinner adjusted the knot on his tie as if it were strangling him. 

"I've heard a rumor that she might be pregnant again," said Kersh as he settled back in his chair. "Is Fox Mulder back in the picture?" Kershe watched Skinner through narrowed eyes. 

"No, sir, he's not," answered Skinner quickly. Maybe too quickly. 

Kersh pursed his lips and nodded. "Probably for the best. He didn't seem to be the most stable individual." 

"Um, Deputy Director, who exactly did you hear the rumor from concerning Agent Scully?" Skinner had told no one except his assistant, Arlene. 

"I believe my assistant might have told me. Where she heard it from, I don't know. I'm not even sure it's true, after all you know how an innocent statement can be blown completely out of proportion. I don't hold much stock in the Bureau grapevine. Besides, it's not as if she's still an agent under your or my direct supervision. She is assigned to Quantico, so if she were to have possibly had an affair with someone located in this building, it wouldn't have quite the same impact if she had gotten pregnant by say, the head of the pathology department, am I not right? I mean, assuming she is indeed pregnant." 

"Absolutely, sir," said Skinner, relaxing slightly.. 

"Although, if she is pregnant, she might find it in her best interest not to conceal the fact for too long. It might cause more trouble in the long run." 

"Um, should the father, uh, also step forward and acknowledge his involvement? Or would it be in his best interest, careerwise, to uh, let sleeping dogs lie." 

"It depends on if he's ashamed of the pregnancy or not. After all, it's not like he's her superior anymore, correct? There's no real reason for cover-up or concern about being slapped with an harrassment charge, is there?" Kersh raised one eyebrow. 

"No, sir, there's not. And I can say with all sincerity, he's definitely not ashamed." 

"Good. Now, if you people will excuse me, I do have actual Bureau business to attend to. Just remember what I said, anything you all need, don't go through my assistant. You can call me directly. And please, extend to all parties involved my sincerest best wishes. I only ask that the next time, try to time it so there's not quite so much..activity all at once." 

"Are you going to eat that?" 
"Yes. Is there a problem?" 

"Well, that's your third hotdog, Dana. Plus all the potato salad, corn on the cob, and baked beans you've eaten," Skinner said as he counted off the foods on his fingers. "Don't you think you've had enough?" 

"Quit watching what I'm eating, Walter!" she muttered as she chewed. "It's the Fourth of July, let me enjoy it, please. Besides, I only gained one pound in the last month, so I'm doing okay." 

"Think of all the sodium!" he persisted. "It'll raise your blood pressure. The doctor did say you could be at risk for hypertension. All I'm asking, Dana, is that..." 

"Walter!" she exclaimed. "I eat good nutritious meals ninety-five percent of the time! Let me have this one day, ONE DAY, where I indulge myself. I'll be back on veggies and water tomorrow, but for the time being, leave me alone!" 

"But, Dana..." 

"Uh, Skinner, why don't you come over here and help me turn the crank on the ice-cream maker," interrupted John. He wanted to keep the two of them from squabbling. 

They were in his backyard; he had grilled hotdogs and hamburgers, and they had been sitting around for a while in the sticky heat, eating and talking in the gathering dusk. Now, as they waited for the fireworks over the Capitol to start, he was turning the crank on an old-fashioned wooden ice-cream maker. 

With a sigh, Skinner got up and went to where John stood at the other end of the picnic table. Scully finished her hotdog, and she too rose, but instead going to stand by Skinner, she went to where John had a large double hammock stretched out on a metal frame. She carefully sat down, then swung her legs up until she was lying more or less comfortably. She closed her eyes and pillowed her head on her arms. 

John moved away from the wooden barrel and Skinner took up the rhythm of turning the crank. 

"You're wasting your breath," John muttered as he sat down on the table. "She's gonna do what she wants, so why make an issue?" 

"I don't want her to do anything that's gonna make her sick," Skinner said, glancing quickly back at the redhead as she pushed slowly with her foot. "She keeps telling me that she's a doctor and she knows what she needs to do, but sometimes," he sighed. "Sometimes I think she does things just to piss me off." 

John chuckled, "She probably does." 

"I know she eats properly, and she takes her vitamins, and she keeps active, but, damn! She won't rest like she should, she occasionally has these...unbelievable cravings, she works late, and she..." Skinner lowered his voice to a whisper. "John, she won't let ME sleep at night. I mean, she's...she's almost...insatiable! Don't laugh, it's not funny!" Skinner was blushing brick red. 

"Yeah, it is," snorted John. "And you'd better enjoy it while you can. Right now she may be as horny as a rabbit, but she'll soon turn on you like a rabid dog. My suggestion to you, Assistant Director, is to let her alone. She knows what she’s doing. As long as she’s not bungee-jumping off the Washington Monument, or scarfing down whole farm animals, she’s all right. She’s been through this before, remember.” 

Skinner shook his head. “I don’t remember her being quite this…unpredictable.” 

“You weren’t as involved in the pregnancy before. She had to keep it a secret from a lot of people, and try to function on a normal day-to-day routine. This time it may actually be easier for her because she does have someone around she can depend on.” 

“She could have depended on me before. I would have been more than willing to be of some kind of help.” 

“But the last time…” 

“I know, I know,” Skinner said as he stopped turning the ice-cream makers handle. “It wasn’t my baby. It was Mulder’s and she was oblivious to anyone else. You think this is ready?” 

“Probably,” said John as he removed the mechanism on top of the tank. He slowly scraped ice and salt away from the top of the metal container and lifted off the cover. “Yeah, it’s ready. It needs to age for about twenty minutes or so, then it’ll be ready to eat.” He covered the top again and placed a paper bag over it and smiled at Skinner. 

“This is gonna be some great ice cream. And don’t get on Dana’s case about how much she eats. Let her enjoy tonight. And one more thing.” He clapped Skinner on the shoulder. “She might have been blind to your attentions before, but she’s well aware of them now. And I bet that she’s not as upset with you most of the time as you think. Now, go on over there and give her some TLC while I go get my woman off the phone. She’ll talk to her mother all night, if I don’t put a stop to it.” 

“Her parents are becoming accustomed to the idea of you and her being together?” 

“Well,” said John with a shrug, “they’re happy about the baby, believe it or not. As for me, the jury is still out. I guess I’m still probationary, as far as they are concerned. How about Dana’s mother? Is she…” 

“Still unrelenting,” sighed Skinner. “That worries me, too. Dana tries to act like it doesn’t bother her, but I can tell it does. I just hope Margaret comes around before the baby gets here. Dana wants her involvement, but unfortunately Margaret can’t seem to see past the fact that Dana’s unmarried and pregnant again.” 

“You all could remedy that,” said John. 

“I know, but Dana won’t talk about it.” 

“Why?” 

“I’m not sure. She clams up when I broach the subject. Just says that when the time is right, we’ll CONSIDER marriage. And I don’t want to upset her by nagging her about it. So, we just don’t talk about it.” 

“Give her time, she’ll tell you what’s going on eventually. As for her mother, hopefully she’ll realize she’s going to miss out on this grandbaby and put aside her objections. You can’t do anything about her until she’s ready.” 

“I guess you’re right,” agreed Skinner. “Nothing can be done until she’s ready to make the first move. Um, I’m gonna go inside and empty a couple brews out of my bladder. I’ll be right back.” 

“Tell Monica to get off the phone and come on out. The fireworks will be starting soon.” 

Skinner waved his hand as he walked back towards the house. John grabbed a hotdog bun, squirted mustard onto it and uncovered the plastic container that held the hotdogs. Slipping one onto the bun, he took a bite, then went to stand beside the hammock on which Scully was relaxing. 
“Mind if I join you?” 

“Sure, why not? Just don’t flip me out of this thing,” Scully said with a laugh. 

John slowly lowered himself onto the big canvas hammock and stretch out his long legs. With his added weight, the hammock dipped and Scully slid naturally towards him. They both lay on their backs, their bodies touching down their length. 

“Wanna bite?” he asked as he held the hotdog towards her. 

“No, I’m stuffed,” she said. “I couldn’t eat another bite, honestly. What did Mother Skinner go inside for?” 

John chuckled softly, “Mother Skinner. He thought it might be better if he went inside to use the bathroom instead of watering my shrubs.” 

“Good ol’ Walter, always so considerate!” she said sarcastically. Then she sighed. “That was mean. He really is a wonderful man, John. I love him so much, and yet he can be such a pain in the ass.” 

“He’s worried about you, that’s all. This is his first pregnancy, remember. He knows you know what you’re doing, but still, he can’t help but worry. He wants to make sure you have an easy time of it, so maybe he’s over-compensating a bit.” 

“I know,” she admitted reluctantly. “And maybe it’s because I had to do everything alone the first time that I can’t understand why he’s so protective now. It’s not that I don’t appreciate his concern, but sometimes I think, hey, where were you when I was pregnant before?” 

“Standing anxiously in the wings, wanting desperately to step in but afraid to is my guess. If you had merely looked over Mulder’s shoulder you would have seen Skinner waiting more or less patiently for you to give him the okay to shove Mulder aside and take over.” 

“I know,” she repeated. “Sometimes…” she clicked her tongue, “sometimes we can be so blinded by the things we think we want that we can’t see the things we actually need.” She was silent for a moment. “Maybe he’s not being the pain in the ass, maybe it’s me.” 

“Ya think, Agent Scully?” John laughed, causing the hammock to jiggle. “Look, cut him a little slack. He’s a first time father, and at his age, he’s undoubtedly nervous about the whole thing.” 

They lay quietly for a bit, swinging gently. 

“How about you, John? How are you handling all of this?” Scully asked softly. It was a subject she and Skinner had discussed frequently. 

“I’m fine.” 

As he answered, Scully could feel him tense. 

“Are you sure? This has to be dredging up some pretty painful memories.” 

“Actually, Barbara’s pregnancy went pretty smoothly, so…” 

“I meant about becoming a father again. I know in my own case I’ve had some sleepless nights thinking about…about William, and if I’m up to trying again.” 

She rubbed her hand over her now obvious belly. “Sometimes I wonder if I can love this child as much as I did William. But then, the baby will kick and I know I can. I’m being given a second chance, and I thank God every day for it.” 

John was so quiet that at first she wasn’t sure he was awake. 

“I’m not worried about loving it,” he said very softly. “I don’t know if I could survive if something happened to it. I almost lost my mind the first time, Dana, if it were to happen again…” He shook his head slowly. 

“We have no guarantees on anything, John. We can only take things as they come. This baby that you and Monica have made is a blessing, no matter how long you have him. That’s the way it is with any parent. Sometimes we have them for a short time, and sometimes we’re lucky and they give us grandchildren. Let’s just take it one day at a time and pray for the best.” 

He nodded, unable to speak for a moment. The twilight deepened and soon one or two of the brighter lights in the sky managed to break through the city lights that surrounded them. 

“Dana, can I ask you a question?” 

“Sure,” she answered sleepily. 

“Why don’t you marry Walter?” 

Now it was her turn to be quiet. 

“It’s not because I don’t love him,” she finally said. “I…I really don’t know, John. Maybe…maybe I’m afraid my mother is right, that he’ll disappear once the baby’s born and he realizes how much work a child can be.” 

“He’s not going to do that, and you know it,” scoffed John. “He’s too excited about becoming a father to chuck it all because of a few dirty diapers and some sleepless nights. You’re judging him unfairly.” 

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to tie him down if it turns out he doesn’t like being a father. You know his sense of duty; if we were married, he’d stick around just because he felt he had to. If we’re not married, he can always step away, without feeling like he’s desecrating his marriage vows.” 

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!” protested John. “Who are you really trying to protect, Dana, him or yourself? Every couple faces the possibility of their marriage not working, Dana, for any number of reasons. It’s a chance we all have to take, and if you really love him, you’ll be willing to take it. He’s a good man, and he’s going to be a wonderful father. AND an outstanding husband. Give him a chance.” 

Before she could answer, Skinner and Monica called to them as they approached. 

“Fine thing, a man leaves his woman alone with Agent Doggett for five minutes, and he comes back to find them cuddled up in the dark. I would think you had enough on your hands with Monica being pregnant that you wouldn’t want to take on another.” 

“Hey,” protested Scully as she held out her hand for Skinner to help her up, “I’m not that difficult!” 

“Sez who?” laughed Skinner. He was surprised when she stood and kissed him fully on the mouth. 

“Whoa!” he said softly as she smiled into his eyes. “What was that for?” 

“Because I love you, and I missed you. And because I’m sorry I’m such a…an aggravation. Forgive me?” She stroked his face with her hand as she looked into his eyes. 

“There’s nothing to forgive,” he answered. He held her close, “Nothing at all.” 

“You two are boring,” said Monica as she set down bowls and spoons on the picnic table. “Come on, let’s eat this ice cream, I’ve waited as long as possible.” 

John opened the metal container and scooped out the soft frozen dessert. He looked at Scully questioningly as he started to put another big spoonful in her bowl. She glanced over at Skinner and shook her head. Doggett grinned. 

As they sat around the table, John asked Monica, “Did you tell your parents?” 

“Yes,” she answered as she licked her spoon. 

“What did they say?” 

“Welcome to the family,” she smiled. 

He took her left hand in his and kissed the thin platinum band on her ring finger. It was a smaller twin to the one on his own hand. 

“I love you,” he whispered as he kissed her. 

“Now who’s being boring?” teased Scully. 

Monica stood in front of the full-length mirror staring at her naked body. She had just stepped into their bedroom after showering and had not started dressing yet. She tilted her head to one side, then the other, sighing mightily. 
She was huge; she still had another month and a half to go, and she looked as if she were about to explode. Her abdomen protruded so far in front that she walked swayback. Her breasts, a source of vainglorious pride to her when she was thin, were big. No, not big. Grotesque. Heavy. Pendulous. Stretch marks streaked towards the large dark areola and nipples. 

She turned sideways and stared at her profile. Great. She looked like a marshmallow with toothpicks for arms and legs. Her bellybutton, oh Lord, her bellybutton had turned inside out! It looked like a doorbell. The doctor had assured her that it would resume its natural shape after delivery, but right now she couldn’t see how that would happen. 

She put one hand on top of her abdomen and one hand below it as she felt a contraction. The doctor had said that was also normal. Braxton-Hicks contractions, he called them. Said they were her body’s way of preparing for labor. The tightening of her abdomen didn’t hurt, it just felt…weird. Like someone was inflating a basketball beneath her skin. 

Monica continued to stare, even though she heard John come into the room. He came to stand behind her and put his arms as far around her as he could. 

“Hi, Gorgeous,” he said as he kissed her neck. He rubbed his hands over her belly. “Mmm, you look good enough to eat.” 

“How can you say that?” she whined. “Look at me! I’m…I’m an elephant! I can’t believe I’ve still got six weeks to go before this baby comes out! I’ll be unrecognizable! I’ll look like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon!” 

“I like the way you smell,” he said as he inhaled deeply. “Like soap and shampoo and…” he sniffed her shoulder, “lotion.” He nibbled the nape of her neck. “Wish you’d told me you were gonna shower; I would have joined you.” 

“There wouldn’t have been enough room,” she muttered. “I take up all the space. How can you possibly want to make love to something as big as…” 

He tilted her head back and kissed her, effectively silencing her self-loathing. 

“I want to make love to you while I still have the chance,” he whispered as she leaned against him. “After the baby’s born, he’ll take up all our time, and we’ll both be too tired” 

“Just so long as you don’t get tired of ME,” she said as she turned in his arms. It was difficult for him to hold her close, but somehow they managed. “I’d hate to find out you’ve been looking for love in all the wrong places. I might be tempted to use you for target practice the next time I have to qualify with my handgun.” 

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he said as she started to unbutton his shirt. “I’d never be able to find anyone as beautiful or desirable as you.” 

“John, what if I don’t look like I did before I got pregnant?” she fretted. “What if…what if my body refuses to cooperate and I stay like this even after the baby’s born? What will I do then? What will YOU do?” 

“Gain weight so we’ll be a matched pair,” he chuckled. 

“I’m serious!” she said, stepping away from him. “What if I don’t lose all the weight I’ve gained? What if for some reason my boobs stay big, or I end up with a potbelly, or…or…” Her eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip quivered. 

“Hey,” John said softly, “I didn’t fall in love with your body. I love what’s here,” he tapped his finger over her left breast, “and here,” as he tapped her forehead. “You have a kind, loving heart which you showed me when Luke died. And your insightful mind and remarkable intelligence inspire me, intrigue me, and enthrall me. Your body, no matter what shape in ends up being, is just an added bonus.” 

He kissed her slowly, languidly, until she sighed with delight. 

“That’s funny,” she said as he kissed her neck, “I fell in love with you after I saw the size of your…” 

“Monica!” his tone held a threat of retaliation. 

“…pension,” she giggled as she slipped from his arms. 

“I knew it. You were only interest in my 40l(k). Sorry to disappoint you, kiddo, but it ain’t worth quite what it was. Looks like we’ll both be working until we are old and gray.” 

“Maybe Junior will take care of us,” she said as she started to put on her underclothes. Another of her least favorite activities as of late. Her panties were now the size of mainsails on a Spanish galleon, and her nursing bras would have provided shade for a small village in Mexico. 

“Don’t hold your breath,” sighed John as he started to brush his wiry hair. “He’ll probably put us in a home somewhere and forget he ever had parents. We’ll be lucky if he remembers to pay the monthly bill.” 

“John! Don’t say that!” She turned and looked at him, her bottom lip pushed forward. “You make him sound like an ungrateful brat. And he’s not even born yet.” She patted her now nylon covered abdomen. 

“I’m just teasing,” he said as he reached out to put his hand on top of hers. “He’ll be a wonderful kid, you’ll see. Of course, he’d be even better with a couple of siblings.” 

“Let’s get through this pregnancy before we start planning any others, okay?” she laughed. “You need to hurry if we’re going to meet Dana and Skinner for dinner.” 

“So, where have you girls decided we’re going to eat tonight?” asked John as he re-buttoned his shirt. “The last time we all tried to go out, nobody could agree.” 

“We are eating Greek tonight,” she answered as she pulled on a pair of dark blue maternity pants. She sighed as the large elastic panel in front helped cradle her abdomen. “We’ve eaten there before. Dana and I both agreed that something Mediterranean would be both filling for you guys and nutritionally sound for us. Is that okay?” 

She turned to him as she buttoned the big oversized blouse she was wearing, smiling slightly. He looked at her face and smiled back. She was still beautiful, even with the extra pounds she had put on. Her hair was shiny, her eyes sparkled and the makeup she had applied seemed to enhance the glow that seemed to emanate from her all the time. 

He stepped closer to her and cupped her face with one hand. She closed her eyes as he kissed her,, softly and tenderly at first, but with more insistence as she wrapped her arms around his neck. With his other arm he pulled her closer, and as their bodies molded as best they could, he felt a faint, but unmistakable, kick against his own abdomen. 

“I don’t think Junior wants Daddy kissing Mommy,” Monica said as she pulled back slightly. 

John’s hand moved to her belly. “Hey, Buddy,” he chuckled, “I saw her first. Remember who you’re kicking, okay? Without me, you’d still be just a dream.” 

His eyes widened slightly as he felt her belly tighten beneath his hand. 

“Contraction?” he asked. 

“Yeah, false labor. I’ve been having them for days. The doctor said they were normal and as long as they remained erratic not to worry.” 

“Do they hurt?” 

“Nah,” she said as she brushed her lips against his. “I just wonder if the real ones are going to be painful. And when the hell are they going to start?” 

“You know,” he teased as he nibbled her lower lip, “they say sex can bring on labor. Wanna try?” 

“Maybe later,” she said, kissing him quickly then stepping aside. “If I go beyond my due date, we’ll definitely plan on a marathon session to jump start things. But right now, we’ve gotta go.” 

 John and Monica reached the front door of the restaurant ‘Sparta’ at the same time as Skinner and Scully. The four friends greeted each other, then went into the half-filled restaurant. The hostess asked them if they preferred a booth or a table. 
“Table,” said Scully immediately. “I don’t want to keep asking you to move every ten minutes in order to go to the bathroom.” 

“Amen to that,” agreed Monica. 

The young dark-haired woman led the four to a table near the big windows that looked out onto the street. As they sat down, Skinner glanced around the room. 

“Good thing we didn’t get a booth,” he commented. “I don’t think the two of you would have been able to fit.” 

John froze in place for a moment, then cleared his throat and tried to think of something to say. 

“What do you mean by that?” asked Scully dangerously. 

“Well, the space between the table and the benches seem kind of narrow, and I wouldn’t want you two to hurt yourselves getting in and out.” Skinner sat down and shook out his napkin, blissfully unaware of the precipice he had nearly stepped over. 

Scully stared at him for a moment, then shook her head slightly. Monica rolled her eyes and Scully laughed. 

“Uh, what looks good?” asked John nervously. 

They looked over their menus carefully, discussing possible entrees, debating the points for and against each. At last, though, they settled on their orders and the waitress left them alone. 

“Lord, I hope these next six weeks pass quickly,” sighed Scully. “I’m tired of watching what I eat. Seems like every time I go to the doctor, I’ve gained more weight.” 

“You’ve done really well,” said Skinner. 

“No thanks to you,” she snapped. 

“Me?” Skinner asked in a surprised voice. “What did I do? 

“At first it was, Dana eat this, Dana eat that. Dana, you’ve got to eat something. Now it’s, you’re hungry again? Didn’t you just eat? Is that fattening?” 

“I was just trying to help! At first you wouldn’t eat anything and I was worried. Now, I’m just trying to make sure you don’t gain too much weight. The doctor said…” 

“I know what the doctor said. It’s just that I find it a little…annoying the way you watch every morsel that goes into my mouth.” She crossed her arms over her very large belly. 

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to pat her arm. “I’m sorry. I thought I was being helpful. I’ll stop. I was under the impression you didn’t want to get as big as you did the last time…” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

John’s eyes widened and he tried to get Skinner’s attention before he cut his own throat. Too late. 

“You know, the last time you were pregnant. You’re not nearly that big this time.” Skinner squeezed her hand. “You’re looking really good.” 

“I…was…BIG…when…I…was…pregnant…with…William?” Her eyes narrowed and she jerked her hand out from under his. 

“Huge,” Skinner chuckled. “Right, John?” He looked over at John for confirmation, but John could only open and close his mouth silently. Monica bit her lips to keep from laughing. 

“Huge. Fat lady in the circus huge? Goodyear blimp huge? Take the doors off the hinges at the hospital huge? Exactly how big, Walter?” 

“N-n-no, of course not THAT big, honey. Just, uh, you know, big.” Skinner realized he had stepped into a large pile of sh*t of his own making. 

“But I’m not that big this time, right?” 

“Of…of course not,” he smiled nervously. “You…you look wonderful. Ju…just right for a pregnant woman. In fact,” and he smiled brightly, “you’re not nearly as big as Monica.” 

“Excuse me?” Now it was Monica’s turn to glare at him. 

“I…I mean,” he looked over at John for rescue, but John only shook his head. There was no way he was going to wade into this one. Skinner sighed in defeat and picked up his butter knife. 

“I wonder if I can commit suicide with this,” he asked absently. 

“Probably not,” said Scully as she removed the knife from his hand. “But give it to me. I can always use it to inflict hundreds of little wounds. Monica can pour alcohol into them and we’ll sit back and watch you suffer.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed. 

“Hey, Walter, now I’m wondering if it was such a good idea to get these gifts for the girls,” said John. “They might not want them after that little exchange.” 

“What gifts?” asked Monica, clapping her hands softly. 

“Well,” smiled John, “Walter and I decided that just about now you two might be feeling a little…glum about your current, but merely temporary!” he said quickly, “Uh, pregnant state, that we got you gift certificates to a day spa. They have a complete program for pregnant women…” 

“Are you saying we need help with the way we look?” Monica raised one eyebrow. 

“No, no, no! Nothing like that! This is a, uh, way to kind of relax BEFORE the baby comes. You know, manicure, pedicure, facial…” John looked desperately over at Skinner for help. 

“Yeah, the whole nine yards. You want your hair cut, they’ll do it. You can even get a massage to help, uh, relax and relieve some stress. It’s…it’s kind of a last chance for full pampering before, uh, the, uhm…” Skinner smiled nervously at Scully. “Whu-what’s wrong? 

Scully was eyeing him skeptically. “You sound like a television shill for some kind of time-share condo. What’s the name of this wonderful program?” 

“Beautiful Mom.” 

“Where is it at?” 

Skinner gave her the name of an upscale spa located just outside the Beltway. 

“Walter, that must have cost you a pretty penny,” she said with a shake of her head. 

“Hey,” he said as he took her hand, “if it will make you feel better and give you a chance to have some time just for yourself. You know you’re not going to have a lot of that after Butterfly’s born. But, if you don’t want it…” 

“I never said that!” She smiled sheepishly as she squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Walter, it’s very sweet of you.” She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. He grinned in relief. 

“Thank you, John,” said Monica. “I can’t believe you two would think of anything so…unexpected.” 

“You didn’t think we had enough imagination to come up with something like this?” he teased. 

“Well...” she hesitated. 

“Hey, separately Walter and I may be about as imaginative as a stump, but if we put our heads together, we can come up with some great ideas. Right, Walter? Walter? Wah…” John stopped and chuckled softly. 

Skinner and Scully were staring lovingly into each other eyes, her irritation with him forgotten. 

“I really don’t see how a spa could make you any more beautiful,” he said as he pushed her hair behind her ear. She blushed and smiled shyly. 

John and Monica exchanged disgusted looks. 

“Do you know I sometimes stay awake at night to watch you sleep? I still can’t believe how lucky I am that you decided to come into my life.” Skinner raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. 

“Okay, that’s enough!” ordered John. “You two are gonna make me sick, and I wanna be able to enjoy this fine meal. Save the mushy stuff for later, understand?” 

“See?” sighed Scully. “That’s what marriage does to you. Turns you into a cynical old f*rt without a shred of romance in your soul.” 

“Oh, I have plenty of romance in my soul,” countered John. “The only problem is right now I’m starving and would prefer to make goo-goo eyes with my wife on a full stomach. I can’t think of love with my stomach growling.” 

“Isn’t he sweet?” said Monica sarcastically. Scully grinned. “If you all will excuse me, the little darlin’ is doing a tap dance on my bladder. I’ll be back in a minute.” 

“I’ll go with you,” said Scully. “I’ve actually gone thirty minutes since the last time I had to check out the bathroom. Gentlemen.” 

She started to get up and Skinner hopped to his feet and held her chair. John shook his head in disgust. Monica narrowed her eyes and decided he needed to be reminded of what romance should be like. She stood over him as he remained in his chair, cupped his chin in her hand and tilted his head back. She kissed him soundly on the lips. 

“Instead of thinking about how hungry you are,” she whispered in his ear, “maybe you should start planning our campaign to give Junior some siblings.” She then reminded him very, very softly of a couple of…field maneuvers that successfully brought about her present condition. John cleared his throat and his face reddened as he, too, remembered those, um, preparatory strikes. 

She gave him a sultry look as she straightened and waddled away with Scully. He cleared his throat again and glanced over at Skinner, who was trying hard not to laugh. John took a sip of water from his glass. 

“You’d think a woman who is about to become a mother wouldn’t even think about…uh…never mind,” he finished lamely. 

********** 

A week later the two women walked out of the day spa where they had just spent five hours being pampered and petted. Their complexions glowed from the facials they had endured, their skin on their arms and legs was smooth and their muscles relaxed from the massages, the nails on their fingers and toes sported subtle colors. 
They had endured shampooing and conditioning of their hair, and Scully had several inches cut off to make grooming easier once the baby was born. Monica had gotten a few highlights put in her hair, but only after Scully had said the fumes from the solution would not be harmful. 

Now, after enjoying a wonderfully light and satisfying lunch, they hailed a cab from one of the dozens that were prowling in front on the spa and headed towards the JEH Building. This Friday afternoon, John and Skinner had agreed to leave work early in order for the four of them to go to a concert at the Kennedy Center. The two friends chatted amicably as the cab slowly made its way toward Pennsylvania Avenue. 

It was 2:30 in the afternoon. 

~*~

Jack Lemons walked out of the maintenance room in the sub-basement of the J. Edgar Hoover Building and headed towards the elevator that would take him upstairs to, lessee now as he checked the work order on the clip board he carried; ah yes, second floor men’s room. Some moron probably used enough toilet paper to clean the ass of an elephant, tried to flush it all at once and flooded the place. 
He shook his head slowly. You’d think that these people, who were supposed to be so highly educated, and intelligent, and…and well, better than the rest of the world, would know that a five-inch diameter wad of cheap toilet paper is gonna clog up a three-inch PVC pipe. Besides that, why the hell would anyone need that much paper to begin with? Either the guy just some wasteful prick, or else he was anal-retentive (snort) and couldn’t leave until he had scrubbed his assh*le until it was squeaky-clean. Bet the guy had hemorrhoids from hell. 

Jack was one of innumerable maintenance workers that kept the old building running smoothly. Most of the agents who worked for the FBI didn’t even notice him and his co-workers as they worked tirelessly to keep restrooms working, air conditioners (or furnaces) humming, and repaired the thousands of pieces of office equipment that were important to the everyday workings of the Bureau. Jack and his colleagues in their dark blue work shirts and pants went unnoticed until something broke down. Then they were expected to have everything back in working order yesterday, as if the safety of the free world would be in danger if one agent had to go to another floor to use the restroom. 

Jack sighed as he waited for the freight elevator to make its slow descent. He checked the top of his cart to make sure he had everything he needed to unclog a pipe. He didn’t want his supervisor to come out and notice that he didn’t have a plunger or plumber’s snake. 

His stomach tightened with anticipation, today was gonna be a big day for him and the Bureau. He had been planning this for a long time and he had decided that it was now or never. He lifted the soft canvas panel that hung down the side of the cart and checked once again the instruments that were spread onto the shelf. He smiled. Yep, it was gonna be a BIG day at the Bureau. 

He had been working at the Hoover Building for almost ten years, and over that time he had learned to dislike the men and women who worked there. Sanctimonious, self-righteous, overbearing, pompous jerks every one of them. Even the newest agents had an arrogance about them that made it difficult for him sometimes to keep a civil tongue. And the longer they worked there and the higher up the chain of command they went, the worse it got. It didn’t matter if it was a male agent or a female; they were all the same. No, wait, that wasn’t true. The women were the worst. As far as they were concerned, the maintenance people were invisible, or maybe a completely different life form from themselves. If he said good morning to one of those snotty bitches, she’d look down her nose at him and stare as if she were the queen of England and he a lowly commoner who had broken protocol by speaking to Her Royal Highness before being given permission. 

Jack had put up with the snubs, the looks, and the rudeness for a long time, but an incident two years before had finally put him over the edge. Some dumb b*tch had dropped her wedding ring down the drain of one of the sinks in a third floor restroom and he had gone up to retrieve it for her. Only problem was when he cleaned out the drain, there was no ring. And she had accused him of stealing it. As if he wanted some cheap ten-carat gold band that wouldn’t fetch twenty bucks at a pawnshop. However, she insisted that he must have taken the ring because she was sure, one hundred percent positive that the ring had gone down the drain. 

He had just as vehemently insisted that she was wrong, that maybe when she had gone to call for maintenance and gone back into the restroom, that she had simply been mistaken about which sink at which she’d been washing her hands. His boss had been called, as well as several agents all of whom were ready to take him into custody. It wasn’t until he had demanded that he be allowed to dismantle all the sinks that he had proved her wrong. Sure enough, he found the ring in one of the other sinks. She had grabbed the wedding band from his fingers and stormed out of the restroom without so much as an apology. The male agents who had stood around with their hands on their holsters seemed almost disappointed that they had been denied the chance to shoot him. They had left the restroom slowly, looking over their shoulders at him as if hoping he would suddenly pull a Tommy-gun from behind his back and aim it at them, giving them the perfect excuse to gun him down. 

His supervisor had been no help, telling him that it was a good thing he’d found the ring, otherwise he’d probably have to fire him. 

He’d clapped Jack on the shoulder and had said, “You’re a good man, Jack, I’d hate to lose you. Don’t let this get to you, okay? Just remember that life’s a b*tch and then you die. Or marry one like that,” and he’d laughed as he jerked his head in the direction the agent had gone. 

Jack had smiled tightly at his boss, but didn’t say anything. But at that moment was when he decided that he’d had enough. He was going to end his association with the Bureau. And he was gonna end it in a big way. Not immediately, however; first he had to assemble the things he would need to make sure his last day at work would memorable. For Jack Lemons wanted to make sure that he was no longer a faceless cog in the inner workings of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He wanted to make sure everyone knew who he was, on that final day at work. So, for two years, he had carefully planned and prepared for this day. He was gonna go out with a bang. And he was gonna take as much of the building with him as he could. He was gonna blow the whole f*cking place to hell. 

 
Jack Lemons hadn’t meant to end up working as a maintenance man for the FBI. He’d actually wanted to be an agent, with a gun and badge and a cheap dark suit, just like the rest of the assh*les who roamed the halls. But, because of fate and circumstances, and the lack of any kind of college education, the closest he could get to his dream was as a broom jockey at the JEH Building. 
Jack had been born 33 years before to a cop and a convenience store clerk in a suburb of Richmond, Virginia. He had three brothers and two sisters, and while there was never a lot of money, there was also not a lot of love. His father had worked long hours as a patrol officer with the Richmond police, never quite making it out of the ranks, never making it to a desk job, always trying to make sergeant, but never quite passing the test. He’d died when Jack was fifteen, not in a shoot-out, as Jack told some of his friends when he’d moved to Philadelphia, but on his own couch, watching wrestling, a bowl of buttered popcorn beside him and twelve empty beer cans scattered on the floor around him. A massive heart attack, the doctor had said. Went in an instant, as if that was supposed to make the skinny fifteen-year-old feel better. 

His mother had come home from work several hours later, even though Jack had called her when he’d found his father dead on the sofa, his mouth hanging on, a handful of popcorn resting on his belly. Her excuse was that she couldn’t get anyone to cover for her until the end of her shift. Jack knew that was a load of bull, she’d just preferred to wait until the body was gone before coming home. She hadn’t even asked how his father, her husband, had died. She’d merely kicked off her shoes, and taken the phone into her bedroom to call her relatives, or so she said. Jack suspected she’d wanted to call her boyfriend and let him know what had happened. Not that Jack cared one way or the other, about his parents and their relationship. What he was most concerned about was if the funeral was going to interfere with his plans to go to a Metallica rock concert the following day. 

It had been at his father’s funeral that Jack had first thought about being an FBI agent. There had been a several of cops from the Richmond police force that had attended the services, and as Jack looked at them he had decided there was no way in hell he’d ever end up like them. His father’s friends had all looked just like his father; old (okay, to a fifteen year old, fifty was old), tired, discouraged. If he ever thought about going into law enforcement he was gonna do something big, glamorous, high profile. Something where people gave you respect and not the taunts that seemed to follow any cop who worked a beat in a large metropolitan area. And who demanded more respect than an agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigations did? 

Of course, it would mean he would have to finally buckle down in school and learn something other than how to sneak into the girls’ locker room to catch a quick peek or which students he could bully into giving him their lunch money. He managed to persuade his mother to let him move to Philadelphia where he hoped to start a new life, away from the cheap punk reputation that he had acquired. His mother had been more than willing to let him go. She had remarried, not to the boyfriend she had called the night her husband had died, but another man whom she had known for a couple of weeks. Her previous lover had come to the realization, after her announcement that her husband was dead and now they were free to build a life together, that he might actually have to live with her on a day-to-day basis and had dumped her as fast as he could. Not a woman to suffer heartbreak for long, she’d managed to hook up with taxi-driver that came into her store to fill up his cab. They went out twice and were married before Jack even knew the guy’s name. 

And so Jack moved to Philadelphia to live with an older brother, taking with him his hopes and dreams of becoming a badass FBI agent. However, while he may have been able to leave his somewhat checkered past behind in Richmond, his grades did follow him. And as he had spent more time beating up younger students and trying to date girls completely out of his league, his grades showed him to be a firm D+ scholar. He was put into remedial classes where he struggled to keep his frustrations in check. He didn’t see the need for them; after all, he could read and do math. So what if he didn’t like to turn in homework, or complete assignments or study for tests? What was the point? He knew everything he’d ever need to know, why should it matter what a letter on a piece of paper said? 

When he finally was able to snag an interview with the Bureau, or so he dreamed, and they saw what a great addition he’d be to their organization, they would hire him on the spot. It wouldn’t matter that he’d failed history or chemistry or any of those other lame courses he had to take. What good would they do him anyway? A good agent needed to be smart, street smart, in order to catch the bad guys. And be able to drive a car fast so he wouldn’t lose the perp in a high-speed chase. And to be a good shot with a gun. After all, those guys on the cop shows he loved to watch never mentioned anything about high school grades or college degrees. 

When Jack was a senior, his guidance counselor called him in to talk about his future plans. Jack proceeded to tell him of his dream to become an FBI agent. The man looked at Jack in surprise and hesitated before giving Jack the bad news. With his grades there was very little likelihood that he would ever get into a reputable criminal justice program at any of the colleges that the Bureau usually recruited from. The man looked at Jack with pity in his eyes as he told the thunderstruck young man that he should probably think about joining the military. Maybe, if he could get into the military police program he might be able to get the training he’d need to become a police officer. If, after his stint in the armed forces, he was still interested in becoming an agent, he could then try college and hopefully he would have settled down enough to be able to focus on getting the education he would need to garner the interest of the FBI. 

The man had carefully slipped recruiting brochures across his desk to Jack, who took them without thinking. The boy was still in shock at what the man had told him. How could this be? How could there suddenly be so many obstacles in front of him? All he wanted to do was join the Bureau and become a super slick hero, driving a fast car, wearing cool looking dark glasses with a hot, sultry blonde sitting next to him ready to unzip his pants and give him a blow-job at the drop of a hat. 
 
Jack did join the military after high school. He went into the Army with high hopes of becoming an MP and making such a name for himself that the Bureau would come looking for him and beg him to go to work for them. However, after enduring the twelve weeks of excruciating hell that was basic training, he was told by the powers that be that he was going to be assigned to infantry. Oh great, he had thought at the time, they’re gonna teach me to be cannon fodder. And, because there was no war any where that the United States was involved in, it meant that most of his time would be spent helping to keep the military headquarters running smoothly. In other words, he was gonna be a janitor. 
The one and only advantage being the lowest man on the Army’s totem pole was that it gave him plenty of time to read up on his favorite subject: bombs. He read everything he could on the different types of explosives, how they worked, how to build them, how to detonate them, and how much damage they could cause. At first he thought maybe he could get transferred to munitions or bomb disposal, something more exciting than pushing a broom, but once again fate would not allow him to reach even this secondary dream. Instead, he kept reading, making sure he was up to date on the latest types of explosives. After all, you never knew when you might need his unique knowledge. 

Jack spent four years in the Army, and at the end of his tour he realized that his dream of becoming an FBI agent was no closer to reality than when he went in. So, he moved back to Richmond, and searched the “Help Wanted” ads and put his name in at the WorkForce Commission, and eventually was sent on an interview at the JEH Building. Granted the job was not the one he had spent years hoping for, but at least he was in the building. And ya never know, maybe, just maybe somebody would look up from their desk and see him standing there and think, Why isn’t this guy an Agent? And then…and then… 

But it hadn’t happened. And after the incident with the wedding ring, he knew it was never gonna happen. So, slowly, over weeks and months, he had gathered all the pieces he would need to assemble a bomb that would take down the whole building. Of course, it was gonna blow him straight to hell too, but he was willing to sacrifice himself. After all, there wasn’t anyone who was gonna miss him, now was there? He had left a nifty Last Note videotaped at his apartment, so that when they finally pieced together that he had been the one to destroy the symbol of the Federal Police Force, it would be played over all the news networks and everyone would realize what a huge mistake the Bureau had made in never hiring him. 

Jack smiled to himself as the freight elevator pinged and the doors opened. He pushed his cart into the car and checked his watch as the doors closed. It was 2:30 pm. 

Jack pulled his cart from the freight elevator and moved slowly towards the area he had designated as the perfect spot to set off his bomb. Carefully, methodically over the last twenty-four months he had brought into the JEH building the various components of his device. The twelve ounces of plastic explosives he had acquired under several aliases and brought in with his lunch in half-ounce portions. The detonator that he had fashioned, MacGyver-style, from equipment he had rescued from the trash bins. The timer, the wiring, everything had been smuggled past the security cameras and armed guards that protected the place. 
And now, at his moment of glory, he sighed happily as he stood before the bank of passenger elevators, ready to destroy the place that had been a dream of his from his teen years, but had turned into a nightmare in his adulthood. 

“I would have made a hell of an agent,” he said as he set off his bomb. 

Well, maybe. But then again, maybe not. There are many qualities that make a good FBI agent. Intelligence, perseverance, attention to detail, curiosity, the ability to visualize the outcome of a project, the patience to test and observe; all things that are needed by someone who is called upon to investigate everything from kidnappings to…well, to bombings. 

Unfortunately, Jack had none of these qualities. Yes, he was curious, and his thorough reading about bombs proved that. But he didn’t have to patience to try out what he’d read to see if it would really work. He was like a man who thought he could read all about making love, and then be an expert the first time he was with a woman. He was doomed to failure. As John Doggett’s Uncle Marshall used to say, “Book larnin’ is one thing, doin’ is somethin’ else.” 

So, even though Jack did manage to blow himself to Kingdom Come, he failed to bring down the House that Hoover built. Not to say there wasn’t major damage; the floor and ceiling of the second story had matching ten-foot diameter holes, all the windows in the offices in that area were blown out, there were small fires burning, dozens of employees were hurt and he managed to scare the hell out of half of Washington. But knock down the home of the Federal Bureau of Investigation? No, not even close. 

One the fourth floor, Walter Skinner heard the explosion as a muffled roar. Instantly, fire alarms and sirens went off all over the place. He got up from his desk and snatched open his office door. Arlene sat behind her desk, her mouth and eyes wide open. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet and together they moved towards the stairwells. For the most part, the other people filing down to the ground floor were calm, though there were a few soft sobs and muttered prayers as they all moved quickly towards the exits. 
Once outside, there was an automatic response to what had occurred. The clerks, secretaries, assistants, mail-room guys, all those people who helped the Bureau run efficiently on a day to day basis were herded as far away from the building as possible. Then, all the people in the dark Joe Friday suits, whether male or female, immediately went into law-enforcement mode. A perimeter was set up, traffic stopped, and agents were assigned by various assistant directors to start searching the crowds that were gathering for likely suspects. There was an enormous display of personal fire-power, as every agent, assistant director, and deputy director was now carrying his or her gun out in the open. 

Skinner looked up and down the street at the people he had strung out along the sidewalk. He saw John Doggett and another agent politely but firmly insist that a news cameraman go back across the street. When the man refused, John grabbed him by the back of his neck and leaned in close to the cameraman’s face. Skinner couldn’t hear what John said to the man, but whatever it was, it was sufficient to get him scurrying back to where a female reporter was holding a microphone. 

“John,” called Skinner. 

John Doggett looked up and waved, He holstered his gun and went to stand by the older man. 

“What a mess,” muttered John. “No one seems to know what happened, but everyone has a theory.” 

“Yeah, I’ve heard everything from Arab terrorists, to the Klan, even a hostile takeover of the Bureau by the CIA.” 

John rolled his eyes. 

“Well, who ever it was, I’d hate to be in his shoes when they finally figure out his identity,:” said Skinner as they both scanned the crowd across the street. “Not that there’s gonna be much to find of the bomber, if it was a suicide.” 

He tapped John on the arm and pointed down the sidewalk. Coming towards them, four burly agents flanking him, was Deputy Director Alvin Kersch. 

The DD nodded quickly at both men. “John, Walter.” 

Skinner’s brow furrowed for a moment. Kersh never called him by his first name. 

“What’s up, Deputy Director?” he asked. 

Kersh cleared his throat and looked at the growing crowd of spectators. “The Metro Fire Department is sending over a special rescue unit.” 

“Are there victims trapped on the second floor?” asked John. 

“The…the bomb went off in front of the main elevators. One of the cars had just started its ascent to the third floor when the force of the blast caused it to jump its tracks. Two of the four braking systems have snapped and the car is dangling rather precipitously. The outer doors buckled into the inner car doors, jamming the car between the second and third floors. They’ve been trying to pry the doors open, but there is some worry that the doors may be the only thing keeping the car from falling.” 

John whistled softly, “Man, I sure wouldn’t won’t to be trapped in there. How many people are involved?” 

“Um, three,” said Kersh, squinting against the bright afternoon sun. “A…a friend of mine and um, two women.” 

John felt a coldness grip his spine. His jaw tightened and he couldn’t get the question he was afraid to ask out. Skinner, however, realized immediately why the Deputy Director had come to tell them this little bit of news. The four agents who had accompanied Kersh were now standing beside Skinner and John. 

“It’s Dana and Monica, isn’t it?” 

“Yes,” said Kersh quietly. “And gentlemen, I’m asking that you don’t do anything foolish like running in there and trying to rescue them yourselves.” He raised his hands slightly, palms up. “These four agents will escort you to where the rescue is going on, but they have been given orders that if either of you start trying to pull a Arnold Schwarzenegger, they are to remove you physically. Do I make myself clear?” 

Neither men spoke. How could they? The impact of Kersh’s words had blotted out everything that was going on around them. They had only one thought, and that was to get to the women. 

“Do I make myself clear?” repeated Kersh more forcefully. 

Skinner nodded once, and John heaved a monstrous sigh. 

“Are they…are they all right?” he asked. 

“I believe they are not hurt. The doors took a hell of beating, but protected all three of them, thankfully. However…” 

Both Skinner and John stopped breathing. 

“One of them may have gone into labor.” 

"We’ve gotten a walkie-talkie down to them, and physically they seem all right,” repeated Kersh as he led the small contingent towards the damaged elevators. They climbed the stairs to the third floor. “We were trying to talk to them through the top of the elevator car, but it was too hard on everyone. Clarence, the man that was coming to see me, managed to get the access panel on top open, and we dropped the unit down to them.” 
“What is being done to get them out,” said John. He and Skinner were remarkably calm, their instincts and training taking over, allowing them to think in on an almost cold, emotionless level. 
”The elevator maintenance people are trying to somehow stabilize the car so that they can cut through the inner doors. The third floor outer doors are undamaged and are open. They’re going to attempt to cut through the inner doors and pull everyone out.” 

“How long have they been working on it?” asked Skinner. 

“Since they found out people were trapped, about an hour or so.” 

“So, Monica and Scully have been trapped in there since the bomb went off three hours ago? And you don’t know which one is in labor? Why not? If they have a walkie-talkie, then surely somehow that information could have been relayed…” 

“It’s Agent Reyes, John,” sighed Kersh. “Agent Scully says she’s pretty sure that it’s labor, the contractions are pretty steady and getting fairly strong. She’s also says that both babies seem to be moving all right, but that the quicker we can get Agent Reyes to a hospital the better.” 

John’s hands clenched and unclenched helplessly at his side as they stood on the third floor landing. Skinner started to open the door, but Kersh held it shut. 

“Look, I know this is hard, but you two have got to put on a brave face for them. We’re going to get them out safely, get them both to a hospital to check them out, and then all your lives will continue on with this becoming a memory you will share with your children when they are all grown up. Those two women are very strong and I have the utmost faith in their ability to keep calm in spite of their circumstances. What they don’t need is for you two to get them upset by trying to take over. Just…just talk to them, reassure them, keep them from worrying, all right?” 

“How close are we to getting them out?” asked Skinner. 

“I’m not sure,” admitted Kersh. “Could be a matter of minutes, could be several hours, depends on what course of action the rescue squad decides on.” 

“Hours?” repeated John. “It can’t be hours. What if…I don’t want my wife delivering our child in an elevator. Those guys had better find a way to get them out as quickly as possible, or else I WILL find a way to do it myself.” 

“She won’t deliver in there, John, I promise,” said Kersh solemnly. “But, you’ve got to promise that you won’t do anything to interfere. That goes for you, too, Walter.” 

Skinner pulled on the door but Kersh’s hand kept it closed. 

“Promise me,” he said again. 

The two men looked at each other, then back at Kersh. They both nodded slowly. 

“Say it.” 

For a long minute there was no sound in the stairwell. Kersh leaned his full weight on his outstretched arm, holding the door firmly closed. 

“Say…it,” he repeated slowly. 

“I promise,” said John. “Now let me get to my wife.” 

“Assistant Director?” Kersh looked quickly over at Skinner, who glared back at him. 
“Say it, Walter, or he’ll never let us out of here,” said John quietly. 

“All right, I promise,” said Skinner. He jerked the door open as Kersh relaxed his hand. 

Skinner and John ran towards the bank of elevators where the women were trapped. A scene of controlled chaos greeted them. Firefighters in full uniform, men in shirt sleeves looking over schematics, police officers, a few recognizable faces from the Bureau, all of them intent on rescuing the people inside the damaged car. 

There was a large hole in the floor, John looked down and saw the heavily damaged second floor below. He looked quickly towards the open elevator door that exposed the trapped car. The inner doors were closed and John could tell they had buckled extensively with the blast. He closed his eyes. How could the occupants have survived such an explosion with little or no injury? His eyes snapped open when he heard Kersh’s voice. The deputy director was speaking into a small walkie-talkie. 

“Clarence? How’s it going in there? Over.” 

The three people in the elevator car had grown rather chummy in the three or so hours since they became trapped. Scully and Monica had entered the car at the same time as the tall, middle-aged black man. Elevator etiquette had been observed, and no one spoke as the elevator had begun its ascent. All hell seemed to break loose, however, when the car had passed the second floor landing. There was a terrific noise, and the three of them had been knocked from their feet as the elevator car rocked back and forth For a moment they had been in total darkness as the lights went out, but emergency beacons came on and they were able to look around and assess the damage. 
“Are you two all right?” the man had asked as he shook his head to clear his vision. 

Both women were lying on the floor, moaning slightly and whimpering. Neither appeared hurt, he saw no blood and their limbs seemed to be functioning properly. But, because they were both appeared to be extremely far along in their pregnancies, he worried about their physical well-being, as well as the well-being of their babies. 

“I…I think so,” said Scully. “Monica, are you all right? What…what happened?” She coughed slightly as dust and debris floated around the car. She looked over at the doors and saw they had caved inwards, as if struck by the hand of some angry giant. 

“My head,” gasped Monica. “I think I hit the wall.” 

Scully peered at her friend through the haze. “Do you feel dizzy, nauseated? Can you see all right?” 

“I can see fine,” Monica said, “and no, I’m not dizzy. But, my head hurts right here.” She placed her hand on the back of her head and clicked her tongue when she felt an area that was starting to swell. 

“Oh, great, I’m gonna have a goose egg back there.” 

“Let me check,” said Scully. She probed the area gently. There didn’t seem to be any soft areas that might indicate a fracture. More than likely Monica was only going to end up with a large bruise and a headache. 

“I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” reassured Scully. “How’s your abdomen? Did you hit it? Is the baby moving all right?” 

“Baby seems to be fine,” sighed Monica. “I didn’t hit against anything with my body, but I did get thrown to floor pretty hard. My hip is going to have a black and blue mark from hell. How about you? Are you all right?” 

“Yeah, I…I’m fine. I guess we’re all pretty lucky. How about you, sir? Are you all right? I’m a doctor and I…” 

“I’m fine, young lady,” said the man. “I’m more concerned about you two. There is just one of me and well, to put it bluntly, a whole lot of you all. I’ll be all right, but we need to get you both checked out. Hopefully, someone will be along to rescue us fairly quickly. Hopefully, the bomber has blown himself to hell, and we won’t have to worry about getting caught in any kind of standoff between him and the authorities.” 

“What makes you think it was a bomb?” asked Scully as she slowly stood. The elevator car rocked slightly. She sat back down quickly. “It could have been an earthquake.” 

“Well, for one thing, lookat the doors. That wasn’t done by some small East Coast earthquake, my dear. And besides, we live in perilous times, so we must sometimes assume the worst when something this strange occurs. By the way, my name is Clarence Brookes.” He held out his hand and the women shook it in turn, giving him their names also. 

Mr. Brookes smiled at them both, then slowly scooted towards the control panel for the elevator. He popped open the door that hid the emergency phone. He put the receiver to his ear and heard nothing. 

“The phone appears to be dead,” he muttered with a shrug. “Looks like we’re going to have to make a little noise so people will know we are here.” He tilted his head back and let go a mighty shout. 

Scully and Monica raised their voices as well, and soon they heard a muffled reply. 

“Hang on, we’ll get you out.” 

The three had smiled confidently at each other, believing that rescue was imminent. That had been three hours ago, and they were no closer to getting out than they had been. And to put the icing on the cake, so to speak, Monica had started having regular contractions. 

“Hold on, Alvin,” came the calm voice over the small radio in Kersh’s hand. “Ms. Reyes has just had another contraction.” 
Kersh glanced quickly over at John, who merely squinted his eyes and looked over the head of the deputy director. Skinner said nothing as he ground his fist into his open hand. He looked as if he were ready to punch his way through the closed doors of the elevator. 

“Um, how are they doing, Clarence?” asked Kersh again. 

“Well, these are two extremely strong women, Alvin,” came the chuckled reply. “I suspect if it were anyone else, there’d be all hell breaking loose. Dr. Scully insists they are both just fine, and who am I to doubt such a lovely physician. I think, though, they are being brave on my account. I also think that they could both use some water to drink, and possibly some way to empty their bladders. If I remember correctly, when our wives were pregnant they both seemed to go to the bathroom every ten minutes by this stage of their pregnancy. See what you can rig up, Alvin. I’m sure they’d both be very appreciative.” 

“How are YOU doing, Clarence?” asked Kersh softly. “I’d hate to have to tell my mother that I didn’t take better care of her favorite son-in-law.” 

“Oh, I’m all right, I guess. I sure could use some water, too, though. And a cigarette, if you’ve got one available.” 

“You gave up smoking ten years ago,” admonished Kersh. 

“True, Alvin, but I do believe today is the kind of day that an exception can be made. Although, it’d probably be better to wait until you and your knights in shining armor get us out. I wouldn’t want to indispose the ladies. Get me a pack of Morley 100’s, Alvin. Not the lights, and certainly NOT the menthol. Have them ready for me when I get out of this box, and don’t you dare tell your sister!” 

“I’ll see about it, Clarence. But right now, I’ve got Agent Reyes’ husband here and Dr. Scully’s, uh, former supervisor.” Kersh glanced quickly over at Skinner, then at the four agents who still stood in a semi-circle around them. The paternity of Scully’s baby was still grist for the FBI rumor mill. He wasn’t about to furnish the answer without Scully and Skinner’s permission. “I think they’d both like to make sure for themselves that the ladies are all right.” 

“No problem,” said Mr. Brookes. “Mrs. Reyes, I do believe there’s someone here who is anxious to talk to you.” 

“John?” 

Doggett snatched the radio from Kersh’s hand, took a deep breath and slowly released it. When he spoke his voice was calm. 

“Hey, kiddo, how’s it going?” he said as he looked up at the ceiling above him. 

“I’ve had better days,” she answered. 

“Haven’t we all?” he replied with a tired chuckle. “You know, if you didn’t want me at the delivery, all you had to do was say so. You didn’t have to get yourself trapped in an elevator to avoid me.” 

“Very funny,” she retorted. “If you think YOU are going to get out of coaching me, well, then you’d better think again. When I get out of here and to the hospital, you’re gonna have to listen to every scream and rant that I’m holding back. You’re gonna wish I’d STAYED in this elevator!” 

“I doubt that,” he said. “How are you doing, Monica? What does Dana think? Are you having a lot of pain? 

“Well, I guess I’m doing all right,” she said as she shifted her body to take some pressure off her backside. “I hadn’t realized how bad the pain could be, but Dana’s helping me to focus, so hopefully I can hold on until we get to Georgetown and I can get an epidural. I have decided natural birth is for the birds, or bears, or whatever, and I’m gonna want lots and lots of pain medication.” 

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.” He was sure she could tell he was grinning. 

“John, have you ever been kicked in the genitals?” 

“Uh, yeah, once or twice.” 

“Okay, how long did the kick last?” 

“I dunno, a second, maybe less.” 

“It was pretty bad, right?” 

“Yeah,” he said cautiously. 

“Then imagine getting kicked in the nuts for sixty to ninety seconds at a time. Over and over. When you’ve experienced that, THEN you can tell me labor pain isn’t that bad.” 

John looked quickly over at Kersh, who just as quickly looked away as he bit his lips to keep from laughing. Clarence Brookes’ soft chuckle could be heard in the background 

“I think I’ll pass,” said John, clearing his throat. “Um, otherwise, though, how are you?” 
“Well, considering Dana can’t do an exam, I guess I’m all right. I’m pretty sure my bag of waters in intact, and I know I’m not bleeding. The baby’s moving fine and the contractions are, well, contractions. Dana says everything so far seems to be normal, but of course we won’t know until we get out of here. How long do they think it’s going to take, John?” She was tired and sore and scared and she just wanted to be released from this small prison she was sharing. 

“I…I don’t know, Monica,” he admitted. “They’re working as fast as they can, so just…just give us some time. Look, um, let Dana talk to Skinner, okay? He’s about ready to punch me if I don’t relinquish the radio.” 

“Okay,” she said reluctantly. “Uh, John…I…” 

“I know,” he said softly. “Me, too.” He handed the radio to Skinner, and turned his back to the men and walked a few paces away. 

“Dana?” Skinner’s voice trembled slightly and he cleared his throat. 

“I’m here,” came the welcome answer. Dana Scully was also tired and sore, and maybe, maybe just a little regretful. 

“Are you all right?” 

“You mean, other than being trapped in here for almost four hours, yeah, I’m fine,” she snapped. Immediately she apologized. “I’m sorry, Walter, I’m..I didn’t mean to be so rude. I’m tired and…and I really want to see you.” She stopped and swallowed hard. No sense in making him worry more. 

“You should have seen us when we first came in here,” she said. “We had just come from the Spa, and we were a couple of hotties, I want you to know. Hair, makeup, manicure, pedicure, facials, we were something to behold. Unfortunately, now we’re a little disheveled. I don’t suppose the Spa would considering giving us a rain check?” 

“I don’t know,” said Skinner slowly. “It’s not exactly like you’re a 1956 Chevy Bel-Air that got detailed then rained on. They might not accept the excuse that you were an innocent victim of some jerk-off’s ineffectual effort to be on the nightly news. They’ll probably think you did it on purpose just to get to try and scam them for a second day.” 

“Thanks, a real morale booster, there, Walter,” she drawled. She sighed, “Do they really think it was just one guy?” 

“Yeah,” Skinner said as he looked around at the damage done to the third floor. “It had to be only one man. If it had been some kind of conspiracy, the results would have been a lot worse. The reasoning right now is it was some guy who didn’t have a clue as to what he was doing.” 

“Good,” she said with a sigh of relief. Skinner could hear the weariness in her voice. 

“Look, Dana, I’ll get you another day at the Spa, after the baby’s born. I’ll get you two days, a week, whatever, it’ll give you a chance to relax and…” 

“Walter, you don’t have to do that,” she said with a little laugh. “Besides, who would stay with the baby?” 

“Well, he’ll stay with his father, of course,” said Skinner, glancing over at Kersh. The deputy director pursed his lips. “He’ll stay with me. I should be able to take care of…of our child as well as anyone.” 

“You know nothing about babies,” Scully smiled at the radio. 

“I’ll learn. I’ve always been a quick study, especially when it’s something I know I’ll love.” 

Scully closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall of the elevator. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. 

“Dana?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Are you all right?” Skinner’s voice was tight with concern. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was…I was just thinking about all those old disaster movies from the seventies. Remember? ‘The Poseidon Adventure’, ‘Towering Inferno’, ‘Airport’, all those old movies where some great disaster happened and people were trapped and you spent an hour and a half of your life wondering if they would be all right?” 

“I remember. Except, I thought ‘Airport’ was a comedy,” said Skinner 

“That was ‘Airplane’, Walter. It was a take-off of ‘Airport’. Charleton Heston was in ‘Airport’, big snow storm, some little disillusioned guy got on board an airplane with a bomb, you know the drill.” 

“Oh, I remember now. George Kennedy played the airport maintenance guy who had to make sure the runways were clear.” 

“That’s the one.” 

“What made you think of all those old movies?” Skinner asked, bewildered. 

“I got to thinking of all the things that have happened to me over the years. All the personal attacks that I’ve lived through. I’ve been poisoned by a tattoo, held underground by a human-digesting spore, abducted by aliens, left barren, battled cancer, and held hostage by more psychotic, misdirected, and confused people than Erica Kane.” 

“Human-digesting spore?” asked Clarence Brookes softly. Monica smiled gently at him and shook her head. She’d explain later. She closed her eyes as the baby kicked sharply. 

“You’ve been through hell and back,” admitted Skinner. 

“But this is the first time I’ve been involved in anything so…mundane,” Scully said. “Not mundane, that’s not what I mean. Something so…well, I guess I’m trying to say something that other people would be more willing to accept as possible.” 

“I’m confused, Dana,” said Skinner with a shake of his head. “How did this make you think of those movies?” 

“I’m getting to that,” she said irritably. She sighed, “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what I mean.” She bit her lips. 

“I’m not sure I can explain my line of thinking, Walter, but give me a chance. In those old movies, the situations were always desperate, and the people involved were usually unsure if they could escape, or even how they would escape. But there was always one man who managed to…to get them through, help them find their way out of the darkness, or through the smoke, or…or down from the sky. One person the others knew they could depend on to take care of them.” 

She was silent for a while, and the others waited for her to continue. 

 “I’m sorry, Dana, I still don’t understand,” Skinner said when the silence threatened to stretch even further. 
“I know,” she said with a click of her tongue. “My thoughts are kind of jumbled. But this does lead some where, so hang on. I’ve been sitting here for what seems like an eternity, listening as everyone works to get us out. Deputy Director Kersh has been here for the longest time, as well as a couple of really nice guys who have gone out of their way to reassure us that everything would be fine. 

“But, Walter, as much as their words have comforted us…me, it wasn’t until I heard YOUR voice that I knew we would be all right.” 

Skinner grew still as he listened to her. 

“And then I knew that your voice, your presence was what I had been waiting for. And that I had been listening for it for a long, long time.” 

“Dana, I…” 

“Let’s get married, Walter.” 

“Huh?” 

“Let’s get married.” 

He was stunned by her sudden proposal. “Well, yeah, of course. You know that’s what I’ve been campaigning for, so yes. As soon as we get you out and make sure the baby’s all right, we’ll find a…” 

“No, Walter, right now!” 

“Buh..but, Dana, we don’t even have a license. And we should have you all out of there before we could locate a judge…” 

Kersh reached over and took the walkie-talkie from Skinner. 

“Clarence, what can we do?” 

Clarence Brookes carefully took the radio away from Scully. He smiled at her and winked. 

“Call Sadie at my office, tell her to go down to the Municipal Clerk and get a license. Tell her to meet me at whichever hospital you all are planning on taking us to and I’ll take care of filling it out and all the rigmarole that goes with it. More than likely we’ll have to fudge the times a bit, but I don’t think anyone is going to contest it, so that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.” 

Skinner’s forehead wrinkled as he stared at Kersh. 

“My brother-in-law is a federal judge. If you two are serious, he can go ahead and perform a civil ceremony right now. Personally, I don’t think you have time to waste. Your child may be born before the ink is dry on the license.” 

Skinner looked towards John, who laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“No time like the present, Skinner,” he said with a grin. 

Skinner nodded, then looked back at Kersh. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I should have admitted to you earlier that Dana and I were involved…” 

“I think you two are a little more than merely ‘involved’”, said Kersh, lifting one eyebrow. “Besides, I gather that it might have been Agent Scully’s decision to keep your relationship a secret. If I were you, Assistant Director, I’d tell here that you’ve decided it’s a good idea. It maybe the one and only decision you’ll ever make. I should know. I haven’t made a decision for myself since 1972.” 

Skinner nodded again. “Thank you.” 

Kersh shrugged. “Okay, Clarence, it’s a go up here if Agent Scully hasn’t changed her mind.” 

Judge Brookes laughed, “I think all are in agreement. I’ve explained to Ms. Scully that I can perform a very legal and binding marriage ceremony, and she seems to be in complete agreement. In fact, she just gave me a very nice kiss. However, the ceremony is going to have to wait just a bit, as Ms. Reyes appears to be having another contraction. Can’t go through with the wedding while the matron of honor is contracting.” 

John closed his eyes and raked his hand through his hair. 
“How long has it been since the last one?” he asked. 

“How long since the last contraction?” Kersh relayed the question to his brother-in-law. 

“Ten minutes on the nose,” said Judge Brookes, consulting his wristwatch. 

In the background, the men could hear Monica moan as Scully muttered softly to her. Judge Brookes kept his finger on the contact button so John could hear what was happening. After a bit, the moaning stopped and everyone who was listening took a deep breath. 

“Sixty seconds,” said Judge Brookes. “That’s a little longer than the last one, Ms. Reyes. Alvin, we need to get out of here soon.” 

“We’re working on it, Clarence. The firefighters are almost done securing the car, and once that’s completed, they’ll start to try and cut through the door. It shouldn’t be too much longer.” 

“Then, let’s get this show on the road and get these two married before one of them changes their minds.” 

It took several minutes for everyone to finally settle down in order for the unusual ceremony. Scully insisted on a Bible, and there was a brief moment of consternation among the men on the third floor as to where they would be able to find one. Judge Brookes shook his head as he opened his briefcase and removed a small leather-bound Bible. 

“A good judge always confers with a Higher Authority when he’s about to hand down a decision,” he explained to the delighted Scully. 

Then the problem of wedding bands had to be solved. Skinner admitted sheepishly that he had purchased a set of matching bands right after Scully’s pregnancy had been confirmed and was keeping them in his desk drawer, just in case she should suddenly decide to accept his proposal. 

“You were that confident I’d eventually say yes?” she asked in surprise. 

“Well, actually, no,” he admitted. “I was just kind of…um…hoping. But a good Marine is always ready for any contingency.” 

“I thought that was the Boy Scouts,” she teased. 

“Did I ever tell you about becoming an Eagle Scout?” 

“I should have known,” she laughed. “Okay, Walter, go get them, and let’s get this show on the road.” 

Skinner dashed up the stairs to his office and returned in a matter of minutes, a small jeweler's box in hand. He opened it and showed the two gold bands to John. 

“I wanted to get her a diamond, but I wasn’t sure she’d accept it. I was afraid she’d think it was a waste. You know, we were never exactly engaged or anything,” he said with a shrug. 

“How are you going to get her ring down to her?” asked John. 

Kersh took the ring box from Skinner and removed the larger band. 

“Here, Agent Doggett, you hold this. I’m assuming you’re best man, so it’s your responsibility to make sure he puts it on at the correct time.” Kersh took the box, wrapped it in a handkerchief and went to the opening of the elevator. One of the two men who were working on preparing the door to be cut with an acetylene torch looked up. 

“Can one of you drop this down through the access hole?” he asked. He handed the small package to one of the men. 

“Clarence,” Kersh spoke into the walkie-talkie, “they’re tossing down Agent Scully’s ring.” Kersh nodded at the worker, who then leaned over the top of the elevator and waited for Kersh’s signal. 

“Okay, Alvin, ready when you are.” 

Kersh nodded and the man dropped the box. Judge Brooke’s voice came up through the access hole. 

“Got it. Thank you, sir.” 

There was another short delay as Judge Brooke’s gave a few instructions. Kersh handed the radio to Skinner, who gave his supervisor a grateful smile. 

“Everybody ready?” asked Judge Brookes. 

“Yes, sir,” said Skinner. He turned and looked at Doggett, taking a deep breath and blowing out his cheeks. “Here goes.” 

“Dearly beloved….” 

Monica sat with her back against the elevator wall. It had taken an interminable amount of time to get everything started and she was exhausted. She was happy that Skinner and Scully were finally getting married, but could they have possibly chosen a more inopportune time? Why couldn’t they wait until the three of them were out of the elevator? This was going to delay their escape even longer, and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. 
She was thirsty, she wanted to pee, her back hurt, her head hurt, and God bless America, the contractions hurt. She had been afraid at first, afraid that the she was going to die, or the baby, or that John had been hurt. But now, the long hours had lessened the fear, but increased the anxiety. She wanted OUT, she wanted to go to a nice hospital to have her baby, not here in some five by five box that had the potential of falling and killing them all. 

God damn the person who put them here. She hoped he was burning in hell already. If anybody deserved it, he was definitely the man. 

Monica tried to pay attention to the little ceremony playing out in front of her, but she couldn’t. She knew another contraction was imminent and she wanted everything to be over so she could focus on the pain that was slowly building. She looked at Judge Brookes and realized he was watching her as he listened to Skinner repeat the vows. She tried to smile, but realized it probably was closer to a grimace. He held out his hand and she handed him the small gold ring 

“Don’t stop,” she mouthed. She wanted no more delays. Judge Brookes nodded slightly. 

She closed her eyes as the pain grew. She felt as if she had stepped away from the outside world as her whole awareness tunneled down to what was happening inside her body. She heard nothing of what was happening in front of her. She tried breathing slowly, in through her nose, out through her mouth. It gave her something to concentrate on other than the building tightness in her belly. She tried to relax her body; Scully had said that straining or pushing at this point was useless and that she should save her strength for the end when she would need it to push the baby out. But it was hard not to tighten all her muscles against the onslaught of pain. 

Scully had compared it to riding a Ferris wheel. The pain, like one of the gondolas on the wheel, rose slowly until it reached its peak, then it just as slowly diminished until you were at the bottom again. The only probably with that analogy was that with a Ferris wheel, you knew exactly when you were going to reach the top. It was at the same time and place with every rotation. With a contraction, there was no way of knowing how long it was going to take, and each contraction seemed to be taking a longer time to reach its peak. It was like riding that Ferris wheel blindfolded and with a sadistic carnival worker at the controls. 

She bit down on her lower lip hard to keep from moaning. There was no way she was going to make any noise, not now, not while her friend got married. She also didn’t want John to know she was having another contraction. It would only make him worry. John. John. God, she wished he was here. He could make this better, more tolerable. He would make the pain go away. He…he would take care of her. 

She brought forth a mental picture of him, concentrating on the physical aspects of his face. His blue eyes that could be so cold and stern when he talked to some criminal element, and yet could sparkle so bright when he teased her. If the eyes were the window to the soul, then his clearly showed what a kind and wonderful man he was. She had seen them warm and sympathetic when he talked to children, and smoky and hooded with desire when they made love. She loved his eyes, and had prayed that their child would inherit the clear blue color. 

She loved everything about John Doggett. She liked his lips that could thin with anger, or grin mischievously when he was telling one of his stupid jokes. She loved the way he hesitated for a second before each kiss, as if deciding exactly the right place to touch her lips. Soft and gently at first, his kiss at times would become demanding until she was swept along with his passion. 

The intensity of the pain blurred her mental picture of John. God, how much longer was this going to last? She couldn’t breathe; she clenched her hands into fists as she drew her arms and legs closer to her body. Just as she thought she was going to have to finally give in to the urge to scream, the pain started to lessen. She was able to draw in a shaky breath, and she opened her eyes. She looked over at Judge Brookes as he held his hand over Scully’s bowed head. 

“With all authority vested in me by the Commonwealth of Virginia, the District of Columbia, and God Almighty, I now pronounce you husband and wife. That which God has joined together, let no man put asunder. And when we get out of this temporary prison, Walter, you may kiss the bride. In the meantime, I’ll do it for you.” With that, he leaned over and gave Scully a hearty kiss on the lips. “Alvin, you can do the same for Walter.” 

“I’ll pass, Clarence. Although, if Agent Doggett would like to…” 

“I’ll pass,” laughed John. “I’m a married man.” 

Monica chuckled faintly as the rest laughed. Scully glanced over at her friend and gasped. Monica was bathed in sweat, her face pale and drawn with fatigue. 

“Did you have another contraction?” she asked. 

Monica nodded tiredly, “It was a beaut, too. Probably the worst one so far.” 

“Alvin,” said Judge Brookes into the walkie-talkie, “if you’re gonna start cutting, it would be advisable to start now. Ms. Reyes just had another contraction, and it seems they are getting stronger.” 

“The men are ready if you are,” said Kersh. “Move as far to the back as you can.” 
After the three captives were in position, Judge Brookes told Deputy Director Kersh they were ready. Kersh signaled to the workers and the long process of cutting the door began. 

John stood next to the man with the torch, his arms crossed, his legs spread wide apart, a pair of protective goggles covering his eyes as he watched the arc cut into the metal. He did not move, every muscle, neuron, and cell of his body willing the torch to work faster. He jumped slightly when he felt a touch on his arm. He looked around to see Skinner motioning him away from the door. 

“Georgetown Hospital has been put on stand-by, Monica’s doctor is all ready there with rooms ready for her and Dana. Once we get them out, it shouldn’t be longer than five minutes before we get them to the hospital,” said Skinner. “She’ll be fine, don’t worry.” He tried to smile reassuringly at John, but his own worries about Scully and their child made it difficult. 

“The traffic…” 

“Because no one was sure if it was another terrorist attack, the city was shut down. There is no traffic. We’ll have a straight shot to the hospital.” 

John nodded, then went to stand beside the welder again. Skinner sighed and rubbed his hand over his head. He was scared for Scully’s safety, he wanted to make sure she was all right. If she was having trouble she would not let him know, in order to keep him from worrying, which worried him even more. Sometimes he wanted to shake her; she tried to act so tough and in control all the time, as if she were afraid that any sign of weakness was a fault. 

At that moment his cell phone rang and he answered. 

“Skinner,” he said tersely. 

“Where’s Dana? Is she all right? What happened? Oh my God, please tell me what’s going on!” Margaret Scully’s frantic voice came over the phone. 

“Mrs. Scully,” Skinner started to speak. 

“You said you’d watch out for her. You said you wouldn’t let anything happen, and look at this! The television is saying that she’s trapped in an elevator and is badly hurt. What’s going on? I want to speak to my daughter!” 

“Mrs. Scully, please, listen to me,” Skinner said soothingly. “She’s fine, she’s not hurt. She…she’s all right.” 

“Then let me speak to her!” 

“I…I can’t Mrs. Scully. She’s…she is temporarily trapped in an elevator, but we’re….” 

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Is she…?….is the baby…? How do you know she’s all right? Why aren’t you with her?” Margaret’s voice rose as her fears were confirmed. 

“She said she was all right, Mrs. Scully, and I believe her. She says the baby is moving well, and…” Skinner stopped speaking and swallowed hard. “We’re going to have her and the others out as quickly as we can, I promise. Then, we’ll be going to Georgetown Hospital. She’s going to be just fine, Mrs. Scully. She’s…she’s going…” 

Margaret listened for a moment to the pain in Skinner’s voice. “I’ll meet you at the hospital,” she said, her own tears causing her voice to shake. 

“We’re married, Mrs. Scully,” Skinner said softly. 

“When? Why…why didn’t she tell me?” Her heart was breaking at the thought that her daughter didn’t feel the need to tell her own mother of her marriage. 

“Five minutes ago.” 

Margaret shook her head and laughed sadly. “She always did like to wait to the last minute to make a grand gesture.” 

“I do love her, Mrs. Scully,” he said softly. 

“I’m beginning to believe you do. I”ll be at the hospital.” With that, Margaret Scully disconnected. 

Skinner stared at his cell phone for a moment, then turned and went to where John still stood motionless. 

“John, Deputy Director,” Skinner said loudly above the hiss of the torch. “The media has somehow gotten hold of their names,” and he jerked his head in the direction of the elevator. “The Reyes’ and Mrs. Brookes need to be called and reassured. Especially the Reyes, John. If they’re in Mexico City, there may be no way for them to get through to call…” 

John’s cell phone rang and he pulled it slowly from his pocket. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to talk to Monica’s parents, but he was sure that was who was calling. 

“I’ll talk to them,” offered Skinner. 

“No, they need to hear this from me,” said John. He pushed a button on his phone. “Doggett.” 

John stared at his phone for a moment after closing it. Skinner, who had replaced him at the elevator, glanced over at him. 
“Bad?” 

John chuckled ruefully. “I just called a bast*rd in three languages.” 

“Her father is pretty upset?” 

“That was her mother. Turns out she’s fluent in English, Spanish, and Portuguese.” 

“Did you talk to her father?” 

John shook his head. “No, he wasn’t available. According to Enriqueta, he was either hiring hitmen to take me out, or buying airline tickets to fly to Washington. She kept switching between languages, so it was kind of hard to follow her.” 

“You don’t think he’d…” 

“Nah. I’m pretty sure he’s more reasonable than that. But, if Enriqueta gets mad enough, I would say my life wouldn’t be worth a plug nickel,” John laughed. “She’s just worried and scared for her daughter, so I’m not gonna worry just yet about having to check my truck for bombs.” 

“We’re through!” One of the workers using the acetylene torch called out. 

John and Skinner rushed back to watch as the men peeled back the opening they had carved into the metal door. It was not large, probably 24 inches on each side, and to the two men it looked impossibly small. Would Scully and Monica be able to slip through it? 

Kersh signaled for the two teams of EMTs to move closer as he took John and Skinner by the arms. “You two have to stand out of the way until they get the women out. Quiet, Assistant Director!” he ordered as Skinner started to protest. “I’ll have you removed if you give me one minute of trouble. We’ll probably get Agent Reyes out first because she’s in the most distress. “ 

Kersh looked back over his shoulder, “Why haven’t you gotten her out yet?” 

“She’s having another contraction,” responded one of the EMT’s who was leaning into the elevator. “According to the gentleman in there with her, it’s been seven minutes since the last one.” 

Monica’s moan could be heard echoing against the metal walls of the elevator. 

Kersh could feel John’s arm muscles tighten under his restraining hand. “Steady, Agent Doggett. She’ll be at the hospital in no time.” 

As soon as the moans subsided, the two EMTs reached in and grabbed Monica’s arms, pulling her through the opening. They had her on the stretcher and an oxygen mask covering her face before John could reach her. They rolled the stretcher aside as two more EMTs reached in to help Scully out. 

“Hey, Kiddo,” said John as he kneeled beside her. The EMTs were busy checking her vital signs, but said nothing as she stretched her arms out to John. 

“John,” she said, her voice muffled by the mask. He put his arms around her and held her tightly as she cried. 

“It’s okay,” he said softly as he stroked her hair. “It’s okay.” 

When Scully came through the opening, instead of lying on the stretcher as the EMT told her, she started towards Monica and John. 

“Ma’am, we need to make sure you’re all right,” he protested. 

“I’m fine, I just want to check on Monica,” explained Scully. “I’m a doctor, and I can…” 

“Ma’am, the EMTs can handle it. For your own well-being, we need to check you out.” 

“I’m fine, honest. Let me just…” 

“Ma’am…” 

“Dana,” ordered Skinner, “do what the man says.” He went and put a hand on her arm. 

“Walter, please, I’m…” 

“DANA!” he thundered all his worry and fears finally finding a release, “FOR GOD’S SAKE LIE DOWN!!” 

“But…” 

He put both hands on her shoulders, for a moment it looked as if he were going to shake her like a rag doll. He gritted his teeth and said softly. 

“If you care anything about our child, or about me, you’ll let these men make sure you are both all right. I have just spent the worst afternoon of my entire life in fear that I was going to lose you both. Please, Dana, please just do what they say.” 

For a brief flicker of time, he thought she was going to refuse. But the fear that was so eloquent in his eyes made her meekly lie down. The EMTs went quickly to work as she held out her hand to Skinner. He took it between his. She tugged until he knelt beside her. 

“You haven’t kissed the bride,” she said, stroking his face. 

His eyes searched her face for any sign of pain or discomfort. She smiled at him. 

“You’re sure you’re feeling all right? he asked. “You look in remarkably good shape for someone who was near an explosion.” 

“I told you,” she said, “once I heard your voice, I knew everything would be all right. I knew you’d take care of us. Now, Mr. Skinner, are you going to kiss your wife, or am I going to have to start worrying that you’re all ready regretting our marriage?” 

“I love you, Mrs. Skinner,” he whispered as they kissed for the first time as man and wife. 

Clarence Brookes sat on the edge of a third stretcher as a young blonde woman listened to his heart. 

“Where’s my cigarettes, Alvin?” he asked. 

Kersh clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers. 

“Gosh, Clarence, sorry, I seemed to have forgotten all about them. Guess you’ll just have to do without.” 

“You never were much of a liar, Alvin,” sighed Clarence. “Well, I know for a fact there’s a pack up in your desk, along with a bottle of fine Scotch. What says you that after this young lady gets through making sure I’m not dead, we go up there and celebrate my latest defeat of death.” 

“The building’s been shut down, Clarence. We have to leave as soon as possible. Besides, I would never keep Scotch in my desk. It’s against regs.” Kersh glanced quickly over at the agents who were still standing near the elevator. 

“Yeah, and I know what a stickler for regulations you are,” he chuckled. “Well, then, I guess we’d better get on to the hospital so I can take care of that marriage license for those two I’m assuming the follicularly challenged gentleman is her husband?” 

Kersh snorted, “Yeah. Let me introduce you.” 

“Not now, Alvin. Let them have their reunion. I’ll see him at the hospital and you can have the honors then.” Judge Brookes hesitated, “Not even a cigar?”. 

“You’re gonna feel a little pressure, Dana.” 
Scully held her breath and tried to relax as the doctor examined her. She and Monica had arrived in the Georgetown labor and delivery a short time before. Dr. Brownlee had all ready examined Monica and was now checking Scully. 

“How long have you been having contractions?” he asked. 

“A couple of hours. Am I dilating?” 

“Yep.” The doctor slid his hand out of her vagina and removed the latex glove. He patted her knee and she lowered her legs. “Looks to be about four centimeters, maybe 75-to-80% effaced.” 

“Really?” she said in surprise. “The contractions haven’t been painful, so I was assuming it was just a reaction to the explosion. The baby’s all right?” 

“Fine as wine.” Dr. Brownlee went to look at the strip of paper that was slowly feeding from the monitor that was measuring Scully’s contractions. “Heart rate is good, no drops when you do have a contraction. Everything seems totally normal. I figure it’ll be a good six hours or so before you deliver.” 

“How about Monica?” 

“Oh, she’ll go much sooner than you. She’s eight centimeters, nearly 90% effaced. Her bag of waters broke on the first exam, so she shouldn’t be more than…” he shrugged, “oh, probably maximum four hours.” 

“Okay, then disconnect me from the monitor, Harold, I wanna get up.” Scully reached down and groped for the nylon strap that held the monitor in place. “And Harold, don’t you say a word about me being in labor to Walter, understand? He’ll make me lie here and I’d really rather be in there with Monica.” 

“Are you sure you want to get up? You’ve been through a lot today.” Dr Brownlee unfastened the monitor and rolled up the strap. “Seems to me you’d want to rest and spend some quiet time with your husband.” 

Scully rolled to her side and slowly sat up. “I love my husband, Harold, more than anyone or anything. Bur right this minute, I feel a great responsibility to be with Monica. She…she delivered my son, and I want to be with her when she delivers her child. Besides, it’s not like you won’t be right there with us both, and I promise if I start feeling like I need to push, or…or anything, I’ll let you know.” 

“All right, if you say so. This will be your room when you do decide to quit playing Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman, so if you feel like you need to lie down a bit and rest, just come on back in here.” 

“Thanks, Harold, you’re a prince. Now hand me that awful hospital robe, and let’s go see how Monica’s doing.” 

They left Scully’s room and were immediately attacked by Skinner and Margaret Scully. 

“What are you doing out of bed?” demanded her mother. 

“Are you all right?” asked Skinner, taking her by the arm. “Doctor?” He looked to Dr. Brownlee for reassurance. 

“She says she’s feeling great,” he said. “Everything looks fine, so I said she could get up and walk around if she wanted.” 

“But…” 

“Walter, I’m fine. Please. I just want to go be with Monica. And Mom, thank you so much for coming, but I…” 

“Oh, Dana,” cried her mother as she took her daughter in her arms. “I’m so, so sorry I was such a…please forgive me. I should have been more…” She sobbed uncontrollably. 

“Mom. Mom, it’s all right. I understand, really.” Scully patted her mother’s back as the older woman continued to cry. “I probably would have reacted the same way. I should have been more open with you about Walter and me. Can you forgive us…me?” She looked over at Skinner. He had wanted to tell her mother sooner, but she had been the one to hold back. 

“Whu-when I heard your name on the news broadcast as one of the people trapped in that elevator, I was s-s-so afraid I was going to l-l-lose you, and I thought what a mean old woman I was t-t-to be so r-r-rigid and n-n-not even give you a ch-chance to…” she broke off as she continued to sob. 

“Mom, please, stop. It’s all right.” Scully continued to pat her mother’s back as she swayed slightly from side to side, comforting her as best she could. 

At last her mother’s tears slowed. Margaret squeezed her daughter tightly, then held her at arm's length 

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she said with a loud snuffle. “You are all right, aren’t you? You and the baby? You’re not lying to me.” 

“Mom, ask Dr. Brownlee. I’m fine. Honestly. If I weren’t, I would not get out of that bed. I’m not going to do anything that will endanger our child.” Scully held out her hand and Skinner clasped it tightly. 

Margaret looked at her new son-in-law, who lifted his head proudly and stared back. He wasn’t exactly who she would have chosen for her daughter to marry, but he did seem to love her and that counted for a lot. 

“Welcome to the family, Mr. Skinner,” she said with a watery smile. 

"Okay, great, now that we’re all one big happy family, please let me go see Monica,” said Scully as she moved towards her friend’s room. 
When Scully entered Monica’s room, she saw immediately that Monica had just had another contraction. She looked tired and frazzled, her eyes reflecting the intensity of the pain. John, on the other hand, was grinning like a Cheshire cat and greeted them with a happy wave. 

“Come on in” he saidi cheerily. “We just had another great contraction! They’re coming about every five minutes now, right Hon?” He tried to pat Monica’s shoulder, but she jerked away. 

Monica held out her hand to Scully, who went to stand beside the bed. Scully was surprised at the strength of Monica’s tug on her arm as the dark-haired woman pulled her until she could whisper into Scully’s ear. 

“Get him OUT of here!” she demanded in a fierce whisper. “He’s so God-damn cheerful, I’m ready to get up and strangle him with my IV line!” 

Scully nodded slightly then stood up straight. 

“Um, John, why don’t you go down to the cafeteria for a while and get some coffee or something. I’ll stay here with Monica and coach her. I’m sure you must be exhausted,” Scully tried not to grimace as Monica squeezed her hand to keep from laughing. “and uh, you should take advantage. She probably won’t deliver for a while and you’re gonna need all your strength” another squeeze from Monica, “to, uh, to help her. Walter, you and Mother make sure John gets something to eat, okay? He looks…um, he looks really tired.” 

“No, I’m fine, honest,” protested John. “I’m not tired and besides, the contractions are every five minutes and I want to be here to help her. Thanks for offering but I’d really rather stay.” 

Scully was losing the feeling in her fingers as Monica tightened her grip. 

“Walter,” snapped Scully a little more sharply than she intended. She cleared her throat and spoke more softly. “Walter, I really, REALLY think John needs to get some fresh air. You and Mother,” she shifted her eyes slightly in Margaret’s direction, “should make sure he gets a chance to at least get a soft drink while he has the chance.” 

“Uh, well,” stuttered Skinner, “if…if you think it’s for the best.” 

“I’m positive,” she said through gritted teeth. “Mom, take them both downstairs for a while, please.” She stared intently at her mother. Margaret Scully nodded as she realized what her daughter was trying to do. 

“Come on, gentlemen,” Margaret said with a bright smile, “I could use a cup of coffee myself, and I can’t think of two handsomer men that I want to escort me.” 

She put her arm through theirs and led them purposefully from the room. 

“Ah,” groaned Scully as Monica let go of her hand. 

“Sorry,” Monica apologized, “but I really, really wanted John out of here for a while. I know he means well, and I feel extremely ungrateful, but oh, Dana, he’s so bright and cheery. ‘Come on, Monica, you can do it. Just breathe deep, don’t think of the pain. It’s almost time, honey, just a little longer.’ Ahhh,” she screamed softly, “if I had to hear that one more time I was gonna…” 

She sighed deeply, “I’m a bad person, aren’t I? He’s only trying to help, and I should be glad he wants to be here. And I know he’s worried about me, but Dana…” She looked away, her eyes filling with tears. 

“He loves you a lot, Monica. And it’s been a very hard day for him. Our being trapped in that elevator for so long, with you in labor, you know he’s suffered almost as much as we have. So, you might have to put up with a little overzealousness on his part. I’ll try to dilute his effect as much as I can, okay?” 

“Okay,” smiled Monica. “Thanks. I’ll do the same for you when you go into labor. I figure Skinner will be almost a basket case when you start to deliver.” 

“You probably won’t get a chance to be there,” said Scully. 

“Why?” 

“Well, it looks like our babies are gonna have the same birthdate,” she admitted. 

“What?” exclaimed Monica. “Are you in labor? Why aren’t you in bed?” 

“Yes, I am and don’t you dare say anything to Walter. My labor is not nearly as active as yours is yet, and there’s no need for me to be in bed. But if Walter knows, he’ll insist. And I’d rather be here. So, not a word, okay?” 

“Okay,” whispered Monica as she closed her eyes. Another contraction was beginning and her thoughts turned inward as the pain built to an ear-roaring intensity. Scully stood beside the bed and said nothing as she stroked her friend’s back and waited for the inevitable end. 

“Three…four…five…six…atta girl, Monica…seven…” 
“Push…push…harder, you can do it…push…” 

“C’mon, Mom, the head’s right there, a little more…a little more…” 

“Another deep breath, Monica…one…two…three…” 

“I can’t…I can’t…I’m so tired…please…I…” Monica whined as she rested her head back on the pillow for a moment. However, she took another lung full of air and bent her head towards her chest and pushed with all her strength. 

She had been pushing for almost an hour, although she had not concept of the time. For all she knew she’d been straining for a week or so. She was lying with her legs open, her knees bent towards her chest. Scully and John stood on either side of the bed, each of them grasping one foot. Monica had her hands under each knee and with every contraction she pushed as hard as she could while pulling her knees closer. She probably looked as if she were trying to kiss her own ass, and she probably could have succeeded, if it weren’t for the big mound of belly in her way. 

She had arrived at the hospital too far dilated to receive any epidermal anesthesia, so she had experienced every pain at its fullest. 

“I’m never gonna forget this,” she had thought during one of her more pain free moments. “This is it, no more kids.” 

She realized she must have spoken aloud when she heard Scully chuckle. 

“Yeah, right,” Scully had laughed. “You wait until you see your baby. That’ll induce such amnesia that you’ll call us all liars when we try to remind you what you’ve been through. And you’ll probably be here in less than two years, doing it all again.” 

“Unh-unh, nope, never again,” Monica had protested. 

That had been hours (days? Weeks?) ago. Now, all she could think of was getting the baby out. She wanted this to end as quickly as possible. 

“Okay, Monica,” came a voice from somewhere near the foot of her bed, “with your next contraction, I want you to push as hard as you can until I tell you to stop. The baby’s head is right there, and the next push should get it out. I want to make sure it doesn’t have the cord around its neck or anything, so don’t push again until I tell you, okay?” 

She nodded tiredly. John leaned over and brushed her damp hair away from her face and kissed her sweaty brow. He had been wonderful and she felt guilty about sending him away earlier. He had not been nearly as annoying since he returned from getting coffee. Skinner must have talked to him, or maybe Scully, or her mom. Or maybe she herself had needed the break from him, and once he returned had become more tolerant and less bitchy. Whatever had changed, she was glad he was there with her. 

And Scully. She was especially glad Scully had been by her side. The red headed woman had been a tower of strength for Monica, even though she herself was in labor. And Monica could tell when she was having a contraction, because suddenly it would be Scully who was clinging to Monica’s hand. But Monica kept her promise and didn’t let on to anyone, especially Skinner. 

Skinner. Where was he, anyway? Monica’s whole world had shrunk to her bed and the immediate area around it. Her sun was the bright lights shining at the foot of the bed, spotlighting her bottom, giving the doctor and the whole damn world full view of her most intimate areas. She didn’t care, though; at this point, Skinner could have been in the hall selling tickets to the birth. She just wanted it over as soon as possible. She hoped he was making a lot of money, and she fully expected a standing ovation from the audience at the end of this, her one and only performance. 

“Okay, Monica,” came Dr. Brownlee’s voice again, “PUSH!” 

She took a great gulp of air and bent her head forward as far as she could, at the same time pulling at her knees. Scully and John helped by pushing her legs back; John had one arm under her shoulders and was helping her compress her body even further. 

“There it is! There it is! Head’s out. Okay, Monica, pant for a bit and let me feel…” 

Dr. Brownlee’s voice faded out and Monica opened her eyes and panted like a puppy, just as the labor nurse had told her to do. 

“Oh, my God, look at all that hair!” someone exclaimed with a laugh. She thought it was Scully, but she wasn’t sure. 

John was leaning down to her, whispering in her ear. “Beautiful! He’s absolutely beautiful.” 

She could hear the tears in his voice and she wanted to reach up and comfort him. Instead, she obeyed Dr. Brownlee’s next command. 

“Okay, Monica, big push, and we’ll have a baby.” 

One more lung full of air and she pushed with every bit of remaining strength she had. 

“AaaahhhhHHHHH!!” she groaned as she felt the baby slip from her body. 

“Whoa, big one!” exclaimed Dr. Brownlee. “It’s a boy!” 

Monica started to cry and John let go of her leg in order to put his arms awkwardly around her. 

“I told you it was a boy,” he said with a huge grin. 

Monica laughed and sobbed as the doctor plopped her son onto her belly and she could see him for the first time. He seemed to be all legs and arms as Dr. Brownlee used a blue suction bulb to remove fluid from the baby’s mouth and nose. The little man kicked and struggled and let out a mighty cry. Monica watched fascinated as his precious little face turned from a dusky blue to a healthy pink. He further protested as the labor nurse roughly rubbed his body, cleaning his head, wiping his face. There was a minimal amount of blood, but he was wet and slippery from the amniotic fluid that had protected him for nine months. 

Monica touched him, stroking his head, holding his little hand. He continued to cry until she wrapped her arms around him and brought him to her face so she could kiss him. He immediately stopped crying and put his hand in his mouth. 

Monica looked up at John to see tears streaming down his face. She reached up with one arm and pulled his face to hers and kissed him, their tears of joy mingling as their son lay contentedly on her breast. 

“Sorry, Mom,” said the nurse, “but I need to take Junior over here and do a little business.” 

Suddenly her son was gone and Monica felt as if part of her body had been amputated. John followed the nurse over to the warmer where she proceeded to wipe off the tiny baby and check him over. She then took him to a scale where she laid him, his little arms and legs flailing at the sudden movement. 

“Eight pounds, seven and a half ounces,” announced the nurse. “He’s definitely a keeper. He’s twenty and a half inches long. He’s gonna be tall, just like his daddy.” She smiled at John. “What’s the little man’s name, Pop?” She took the baby back to the warmer and continued her check of him. She put a little cap on his head, then wrapped him in two blankets until he looked like one of the burritos that Monica had been fond of during her pregnancy. 

“Paul Antonio Doggett,” John said with a proud smile. 

“Nice name,” she said. “Wanna take him to see Mommy?” She held the little bundle out to John and he carefully took his son in his arms for the first time. 

John looked down at the tiny baby and was overcome by a flood of emotions. His heart was filled with great happiness at the safe arrival of his son, and at the same time, unbelievable sadness as he thought of another hospital, another labor and delivery room, more than sixteen years before. That day, another Doggett baby had been born, a small fair-skinned bald baby boy, so different from this baby with his slight undertone of olive skin and masses of black hair. The nose was different, the mouth, the shape of his head, nothing really reminded him of Luke, except for the eyes. At the time of Luke’s birth, John had been startled by the seriousness and wisdom that seemed to emanate from so small a person. And this baby had the same look. Maybe all babies looked like that; as if they were born with all the wisdom in the world, he wasn’t sure. He’d seen other newborns and they didn’t seem to have that look. 

Whatever it was, he lifted his son closer and whispered softly, “I’m here for you, Paul Antonio. I’ll do everything in my power to protect you. I’ll lay down my life for you. I love you.” He tenderly kissed the baby’s cheek as he made his promise. 

And he would, too, lay down his life. He had not made that promise to Luke; he had been younger then, stupid maybe as to the evils in the world that could hurt his child. But he was older now, and painfully more aware of what could happen in the briefest flicker of time. 

“John?” called Monica. He looked up to see her sitting up, her arms outstretched to take their child. 

“Don’t I get to hold him? After all, I did all the work,” she teased. 

“Yes, you did,” he smiled back. “And you did a hell of a job. C’mon, son, let’s go say hello to your mother.” 

Walter Skinner stood outside Monica’s room, leaning against the wall. He had opted for waiting in the hall, thinking it would give her more privacy if he wasn’t there to watch the delivery. Of course, if the truth be told, it was as much for his benefit as for hers; he wasn’t sure he was up to see one of his agents, and a friend, go through such a painful, and intimate, occasion. So, he made his excuses and stood quietly and patiently until at last he heard the soft wail of a newborn baby. He smiled and clapped his hands softly. Well done, he thought, well done. 
A few moments later, the door opened and Scully came out of the room. She looked exhausted as she smiled at him. 

“It’s a boy,” she said. “A beautiful, healthy boy.” 

“Ah, good,” Skinner said as he took Scully’s hand. “John must be thrilled.” 

“Yes, yes he is,” she said wearily. 

“How much did he weight? What’s his name? How’s Monica?” 

“Almost eight and half pounds, Paul Antonio, and she’s radiant.” Scully stood in front of Skinner and grabbed hold of his shirt front and leaned her head against his chest. She started to sag as her knees gave way. Skinner grabbed her by the arms and held her upright. 

“Dana?” he asked in a frightened tone. “Dana, what’s wrong?” 

“Ummm,” she moaned slightly. “Walter, get me to my room, please. And hurry.” 

“Are..are you in labor?” he asked incredulously. 

She nodded, her head rubbing against his chest. 

“Oh my God!” He put one arm around her waist and was about to pick her up when she protested. 

“No, no, I can walk. Just get me to bed.” 

He half-carried her to the room Dr. Brownlee had left for her, and as she lay down, he buzzed for a nurse. 

“My…my wife, she’s…she’s, uh..” he stammered. 

“We’ll be right there, Mr. Skinner,” came a soothing voice over the intercom. 

Within seconds a nurse bustled in and cheerfully helped Scully out of her robe. “About time, Ms. Scully. I wasn’t sure you were gonna make it all the way through Ms. Reyes’ delivery. Now, Mr. Skinner, why don’t you go wait in the hall for a minute while I examine Dana and get her set up. I doubt seriously its going to be long before she delivers.” 

And standing in the hall was where John found the handsome bald man when he came out of Monica’s room. 

“What’s up, Skinner? Where’s Scully?” 

“She’s…she’s…” Skinner looked at John with troubled eyes. 

“Holy sh*t! Don’t tell me she’s in labor?” cackled John. 

Skinner nodded dumbly. 

“Man, that’s great! Whoa, hold up there, podnuh!” John grabbed Skinner’s arm as he started to slide towards the floor, his face white. “Hey, Walter, it’s not that bad. You’re not gonna feel a thing, I promise.” 

“What the hell am I doing?” muttered Skinner. “I’m…I’m too old for this. What makes me think I’m capable of being a father? I don’t anything about babies, or children, or…” He shook his head as he rubbed his hand over his scalp. “What if I’m a lousy father? What if the kid hates me? What if…what if I am completely indifferent to him? I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready…” 

“Hey, Walter, nobody is ever ready for parenthood. There’s no way to prepare for it, we’re all kinda working blind. But listen to me,” John said as he shook his friend’s arm. “You’ll be fine, you’re not too old; in fact, you’ll probably be a better father than men half your age, because you are more settled, less…driven, I guess is the word I want. And I don’t think you’ll be indifferent to him. I think that once you hold that little person in your arms you’ll find yourself falling head over heels. And the kid, well, he’s gonna be one lucky little guy to have such a good man as his dad.” 

“You think so?” asked Skinner. He desperately wanted to believe John. 

“Yeah, I think so. Now, are you gonna be all right?” 

Skinner nodded. 

“Good, because I’ve got to go find some place that’ll make me a cheeseburger with everything and a chocolate shake at 3:30 in the morning,” John said with a smile. “My darlin’ wife is hungry after all that work, and my son has been taken to the nursery to finish up his testing.” 

“How…how is Monica? And…and your son. Congratulations, by the way,” said Skinner with a belated handshake. 

“Monica is beautiful, my son is beautiful, and this is a wonderful day,” crowed John. “You’ll see what I mean in a little while.” 

“Mr. Skinner,” called the nurse from inside Scully’s room. “Mr. Skinner, you’d better get in here or you gonna miss it.” 

“I’m coming,” he said. He turned and without a backwards glance, entered the room to welcome his child. 

“Go get’em, Tiger,” said John as he watched with a happy smile. 

Several hours later, John knocked softly on Scully’s door and poked his head in. The bed was empty and he could hear water running in the small shower. The bassinet was also empty, but he found what he was looking for sitting in a big wooden rocker. Skinner hadn’t heard his knock because he was completely focused on the bundle in his arms. John crossed his arms and watched as the big man rocked slowly and cooed softly at the little person. 
Skinner looked up when he realized he and his child were not alone. 

“Hey, whatcha doing?” he asked. 

“Watching a man fall in love,” said John with a laugh. 

“Too late,” chuckled Skinner, “that happened as soon as she popped out. Come on in and meet my daughter.” 

John walked over to stand behind Skinner’s chair. Skinner adjusted the bundle so that John could see the baby that was wrapped up so tightly. 

“She’s beautiful,” John whispered. 

“Yeah, she is,” agreed Skinner, a big dopey grin on his face. “Say hello to Uncle John, Olivia.” 

“You named her Olivia? That’s a nice name. Hey, girl,” cooed John as he reached over to stroke the sleeping baby’s soft cheek. 

“Yeah. Olivia Jane. Six pounds, thirteen ounces, eighteen inches long. We named her after Dana’s grandmother and my mother. You know, I’d always thought most babies look alike, but this little girl has my mother’s eyes. I mean, the same exact shape and everything. Even her eyebrows are like my mother’s. It’s amazing.” He stroked his daughter’s small head, pushing the little cap off to reveal… 

“Well, I see she’s got your hair,” teased John. 

“Very funny,” snorted Skinner. “She’s beautiful, yes she is, aren’t you, my love?” He lifted the baby in order to kiss her little round head. 

“Are you disappointed it’s not a boy?” asked John. 

Skinner was so enthralled by his daughter that he didn’t hear the question. John was startled when Scully answered him. 

“Are you kidding? He’s so in love with that baby that he wouldn’t care. I’m beginning to wonder if I should be the tiniest bit jealous. Hi, John, how’s Monica?” 

John leaned over and kissed Scully on the cheek. 

“She’s fine. I’ve managed to feed her, so she’s doing just fine. Have you eaten anything? How are you feeling?” 

“Yeah, Walter got me some breakfast before I took my shower. It’s a good thing, too, because I don’t think I’m gonna be able to pry Olivia out of his arms for a while. Walter, you’re gonna spoil that child.” Scully smiled happily at her husband and daughter. 

“No more than I spoil you,” he said as he put his arm around Scully’s waist and pulled her in for a kiss. “I love you, and I always will. As much as I love our daughter, you will always be first in my heart, you know that.” 

“Why don’t you ever say anything romantic like that to me?” said Monica as she stood in the doorway. “Nobody came to visit me, so I decided Paul and I needed to take a little stroll and see the newest Skinner.” 

John rushed over to her and helped her as she made her way slowly into the room. He took his son from her arms. 

“Hey, I’m as romantic as Skinner,” protested John as he gave her a big kiss. “It just SEEMS like he’s more romantic because no one ever expects anything like that from him.” 

“When do we get to go home, Dana?” asked Monica as she sat gingerly on the edge of Scully’s bed. 

“Probably by noon, although we can stay until tomorrow, if we want.” 

“Not me,” said Monica with a sigh. “I want to get home and start taking care of my baby in my own place.” 

“You’re mom and dad will be here in a few hours,” reminded John. 

“Oh, they’re all right,” said Monica with a wave of her hand. “I just want to,” she sighed, “I just want to start feeling like a family, instead of a patient. Paul and I need to get the hang of breastfeeding, and I think we’ll have more success at home.” 

“The first couple of days are the hardest,” admitted Scully. “But once your milk comes in, it’ll be a lot easier. Just remember, he’ll let you know when it’s time to eat. And it’ll feel like he wants to do that all the time. Speaking of which, I think your daughter is ready to step up to the trough. Hand her over, Walter.” 

Sure enough, little Olivia had started to grunt and fuss, turning her head from side to side as her blanket touched the sides of her face. Skinner watched fascinated as Scully, with no embarrassment, opened her gown and maneuvered her nipple towards the baby’s groping mouth. She grimaced slightly as the baby latched on, but smiled as the baby greedily started to suckle. 

“Piglet! If you keep this up, you’re gonna be bigger than Paul before you know it.” 

By eleven thirty, both women were anxiously awaiting discharge orders from their doctor. John and Skinner had already been down to the billing department and handled the financial aspects, and both sat in rockers in Monica’s room, holding their babies as Monica and Scully paced the floor. 
“Where the hell is Dr Brownlee?” asked Monica for the umpteenth time. 

Just then, there was a soft knock, and both women called out, “Come in.” 

Scully looked at Monica and shrugged her shoulders. “Sorry.” 

Instead of Dr. Brownlee, two men walked in. Deputy Director Kersh led his brother-in-law, Judge Clarence Brookes into the room. Both women exclaimed their surprise and went to kiss the man who had been trapped with them. DD Kersh then introduced him to the proud fathers. 

“So, you’re my invisible groom,” chuckled Judge Brookes as he shook Skinner’s hand. “Nice to finally meet you face to face. I guess I can safely sign the marriage license, now that I know you really do exist.” 

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” said Skinner. “I can’t tell you how much I…Agent Doggett and I appreciate everything you did for Monica and Dana. If you hadn’t been there…” 

“Oh, pshaw,” scoffed Judge Brookes with a wave of his hand. “I didn’t do anything. I was just…there. They would have probably done just as well without me. The only thing I can take any credit for is getting you two married before this lovely child was born. A girl, I presume, with the pink blanket. Hello, young lady,” he cooed to the sleeping child. 

“Yes, sir. Her name is Olivia. And this is Paul Antonio, Monica and John’s baby. He’s the one that kept everyone so worried while we tried to get them out.” 

“Well, a fine looking young man,” complimented Judge Brookes. “How do you do, young fella? Good sized boy, Mr. Doggett. I suspect he’ll be bigger than you before you know it. So, a boy and a girl, well, that’s just wonderful. Hmm, I hope I live long enough that I’ll get to perform their wedding ceremony also.” 

John and Skinner both started. The thought had not occurred to either of them that their children, these two little babies, might one day grow up and… 

Skinner held his daughter closer to his chest as he eyed John’s son with suspicion. He WAS a big boy, and his little girl was so small and delicate…he’d better teach her defensive moves as soon as she was able to walk. 

Monica and Scully shook their heads and rolled their eyes. Judge Brookes guffawed. 

“Well, we don’t want too stay long, I can see you’re getting ready to leave. I just wanted to come by and make sure everyone was all right. And to ask, if you don’t mind, if I could get a picture taken with all of you.” Judge Brookes waved a digital camera at them. “Alvin, if they don’t object, would you mind taking the picture?” 

Kersh took the camera and everyone moved around to get into position. First, a picture of the judge with Monica and Scully was taken. Next, the ladies with babies and the judge. Then, the judge holding both babies. At last, Monica, with John holding young Paul on one side of the judge, with Skinner and Scully and little Olivia in her father’s arms on the other. 

As he started to leave, Judge Brookes handed each of the mothers a small box. Inside of each was a leather-bound Bible. On the fly cover of each he had signed his name and dated it, along with the words from Psalms 9l:9-11. “If you make the Most High your dwelling-even the Lord, who is my refuge- then no harm will befall you, no disaster will come near your tent. For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.” 

“Bless you all,” he said, after Monica and Scully had tearfully kissed him again. “Oh, and if you all decide to have more children, please let me know. Not that I’m willing to get caught in another elevator, but I’d like to be around to at least get acquainted.” 

“There’s not going to be any more,” said Skinner emphatically. “This was too hard on both of us.” 

Scully looked at him askance. 

“I agree,” said John. “One is plenty.” 

Monica raised her eyebrow. 

Judge Brookes looked from one lady to the other. They both smiled secretly and Scully held up two fingers. 

“Two years,” she mouthed. 

Judge Brookes nodded and started to laugh as he left the room. 

“Alvin, I almost feel sorry for those two men.” 

“I know,” sighed Kersh. “They’re whipped and they don’t even know it.” 

“Aren’t we all, Alvin, aren’t we all? And would we trade places with anybody?” 

“Nope,” admitted Kersh. “And I doubt seriously they would either.” 

The End.