#because it’s finals week. so I guess I should put some stretchy pants on and go to the store and get my coke and have lunch and go to campus

[fractallogic]

Today’s holdup: “I would love some shin ramen right now. I should totally go to the store to get a big-ass coke for caffeination and enjoyment. But maybe I should go to the gym NOW because it’ll probably be busy if I try to go after I’m done on campus. But I haven’t really eaten anything yet today and if I go to the gym I’ll have to wait to eat the ramen until god knows when AND I also wanted to do the elliptical today so it’s definitely better to just wait until after work because otherwise I just won’t go and I need to get stuff done today and it’s already noon. I also need to get groceries and they’re definitely gonna notice that I just come in for a coke and then come in LATER for a full grocery shop, but also I don’t think I’m going to get groceries tonight because that’s too much time I think to do after I gym and shower, but what am I gonna have for dinner if I don’t get groceries?????”

So I’ve been leaning on my bed for half an hour because I’m in this stupid fucking paralysis; how are you doing today

#don’t even get me started on the question of whether I should go directly to the gym after work #I solved that already and the answer is YES #but first I had to look through my junk drawer to find the paper with the combination to my lock on it #because. well. I actually didn’t think about just going to work in my gym clothes because I forgot I’m not gonna see anyone today #because it’s finals week. so I guess I should put some stretchy pants on and go to the store and get my coke and have lunch and go to campus #Jesus fucking christ I am so tired of my brain

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

Could I request the reader being a seamstress and she makes clothes for the bayverse boys similar to the rottmnt fashion bit?🤗

I was thinking about how chilly they must get sometimes and not having big enough clothes to layer up besides raphs knitting

I'm really sorry this has taken me so long to get to and I'm also really sorry that I'm not familiar with rottmnt at all, but I can do a version of this if that's ok too?

Leo

You've been working on this thing for a while now and it's almost perfect

it's a kimono style dressing gown

Leo always complains he's too cold in the mornings while he's drinking his coffee

it's practically a morning ritual

so you decided to do something about it

partially because you care about him and also because Raph has smashed two coffee mugs with his bare hands from how annoyed he is that Leo always complains about being cold

it's a beautiful dressing gown

white fabric with little royal blue illustrated roses all over it

you'd put your heart and soul into it

so the next morning after you stay over you decide to wait until it's time

Leo sips his coffee and gives a little shiver

"Damn, why'd we choose to live in a sewer again. Heat rises so it's the fucking coldest down here-" this was his usual monologue about the temperature

"Well, I have just thing thing then" you pull out a gift bag and hand it to him

he smiles while opening it and then his eyes widen as he pulls out the kimono you made him

"do you like it?"

"Like it? I love it! Where did you find one big enough for me?"

you tell him how actually you made it and had to guess the measurements a little bit but you can always adjust it if it doesn't quite fit over his shell

he looks at you with such pride in his eyes as he puts it on before going to find a mirror

it's clear how much he loves it and he wears it every morning without fail

Raph

What's the one thing that pisses Raph off more than anything?

how many damn pairs of pants he's split because of those watermelon crushing thighs of his

it's a constant battle o work out as much as possible but also not destroy every pair he owns

so you come up with a little plan

you spend all of your free time sewing as many pairs of stretchy, comfortable pants in a yoga pants style as you can for him

just as you're done you hear it

"god fucking damn it!"

he comes into the bedroom and you see the damage

he's split his most recent pair right down the butt

he slams the bedroom door shut and he turns around to look in the mirror

"I swear, I swear we spend more money on pants than anything else in this godforsaken home! it's the dead lifts that did me in this time. Fucks sake"

you giggle a little because it's an exaggeration but it's not too far from the truth

"babe, this might help then"

you hold up the last pair you just finished sewing

they were great, elasticated material in a camo print with deep red stripes down the side

"Darling, you're a life saver!"

you tell him that you're not done there

revealing the 5 other pairs of pants you sewed (ranging from reds to blacks to other cool prints) he grins at you

"it's like Christmas has come early"

he's thrilled and you can tell

from now on he's most stylish out of his brothers every time they train or work out

Mikey

So Mikey has a small obsession as of late

it's your own fault, really, you're the one who let him watch mission impossible

but it's those damn black gloves they wear while spying in the movie

he thinks they're the coolest thing ever

but, alas, his hands are not like those of a humans so he can't get a pair

you catch him humming the mission impossible them tune as he does every day things

it's getting to be a little annoying to the others but you think it's cute

so you decide to make him a pair

you find the best quality faux black leather that you can

and tell him that you're doing an arm project that involves one of his hand prints so you can get a good estimate at the size you're gonna need

he's happy to oblige

after a couple weeks of secret sewing you're finally done

"hey, Tom Cruise, I have a surprise for you!"

he's immediately interested.

you always give such good surprises and presents so you've got his full attention now

you whip out the pair of gloves you made him and he gasps

"they're! They're exactly what I wanted! thank you so much, sugar bear!!"

the next few weeks are full of Mikey doing every day tasks but calling them "missions" because he's wearing the gloves

also more of the theme song being hummed very loudly

Leo told you that you never should have made them for him because it's driving them all insane

you think it was worth it to see that look on his face

Donnie

Donnie spends so much of his free time in his lab

it's one of his favourite hobbies and you love that for him

you call him your little mad scientist which he adores

but what does every mad scientist need?

a good lab coat

so you set to work

it's going to be a birthday present for him, you decide

he's always loved the clothes you made for yourself so why not let him share in the fun

it's an excellent coat

loads of pockets and it would cover his shell well and go down past his knees

white fabric, of course, but, embroidered on the front would be his name in purple thread with the words "resident mad scientist" underneath

his birthday comes around and you want to be the first to give him his present

so you wake him up, not too early he needs his sleep, on the day of his birthday with a kiss

you tell him to close his eyes as you place a gift bag on his lap

he immediately smiles and tells you that you didn't have to get him anything

but the huge grin tells you that he's happy you did

when he opens it and pulls out the coat he's in shock

"for me? Really?"

it's quite clear that he is thrilled with it, mainly because he tells you that he is about 17 times

he wears it every day in his lab and always apologies when he gets chemicals or stains on it but you tell him that's what it's for

there are some days where he just doesn't take it off because he says it's too comfortable

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt donnie #tmnt mikey #tmnt raph #tmnt leo #seamstress

[walviemort]

Fairy Godfather, part 3

Summary: The fairies have asked a monumental favor of Killian: be the surrogate for their babies—all nine of them. He’s been pregnant before, but this? This is a whole other level. What has he gotten himself into? And just how big will he get?

A/N: Another update! Thank you to @sancocnutclub​ for her continued encouragement...which will be very apparent in part 4 ;)

rated T / 2.4k words / part 1 / part 2 / AO3

Though he had just passed the first trimester mark in this oversized pregnancy, Killian was pleased to find he was not lacking in the energy department. Granted, his first pregnancy had been similar—he’d had the most energy during the second trimester, despite the increasing size of his belly.

But his belly was a fraction of the size back then. Now, at 13 weeks, it was much closer to the size he’d been at 35 weeks with Hope. But he had yet to slow down—as evidenced by his and Emma’s morning activities; he was even on top.

There was no denying his present form was bulky, but he’d been too fatigued at this size with Hope to do much but sleep and eat. That was not a problem now, and both he and Emma were reaping the benefits. Reaching orgasm while she was caressing his bump? It was impossible to describe how amazing that felt.

However, he’d hardly finished when Hope began to cry out from her nursery. As much as he was still feeling good, moving did take a bit more effort than it had. This bump also weighed as much as his last one, and was only going to get heavier; at least it hadn’t dropped yet. But it meant that Emma was still quicker to her feet than he was, and sprang up to retrieve their 13 month old before she tried to climb out of her crib on her own.

Hope finally figured out walking a month or so ago—just in time for her first birthday—and he was well aware of the comical sight he’d made at her party, chasing after her with his protruding stomach. But at least he still could, even if he got winded more quickly than he’d like. 

Tink had been snickering at him during one such moment. “Hey,” he chastised and patted the bump. “Your kid is in here, so I’d watch the mocking when it comes to running after mine.”

“That’s fair,” she’d conceded. “Just let me know when you need help, though—I’ll gladly go after the little hellion.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

They hadn’t needed her help yet, but it was only a matter of time—especially by the sound of tiny but insistent footsteps that were getting faster every day as they ran down the hallway. 

“Dada!” her little voice called out as she charged into the room and threw herself against his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“How’s my little cygnet today?” he enthusiastically replied as he bent down to pick her up. He had to open his legs to make room for the bump, but it was still an achievable feat, and Hope giggled as she flew into the air and the curled in as he carefully tucked her into his side. 

After a brief cuddle, she squirmed for him to set her down on the mattress, and gave his bump a gentle pat. “Hi babies,” she said (or tried to; some of those sounds were still being worked on). She’d noticed the bump a few weeks ago, once it had really started popping out. They couldn’t tell if she actually understood what was going on—and were glad she was young enough to not have to explain it—but she was at least careful and affectionate. 

He just hoped that continued as she grew steadier on her feet—and he grew larger and less so. 

Hope tucked herself back into Killian’s side and Emma sat down on the other. “This is a pretty perfect morning,” she sighed as she laid her head in his bare shoulder. “Do I really have to go into work?”

“I’m of the same opinion—but wasn’t Tiger Lily coming for training today?” She was the fairy who’d offered to take over his deputy duties once he no longer could—and he had a hunch she'd be an acceptable long-term hire. 

“Yeah,” she complained. “Just wish it could wait another day.”

“Or,” he suggested, “we get through today and then we can spend tomorrow in a similar manner.”

“I like the way you think,” she replied, then pulled him in for a kiss. 

He set Hope down on the bed, where she proceeded to tackle the pillows, and went about the process of getting dressed. His sleep pants still fit, although they were reaching the point where they were almost too snug on his hips, which had definitely widened more than last time. 

Thankfully, his maternity jeans were as stretchy as ever, and he hadn’t yet exceeded their capacity; the elastic panel hugged his belly comfortably as he slipped them on. 

Emma had bought him a collection of soft, short-sleeved t-shirts a size larger than he typically wore, and one of those slipped on easily, but the bump still stood prominently under navy cotton. Hopefully, they made these in several larger sizes. 

They stopped at Granny’s before heading to their respective workplaces for the day, and Killian consumed a larger stack of pancakes than he’d like to admit; good thing Belle took his measurements yesterday. At least there was also a generous side of fresh fruit. 

When he and Hope arrived at the library, he was only semi-surprised to see Blue there; she seemed to be showing up once a month or so to check in, but today had another goal. 

“Would you be okay with getting an ultrasound?” she asked. 

That was shocking. “Sure,” he said, “but will it be okay for them?” he countered, rubbing his belly. Inside, they seemed to be fluttering nervously. 

“If it’s fine for a human baby, it should be for them. It’s just—I see all these thorough notes and comparisons, and I’m curious what that would reveal.”

“Whale says he has an opening,” Belle added, phone in hand. “Shall we?”

They did, and headed out en masse to make the short walk to the hospital. At least, it should have been short, but Hope insisted on walking on her own and Killian’s pace wasn’t as fast as it normally was. 

Whale met them in the waiting room when they arrived, though, an eager look on his face. “Wondered if I'd see you this time around,” he greeted. “I’ve gotta say—I’m pretty curious about this.”

“Aren’t we all,” Killian answered dryly, bracing his hook against his lower back. 

“Come on; let’s take a peek in there,” Whale beckoned, and led them to an exam room. 

Killian passed Hope off to Blue and began the process of climbing up on the exam table; again—he was doing fine on the energy front, but a large bump was a large bump, and it not only was an obstacle to his mobility, but he was carrying around some weight he hadn’t been 13 weeks ago (and in more places than just the bump).

But he managed to get up there and lifted up his shirt without prompting; he knew the drill. During his seemingly arduous climb, Whale had been looking over Belle’s notes from both pregnancies. “Damn,” he commented. “I think your notes are more detailed than my charts.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Killian called out; Whale just chuckled and moved to ready the ultrasound machine while Belle rolled her eyes and readied her pen. 

Killian had forgotten how cold the gel was, but he got over it quickly as Whale began to move the probe over his (thankfully stretch mark-free) stomach. 

“Well I’ve never seen that before,” Whale said after a bit, and everyone focused on the screen. 

“I thought those were only in black and white?” Belle asked. 

“They are,” Whale confirmed. 

And yet, as the tiny images of multiple babies appeared on the screen, each one was showing up in a different color—the color of the orbs they started as. Tink’s green stood out front and center, but as Whale moved the probe over the dome that was Killian’s abdomen, all the other colors showed up, except—

“Where’s mine?” Blue asked, understandably worried. 

“Hmm,” Whale hummed, investigating. “One, two,” he started counting, finding 8 that were easily visible. “But it looks like…” He pressed harder on Killian’s belly, to the point of discomfort, but he didn’t complain—not when Blue looked so worried. 

“Yeah, there’s definitely one hiding in there,” Whale said. “I just can’t zero in. There’s some color bleeding through, though…”

And in between a pink-hued and navy-hued fetus, a bit of bright blue was visible. Blue sighed in relief. “Yeah, she’s just being stubborn,” Whale assured her. “You can probably blame it on Hook.”

“Hey!” he protested, but Belle’s snicker suggested she agreed.

“Anyways—from a development standpoint, yeah, I’d put you right at 13 weeks, although probably half the size. Were it a normal pregnancy, I’d guess you’d only go to 30 weeks or so, for safety—but I’m guessing that won’t be the case here?”

“No,” Blue said. “He’ll go all the way to full term.”

Whale whistled. “Thank goodness they’re small then.”

Several copies of the sonogram were printed off—as mysteriously colorful as they were on screen—with Killian taking one, another going in Belle’s notebook, and the rest going with Blue. There was some discussion of doing another ultrasound at the second trimester, but it was ultimately deemed unnecessary.

Whale bid them adieu but they lingered in the room, if only because it took Killian a bit to clean off the gel (he hated the way it got caught in the bit of hair on his stomach). Belle was wrangling the kids, but Blue was staring at the pictures, almost in awe. 

“You were worried, weren’t you?” Killian asked softly. “That she wasn’t there.”

“Yes,” Blue admitted. “It’s rare, but sometimes, they don’t all take. And I’ve just—I’ve waited so long for this.”

“I understand.” It had taken him and Emma quite some time to conceive Hope, and obviously they required assistance. 

“I guess I’ll just have to be patient,” she sighed. 

“Aye,” he agreed. “But—” He placed his hand on the top of his bump and furrowed his brow in concentration. “I’m almost positive she’s kicking my bladder at the moment.”

It drew the polite chuckle he was going for, but also meant he needed to excuse himself. Blue also took that moment to take her leave, but not without an emphatic thank-you.

He had to admit, as he shuffled off to the bathroom—he’d definitely been resentful of this arrangement to an extent. But seeing Blue’s genuine emotions there at the prospect of parenthood made that feeling dissipate. 

He was sure he’d have a mountain of complaints by the end of this, but being able to grant so many others the joys he’d found as a parent—that would be worth it. 

------------------------------------------------------

At 16 weeks, he hit the same measurements he had when he was at full term with Hope (literally those of the day before he’d gone into labor). But the bump still sat high on his frame. “I wonder if whatever magic is preventing stretch marks is also holding it aloft,” he quipped as he traced the curve of his belly. 

“It’s entirely possible,” Belle concurred. “Look at the difference.” In addition to measured data, she also had photographic documentation of his various milestones in both pregnancies; comparing the picture she’d just taken on her phone to the one from right before Hope entered the world, it was plain to see the similarities in how much they extended in front of him, but the difference in where it sat on his body. 

“We’ll see how long it lasts, though.”

In answer to his theory, he got another few weeks before things began to sit lower, though his stomach continued it’s outward expansion—a couple centimeters every week. But by his 17th week, he finally started feeling the pull of gravity and had to dig out the belly band he’d relied on the last month or so with Hope. 

But he soon noticed another issue. While he remembered what it was like to not be able to see his feet, and had gotten used to the obstacle about his midsection, he wasn’t prepared for it to stick out even more. 

Case in point: one morning during his 18th week, when he was attempting to surprise Emma with breakfast (usually she rose first, but a flurry of activity in his belly had woken him early). However, he was a bit farther from the stove than he was used to, as well as the cabinets, and he kept knocking into the chairs around the table; Hope was watching him from her own high chair in amusement, far more interested in his slapstick endeavor than her cereal. 

“What’s going on?” Emma’s sleepy voice asked after he cursed at nearly burning his belly on the oven. 

“Nothing,” he huffed, rubbing the spot on his bump that was just a bit too warm. “Just a failed attempt at treating my amazing wife.”

She glanced around, then smiled. “You were trying to make me breakfast but then your belly got in the way?”

“Aye,” he sighed. 

She walked over to him and pulled him into a hug—from the side, since she already couldn’t get close enough from the front—and turned his face towards her to kiss him. “You’re too sweet,” she said, tucking herself into his side. “And you treated me plenty last night,” she added in a low voice; he swallowed at the memory of their shared moment—probably one of the last times he’d be able to make love on top for a while, unless they got creative with the logistics, but dammit, he did it, and it was amazing. 

“I can finish this up; take a seat, okay?”

“I should be able to do this, though,” he complained. 

“And you will—in 5 months or so. But I told you I’d support you with this, so let me.”

He sighed again, but complied, and ignored the creak of his chair as he sat down (angled away from the table—he was also up a size in shirts, but his jeans were holding on…for now). “How did the gods see fit to bless this poor bastard with such an amazing woman?” he asked, watching the blush rise on her cheeks. 

“The same way they did for this lost girl,” she countered, then put a (heaping) plate in front of him. 

“I love you so much, Swan—thank you.”

She placed another kiss on his lips. “I love you too—always.”

Even if this wasn’t an ideal situation, he knew that he was blessed to have Emma at his side; he wouldn’t be able to get through this without her. 

-------------------------------------------------

thanks for reading! tagging @wyntereyez​ @jennjenn615​ @superadam54​ @ashley-knightingale​ @justsomewhump​ @teamhook​ @88infinity88​​ (let me know if you want a tag!)

#cs ff #killian mpreg #FAIRY GODFATHER #My ff

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Alright, and I am back with another update! But first, some stuff a friend noticed in the first few pages and mentioned to me that I didn’t take in when I went over them on my own the first time:

The park they’re in as kids is pretty close to the apartment complex Izuku and his mom live in! Considering that said apartment complex is right there in the background. Which probably isn’t a huge thing, but a neat thing to note.

The age these kids manifest their quirks at seems to be more preteen / teenage years, though I don’t know whether that’s just because it is later activation or because there were (subtle) quirks before that, with the glowing baby just being the one that had people sit up and realize something was actually going on.

Endeavor ad! And it has the time of that event that day, too - 8:14 AM! I wonder what he’s advertising… or perhaps it’s a news report? An interview of some kind? It might just be a ‘breaking news, we got Endeavor on our channel’ sort of thing. The only part that I can read is the first three katakana for the biggest text, which is ‘E-n-de’ and matches the wiki’s katakana for ‘Endeavor’. If anyone can get a good enough look at the smaller text in order to tell me what the rest says, I would appreciate it!

Just a few things, but obviously I need to up my observation game if I want to catch all this stuff!

[No. 1 - Midoriya Izuku: Origin]

So now we’re at Aldera / Orudera Junior High, with Izuku’s class being in their last year before high school. Since Japan’s schools start on the second week of April, we know this has to be that first week of school, because Katsuki’s still 14 and his birthday is April 20th, which would almost always be the third week of April / second week of school. 

What is that writing stance. You are going to have an old man’s back by the time you graduate high school. I mean, I wouldn’t know anything about that personally, cough cough…

Anyways! We get a look at Izuku’s class and their quirks, and what a collection. Also, with an attitude like that, no wonder this school is seen as bad, like, what the fuck dude. Not exactly a competent homeroom teacher, are you?

The ones that I can see, from leftmost row to rightmost row, are [1] floating hair, stretchy fingers, dark matter, [2] smokey arms, spike fists, stretchy eyes, frog throat, some sort of flash/illumination quirk, [3] rocky body, ???, stretchy neck, flamethrower arms, extra arms, [4] sharp hair, big chompers, wedge face, [quirkless], mouth face (seen in the next panel and holy FUCK new sleep paralysis demon), [5] horns, telekinesis, [explosion], buff bod, ???, [6] wind control, ???

WHY.

But yeah, this also establishes the first rule of ‘don’t use quirks in school’ thing that… also gets promptly ignored the several other times we see stuff set in this school. Which, what a shock, people sort of sliding around inconvenient rules.

Anyways, Katsuki has proven that he hasn’t changed since those first few childhood panels way back (checks) ten pages ago. And Izuku is being… very shy and trying to avoid drawing attention. But no shaking, particularly, just… wallflower mode, more like.

But yeah, Katsuki is not exactly on great terms with the rest of the class, who are rightfully pissed off at him treating them rudely and calling them extras. Though honestly, I’m surprised that they’re surprised he’s aiming for UA, it’s not like he wouldn’t have been obvious about that for, like, years at this point. You’d think they’d all roll their eyes and be like ‘yeah yeah we’ve heard this spiel before’ or something. IDK.

Oh man, and Izuku already KNOWS what’s coming, look at how he’s hiding his face!

Katsuki is, of course, Fucking Extra and hops on his desk, and gets right into bragging, where, AGAIN, this should have been stuff this class has known about for ages, why are they so shocked?? And huh, interesting, he’s not only interested in surpassing All Might, but also in being one of the richest people in the world. Wow, I cannot even with him, especially knowing he lives in this house in particular:

Which, it should be clear, is an EXPENSIVE lifestyle when most families live in modest apartments because of space being so valuable in Japan. 

God this is a fantastic image. I wanna frame it on a wall somewhere. Hori managed to convey all the emotions in one face and I admire the man for it. 

With the whole class laughing, there’s a thing I want to note that fandom seems to not pay attention to: they note that Izuku gets good grades! I’ve seen fics that basically have him forced to sabotage his own grades to avoid getting backlash, but like… no, I don’t think that’s actually a thing. 

[Also an aside, we finally see one more class quirk, which seems to be some sort of bulked up arm? It looks a bit like mummy bandages, as far as I can tell.]

Izuku gets into defending himself, saying there’s no precedent, but he IS defending himself against them, so again, he’s not cowering as much as some people seem to think he does based on fics, and clearly he’s still willing to stand up for himself to some degree. 

...then of course, Katsuki blows up Izuku’s desk and sends Izuku sprawling. And is pissed that Izuku apparently thinks he, who is quirkless, can somehow be on the same level as Katsuki. Izuku swears up and down that it’s not about Katsuki, that he just really wants to try, and this somehow pisses Katsuki off even more. 

I want you all to remember this image - save it on your computers, bookmark this post, whatever you need to do. We’ll come back to it in, oh (checks watch) about 284 chapters. Or maybe sooner in a separate post where I can put it under read more and avoid spoiling people more than this does. Because DAMN can I gush on this moment.

Anyways, we have a change of scene, right after noon, with a thief with a sludge transformation and,,,,,,,, legs and pants,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Where the fuck did those pants go, sir. Sir. What the fuck, sir.

Also, we get our first meeting with the OG dad, the sunflower man himself, who blooms into 255 kilos of muscle in one panel. Also, man I forgot about the fucking giraffe neck Hori used to draw him with, holy heck, why are you so l o n g.

L O N G.

...right, anyways, back to the school, which is apparently over for the day. The rest of the class is heading out, and Izuku’s back to his chipper self, even humming a happy note as he grabs his notebook-

Before Katsuki nabs it from his hands. There are a few people who’ve hung back who notice the title and pick fun at izuku, so I guess Izuku actually… doesn’t talk about his desire to be a hero that much in middle school, if the others are all so surprised about it. He apparently doesn’t even make his notebooks obvious to them, since this is the first time any of them seem to be seeing it. Which I mean, it makes sense if the class will tease him for it, but like. Even with Katsuki stealing the book, Izuku’s not super panicked or having a nervous breakdown.

But yeah, Katsuki just blasts the book, but! It’s just the cover singed (and edges) when we know he could have demolished that book entirely. Again, he’s definitely being a bully and a jerk here, but he’s got way more self-control than fandom likes to assume. 

Izuku’s upset because of his damaged notebook, and Katsuki just huffs and throws it out the window while saying he’s gonna be the only kid from Aldera to go to UA. And Izuku, EVEN WHILE STRESSING, thinks of him as vain for thinking that way! That’s not the first thought of someone too terrified to do anything.

Edit: As pointed out to me in [this post], it was Katsuki’s crony who was thinking of him as vain, not Izuku. My bad!

Also note the lack of damage to Izuku’s school uniform. I know I’ve seen fics where there’s a hole made and a burn scar left that Izuku has to tend to, but Katsuki, again, has not directly used his quirk against Izuku. We’ve never seen it, just the smoke and flash used for intimidation. I’m getting more and more confident that Katsuki has never actually used his quirk against a person, which I’m probably gonna get a bit more into during the battle training in a few chapters.

But yeah, the cronies / extras basically call Izuku lame and that he can’t face reality. And then we get this scene:

That’s not the face of someone afraid. That’s Izuku’s determined face.

Izuku is about to stand up to Katsuki again. The way he always has, the way he always will. There has never been a point in the series where Izuku has NOT stood up to Katsuki when he feels it matters, and that’s part of the reason Katsuki is so pissed with him every time he does - because Izuku REFUSES to see his place! Not once!

(Please, for the love of god, respect the Izuku who didn’t need a quirk to stand up to others. Who isn’t ‘broken’ or ‘terrified’ of Katsuki or anything like that. He’s a stubborn kid and we Stan That.)

Izuku, however, is not confident enough in this situation to want to press the issue, so he relents and says nothing when Katsuki prods him to escalate things. And then we immediately get to the ‘you idiot, don’t fucking suicide bait!’ but you can tell it’s been a stressful few moments for him. 

So yeah, the summary of this section is ‘Izuku is not an uwu suffering babey, and Katsuki is way more restrained than people seem to think.’ 

I’m cutting it off here since, again, we got a lot of info and character examination, and honestly this whole chapter is a long ass one (55 pages!!!!) and it’s establishing the entire setting from the ground up. And honestly, I’m just vibing in being Right about how I’ve been viewing the characters at the start of the series… even if i am guilty of sometimes playing with fanon for my own means…

Still, this is fun! Hopefully y’all are having fun too!

#chapter 1 #opening arcs #readthrough #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #yagi toshinori #we respect canon characterizations in this household #I love how hori handles characters and I will definitely be taking notes through this #this time with the formatting done BEFORE I post it

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Gotham Comic Con”

The Joker and his girlfriend decided to attend “Gotham Comic Con” this year dressed as The Batman and Cat Woman. It took Y/N some time to convince her boyfriend but here they are about to have fun and nothing could spoil the event. Right?...

“Oh my God, this is awesome!” you giggle entering the venue designated for the yearly special event “Gotham Comic-Con” dressed as Cat Woman.

The Joker is right behind you sporting The Batman outfit and he flexes his knees a few times, growling.

“What’s wrong?” you ask although you have a clue because J’s been complaining about since he got off the van parked on Lot B5.

“I hate these stretchy pants! I don’t know how that asshole does it!”

“You’re the one that insisted to come as Batsy,” you reveal point out the truth. “You could have been anyone else.”

“Like who?”

“Cinderella,” you elbow him and your boyfriend is not a huge fan of the concept.

“Why??!!”

“The drama, obviously,” you keep walking alongside him and he’s definitely ready to blow at your insinuation when you gasp. ”Baby, I think that’s Bane!” you gesture towards a massive individual flaunting a Sub-Zero costume.

“How can you tell?” The Joker squints his eyes and the bubbly Y/N has to say it:

“I would recognize his physique anywhere! Plus, he still has the scar between his eyes,” you pucker your lips and The King mumbles a bunch of PG 13 rated things regarding his business partner.

Why?

Last week they got into a brawling and almost killed each other.

The reason?

Y/N.

The Joker believes that Bane always flirts with you (which he does since he likes to refer to you as “a breath of fresh air”); stuff escalated until you had to break it up: J ended up with a busted lip, Bane with a cut between his eyes due to The Clown trying to stab him in the head and you ended up with an inflated ego.

“Hello Mister B.,” you tap the pile of muscles and he turns around to see who’s bothering him.

“Y/N!” he excitedly exclaims, immediately unhappy at the sight of his business partner. “Joker…” the low tone greets.

“Bane…” J sneers.

“What are you two doing here?” Bane inquires.

“Having fun; I finally convinced him we should do this and mingle for once. No better way to spend the day,” the bubbly comment pleases your conversation partner. “So we dressed up and here we are.”

“I must say you’re like a breath of fresh air,” Bane admires your skin tight costume and stilettos which prompts The Joker’s disapproval:

“If you want fresh air, go outside!”

“Make me!”

Oh no! Not again!

“Are you here alone?” you change the subject and distract them from getting into a fight. Not that you wouldn’t enjoy it, but… too many witnesses at the packed Comic Con, it could end up in a total disaster.

“With my niece and nephew. I lost them for a second and I’m searching the premises; they can’t be far,” Bane reports. “Which reminds me: I should get going and find them otherwise my sister will go ballistic. I’ll see you later, Y/N,” he acknowledges you and ignores your man.

“Bye Mister B.,” The Queen snickers at the evident teasing.

“Just her, huh?” The Joker grumbles. “What about me? Did you forget we have a meeting next week???”

“Too bad and super sad: I’m not talking to you!” Bane’s attitude emerges.

“I certainly could care less because I’m not talking to you either!” The King strikes back.

“Then what are we going to do?” Sub-Zero’s better judgement brings up a good argument.

“Y/N will translate!” J proudly states.

Oh no! Not again!

That means they will snarl and make weird noises and you’ll have to guess what it means; an absolutely excruciating task that even a breath of fresh air can’t accomplish without losing it.

Maybe you should let them kill each other. 

“Fine!” Bane decides and distances himself from the couple while the Joker shouts since he has to have the last word:

“Fine!”

“Mister Batman?” the 5 years old dressed as a hobbit shily tugs on J’s cape.

“Hm?” the fake vigilante looks down. The little boy suddenly sneezes and wipes his nose with the fabric as the mad man is less than lenient at someone ruining the outfit replica he paid a fortune to have.

“Goddamn…” and he can’t finish his sentence because a large group of screaming children surround him in a heartbeat.

“Batman! Batman!” they jump up and down hyped up to see their hero.

“Go away!” J attempts to reason with the sea of kids he has no patience for. Of course nobody can hear him over the deafening sounds that attract more offsprings and parents.

“That’s so cute!” one of the moms gushes and takes a picture. “It’s delightful seeing a guy dressed as The Batman performing such a public service for our town!”

“He loves people, especially babies, “ you lie without blinking and immortalize the moment yourself.

“Awww,” a few people sigh touched by your praises.

“He must be a nice dude,” a kid’s dad concludes and you sweetly smile from under your mask:

“You have no idea.”

Somebody from the crowd places an infant girl in The Joker’s arms and the mob goes ballistic!! Rosie cheeks keeps sucking from her binky, glaring at the interesting person.

Clapping, cheering and whistling intensify whilst J feels compelled by his increasing popularity to lift the 6 months old above his head for everyone to see how cool he is.

This is not bad, The King enjoys an endless string of applause and the sudden explosion occurring in the diaper followed by quite a foul smell puts an end to his exuberance.

“Jesus!” he crinkles his nose, appalled. “Whose kid is this?” he yells and the thrilled parent waves at him, taking back the stinky, adorable bundle of joy. “Uncle Batsy needs to run!!” J makes up a random plan although nobody can hear him: the noise is overwhelming after he hyped them all up.  “Let’s bail before they trap me again! Pretty soon I won’t be able to walk, Princess. Everything is crammed in there, a total mess! I hate stretchy pants!!” he addresses his woman and quickens the pace until an atrocious abomination stops him in his tracks.

A specimen mocking The Joker wearing a purple suit is getting quite the attention: over exaggerated red lips smudged over the lip line, tattoo on the forehead that spells “Cabbaged”, a bunch of cheap golden chains from the Dollar Store around his neck and a sloppy green wig complete the assemble in a cringy manner.

You are equally speechless and The Joker manages to utter:

“What… THE HELL… is that????!!!!”

“Ummm… a Clown?” your sassy remark doesn’t score high marks as expected; you feel his eyes burning holes through you.

“You’re hilarious! Would you like to share your standup comedy talents on the stage??!” his index finger points at the platform meant to host a guest appearance from Bruce Wayne in the next hour.

Courtesy of “Wayne Enterprise” sponsoring the event: free food and refreshments for everyone under 18 years old.

You don’t answer and pout, upset J’s pissed attitude is already ruining your mood.

“I’m going to kill that buffoon posing as me!” he inhales full of spite and reaches for the knife hidden in his left boot.

“You can’t…” you hesitantly halt his movement. “Dozens of people, that’s just asking for trouble!”

“I’m not going to let a prick disrespect me!”

“You won’t, we’ll figure something afterwards. We can wait for him outside in the parking lot and take care of it without drawing attention! Please?” you beg hoping he’ll listen to you. “Pleeeaaaase!!!!“ you insist, perfectly aware he’s about to commit murder regardless. “I have a bunch of VIP passes to take pictures with celebrities. You promised J!” you stomp your high heels, exasperated. “You promised we’ll have a fun date!!”

“Why do I have to take pics with celebrities?! I don’t like anybody!”

The look on Y/N’s face: sheer disappointment; most of her features are covered with the mask yet he can tell.

“But I like you so the most I’ll do is take a selfie with you!” The Joker makes amendments on his own terms.

The Queen sniffles, trying to bottle up her emotions and she can’t help it: she bursts up in tears at her boyfriend’s candor.

Oh no! Not again!

Why?

The King of Gotham says nice things maybe twice a year and each time you struggle not to cry but it’s impossible: how can one resist such charm?!

Your complete meltdown makes him roll his eyes while your shaky hand takes a picture of the royal duo.

“Ugghhh…” J’s grimace turns your attention towards him.

“What is it baby?” you wipe your tears with his cape.

He would probably criticize such affront still there’s a pressing issue taking precedent.

“Princess, these tights are making my legs numb. I can’t feel my crown jewelry anymore.”

“Huh?” you forget to weep, startled.

“Cursed stretchy pants! I think I won’t be able to have sex for a month!” The Joker stretches his feet, uncomfortable.

“What??!!!” you raise your voice, panicked. “A month???!!”

Hell no!

Y/N grabs The Joker’s right hand and starts dragging him after her, yelling:

“Out of the way! Out of the way, it’s an emergency!!” whilst everyone is wondering how can someone wearing those 7-inch stilettos can march so fast.

“Where are we going, Pumpkin?!” J is inquiring and you yank at his arm, alarmed.

“To the car!”

“Why?”

Y/N doesn’t have time for explanations: she basically flies across the parking lot to get to section B5, opens the van’s back door and shoves J inside. He lands on his abs as you relentlessly pull on his boots, accomplishing to take them off in record time. Then you heave at his tights, huffing a storm at the stiff garment:

“I’ll be damn if I’ll wait a month for a ride in Funky Town!”

A mother and her 11 years old son pass by and she covers his eyes, horrified at the indecency as she guides him throughout the maze of vehicles.

“There are children here!” the woman protests. “Get a room!”

Luckily, she wasn’t heard by The Clown and his girl because… victory! The stretchy pants are off, J only in his boxers now.

“How are you feeling?” you roll him and he exhales, assessing the damage succeeding Y/N swift actions.

“Not sure, same?... Sit on my lap,” J offers and you don’t need a second invitation.

“Well?” you hold in the anxiety reaching high levels under these dire circumstances.

“Dunno, kiss me and we’ll see.”

You kiss him and he purrs.

“Well?” you interrogate again.

“Kiss me again!” he orders and you put more passion into it since your future happiness depends on it. “Hmm…” J groans. “I believe things are improving.”

“Yeah?” Y/N is about to have another breakdown although J didn’t say sweet rubbish; it’s just that kind of occasion.

“U-hum!”

“Then… what do you say we go home and celebrate your recovery?” you whisper in his ear.

“What about Comic Con?”

“Screw it!” you hop off his knees. “I’ll drive, you focus on your convalescence, ok baby?”

“Ok,” The Joker agrees and begins to stride around the van as Bruce Wayne’s limousine happens to drive by, the billionaire preparing to attend the event he sponsored.

“Stop the car!” Bruce commands at the weird view in the distance: a man wearing a replica of his Batman suit-- helmet, mask, gloves, cape… but no pants or boots, the bottom part of his attire consisting solely of underwear. “Right when you think you saw it all…” he shakes his head in denial, oblivious about who the person is.

Mister Wayne should at least have some empathy for the man enduring those tights for as long as he could; it might not be a record, but who could ever beat the real Batman at wearing stretchy pants anyway?!

Also read: MASTERLIST   

https://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker jared leto #the joker #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagines #jokerleto #the joker suicide squad #joker suicide squad #mister j #mister joker #dc #dcu

[mxndoscyarika]

Home (Mando x female!Reader)

Requested by @karnita-mexicana: “Since requests are open what would you think of a padame and anakin type of relationship with mando and the reader where the reader is the queen of a planet and they have a secret relationship going on and it’s super fluffy 🥺👉🏾👈🏾”

Author’s note: It’s finally done! Sorry this took so long, I wanted to make sure I did it justice. Enjoy!

Summary: After weeks of anxiety, you return home to find a new addition to your life.

Warnings: none

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

The Razor Crest was silent as it approached the planet of Garamonde, a planet with lush green forests spattered with some of the most advanced cities in the system. As they entered the atmosphere, Mando picked up the child and placed him on his lap. “You ready to meet someone very special, ad’ika?”

Large dark eyes looked up at him curiously.

“You better behave once we get down there,” he teased. “Ok?”

The child smiled and let out a coo.

———————————————————————

“The mines will cease operation for the time being,” you declared, seated in your throne. “It’s no longer safe for the workers. Many jobs in the development sectors will open as we continue to develop more energy efficient devices; we’ll transfer them as appropriate.”

In front of you stood royal advisors, each carrying datapads with reports on various sectors. Although they were capable of handling everything with little input from their queen, you had made it a point during your time as ruler to remain as involved as possible.

The most recent problem seemed to be the state of Garamonde’s mines. The increased snow over the recent winter meant much more snowmelt once the weather warmed up. Mines set up near the base of the mountains were at risk of being covered by mudslides and collapsing.

“But our exports-”

“Will be fine,” you reassured. “We have much more to offer than metal, and we have a duty to protect and support all workers. This is not up for debate.”

“Yes, your majesty,” they all said in unison, bowing.

Standing up, you said, “Well I guess that settles things. You’re all dismissed.”

Your gown of purple and gold flowed behind you as you strode down the hall, guards trailing slowly as usual. You never quite understood why you needed protection in your own palace.

“Your majesty!” a voice called out. You turned around to see it was Javonor Talbri, one of the advisors who’d brought up an issue with taxation. “I have the reports you wanted on this datapad. Would you like me to give them to you now, or-”

“Leave those in my study,” you quipped, continuing to walk once he caught up. Just a few more feet, and you’d be free of all the formalities and gowns “I’ll go over them later.”

“O-of course, your majesty,” Talbri replied, gripping the tablet tightly.

“I’ll be sure to have a look soon,” you said absentmindedly, entering your chambers. Closing the door on him, you finished, “For now, I have other things to attend to.”

“Of course, your majesty! Forgive any pressure I may have put upon you. I simply just-”

Sighing, you pressed a button on the control pad by the door, which blocked any sound from entering your room. Talbri was dedicated and competent, but he never shut up.

The first thing that came off was the large pin holding together your hair and jeweled headpiece. Even after years of wearing heavy headpieces and hairstyles, you never quite got used to them. At least, not enough for them to be comfortable.

You then changed into some soft pants and a long-sleeved top, both made from stretchy but durable fabric. Stiff heeled shoes were exchanged for worn-in boots with quiet soles. Digging through your wardrobe, you found your favorite cloak, a remnant of a visit to Nevarro. Well, before all the commotion began. Thankfully, it had died down since then.

In less than half of an hour, you were standing by a blue lake. Trees surrounded you, towering high and providing shade for the warm day. Spots of light littered the forest floor, much like how the buildings in the kingdom glittered during sunset. It was peaceful, but something was missing.

You inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, trying to calm the nagging in the back of your mind. Where was he? Did he make it out of Nevarro?

The snap of a twig behind you sends your reaching for your blaster, pointing it in the direction the sound came from. This forest wasn’t known for harboring dangerous creatures, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Hey hey hey don’t shoot, it’s me!” a modulated voice shouts. It’s Mando, and he’s got one hand flung out, the other occupied with a bundled up...blanket?

Letting your arm drop, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and placed your blaster back in its holster. You took him in, as if the mandalorian standing there could’ve been a figment of your imagination.

Fallen leaves and twigs crunched under your feet as you ran into the mandalorian’s arms, nestling your face against his neck. He still smelled like leather and the metal of the Razor Crest. The only difference was that he had new armor. Yes, finally, your Mando had come home. It was your Din. You pulled away. “I should shoot you for not sending a message to me for the past three months. Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry, I had some business to take care of,” he replied, holding you close. Well, as close as he could with the child on his other arm.

“You didn’t come home,” you murmured, placing a hand on the side of his helmet, where his cheek would be. “I was so worried. I flew all the way out here and waited for you. You never came.”

“I-I know,” he said, voice strained. “It’s a long story.” The bundle in his arms squirmed a little, drawing his attention back to it. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, cyar’ika.”

You gasped softly as the child poked its head out of the blanket, big eyes looking around at everything. The sky, the trees, Din, and you. Your heart melted as it smiled up at you and reached out. Tucking yourself to his side, you asked, “Is this what kept you away for so long?”

He nodded. “It was one of my bounties. But it’s just a kid. I couldn’t live with myself if I turned it over and walked away. So I broke it out and we’ve been on the run since.”

You frowned. “But your creed...that means it’s...”

“It’s a foundling in my care,” he answered. “And according to the creed, I’m its father now.”

You laughed softly, stroking the child’s ear with a finger. “I never thought I’d see the day that the big bad Mandalorian settles down with a baby of his own.”

“Neither did I,” he replied softly. He looked down at you, taking in your smile and the child’s newfound fascination with your jewelry. “But here we are.”

There you were, indeed. You and Din had discussed having your own children before, but recent years left both of you stranded in your own ways. Transitioning into being a queen had drained you mentally and physically, and Din’s occupation didn’t leave much room for settling down.

“You could stay here,” y/‍n offered. “This place is pretty well hidden, and in all our years of coming here, no one has followed us.”

Din sighed and pressed his forehead against yours, keeping you close with a hand on the small of your back. Even through all the layers, you could feel his warmth against your spine.

“I wish I could,” he said, voice breaking. “But I can’t put you in danger by staying here longer than a few weeks at a time. Not until I know for sure that no one is after our ad’ika.”

Humming, you asked, “Our?”

“Yes. Unless you don’t want it? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just sprung it on you-“

“I’m just teasing, cyare,” you interrupted, pressing a kiss to the side of his helmet. You reached over and let the child grab onto your finger. Smiling, you continued, “I always knew you had a soft spot for foundlings. Remember when you gave me that idea to reform the foster care system?”

“Every child should have a home they can return to,” he rasped, looking down at the child in his arms. “Even if they’re not related by blood.”

“Well, this foundling is very lucky to have you.” Noting the setting sun, you added, “We should get inside, you must be tired.”

The cottage was small, but it was enough for both of you. No amount of luxury or extravagance could replace the intimacy of living with loved ones. Din immediately spotted the satchel of cooking ingredients sitting on the counter, no doubt containing everything needed to make tiingilar, a traditional mandalorian casserole dish. You knew what your riduur’s line of work entailed, and home-cooked meals were few and far between. So, you and Din had eventually formed your own tradition of cooking a meal together whenever he returned to Garamonde. The only difference was that, this time, you would be joined by the child.

You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around the thought of it; that is, the fact that your Din now had a child of his own. Did that mean you would be as its mother? Or would the lack of marriage vows mean you would simply be an outsider to his new clan?

Once the food was ready, you two would sit back to back, a way of dining together while respecting Din’s religion. Until you and he were officially wed, you were forbidden to see his face. Part of you was disappointed at that, because you didn’t know how long it would be until you and Din were married; if you would ever have the chance to at all. But above all else, you respected him, and understood the gravity of the exceptions he already made for you. Sitting back to back while eating? He didn’t have to do that; he’d had to take his meals in isolation pretty much every day. But for you, he risked having his face seen. All so you could savor each other’s presence for as long as possible.

As you ate, you could hear the child’s squeals of joy and Din’s soft chuckles coming from behind you. He would say something in mando’a and imitate the sound of a speeder before feeding the child yet another spoonful of tiingilar.

“Your mother is a great cook, isn’t she?” he mused, mostly to himself. You were glad he couldn’t see you, because you felt your cheeks burn hotter than the two suns.

When it came time for the child to sleep, you two gathered blankets and pillows to line a woven basket. “I’ll have a proper bed made for him once I return to the palace,” you said quietly, not wanting to disturb the drowsy baby. “But this will work for now. Cuun ade je morut’yc.”

Our child is safe.

“Cuun ade je morut’yc,” Din repeated, his heart swelling with affection when you claimed the child as yours.

After washing up and taking off his armor, he slid under the blankets, lying on his back. The sheets rustled as you followed him onto the bed shortly. Although you both couldn’t see, you easily fell into comfort. His presence was familiar and soothing as you practically melted under his touch. You could feel his entire body relax underneath you, weeks of tension leaving him.

“You should stay,” you said softly, head resting against his chest. He was so warm and gentle, a stark contrast from the beskar armor he donned. “It’s safe here. You and ad’ika would have my entire military’s protection.”

“Even if we didn’t have our ad’ika, you know I wouldn’t be able to,” Din said, his unmodulated voice sending shivers down your spine. “Your people wouldn’t approve.”

Lifting your head to face him, you asked, “Do you really think they won’t approve?”

You cradled his face in your hands, tracing the stubble lining his jaw. The curtains in the bedroom were drawn closed to block out any light, giving Din the safety of removing his helmet. Your thumb pressed lightly against his plush lips, feeling his warm breath against your fingertip. Kissing him between each word, you pondered, “Do you really think they’ll disrespect their queen’s choice? Disrespect their king and their child?”

Din groaned softly, his hands wandering south. One arm remained secured on your hip while the other pressed you against him, sliding under your shirt. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me as your king, and ad’ika as our heir.”

#the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal #baby yoda #star wars #my writing

[71tenseventeen]

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life Too)-13

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

Warnings for sexual content, male pregnancy, non-hockey Sid. Sid and Taylor’s ages have been altered to fit the story.

Perpetual credit to my betas, @queen-alia and @icosahedonist as well as the GC and @ljummen.

September

Sid frowns down at his pants as he struggles to button them. He didn’t think he’d gained that much weight. He’s able to suck in just enough to slip the button through the hole and throws his arm in the air in triumph. “Ha!”

Then he lets his breath out.

“Fuck.”

This is not going to work. “Fuck,” he snaps again into the empty room as he pops the button and peels them off. These are his best jeans and he’d been counting on wearing them to this appointment. He’d also been counting on them lasting a few more weeks until he could figure out a way to get a few stretchy pairs of pants. With a sigh he gives them one last glance and digs out his best pair of shorts and is relieved when they button (barely) without causing him (much) discomfort. Glancing at the clock he curses again and pulls on his navy blue tee and shoes before racing out the door.

The highway is slow-moving today and he’s five minutes late when he finally pulls into the driveway where Geno is waiting for him. Sid scrambles out of the car thinking he probably should have just met him there. “Sorry, the highway was insane. I’ll leave earlier next time.”  

“Not worry. We have enough time if we leave now.”

Once they’re in the car Sid leans his head back and lets out a breath.

“You okay, Sid?”

“Hm?” Sid lifts his head and fidgets with his fingers. “Oh, yeah I’m fine. It’s just been a busy day. I only got off work an hour before I had to leave.”

“Thought you supposed to be off at noon today.”

Sid shrugs. “We’re still short-handed.”

Geno frowns but thankfully doesn’t pursue the issue right then. “You work early tomorrow?”

Sid shakes his head. “Day off.”

That makes Geno smile. “Have plans tomorrow? Maybe you can stay?”

“I guess I could. I don’t have any plans but I think I have to buy some pants tomorrow.”

“Pants?”

“I, uh, some of them are getting kind of tight.” Sid has no reason to be embarrassed about this but that doesn’t stop his cheeks from heating up.

Geno looks absolutely delighted. “You growing!”

Sid groans. “Geno, come on.”

“So exciting, Sid.”

Sid crosses his arms and mumbles. “You wouldn’t think so if it were you.” He’s aware he’s pouting now.

“Okay, fair,” Geno laughs. “Maybe not. Just a little bit excited to hear. Is progress, you know? But I tone it down for you, okay?”

Geno pokes his arm lightly and keeps grinning until Sid reluctantly looks over at him with a smile “Yeah, okay.”

Sid’s not terribly nervous until they pull into the back parking lot of a small building and head for what is clearly a private entrance. Instead of checking in at a front desk, a woman in an immaculate and very expensive-looking dress meets them and leads the way to a private office full of furniture that probably cost more than all the furniture in his parents’ house. Everything here is about ten times fancier than anything he’s used to and he finds himself fidgeting as she starts to ask him a series of new patient questions.

Despite the fact that they already have his old records it still takes more than twenty minutes. Before Sid has a chance to get his bearings, she’s leading them two doors down the hall to a private exam room. He’s never seen anything like it. There’s a leather armchair and loveseat, a mini fridge and even a microwave. “Help yourself to refreshments,” she offers before she leaves. He’s relieved when she steps out so he can change.

“You want I leave while you change?”

Sid shakes his head. He’s not entirely sure why he’s so nervous but having Geno nearby is comforting. He slips into his gown and hops up on the table noting that apparently no matter how fancy the medical establishment, gowns are still ugly and ill-fitting. He doesn’t realize he’s fidgeting until a big hand settles down over both of his in his lap.

“Hey, what wrong? You okay?”

Sid lets out a breath. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

Geno cocks his head. “What nervous about? This hurt?” He glances warily at the tray of tools that has been prepared for Sid’s exam.

“No. I mean it’s not my favorite but I can handle it. I guess I just feel out of place here.”

“Why?”

“Geno, come on. You really think my last doctor’s office had”—he gestures towards the armchair and table with a copies of magazines like Elite Mother stacked on it—”stuff like this?” he continues.  “There wasn’t even a plastic chair in most of the rooms I was in, and refreshments?” He hops down and plucks up one of the magazines and feels a little sick as he reads the headlines. “‘Post Baby Plastic Surgery’? ‘How Early Is Too Early for Boarding School’?” Sid’s eyes go a little wide. “‘Armani Spring Baby Collection’?! Geno I—”

Geno cuts him of, gently plucking the magazine away and putting his own hands on Sid’s arms. “Sid, look at me. None of that matter.”

“How can you say that? Geno, I don’t belong here.”

“Yes you do. You have our baby. Stupid magazines not matter, we know we not be like that. Most important thing that we get good care for you and baby and protect our privacy. Can do that here. Is all that matter. The rest of it”—he gestures towards the magazines—”just stupid stuff we ignore. Neither of us want to raise baby like that.”

Sid swallows and looks up at Geno. “Are you sure?”

Geno frowns. “Of course sure! Not saying we not give baby opportunities, not do nice things for baby but not like that. Come on, Sid. Think you freaking out little bit here but going to be okay. We not know each other long time but you really think I’m that way?”

Sid lets out a relieved breath and slumps forward a bit. “No. Of course not. You’re right. God, Geno, I’m sorry. This is just a lot to deal with.”

“Is okay,” He slips an arm around Sid’s shoulders and squeezes gently. “Should maybe have prepare you better, too. But promise not want anything like that. Just want best doctor care for you.”

Sid nods and leans into Geno’s side. “Thanks.”

Geno smiles down at him. “Of course. By the way, have to say, you look stunning in gown.”

Sid pokes him in the side and ducks out from under his arm. “Oh my god, you suck,” he says but he’s pretty sure it gets lost in Geno’s laughter.

The doctor comes in shortly after that and Sid is relieved that she, at least, is wearing normal doctor’s scrubs. She’s friendly and he relaxes a little as she introduces herself as Dr. Agarwal (“But you can call me Cammy if you want”).

As far as exams go, it’s pretty standard, at least as far as Sid can tell. What’s not standard is Geno being there, asking questions about everything they do.

Dr. Agarwal asks Sid a lot of questions despite having reviewed his records already. It feels strange the first time Geno jumps in with an answer but then he’s joining the conversation more and more and Sid finds himself looking at Geno in a whole new light.

Geno gives input about everything from Sid’s nausea to his eating habits. He listens carefully when Sid gives answers and when the doctor speaks, asking question after question himself.  Sid knew Geno was determined to be involved in the pregnancy but until that moment, didn’t realize how much he already is.

Maybe Sid hasn’t been giving him enough credit.

When Dr. Agarwal asks Sid to lie back for an internal exam he’s surprised when Geno moves to the head of the exam table and shuffles around nervously. “Okay if I be here?” he asks worriedly and Sid reaches up for Geno’s hand.

“Yeah. I… Thank you.” He squeezes Geno’s hand. “Is this, um, okay?”

Geno squeezes back gently. “Of course.” Sid blinks up at him gratefully for a moment and then turns his attention back to the doctor.

The exam is uncomfortable but bearable and Geno holds his hand the whole time. When Dr. Agarwal is finished, she pats Sid’s leg and says, “You can put your bottoms back on if you want but keep the gown on. I’d like to do an ultrasound.”

“Really?” Sid asks, excited for the first time since he got here.

“I’d like to get some measurements. We can print some pictures for both of you, if you’d like.”

“Definitely, yeah. Please.” Sid nods and turns to Geno with a smile.

“We see baby?” Geno’s eyes are wide.

“Yeah.” Sid grins and Geno squeezes his hand.

“Sid,” he breathes, voice full of reverence. “We get to see baby. Hurry put pants on!”

Dr. Agarwal laughs. “I’ll be right back with the machine.”

Sid doesn’t think he’s ever seen Geno particularly nervous like this but now, with the lights down, squeezing Sid’s hand as the doctor begins to move the wand through the gel on Sid’s belly his eyes are still wide and glued to the screen.

“Here we go,” says Dr. Agarwal lightly and Geno gasps as their baby comes into view.

“Oh.” He breathes out and Sid squeezes his hand again.

They both stare at the screen while Dr. Agarwal goes through her routine, taking measurements and various pictures. Geno doesn’t take his eyes from the screen until she adjusts the wand and suddenly a tiny fluttering heart comes into view accompanied by the soft thump thump of it pumping away. “158 beats a minute. That’s perfect,” she says as they stare dumbfounded at each other.

“G…” It’s all Sid can manage to get out but Geno must understand because he just nods and his eyes are suspiciously wet but a bright smile breaks across his face.

“Is our little baby, Sid. Perfect heartbeat for perfect baby.”

“Yeah,” Sid says, smiling right back up at him.

Part 14

#Take My Hand #my fic #sidgeno #mpreg #rpf #thirteen

[mldrgrl]

Not Again: Part 2

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG13 Summary: See Part 1

Part 2: Returned Chapter 1

Chapter 2, Day 2:

The hospital has no reason to keep her, so they release her in the morning.  She’d forced Mulder to leave her bedside overnight, but she has a feeling he didn’t go far.  He was there too early, and wearing the same jeans and sweater he was wearing the day before for her to believe he’d found a hotel.  She’s left to assume he fell asleep in a chair outside her room, but she doesn’t ask.

Every time she’s gotten out of bed, she can’t understand the foreign feeling of her own body.  She feels fine, but she feels like a different person.  She isn’t used to the new weight and girth.  Simple things like leaning over are different and take effort.  Every time the baby moves, it startles her.  The mirror in the tiny hospital bathroom hasn’t given her as much of a chance to inspect the change in her body as she’s wanted and she’s anxious to leave.

First, she has to wait for Mulder to come back and take her away.  She’d asked him to please just find something for her to wear at the nearest mall so she doesn’t have to ride home in borrowed scrubs.  He returns with a sheepish look on his face and a dark-haired woman in tow.

“Scully,” he says.  “This is Agent Reyes.”

“Monica,” she says, smiling warmly and holding her hand out.  “I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

Mulder had told her about the agents he’d been working with the past six months.  Doggett and Reyes.  She knows Agent Reyes had been consistently working the case when Mulder had been ordered off of it.  She knows she should feel grateful, but she still can’t fully wrap her mind around the fact that she’s been missing for six months, let alone the large gap in her memory.

Scully shakes Agent Reyes’ hand and then gives Mulder an inquisitive look.  He hands her a shopping bag from Wal-Mart.

“I needed some assistance in the whole...figuring out what clothes to buy situation,” Mulder says.

Agent Reyes laughs.  “He was trying to outfit you from the gift section of a gas station down the street.”

Mulder puts his hands up in a guilty as charged expression and smiles.  There’s a clear bond between him and Reyes that gives Scully a pang of jealousy.  She wonders if there’s something going there.  They seem comfortable with each other, and Mulder isn’t one to be comfortable with another person.  She can’t handle another Diana Fowley coming into their lives.

“Thank you, I’ll just…”  Scully says, tipping her head towards the bathroom.

“Well, I just wanted to introduce myself and then say goodbye,” Agent Reyes says.

“Good bye,” Scully answers, relieved to be rid of the woman so quickly.

“I’ll walk you out,” Mulder says.  He puts his hand at the middle of Reyes’ back and smiles at Scully.  “Let me know when you’re ready.”

Scully is left alone in the room and she stands clutching the shopping bag to her chest for a few moments before she turns to the bathroom.  Inside the bag, there are toiletries and a pair of maternity pants, a tank top, a sweatshirt, underwear, socks, and shoes.  She doesn’t really understand how she feels about a strange woman picking out clothes for her, and doing a perfect job at it as well.  The pants are soft and stretchy.  The tank top is less constricting than a bra, but offers needed support.  It’s all so nice and comfortable that she feels irritated by it.

When she’s ready, she steps out of the room with nothing in her possession save for the sonogram tape.  She keeps the toothbrush, the mouthwash, and the deodorant from Wal-Mart, just in case, not knowing what the state of her things are at home.  

It’s a four hour drive home.  Mulder doesn’t stop talking.  He tells her about cases he was on while she was away.  She gets the feeling that he’s afraid to allow a silence to fall.  He’s never been so talkative on one of the car trips.  She would shut her eyes and pretend she’s tired, but because of the way the baby is positioned, she has to ask Mulder to stop about every half an hour so she can use the bathroom.

When he isn’t telling her about one of his cases, he’s telling her about Agent Doggett or Agent Reyes.  She prefers the stories about the cases.  Annoyance builds up inside her and she feels herself getting churlish.

“You and Agent Reyes seem close,” she says.

“Reyes?  We owe a lot to her.  She kept the investigation going and shared information with me even though she wasn’t supposed to.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She knew how much it meant to me.  And you know, I have to admit, it was nice not being second guessed all the time.”

There’s humor in Mulder’s voice and he reaches over to take her hand, but she moves it away and he pulls back.  It’s the only time the car goes silent until she asks him to pull over at a rest stop a few miles ahead.  He nods and smiles, but it looks forced.

*****

Her apartment doesn’t seem all that different.  Just a few things that she doesn’t recognize: a book on the coffee table with a marker about a quarter of the way through, a sky blue glass vase on the table in front of the window, a school photo on the refrigerator that she’s sure is of her nephew, but he has an unfamiliar haircut and looks more like a young boy than the toddler she last saw him as.

Mulder shows her different stacks of mail that he picked up and sorted.  He paid her bills, he tossed out junk mail, he kept the weekly newsletters from church.  There isn’t anything to eat in her refrigerator and he offers to go shopping for her, but she shakes her head.  There’s a market on the corner and she’s perfectly capable of taking a walk down the street to pick up a few things.

Her bedroom is the most unfamiliar.  She stands in the doorway and stares at new furniture and the spaces where treasured knick knacks were.  The bedclothes are new.  Even the paint is new.

“So, um,” Mulder says behind her.  “I helped you redecorate last year.  Some things got damaged and others you wanted to get rid of.”

“Why?” she asks.

“Do you remember Donnie Pfaster?”

She winces at the sound of that name and nods.  A cold shiver runs up her spine.

“He got out of prison and he came here looking for you.”

Scully blinks and tries to imagine what happened there to make her change her entire room.  When she feared she’d been violated, maybe it was…  She sucks in a deep breath and clutches the door frame.

Mulder is immediately there, his arms around her, a hand on her hip, another on her shoulder.  His chest presses against her back as he leans past her to look at her face.  “Are you okay?” he asks.

“When did this happen?”

“Last March.”

She breathes out in relief.  That’s too early.  “Where’s Donnie Pfaster now?”

“You killed him.”

“Oh.”  She twists herself free from Mulder’s embrace and takes the route through her bathroom to get back to the hall.

“It was ruled as self defense,” Mulder says, following her into the living room.

“I thought I had a plant here.”  She ignores him and touches the top of an empty side table by her wardrobe.

“Yeah, he wasn’t as lucky as you.”

She’d like to change out of these clothes, but she’s pretty sure what she’s wearing right now are the only clothes she has that will fit.  She’d like to take a hot bath.  She’d like to run to the nearest bookstore and grab a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting, because she has no idea what’s going on with her right now.  She feels restless and irritable and like she could weep at any moment and like she wants to get Mulder out of her apartment as soon as possible, but also like she wants to cling to him and beg him not to leave because she’s not sure how to be alone right now.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go to the store for you?” Mulder asks.  “It’s no problem.”

“Look, Mulder, I...I’m just not sure how I fit in right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve lost a year of my life between the six months I was missing and the six months I can’t remember.  I don’t know if I have a job.  I don’t know how to suddenly be nearly eight months pregnant, when in my head, I was only told a few weeks ago that I would never have children.  I don’t know how to deal with any of this.”

“We’ll take it day by day.  I’ll help you.”

“I think what I need right now is to be alone.”

Mulder shifts his stance, like he wants to come towards her, but keeps himself back.  He shoves his hands in his pockets and clenches his jaw.  His Adam’s apple bobs up and down and then he nods a little.

“I’m a phone call away, Scully.  If you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine.”

The door snicks softly shut behind him when he leaves.  She stands in the silence, listening to the seconds tick by from the clock in the kitchen.  She has no idea what to do now.

*****

After Mulder leaves, after she makes an appointment for a checkup with her doctor, and after she goes to the market to pick up a few things, she stands in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom, unclothed, and looks at the changes in herself.

Her hair is longer, past her shoulders, and lighter.  She twists the ends between her fingers.  It hasn't been this long in some time.  She wonders if she should have it cut before the baby comes, or if she should let it keep growing.  It's different, but she likes it.

Her breasts are larger and heavier and it makes her chest a bit tender to the touch.  She feels a certain relief when she cups her hands under both breasts and lifts them to test their weight.  She releases them slowly and touches her chest gently, easing her fingers across her sternum to avoid the sensitive skin.  

She turns to look at the roundness of her belly in profile.  She feels larger than she looks.  As she caresses the upper swell of her stomach, the baby moves and she stops, unsure if she's done something to cause the movement or if it’s normal.

She’s overwhelmed with sadness that makes her bottom lip tremble, but she bites back the emotion and takes a deep breath.  She wishes she’d been able to witness the subtle transformation of her body with the pregnancy.  She wishes she’d been able to experience it all, good and bad, morning sickness and heartburn and cravings and realizing her pants no longer fit and there’s a noticeable little bump that she’d be inclined to hide.

She’s grateful to be pregnant after all she’s been through, but she hates that something was still taken away from her.

*****

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #msr #season 8 au #here be angst #and sad scully

[darveyfics]

desk sex. or any sex. please.

Note: Also for the Anon that wanted some ‘Darvey Smut’ Let’s call it a Too-fer ;-)

Rating - M-ish (just to be safe)

.

They had awakened something with that kiss. 

Something long since buried. Something potent. Something that had begun to spawn more impulses of the same kind. At the time, both had reacted negatively, leaning towards anger and ambivalence rather than trying to understand their situation.

How they had both spent over a decade not touching was beyond them, now.

It had started…simply. 

He was single again. She was still angry at him, for making her out to be a ‘home wrecker’, like his Mother had seemed to be. For calling her selfish and unthinking in the only - possibly second - time in their lives that she had put herself first. Herself over him.

They had fought more in the last three weeks than in the last thirteen years.

When it came down to it,

He had changed it, with an ‘I love you’.

She had changed that, with a kiss.

It turns out… as fate would have it, they were always headed for this kind of place.

She can’t even remember what she’d said to him. But it had ended with him saying that ‘he wouldn’t let her leave again’. That walking out on him ‘was starting to hit him, hard’. She had spat words at him, and still he wouldn’t budge. He had seen a sharp side to her, then. For the first time in his life. She had been so angry she’d actually shoved him. She’d never been violent in her entire life, but their actions and words were starting to distress her. He made a mental note to avoid cornering a woman like her in the future. But he had caught her, still, despite her violent reaction, his strong arms locking stubbornly around hers to get her to stop. To get her to listen to his words. 

Their joined gaze had burnt like a fire, then, pressure long since held between them and now released, starting to flash like the hit points on a circuit board in the dim light of his office, long after their long work day…

“Let me go, Harvey.” She orders. 

“I can’t,” He breathes.

“Why not?” She presses.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,”

She takes the words like a punch, her body bending with the immense pressure of all that that sentence evokes between them. 

His hands slide quickly to the sides of her face, pulling her into his embrace, his lips crushing against hers with a blunt heaviness. He feels a flight in himself for the ghost of a moment, the notion that this action between them is wrong, until she kisses him back, her tongue sliding into his mouth, wet and purposeful and all at once, in a polar opposite he feels that sensation, again. The one he’s spent hours trying to pick apart, as it finally topples any doubt still left in his mind. It’s stronger than the last time, pulling at his core as it shoots up either side of his face, causing his cheeks to flush against jagged bone, and pulling deep down into his gut to chart a very old, buried need within him. He moans, his hands falling down around her waist, the impulse at him needing her physically closer, screaming in his mind like the lights of an oncoming train. 

He feels her hands on his chest, still firm, with a slight push against him as if she’s thinking about leaving rather than concentrating on him, as she should be. He wonders, idly, if she can feel his heart skip a hesitant beat at the possibility of her doing so. That pocket of ambiguousness, like a fear, that she’s going to up and leave him at any moment. Like all the times before…

He waits, each kiss testing if she’s going to leave. But she doesn’t, this time.

He realises, with her in his arms, reciprocative and sexually charged in a way he’s never seen directed at him before, that he’s terrified of losing her. Of losing all the different facets of their life together.

And that this…is his only real problem. 

Not infidelity. Or not ‘feeling’ anything for her. He feels it all, and he’d trample over twenty established husbands to get to her without so much as batting an eyelid. But he needs her. He always has. It’s ruined him for anyone else. And he’s been running scared ever since he realised the fact.

He wants her. But he wants it all, too. And he’s tried to tell her. Countless times. 

But she hasn’t listened, until now.

She smells and tastes like she did over a decade ago, like caramel, coffee and cherry blossom. 

Without recollecting how, he’s managed to push her gradually towards the front of his glass desk, made only apparent when she jumps slightly in his arms, and they break apart, heaving breaths in the space between. 

Her eyes shoot to the desk, and then to his own eyes, as her tongue darts out, tasting him on her lips, as if she’s trying to gauge the legitimacy of the situation. 

“Harvey?” She breathes, the question unsure just like the look in her hazel eyes. 

“I need you. Right now.” He admits in a flurry of words, as he covers his own name on her lips with his own, now swollen as they push hers apart with a raw and electric need. He sucks on her mouth, and somehow it seems to centre her, as her hands slide slowly around his neck.

She gasps, when his hips press against hers, his prominent need constricted in his rather expensive suit pants. Her hands rush, scratching over the thin material of his shirt just below his ribcage and awakening the muscles of his abs, as they clench at the contact. He smiles against her lips at the action, as they slip against her cheek, before sucking roughly on the delicate skin of her neck. 

“Oh God…Harvey,” She breathes, his name pulling out like a thready command as her hands rake through his short hair. He knows she’ll be pissed if he leaves a mark. But he doesn’t care anymore, his mind riding on an overdrive as he grinds against her left hip, making his intention known to her as his hands splay over the soft stretchy cotton material of her dress. 

It excites him in a second, the idea that the gods have realigned for this one moment in time to provide all of this on a day where she isn’t wearing a chastity-belt-design of a dress, that would otherwise lock her far away from him, like some Knight and a not-so Damsel in distress… 

He breaks apart from her, watching her pant with a confusion, as his hands wrap around her waist and pop her onto the edge of his desk, thanking his slight anality for the lack of papers or laptop resident there. Apart from his pens to the left, and a notepad his desk is almost completely clear. Her eyebrow sharpens at the action, at her being so pliable to him, at not being able to second guess him like this as she observes her surroundings.

“Harvey…we’re at work.” She tells him, alarm in her voice.

“I don’t give a shit. I want you.” He says heavily, his brow furrowing with the truth of such a thing. “Right here.” He clarifies.

He watches her soften, a smile lighting up her pink-tinged features, as she struggles to catch her breath. And like a rash, he’s on her once more, only now her legs are spread apart for him and she’s suddenly at the right height to make this the most perfect situation in his entire life. Like a birthday present for the year after.

He grabs her waist, pressing against her as she finally succumbs to his advances and leans back, allowing him to painstakingly pepper wet kisses along the hinge of her jaw, all the way down the other side of her neck, his teeth grazing across that portion of exposed cleavage that he knows has been taunting him all day. He holds her head, feeling her mass of slightly wavy copper hair pass through his fingers like a red waterfall. 

She rises then, in needing the contact, her hands scratching down his chest and catching at his nipples, as it sends an electric jolt straight to his groin. He groans, the action almost uncomfortable now, as his head bends down to plant a kiss against her lips. He feels her hands land on his belt, pulling the clasp apart and tugging roughly with her right hand to rid it from his pants as it clatters onto the floor, a mixture of metal and leather. They break apart, their eyes connecting then, as she undoes each button with an intention, that fire between them sparking again as she pulls down his zip and he smirks, bringing their mouthes together to plant the softest of kisses upon her as her right hand slides against the length of his shaft, pressing against cotton. He bends into her, their lips pressing together long enough to distract her as his own hand slides between her smooth thighs, hooking her french panties down around her buttocks, as she stretches, allowing him to pull them off and discard them onto the floor so that he can slide his index finger into her. She bucks her hips, moaning into his mouth as her hands fold against his nape. She is completely wet for him, and it drives him crazy in a second. The idea that she’s been here, all this time, in front of him, like some beautiful blind spot, waiting for him to get his head out of his ass is a disastrous notion.

He leans back, not wanting to rush her but all at once feeling his burgeoning erection start to ache, his dark, almost black eyes lust ridden as they search hers. 

“Donna,” He frowns, aware of the complete lack of provisions at this point. 

“Just Fuck me, Harvey.” She commands, her cool hand and long fingers sliding into his boxers then, to grab a hold of him.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, sliding his pants and underwear down enough to free himself from the uncomfortable material. He squeezes her thigh, kissing her fully on the mouth as he directs himself into her, pressing with an imperceptible amount of control, considering the urges flying about in his head.  

She moans, her hands finding the skin underneath the bottom of his shirt as he pushes gradually into her, excitement getting the better of him as he rides the sensation of his hot need pressing past her wet tightness, that contracts with a strength he’s never felt before. She winces, and for a moment he’s unsure if it’s the pressure building in her, or a reaction to the resistance of tightness that he feels. He’s not an arrogant man when it comes to sex. He’s…extremely adequate in that department. It’s probably what’s held him as a bachelor for so long. But he doesn’t want to hurt her. In any other situation, he’d have completely warmed her into it. All the bells and whistles. Like a gentleman.

He breaks apart, slowing his rhythm as she looks back at him, confused somewhat by the pause. 

“You okay?” He asks her.

She blushes then, covering the flush with a guardedness. “It’s been a while.” She admits. 

He kisses her slowly as one hand drops from her waist, folding underneath the cottony material of her skirt as he slides his finger against her clitoris, feeling her fingers dig into the skin of his back enough to tell him he’s hit the spot right away. 

He continues to thrust, but slower now, knowing that he hasn’t enough resolve in him to make it that much farther. She is so tight and yet so wet that despite her obvious resistance she is perfect in his eyes and in this moment. 

He feels her muscles contract as her own orgasm starts to build in waves, the combination of his strong and slow thrusts, pressing deeper into her only to add to the sensation that his hand is encouraging out of her.

She plants a possessive kiss against his lips, their tongues sliding together in a way that makes his groin stir before she flops her head back, moaning loudly, her hands folding to support her own wait against the desk as she begins to get lost in the suddenly rushing build between them.

He’s overtaken for a moment at this stunning woman, laid on his desk, her long neck exposed and her breasts heaving with every thrust as she loses herself in him, her voice peaking into a colourful whimper as she rides her own orgasm against his hand. Her sounds distract him, so much so that he loses his own rhythm slightly in the process, needing to press his thumb into her waist to angle her close to him and correct himself, as he watches parts of her skin turn red with every contraction that grips him.

“Donna, look at me,” He commands, his breaths become shallow and thready as he starts to feel that innate pressure in the root of his penis charting up his shaft with each quicker thrust. She rises back towards him, one hand draping over his right shoulder and the other finding his face as she watches the indent of a frown in his face and the set of his jaw begin to tighten as his thrusts gain speed. She is panting still, and biting down on her lip to lessen the moan as both of his hands clamp down and around her hips, the glass table beneath them starting to creak against the foundations of metal that suspend it. 

She holds him tenderly as his lower back thrusts, almost at the end of the line, as his eyes bore into hers. 

“Donna,” He mumbles under his breath, looking into her hazel eyes and the sheen of sweat across her face. 

“I love you,” She tells him, her hands stroking down either side of his face in the process. 

Out of everything, that is the thing to break him. 

“Say it again,” He orders, his frown deepening.

“I love you,” She repeats, her face stony almost and drenched in seriousness and the damaging truth of such a thing. 

He empties into her then, bucking with one complete thrust, followed by a shorter one, that has her moaning and gripping his shoulders, just to feel him come inside of her.

She holds him tightly enough to tell him not to move, as his lips clamp down onto hers tiredly, a chasteness about them as he feels their sweat drenched foreheads touch and rest there. 

They stay like that for a moment, their twinned breath catching in the darkness.

After several moments, he leans back, just enough to keep himself within her as he knows she’d expect him to. She wanted it that way, during the Other Time, too.

His hands slide to her face, looking at her then. Something jogs his memory, a long since buried dream of him, towel drenched, looking out on her, a calmly and seductive look on her face, her hair vibrant and messy as she looks up at him from the confines of his bed…

His mind had been perfect in it’s depiction, as she looks at him now, a dewiness to her face in the wake of her orgasm. Her hair is the same. The only difference is the setting. The addition of clothes.

“I dreamt about something like this,” He tells her, a different kind of release seeping out of him, then. 

The truth is a beautiful thing.

She smiles lazily, a frustration on her face then as she shakes her head at his admission, her thumb pressing softly into his chin.

“I’m in love with you,” He adds heavily, covering their rocky past with something altogether new.

“Good. Coz I’m completely covered in your sperm.” She notes, catching him off guard as he laughs, falling out of her with a chuckle that softens them both.

.

I’ve kept my grip so tightI won’t let anyone get in my wayI want beautiful thingsGolden rings Golden rings I get what I wantI live just to get what I wantI want it all…And I’ll use you to get it…‘Cause I want it all…

‘I want it all’ By Natalie Taylor

#author: atheniandream #author: redwineonavanillasky #darvey #darveyfics #donna x harvey #Donna Paulsen #Harvey Specter #one shot #prompt #rated m

[ellanainthetardis]

Life with a baby... Not the most easy ;)

[FF] or [ao3)

36. 3 Days

The knife slashed at her chest as Clay’s face came into view and Effie woke up with a strangled scream that echoed in the empty bedroom.

She sat there, in the middle of the tangled sheets, and panted for a moment, her eyes darting from the small specks of dust dancing in the light coming through the window to the crib next to the bed. Slowly, her heart stopped racing and sensations came back. She groaned and flopped down on her back to rub her face with her hands – sitting was still a bit painful.

Once she was certain the nightmare wouldn’t turn into something more, like a panic attack or a flashback, she felt around the bed with her free hand. The sheets were cold and, given how bright it was outside, she figured it must have been late.

Anxiety immediately made the content of her stomach slosh around.

Where was April?

She tried to calm down, to breathe in and out slowly, to get those treacherous feelings under control… She knew her daughter was most likely fine, with Haymitch somewhere in the house, and that she was overreacting. She had promised him she would work on those impulses to keep April close at all cost and she had mostly – letting Peeta hold her in her presence had been torture at first but it had made the boy so happy… But she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t.

She was out of bed before she could remind herself she was being irrational.

She hadn’t left the bedroom much since the birth. She had briefly wandered downstairs the previous day, after Doctor Larcher had given her the all-clear, barely long enough to phone her family and Four.

She was still a little tired and she felt gross. There were things about the aftermath of birth that nobody told you about and now she realized why. It was somehow worse than having one’s period and the fact that she couldn’t use tampons wasn’t helping in the slightest, she had never been a fan of pads. And she felt clammy too. She had washed with a cloth at the sink but it had been all that she had felt the strength to do after delivery and she now felt an urge to take a very long shower.

But all that was secondary to finding her daughter.

She followed the quiet noises to the kitchen.

Her stomach finally settled when she caught sight of what was happening in there. The backdoor was cracked open and Snowball was lying half-in and half-out, no doubt keeping an eye on the geese wandering outside. Haymitch was flipping things in a pan, wearing his red and grey checkered sweatpants and nothing else. She took a second to admire the hard lines of his back, her eyes lingering a little on the familiar faded scars, and then fell on the baby seat on the middle of the table.

She made a beeline for April.

The baby was sleeping and she didn’t want to wake her so she simply placed her hand on the center of her chest, happy to feel it regularly rise and fall.

“I was starting to wonder if you’d slipped in a coma.” Haymitch snorted, making the round something jump in the pan.

The counter was a mess of flour and dough and she eventually guessed he was making pancakes. Enough pancakes to feed an army. She eyed the small tower piled in a plate to his left with amusement.

“Are we expecting the rest of Panem for breakfast?” she teased.

“Just the kids.” he snorted.

She stepped closer and stretched her neck for her morning kiss. It was just a peck and they shared a look afterwards before bursting out laughing. Well… She laughed, Haymitch chuckled.

He rubbed the back of  his neck, amusement still plainly visible on his face.

“When did we get so disgustingly domestic, sweetheart?” he joked.

“Does it matter?” she grinned.

Domestic or not, ridiculous or not… She was certain she could never be happier than at that moment. Well. She might. If she had felt a bit less filthy.

The moment she had thought the word her smile turned to a small wince.

She could smell herself and it was bad. Rot and decay and…

A hand cupped her cheek and she blinked hard, coming back to the present.

“You should go grab a shower, sweetheart.” he suggested, always attuned to her needs. “Get dolled up even. I’ve got it under control.” She tossed an hesitant look to April, reluctant to be parted from her even for a second but… “We’ve been fine so far, we’ll be fine for a little more. You can have your turn with her when you feel better.” He pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Besides… Now, you’ve gotta eat a hundred pancakes.”

“Certainly not.” she huffed. “I intend to get my figure back.” She smoothed his borrowed shirt over her budging stomach and let her eyes linger on the baby. “I don’t know why it is so hard… I know she is fine with you. I just…” The prospect of leaving her behind, even if it was only in another room was enough to bring tears to her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what is wrong with me.”

“You’re her mom and it’s still new.” he shrugged. “Can’t say I’m too happy when I can’t see her either. It’ll get better.”

“Will it?” she whispered.

His mouth twitched into a smirk. “Worse comes to worse, we’ll be those annoying parents who follow their kid everywhere. Bet she’s gonna love it when she’s a teenager.”

She made a face. “Do not talk of her being a teenager. We will be ancient by then.”

“You’ll still be gorgeous.” he countered smoothly.

She snorted and fought her own smile.

“You are an idiot.” she accused with fondness. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and let out a sigh. “I will be back in a flash.”

“Take your time.” he dismissed.

She stopped by the table to drop a kiss on her daughter’s head before scurrying upstairs. She caught a glimpse of the bed on her way to the bathroom and wrinkled her nose in distaste. It only took her a couple of minutes to undress it. She would do it later, she decided, and maybe she would clean around a little too because she had been remiss in the last few weeks and…

She shook her head and forced herself to get a hold on her compulsions. She wasn’t in a cell, the bedroom was clean enough, it would be alright.

She stepped into the shower and let the warm water run on her body – and it was bliss. She gradually relaxed, forgetting to fret for a few minutes. She took her time rubbing her scented gel on her body and she took even longer working the shampoo in her hair.

She felt refreshed when she finally emerged from the shower in a cloud of steam. Once she had dried herself, she passed the towel on the mirror to get a clear reflection and she took a good hard look at herself.

She had felt so huge lately…

She didn’t look as bad as she remembered. The pressing weight on her stomach had disappeared and that was already a good point. She certainly wasn’t slim anymore but she didn’t feel ready to burst either and she figured that with a proper healthy diet and some exercising, she could get back in shape in a couple of months.

It made her feel good about herself.

She hummed as she selected an outfit for the day – something that she hadn’t indulged in in a while because inelegant stretchy pants and loose shirts had been all she could get comfortable in. She settled on a pink dress with an empire waist that mostly hid the flaws in her figures. She wanted to couple it with heels too but she wasn’t sure it was wise yet. Tomorrow, she decided and it made her smile.

She felt a lot more like herself once her hair was tied up in a fancy bun and she had applied some make-up on her face. She clasped the butterfly necklace around her neck and grinned when she felt it settle on her collarbone.

She looked less like a pregnant elephant and more like Effie Trinket.

She was sporting a bright smile on her lips when she walked back down.

Everyone in the kitchen did a double take, which made her feel very cocky. Peeta was smiling wide, Katniss looked a little relieved and Haymitch just licked his lips.

“Well, shit, sweetheart…” he breathed out, his gaze turning a little dark with lust.

For all his oaths that he always found her beautiful, she had known he was most likely partially lying. It was alright. She liked herself better when she was presentable too.

“Language, Haymitch.” she chided him. “I won’t have you talk like that when you have my baby in your arms.” She lost no time in stealing said baby from him, though. April was awake, bright blue eyes staring back at her… “Hello, my darling…” She could have gotten lost in her daughter’s eyes but she forced herself to make an effort. “And hello to you too, children.”

“You look beautiful, Effie.” Peeta offered, always the gentleman.

She smiled back at him. “I did try.”

“Well, that’s a win.” Haymitch snorted, taking his seat at the table where four plates were waiting. “Breakfast, come on.”

She pretended not to notice the chair intended for her had a nice fluffy cushion on it. It was thoughtful, certainly, but also a little embarrassing. She transferred April in her left arm, propping it on the table so it wouldn’t get tired and made sure she was comfortable before she started eating.

The conversation was easy.

The children joked and laughed, teasing Haymitch about something or other… Effie wasn’t really following, she sometimes made a remark but she was distracted by the bundle of joy in her arms. She couldn’t stop staring at her daughter, marveling at her.  

In a flash of mad imagination, she saw the rest of her life and it was a succession of quiet mornings like this one: her baby nearby, her not quite babies arguing with Haymitch about why he really should put on a shirt before they came around, Haymitch feeding the banter and stealing glances at her when they weren’t looking… The two of them sharing secret smiles to which the children were oblivious.

The old Effie Trinket, the one who had dreamed of glory and influence, would have been horrified by a fate she had always tried her hardest to avoid. She had never wanted to be only a mother or a wife to a man who would regard her as some possession. She had always wanted to be more.

Right then, she would have been happy if being a mother and a wife was the last things she got to be. In no small part because Haymitch would never behave like she was a doll on a shelf for him to play with when the fancy struck.

There would be exciting new things in her life, she was sure, but for now… For now she was content with what she had. It was more than she ever thought she would get.

A family of her own.

Healthy and happy…

She hid her smile against her daughter’s brow as she dropped a kiss on her head.

April made a small sound that held no real meaning but that made Effie smile harder. She soon became unsettled though and Effie excused herself to feed her in the living-room. It was a bit less painful but it still wasn’t comfortable, her nipples felt raw and irritated and no amount of advices or tips to help actually made a difference.

April still looked hungry when she eventually took her away from her breast. It took her a few minutes to calm her down. She was a sweet-tempered thing though – at least when Effie wasn’t a ball of nerves – she settled down quickly.

“We got a delivery.” Haymitch said, leaning against the doorframe. “Not that you could hear over the wailing… I’m telling you, sweetheart, she’s got your lungs.” She tried to force a smile but didn’t quite manage. She felt sad because she knew, Doctor Larcher’s recommendations to wait and see or to take it easy notwithstanding. Haymitch frowned. “Effie, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “We will talk about it with the doctor when he comes over later.”

His grey eyes darted to the baby and he immediately outstretched his arms in an instinctive plea to be allowed to protect and comfort. She had to remind herself nobody would be taking April away before she handed her over, hiding behind a mask of fake cheerfulness that was still almost too easy to conjure.

The baby safely cradled in his left arm, he brushed slightly trembling fingers against Effie’s cheek. She leaned in the caress but her eyes remained sad.

“You think she’s still hungry again?” he asked, uncertain.

“Call it a mother’s instinct.” she whispered. “I know.”

“Larcher said we needed to wait and see.” he hesitated. “Maybe…”

“We will see.” she dismissed. “A delivery, you said?”

He touched her shoulder before she could wander too far away.

“Sweetheart, if we have to add bottles…” He shrugged, careful not to disturb the baby. It was the most precious thing, really, to see him holding their daughter close to his bare chest. “It doesn’t mean you failed or any bullshit like that.”

She flashed him a smile but escaped his knowing gaze by taking refuge in the kitchen. Katniss and Peeta were chatting while doing the dishes, she turned her attention to the huge package in the middle of the table. The return address was her parents’ and her mood improved drastically. Her mother had promised to send some stuff over in express but nothing had arrived so far and Effie had started to think Elindra would be there well before the gifts.

She grabbed a knife from the drawer – and tried not to remember what had happened the last time she had opened a package from her mother with one of those because the knife slashed and Clay’ s face and…

“Do you need help?” Peeta asked, gently taking the knife from her clenched fingers. It took her a second to relax her fist but the boy simply waited as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “Those packages can be so tricky…”

She nodded, taking the excuse he was giving her with gratefulness.

Katniss didn’t seem to think anything of it but Haymitch, who had followed her in the room, was now studying her with rapt attention. He had picked up the cat rag doll somewhere and he was distractedly playing with it, making it dance in front of April’s face.

It was a ridiculous sight and she wasn’t really surprised when a camera flashed. Katniss had made it her mission to collect as many embarrassing pictures of Haymitch as she could – Effie believed there was a bet out there with Johanna.

The bright flash, unfortunately, did nothing for her. It briefly blinded her and… her cell was dark. Dark. Dark. Dark.

She breathed in through her nose, made a point of identifying the different smells in the kitchen… The dishwater soap, the lingering scent of pancakes and syrup in the air, the faint touch of dog fur…

“Here you go, Effie.” Peeta said. It was loud. It was loud but she couldn’t tell if it was because he was trying to get her attention or because of the hissing sound in her ears.

Her fingers were shaking but she kept smiling as she reached for the now ripped open package. She smiled when she saw what was inside though and it helped chase the memories away.

Darling little outfits, small hats and soft headbands…

She piled them up next to the box, her smile growing more genuine with every new item she took out.

“Guess you’re getting a change of clothes, shrimp.” Haymitch snorted, venturing closer.

There were a few other things in the box: a mobile with stars and unicorns, some practical items they already had but in pink this time around and a lot of glittery fuchsia pacifiers that immediately caught Haymitch’s attention.

“Fabulous.” he teased her.

She pouted. “I am not sure I want her to use a pacifier. We will have trouble training her off it.”

He handed the baby to Peeta who readily took her to go sterilize one with a shrug. “Let’s see if she likes it first.”

Her pout deepened but she kept her peace, gently tracing circles on April’s tummy. The baby was happy in Peeta’s arms, probably because she knew the boy was already wrapped around her little finger. She would be a charmer, this one.

Effie thought Haymitch was only eager for her to use the pacifier because it was pink and glittery and because it would allow him a new range of jokes about how April was her mother’s daughter. And, naturally, April took to the pink sparkling monstrosity with delight.

Haymitch smirked and Effie rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you dare.” she warned before he could comment. She scooped her daughter up and nodded at the clothes. “Help me get those up to the nursery, will you?”

Once everything was upstairs and she had April on the changing table, she faltered a little. So far, Haymitch had been the one taking care of diapers and outfits because she had been confined to her bed. Her manicured nails were no help in that matter and she struggled to change her diaper – all the while wrinkling her nose at the mess – disgusted by it all.

“I think you will be in charge of diaper changing from now on.” she declared, when Haymitch wheeled the crib back in the nursery as she had asked.

“No way, sweetheart.” He shook his head. “That’s shared duty.”

He pressed a kiss against her neck and waved at April over her shoulder.

“Do not kiss me when I smell like baby poop.” she grumbled.

“It’s still poop.” he snorted. “Adding baby before it doesn’t make much of a difference.”

She pursed her lips at him but finished dressing April in a brand new red romper with little white dots and a green rigged collar that made her look like a little strawberry. She added its matching little green hat.

“You look darling.” she declared with a bright smile.

“Please, tell me you’re not going to dress her up every day like a doll.” he scoffed. “Cause what went for a boy… We agreed on how we wanted to raise our kid. You’re not going to try and turn her into a crazy fashion person, yeah?”

She frowned at him, not really pleased with the assumption.

“I simply want her to look pretty.” she replied. “Is that wrong?”

“As long as we’re clear she doesn’t have to be proper and shit.” he warned. “Say, when she’s older she likes pants better… Or running outside… Or climbing trees…”

“She will do what she wants.” she cut him off. “Except climbing trees. That sounds very unsafe.” She waved her hand to dismiss that, keeping her other one of April’s stomach to avoid any incident – all the books agreed you should never leave a baby unattended on a changing table. “I want her to be everything she wants to be. That does not mean I am not hoping to give her some sort of fashion sense.” She gave him a small shrug. “Besides, she is little still and I like dressing her in cute outfits. Where is the harm?”

“There’s none as long as you remember she’s not a toy or an accessory.” he replied.

She shot him a glare. “I do not like what you are implying.”

She knew what he was implying though. Capitols used their children that way. They left them to nannies to be brought up and only took them out to be seen and marveled at. Capitol children, in the elite, were little more than human dolls.

Effie had never wanted her own children to be raised in that way.

His grey eyes flickered from her to April and back. He winced. “Sorry.”

“Yes, I believe you ought to be.” she huffed, carefully lifting her daughter up to place her in her crib before opening the dresser’s drawer. She needed to sort the clothes they had bought. Some could be kept but others had clearly been meant for a boy and wouldn’t do. “Honestly.”

Arms wrapped around her mid-section and his nose nuzzled her neck.

“I’m just…” he hesitated. “I’m feeling a bit… overprotective. She’s so small and…” He shrugged awkwardly. “Look… I was ready for a boy and… Girls seem more like your territory than mine.”

She rolled her eyes at his stupidity. “Have you forgotten Katniss and Johanna? Because I guarantee you are better at handling them than I am.”

“Different.” he scoffed. “They’re…”

“They look up to you and they love you just like our daughter will.” she interrupted. “It is not so different. You will do fine with a girl and I won’t make my mother’s mistakes. We will… We will learn. We will manage. Together. Isn’t that what you promised me?”

He brushed his fingers on the butterfly resting over her collarbone. “Yeah.” He dropped a kiss on her shoulder. “Yeah, we will.”

“Good.” she answered. “Now help me, would you? This house is in complete disarray.”

Truth be told, it wasn’t that bad and she knew that her cleaning impulses had more to do with how unsettled she felt that day. She managed to sort through the clothes while he fixed the mobile on the crib – without waking April up and that was a feat – but doing some actual cleaning proved to be difficult.

They tested the baby monitor at least ten times but neither of them could take more than two steps out of the nursery without freaking out. The idea that April would be by herself… It was far too much to bear.  

In the end, they leaned against the corridor’s wall, shoulder to shoulder, their arms brushing against each other.

“That’s gonna be a problem.” he remarked eventually.

“We are very deranged people.” she sighed. “She is fine. I know she is fine.” She looked at the monitor in her hand. “What is wrong with us?”

“We lost too much.” he said quietly.

Snowball wandered by, stared at them for a moment and then paddled in the nursery. Effie followed, immediately alarmed that he would try to steal something from the crib again and accidentally crush their daughter to death but, instead, the dog lied down next to it. An animal shield.

“Good boy.” she whispered and Snowball rolled on his back in answer, presenting his belly to rub. She humored him. “Very good job, my pretty baby. You stay here and keep watch.”

It probably wasn’t the healthiest idea and some people would have argued that it wasn’t safe to leave a baby with an animal but…

She knew with every fiber of her being that the puppy would never hurt their daughter. He would stay there and protect, just like he was trained to do.

The fact that Snowball was with April actually allowed them to wander a little further. They kept to the first floor though, wary of going downstairs, and they regularly peeked inside the nursery despite the baby monitor remaining silent.

She used the vacuum cleaner and mopped the floors… She gave Haymitch instructions that he did not follow at all… He was a hindrance. Instead of doing what he was told – never quite interested in chores – he distracted her with kisses and wandering hands.

“You are aware a baby kills one’s sexuality, yes?” she grinned up at him. As soon as the bed had been made, he had pushed her down on it – so she would rest, as he had put it, but there had been more kissing than resting. “Not that anything of that sort will happen any time soon.”

She wasn’t sure how long exactly the bleeding would last but she knew it was supposed to be some time. And she felt so tender down there that… No. They wouldn’t have sex in the immediate future.

“Not for us.” he smirked. “Nothing can do that. We’re too good at it.”

She burst out laughing.

Because he was stupid and she loved him for it.  

At the first cry of her daughter, Effie was off the bed and in the nursery in a flash, quickly followed by Haymitch. She scooped April up and gently rocked her until she stopped crying, making her way to the rocking-chair. Sitting still wasn’t comfortable but a glance at the clock confirmed it was feeding time again. She knew it was important to try and keep to a schedule.

Haymitch didn’t quite watch. He crouched and played with Snowball, sometimes glancing up but still somehow ill-at-ease with breastfeeding. She thought it was idiotic. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her breasts a million times. What was so disconcerting about it?

He brushed it off when she asked, mumbled something about it being weird – she didn’t try to pry further, she figured it had something to do with his own fondness for sucking on her nipples.

Once April was fed and calm once more, they were at a loss.

It was difficult to find a sense of normalcy. Neither of them was sure of what to do. Carrying on with their lives seemed unthinkable, not when they had a baby to take care of. In the end, they ended up in the living-room, watching their daughter who was happily falling back asleep in the baby seat, taking turn running errands around the house. At some point, she answered the phone and had to force herself not to sound rude or impatient when her mother kept her a lot longer than she would have liked.

Larcher usually arrived around five and she kept glancing at the clock, her anxiety levels rising with each passing minute. When the doctor finally showed up, she was so nervous her hands were shaking.

She watched him examine their daughter and she saw the small wince when he checked her weight.

“We need to switch to formula.” she said before he could.

“Not switch.” Larcher temporized. “You can still feed her, Effie. We will give her formula in addition to breastfeeding.”

He asked questions. How many times April fed day and night, at which approximate times, when it was the most difficult for Effie to produce milk… She let Haymitch answer most of those questions, forcing herself to keep a smile on her lips and resolutely ignoring the worried glances the two men were giving her.

She let Haymitch walk the doctor back to the door and crouched in front of the coffee table where the baby seat was placed. April’s blue eyes stared straight at her, so bright and trusting… Her smile softened into something genuine if a little sad. She dropped a kiss on her forehead and walked away to lean against the couch and look through the window.

The baby started crying almost as soon as she left her sight.

Haymitch tossed her a puzzled look when he came back, clearly not understanding why she was letting their daughter cry. He immediately picked her up, struggling a little with the pacifier when he tried to give it back to her… Effie closed her eyes when she heard April starting to calm down.

“Effie…” he sighed.

She felt him come closer and she let him. She let him because what was the alternative? Running away? If she did she wasn’t sure she would ever stop. Leaving April behind would devastate her but there was a tenacious little voice at the back of her head that whispered that it might be best, that their daughter didn’t need her, that…

“Why can’t I ever be enough?” she breathed out softly, almost too softly to be heard.

She had never been enough for her mother. She hadn’t been enough for the Capitol. She hadn’t been enough for Haymitch – not for a long time at least.

She had hoped that…

“Don’t think like that.” he rebuked her. “You’re more than enough.” She scoffed bitterly but he scowled and, before she could call out his lie, he forced the baby in her arms.  Making sure April was safe was instinctive, cradling her close was purely selfish… She loved feeling her against her chest. “You’re her everything.” he spat, harsh. He was always harsh with the important truths. “It’s not her fault she’s not getting enough to eat. It’s not your fault either. You want to blame someone, blame the assholes who tortured you. Fucking blame me. It’s not your fault.”

“I do not blame you.” she denied at once, searching his eyes.

He ignored her.

“Listen to me, sweetheart. You’re not gonna let this be a problem, alright?” he insisted. “We give her what she needs. No child of mine is gonna go to bed hungry, yeah?”

She wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear. He sounded a little on edge and she knew that the food issue was always a sensitive one.  

“I’m sorry…” she hesitated. She didn’t know what she was apologizing for: failing to feed April or his own insecurities being woken up by it.

“No.” He made a face. “Don’t… It’s not…” He sighed and rubbed his neck. “I meant if she needs more than you can give, it doesn’t mean you’re not enough for her, alright? ‘Cause… She loves you.”

“She is three days old.” she pointed out. “I am not sure…”

“You don’t see the way she looks at you.” he snorted. “You’re her whole world, Effie. Look…” April was looking at her, her tiny fist curling and uncurling as she sucked on the pacifier. It brought tears to her eyes because she loved her so much… “You’re enough. You’re more than fucking enough. You don’t have to ask yourself that stupid question ever again ‘cause you’re her whole fucking world.” She was so busy watching their daughter she almost startled when he wrapped his arms around her waist and propped his chin on her shoulder. “Mine too.” he mumbled awkwardly before pressing a kiss against the side of her neck.

She relaxed against his chest.

“You say the sweetest things, Haymitch, but I do wish you would mind your language.” she joked.

She expected him to make a joke of his own, to deflate the emotionally tense moment…

He kissed her temple instead, deadly serious. “It’s true.”

April made a small noise as if to agree with her father…

How could she not believe them?

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #april showers

[a-running-bean]

A hospital gift guide

So you have a friend, family member, loved one or acquaintance who’s sick or injured and has been hospitalized. You want to bring them something special to cheer them up, but you don’t know what in the world they could use or enjoy while they’re stuck in the hospital. I’d love to recommend, from personal experience, some gifts that were especially useful or enjoyable while I was hospitalized for 3.5 weeks!

- Socks: Use your imagination! These could be warm wool socks, slipper socks with grips on the bottom, fuzzy spa socks, or socks with images or sayings on them. They will keep your loved one’s tootsies warm and cozy (especially if they only have one sock-wearing foot, like me), and will also lift their spirits. I received a special pair from my boss, Jill, that read “I’m a girl - what’s your superpower?” Those socks inspired me to start Funny Sock Fridays when I was in inpatient rehab, where I wore one interesting sock every Friday to serve as a conversation starter with therapists and nurses. I also received a beautiful striped pair of extremely soft socks from my BFF Rya, which have kept my one foot super warm and happy while I recuperate in my parents’ freezing cold house. If you know they have a cast, consider buying some oversized socks — or really stretchy socks — so that their exposed toes and the end of their cast can be covered as well.

- Blank cards, stamps and a nice pen: I was completely overwhelmed by the love and generosity that I received from so many different people when I was hospitalized. I wanted to write a thank-you note to each and every person who visited me, mailed a card, or sent flowers or a gift. (I was also on a pretty heavy dose of strong painkillers for quite some time, so it was a major struggle to even remember who sent which of the five floral arrangements in my hospital room. Oops.) I was gifted a variety of blank cards and some stamps from my best friend and her mom, Shelby and Judy, as well as my dad. Those came in handy when I wanted to send mail to thank someone for their gift, write a birthday card for my boyfriend (yes, both of us had our birthdays while I was hospitalized... bummer), or connect with a new pen pal (hi Jessi!). Although your loved one in the hospital may not “have it together” enough to write thank you cards to everyone on their list, giving them the tools to send out some mail could be much appreciated. (Hot tip: Target often has blank note cards in their $1 section near the front of the store!)

- Blank journal and pen: While I have chosen Tumblr as my platform for working through the ups and downs of my rehabilitation process, others may want to put their experiences down on paper instead. Gifting a nice notebook and a pen will give your loved one the opportunity to chronicle their own journey through illness or injury. They may want to document the event or illness that landed them in the hospital in the first place; remember the names of favorite doctors/nurses/therapists at their facility; keep a log of gifts and cards received (for future thank-you note usage); develop a schedule for taking medications or completing their prescribed exercises; or write down goals for their recovery and for the future. Those blank pages hold a world of possibilities.

- Lip balm and lotion: I have never felt more dried out in my life than during the 3.5 weeks I was hospitalized. It could have been the hospital air, it could have been the hearty pain medications... whatever the cause, my skin and lips were flaking and peeling like I was trapped in the desert without water. Trust me, males and females alike would both be reaching for the moisturizers if they were in my position, so don’t fret if your hospitalized friend happens to be a dude. Just get them the goods. My favorite lip balms are the original Burt’s Bees (peppermint flavor) or Chapstick (cherry flavor). For an amazingly non-greasy, quick absorbing hand and body lotion, I recommend Gold Bond Ultimate Healing Lotion with Aloe. It has a nice light and fresh scent that’s perfect for either ladies or gents, and it works like a dream.

- Books or magazines: This one’s a little trickier, because you have to know what kind of reading material they prefer. Knowing their hobbies and interests helps, because you can bring magazines or books on related topics. I can give you a reading list that’s a mile long, if you need personalized recommendations.

- Pajama pants, yoga pants, or sweatpants: These don’t have to be my favorite $98 yoga leggings from Lululemon... just an inexpensive pair from Target or TJ Maxx will do! Pajama pants, yoga pants and sweats have a loose, wide leg opening. These are usually easy for your loved one to put on in bed and will definitely fit over a cast. Once the patient has regained more strength and mobility, they may want to wear bottoms that are slightly more form fitting, so leggings or track pants could be a good option.

- Tumbler or water bottle: While I was in the hospital, a fresh Styrofoam cup of water was delivered to my bedside every few hours, whether I had finished the previous cup or not. Styrofoam... nature’s best friend... NOT! Help your patient save the planet and gift them with reusable drinkware, so they can ask their nurse to refill that instead of filling a trash can with unused foam cups every four hours. I had the good fortune of receiving a cup holder for my wheelchair, and my mom bought me a cool sugar skull tumbler from Target, so wherever I went, I had my own water cup. It was awesome.

- Hat or headbands: Gotta hide that bedhead and/or third day hair grease! I received two nice wide Buff headbands from my friends at The Summer Camp Society and they were AMAZINGLY HELPFUL while I was at Mary Free Bed. When I was first learning to shower myself again, I was scheduled for night showers and didn’t have the energy to blow-dry my hair before bed, so I’d wake up with crazy bad bedhead. I also didn’t want to get up early to get pretty for a long day of physical and occupational therapy (who did I have to impress in rehab??), so being able to run a brush through my hair and slap on a nice wide headband was awesome. I have a big, round head, so headbands usually slide off, but those Buff headbands stayed. put. I also love wearing hats, especially when I have “day three hair” (ladies, you know what I’m talking about), so my birthday gift of a Roga Cap came in handy a few times. Thanks Mom and Dad! (If you are a runner, know a runner, or just love insanely comfortable hats, get a Roga Cap and thank me later.)

- Dry shampoo: This is helpful for guys and gals alike. Just ask my boyfriend — I’m pretty sure I’ll have to start buying 2 cans of Batiste at a time because he uses mine so frequently. If you don’t use dry shampoo now, you should become a convert. It is life-changing. (I recommend the Bare scent if you want something light and fresh, or Wild if you want to keep catching whiffs of your hair all day and thinking about how great your head smells.) Having this in the hospital was wonderful because I could give my hair a quick touch-up to make it last until my next shower. After a certain point, you start to feel like yourself again, which means all of your silly vanities return — like plucking your eyebrows and worrying about if your hair looks too dirty.

- Bath products and nail polish: On a similar note, a small luxury like nice bath products or nail polish can make your loved one feel like a million bucks. I would have LOVED to use smelly-good shower gel instead of the standard issue hospital soap during my 2.5 weeks at Mary Free Bed. If she is able to shower in the bathroom, ask her what her favorite Bath and Body Works scent is and bring in some shower gel. (This gift may not be appropriate if your patient is still taking sponge baths in their hospital bed.) One of the first things I wanted when I got to MFB was a manicure... but I couldn’t leave the hospital just yet. Fortunately, my amazing friend Sophia came by and gave me a mobile manicure. She did an incredible job; my nails were chip-free and flawless for the entirety of my stay at MFB. That did so much to lift my spirits and make me feel normal and pretty again. (If you live in or near Grand Rapids, call up Manic Muse and make an appointment with Sophia ASAP!)

- Gift cards to their favorite stores: Let your loved one do some online shopping from their hospital bed! A gift card is not a cop-out... sometimes it’s nice to let them pick out what they want, instead of trying to guess. Go with an Amazon gift card if you’re not sure what they like, so they can order books or gizmos or new sweatpants. Online shopping is like a gift to yourself because, even though you know exactly what you ordered, it’s very exciting when your package arrives. Everyone knows the feeling. I was so grateful to receive a Oiselle gift card from my Michigan Volée teammates while I was staying at Mary Free Bed. Because of them, I was finally able to order a shirt I had been wanting for months. Thanks, birds!!

- Cozy throw blanket: Michael brought me our furry, fuzzy Michigan State throw blanket from home, and it made my hospital bed feel so much more like MY bed. Stores like Target, Home Goods (TJ Maxx/Marshalls), or Meijer sell inexpensive, cozy throw blankets that will brighten up your patient’s room and give them something to snuggle with in their bland white hospital bed.

- Some of their (or your) favorite snacks: Snacks are nice to fill the space when hospital meals aren’t cutting it. Although I initially thought MFB had a great menu, I quickly got tired of eating the same few palatable options and found my tummy rumbling in the afternoons. Fortunately, I had a whole drawer full of snacks to choose from, thanks to wonderful friends and family members who brought food during their visits. My friend and coworker Tesi gave me a hilarious gift when she visited: a Trader Joe’s bag full of her family’s favorite snacks, along with the instructions to report back on what my favorite snack was. (Nutty Bits for the win!) Ask them what they’re craving — for me, it was extra toasty Cheez It’s — or bring them a few options, both savory/salty and sweet, if you’re not sure what they like.

Hopefully you will find something on this list that will turn out to be the perfect gift for that injured or ill special someone. And send them my best wishes when you visit! xoxo

#hospital #gift guide #shopping #hospital gift guide #wish list

[mldrgrl]

Not Again: Part 2

by: mldrgrl Rating: R Summary: A rewrite of season 8 from an anon request for Scully to have been the one to have been abducted instead of Mulder.

Part 1 here

****This is not new, I only realized I was remiss in posting part 2 in full and I’m working to update my master list.

Part 2: Returned

Chapter 1, Day 1:

Scully floats into consciousness, first becoming aware of sound and then opening her eyes to white light.  She hears the noise of machines, beeps and ticks and compressed air.  It smells sterile, like rubbing alcohol and bandages.  She blinks away the haze of sleep and tries to move, but she feels too heavy.

“Easy,” she hears Mulder’s voice tell her.  “Just relax.”

“Mm.”  She closes her eyes and nods.  She’s not sure why, but she’s pretty sure now that she’s in a hospital.  And as much as that concerns her, she feels too lethargic to fight it.  His hand is under hers and he’s stroking the side of her thumb.

Scully opens her eyes again and slowly turns her head to look at Mulder.  He’s got the rumpled, disheveled look he gets when he hasn’t slept in awhile.  But, just the slightest look from her makes his eyes light up and he smiles brightly.

“Must be bad,” she murmurs, closing her eyes again and breathing deeply.  She’s definitely been drugged, but she doesn’t remember suffering any injuries.

Mulder chuckles and she lets her eyes drift open again as he lowers his head, bringing her hand up to his cheek, pressing a kiss to her palm.  She hums again and blinks slowly.

“What happened?” she asks.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

She closes her eyes to think about it.  “Driving back from Pittsfield.  You dropping me at home.”

“Pittsfield?”

“Mm, the high schoolers on PCP.”

“Scully, that was…”

“Was what?”

“They weren’t on PCP, it was the cave giving those kids super speed.”

“Impossible.”  Scully smiles a little, but it fades when she sees Mulder’s panic face.

Mulder gets up from his chair and slides onto the bed beside her hip.  He squeezes her hand and she squeezes back.  His behavior is suspicious and scaring her a little.

“I need to tell you something and I don’t want you to freak out,” he says.

“Okay.”

“That Pittsfield case was over a year ago.”

“What?”

“We were in Bellefleur, Oregon last September and you were taken.”

“Taken?”  Scully feels her pulse begin to race a bit and the blips on the heart monitor next to her bed move a little faster.

“Abducted.  You’ve been gone for six months.”

“I’ve been…”

“Scully, I know you don’t remember anything.  None of the others do either.”

“Others?”

“And please, just try to stay calm, alright?  It’s important you stay calm.”

Scully stares at Mulder with disbelief.  He has to be playing some hoax on her, but he doesn’t joke like this.  And the torment she sees in his eyes tells a different story.  What he’s telling her is very real.  Mulder suddenly takes her hand and moves it down to her belly.  She feels him press her hand into her abdomen, but it feels different, swollen and firm, but also like something presses back that she can feel from the inside.

“What…?”  She looks down at the swell of her belly under the hospital sheets.

“They estimate you to be at about thirty-one weeks,” Mulder says.  “The baby’s fine.  They ran all sorts of tests when you got here.  Everything’s fine.”

Scully does the quick math in her head.  That's just  over seven and a half months, but Mulder said she'd been gone for six months.  She was pregnant at the time of her abduction?  Did she know?  

Even more frightening, she can't remember how she came to be pregnant.  Did she try the in vitro again?  Was she seeing someone?  Was she...violated?  She has no idea, and the thought of asking Mulder if he knows who the father of her baby is brings a stain of embarrassment to her cheeks.

“It's a lot,” Mulder says.  “I know.  The important thing is, you're safe now and you're both okay.”

“I want to see my chart.”

“Okay.”  

Mulder untangles his fingers from hers and slips off the bed.  He brings her the chart from the file holder on the back of the door and sits beside her as she glances through it.

She remembers that the Pittsfield case was right before her birthday and after the ‘millennium.’  Her chart is dated April 2, 2001.  She looks for the results of her amniocentesis and her measurements.  Everything looks normal as far as she can tell.  She's having a boy.  They list her approximate due date as June 5.  

“There's a video of the sonogram,” Mulder says.  “It's here if you want to watch it.”

“Yeah,” she says, dazedly.  “Yes, I want to watch it.”

Mulder takes the chart from her and puts it back before he grabs the remote for the TV.  Apparently the tape is already in the VCR because it starts right up and there on the screen is the black and white, grainy image of her baby.  The quick, hollow thump of his heartbeat brings tears to her eyes.  Mulder looks over at her from where he stands beside the bed and bites into the grin on his face.

“I'm sure it's in the chart,” he says.  “But, you know...you know it's…”

“A boy?”

Mulder nods and she looks back up at the screen just as the baby's foot gives the flutter of a kick and she covers her face with both hands as she starts to cry.  

*****

Chapter 2, Day 2:

The hospital has no reason to keep her, so they release her in the morning.  She’d forced Mulder to leave her bedside overnight, but she has a feeling he didn’t go far.  He was there too early, and wearing the same jeans and sweater he was wearing the day before for her to believe he’d found a hotel.  She’s left to assume he fell asleep in a chair outside her room, but she doesn’t ask.

Every time she’s gotten out of bed, she can’t understand the foreign feeling of her own body.  She feels fine, but she feels like a different person.  She isn’t used to the new weight and girth.  Simple things like leaning over are different and take effort.  Every time the baby moves, it startles her.  The mirror in the tiny hospital bathroom hasn’t given her as much of a chance to inspect the change in her body as she’s wanted and she’s anxious to leave.

First, she has to wait for Mulder to come back and take her away.  She’d asked him to please just find something for her to wear at the nearest mall so she doesn’t have to ride home in borrowed scrubs.  He returns with a sheepish look on his face and a dark-haired woman in tow.

“Scully,” he says.  “This is Agent Reyes.”

“Monica,” she says, smiling warmly and holding her hand out.  “I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

Mulder had told her about the agents he’d been working with the past six months.  Doggett and Reyes.  She knows Agent Reyes had been consistently working the case when Mulder had been ordered off of it.  She knows she should feel grateful, but she still can’t fully wrap her mind around the fact that she’s been missing for six months, let alone the large gap in her memory.

Scully shakes Agent Reyes’ hand and then gives Mulder an inquisitive look.  He hands her a shopping bag from Wal-Mart.

“I needed some assistance in the whole...figuring out what clothes to buy situation,” Mulder says.

Agent Reyes laughs.  “He was trying to outfit you from the gift section of a gas station down the street.”

Mulder puts his hands up in a guilty as charged expression and smiles.  There’s a clear bond between him and Reyes that gives Scully a pang of jealousy.  She wonders if there’s something going there.  They seem comfortable with each other, and Mulder isn’t one to be comfortable with another person.  She can’t handle another Diana Fowley coming into their lives.

“Thank you, I’ll just…”  Scully says, tipping her head towards the bathroom.

“Well, I just wanted to introduce myself and then say goodbye,” Agent Reyes says.

“Good bye,” Scully answers, relieved to be rid of the woman so quickly.

“I’ll walk you out,” Mulder says.  He puts his hand at the middle of Reyes’ back and smiles at Scully.  “Let me know when you’re ready.”

Scully is left alone in the room and she stands clutching the shopping bag to her chest for a few moments before she turns to the bathroom.  Inside the bag, there are toiletries and a pair of maternity pants, a tank top, a sweatshirt, underwear, socks, and shoes.  She doesn’t really understand how she feels about a strange woman picking out clothes for her, and doing a perfect job at it as well.  The pants are soft and stretchy.  The tank top is less constricting than a bra, but offers needed support.  It’s all so nice and comfortable that she feels irritated by it.

When she’s ready, she steps out of the room with nothing in her possession save for the sonogram tape.  She keeps the toothbrush, the mouthwash, and the deodorant from Wal-Mart, just in case, not knowing what the state of her things are at home.  

It’s a four hour drive home.  Mulder doesn’t stop talking.  He tells her about cases he was on while she was away.  She gets the feeling that he’s afraid to allow a silence to fall.  He’s never been so talkative on one of the car trips.  She would shut her eyes and pretend she’s tired, but because of the way the baby is positioned, she has to ask Mulder to stop about every half an hour so she can use the bathroom.

When he isn’t telling her about one of his cases, he’s telling her about Agent Doggett or Agent Reyes.  She prefers the stories about the cases.  Annoyance builds up inside her and she feels herself getting churlish.

“You and Agent Reyes seem close,” she says.

“Reyes?  We owe a lot to her.  She kept the investigation going and shared information with me even though she wasn’t supposed to.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She knew how much it meant to me.  And you know, I have to admit, it was nice not being second guessed all the time.”

There’s humor in Mulder’s voice and he reaches over to take her hand, but she moves it away and he pulls back.  It’s the only time the car goes silent until she asks him to pull over at a rest stop a few miles ahead.  He nods and smiles, but it looks forced.

*****

Her apartment doesn’t seem all that different.  Just a few things that she doesn’t recognize: a book on the coffee table with a marker about a quarter of the way through, a sky blue glass vase on the table in front of the window, a school photo on the refrigerator that she’s sure is of her nephew, but he has an unfamiliar haircut and looks more like a young boy than the toddler she last saw him as.

Mulder shows her different stacks of mail that he picked up and sorted.  He paid her bills, he tossed out junk mail, he kept the weekly newsletters from church.  There isn’t anything to eat in her refrigerator and he offers to go shopping for her, but she shakes her head.  There’s a market on the corner and she’s perfectly capable of taking a walk down the street to pick up a few things.

Her bedroom is the most unfamiliar.  She stands in the doorway and stares at new furniture and the spaces where treasured knick knacks were.  The bedclothes are new.  Even the paint is new.

“So, um,” Mulder says behind her.  “I helped you redecorate last year.  Some things got damaged and others you wanted to get rid of.”

“Why?” she asks.

“Do you remember Donnie Pfaster?”

She winces at the sound of that name and nods.  A cold shiver runs up her spine.

“He got out of prison and he came here looking for you.”

Scully blinks and tries to imagine what happened there to make her change her entire room.  When she feared she’d been violated, maybe it was…  She sucks in a deep breath and clutches the door frame.

Mulder is immediately there, his arms around her, a hand on her hip, another on her shoulder.  His chest presses against her back as he leans past her to look at her face.  “Are you okay?” he asks.

“When did this happen?”

“Last March.”

She breathes out in relief.  That’s too early.  “Where’s Donnie Pfaster now?”

“You killed him.”

“Oh.”  She twists herself free from Mulder’s embrace and takes the route through her bathroom to get back to the hall.

“It was ruled as self defense,” Mulder says, following her into the living room.

“I thought I had a plant here.”  She ignores him and touches the top of an empty side table by her wardrobe.

“Yeah, he wasn’t as lucky as you.”

She’d like to change out of these clothes, but she’s pretty sure what she’s wearing right now are the only clothes she has that will fit.  She’d like to take a hot bath.  She’d like to run to the nearest bookstore and grab a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting, because she has no idea what’s going on with her right now.  She feels restless and irritable and like she could weep at any moment and like she wants to get Mulder out of her apartment as soon as possible, but also like she wants to cling to him and beg him not to leave because she’s not sure how to be alone right now.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go to the store for you?” Mulder asks.  “It’s no problem.”

“Look, Mulder, I...I’m just not sure how I fit in right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve lost a year of my life between the six months I was missing and the six months I can’t remember.  I don’t know if I have a job.  I don’t know how to suddenly be nearly eight months pregnant, when in my head, I was only told a few weeks ago that I would never have children.  I don’t know how to deal with any of this.”

“We’ll take it day by day.  I’ll help you.”

“I think what I need right now is to be alone.”

Mulder shifts his stance, like he wants to come towards her, but keeps himself back.  He shoves his hands in his pockets and clenches his jaw.  His Adam’s apple bobs up and down and then he nods a little.

“I’m a phone call away, Scully.  If you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine.”

The door snicks softly shut behind him when he leaves.  She stands in the silence, listening to the seconds tick by from the clock in the kitchen.  She has no idea what to do now.

*****

After Mulder leaves, after she makes an appointment for a checkup with her doctor, and after she goes to the market to pick up a few things, she stands in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom, unclothed, and looks at the changes in herself.

Her hair is longer, past her shoulders, and lighter.  She twists the ends between her fingers.  It hasn't been this long in some time.  She wonders if she should have it cut before the baby comes, or if she should let it keep growing.  It's different, but she likes it.

Her breasts are larger and heavier and it makes her chest a bit tender to the touch.  She feels a certain relief when she cups her hands under both breasts and lifts them to test their weight.  She releases them slowly and touches her chest gently, easing her fingers across her sternum to avoid the sensitive skin.  

She turns to look at the roundness of her belly in profile.  She feels larger than she looks.  As she caresses the upper swell of her stomach, the baby moves and she stops, unsure if she's done something to cause the movement or if it’s normal.

She’s overwhelmed with sadness that makes her bottom lip tremble, but she bites back the emotion and takes a deep breath.  She wishes she’d been able to witness the subtle transformation of her body with the pregnancy.  She wishes she’d been able to experience it all, good and bad, morning sickness and heartburn and cravings and realizing her pants no longer fit and there’s a noticeable little bump that she’d be inclined to hide.

She’s grateful to be pregnant after all she’s been through, but she hates that something was still taken away from her.

*****

Chapter 3, Day 3:

Scully starts the day determined to get back to something resembling her normal life.  She gets up early and drives herself to the mall to go shopping.  She ignores a call from Mulder as she tries on maternity clothes.  There is an agonizingly embarrassing moment at the cash registers when she discovers her credit cards have been frozen due to lack of use.  She has to bite the bullet and call Mulder.

“I appreciate this very much,” Scully says as Mulder pushes his credit card across the counter to the saleslady.  “I’ll pay you back, of course.  And for the rent.  Just as soon as…”

“It’s not a problem, Scully.  I told you, anything you need.”  He swipes his hand back and forth across the top of her back as the receipt prints.

“I want to go to work.  I want to talk to Skinner.

”You don’t want to take a couple days?”

“I need to get back to normal, Mulder.”

Mulder signs the receipt and hands it back to the cashier.  She gives him the shopping bag and he carries it as he guides Scully away with a hand at the small of her back.  She wants to ask him to press a little harder.  She’s had an ache just above her tailbone all morning.

“I get it, Scully, I do.  I just think maybe you should take a few days to adjust.”

“Sitting at home isn’t going to help me adjust.”

“I’m not trying to talk you out of it, I just want to make sure it’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want.”

“Okay.”  Mulder hands her the shopping bag as they exit the store.  “Come find me in the office after you talk to Skinner.”

“Thank you.”

*****

Dressed in a pair of maternity slacks, a silk top, and a blazer a size up from what she normally wears, she steps into the waiting room of Skinner’s office.  Skinner’s secretary looks wide-eyed up at her and fumbles for the phone to announce her arrival.  Skinner opens the door only seconds later, before she even has a chance to sit down, and invites her into his office.

“Mulder told me I should be expecting you,” Skinner says, taking a seat behind his desk.

Scully is still getting used to sitting herself down.  It takes her a moment to feel for the arms of the chair and ease into position.  The distribution of her weight and keeping her balance is so different.

“I’d like to be reinstated, Sir,” Scully says without any preamble.

“I gathered that.  Under the circumstances, I’m not sure it’s the wisest thing to do.”

“You don’t want to put me in the field, I understand, but I can run background checks.  I can work in the labs.  I can consult from the office.”

Skinner removes his glasses and sets them down on his desk.  He clasps his hands together and leans forward on his arms.  She’s about to be turned down and she braces herself for it, sets her jaw and levels her gaze.

“Maternity leave isn’t that far off for you,” Skinner says.

“A month, at least,” she replies.

“It would be impossible for me to do more than put on you desk duty.”

“I understand.”

“You’ll be in organized crime.”

“Wire-tapping duty?”

“Currently, the x-files unit is full.  Take it or leave it, Agent Scully.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Start tomorrow.  Report to SAC Connors.  You’ll be in the bullpen.”

“Thank you.”  With as much grace as she can find, Scully pushes herself up out of the chair as Skinner puts his glasses back on and keeps his head down.  The unit is less than ideal, as is the location of her desk, but it’s better than nothing and it will keep her occupied.

“It’s good to have you back, Agent Scully,” Skinner says when she reaches his door.

“Thank you, Sir.”

It takes a few minutes for the elevator to arrive.  As she waits, she sees the furtive glances of the other agents as they pass her by.  She knows she’s a curiosity right now, but it still irks her.  She punches the button for the basement and breathes a sigh of relief when she steps into an empty elevator.

Nothing about the basement has changed.  She touches the wall as she steps off the elevator and breathes in the familiar scent of dusty files.  For her, it was only a few days ago she was down here, but knowing that it’s been so long and things are the same also makes her feel nostalgic.

The office door is open, but she knocks anyway and then stops abruptly.  There’s a man she doesn’t recognize standing at the open file cabinet.  He’s wearing a suit, but he’s got a military haircut and she bristles at the invasion, ready to demand to see his credentials and to know who authorized him to be there.

“You must be Agent Scully,” he says, closing the file cabinet.  “Boy, is it good to meet you.  I’m Agent Doggett.”

Her shoulders relax a little and she steps further into the room.  Agent Doggett comes around to greet her with a file in his hand.  He pulls out a chair for her that’s been crammed up against the side of the desk.  She does a slightly better job of easing herself down this time.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks.  “Water?”

“No, thank you.  I came to see Mulder.”

“He should be back any minute.  He went to submit our travel req.”

“You're headed somewhere?”

“Oil rig off the Gulf of Mexico.  Body of one of the worker’s washed up on a Texas beach with radiation exposure.”

“From an oil rig?”

“Oil company insists it was from an accidental explosion.  Agent Mulder insists it's got somethin’ to do with an alien virus.”

“Of course he does.”

“Well you know, he puts on a good slideshow.”

Scully raises her left eyebrow.  “What do you think it is?”

“Negligence, probably.  The execs at the oil company got good and bent out of shape when Mulder started poking around.  Leads me to believe they got something to cover up.”

“Does Agent Mulder know that?”

“He doesn't care much what I think except getting my signature on the req.”

“Your signature?”

“He didn't tell you?  Kersh made me the senior agent down here.”

“You must've done something pretty egregious for that kind of punishment.”

“Yeah, I wouldn't arrest your partner and charge him with your murder.”

Scully isn't surprised that there are some details Mulder left out of his recanting of what's happened while she was away.  But, then again, small details like that aren't necessarily important to him.

“Tell Agent Mulder I stopped by,” she says, pushing herself out of the chair.  “I don't want to hold you up.”

“He should be right back.”

“That's okay.  I'll speak with him later.”

“It was nice to meet you, Agent Scully,” he calls after her.

“You as well, Agent Doggett.”

Scully holds her breath as the elevator doors open, but they're empty.  She punches the button for the parking garage and then leans against the wall and closes her eyes.

*****

She’s not more than five minutes from the Hoover building when Mulder calls.  She knows she probably shouldn’t answer, but she does anyway.

“Scully,” she says.

“You didn’t wait,” Mulder replies.

She can’t tell him that she didn’t want to see him with a new partner.  Didn’t want to hear about their case together.  Didn’t want to think about it at all.

“I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon,” she says.  “And it seems you’ve got your hands full with the oil company.”

“A doctor’s appointment?”

“With my own doctor.”

“Everything’s okay then?”

“It’s fine.”

“Where did Skinner place you?”

“Organized crime.”

“Ouch.  Wire taps?”

“That would be affirmative.”

“Damn.  He couldn’t at least put you in the labs?”

“Not at this time.”

“It’s not for long.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Look, we’re not leaving until tonight.  If you want, I could stop by before I go.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.  To see how your appointment went.  To make sure you have everything you need.”

“I have to go.  I’m on my way home right now to sort out my credit cards and insurance.  I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“Promise?”

“Have fun on the oil rig.”

*****

Scully has the last appointment for the day at Dr. Parenti’s office.  It’s not absolutely necessary, but she’d like to take precautions and have a doctor she trusts look at her results.  She flips through a parenting magazine as she waits and then closes it, a little overwhelmed by page after page of advice on things like sleep schedules, making your own baby food, and how to deal with temper tantrums in public.

She sits on the examination table in a paper gown and fuzzy socks, fidgeting nervously.  For the first time, she’s going to have to explain her abduction and the reason she hasn’t seen a doctor during her pregnancy and she doesn’t quite know what to say.

“Dana,” Dr. Parenti says when he enters the room.  “I hear congratulations are in order.  I’m so pleased.”

“Thank you.”

“Felicia says you’ve been away.  Who were you seeing in the meantime?  We’ll get your records transferred.”

“Well, I...the thing is I was not away by my own...it was a work related absence.  I didn’t have access to a doctor.”

“I see.”

“I was seen yesterday at a hospital in Roanoke.  I requested those records to be sent over before my appointment.”

“Let’s take some measurements then and go from there, okay?”

An hour later, Scully is dressed and in Dr. Parenti’s office waiting for her results.  He makes a few notes in her file before he looks up and smiles.

“Well, based on your measurements and a review of the sonogram, I’m in agreement with the hospital’s assessment.  And in absence of the last date of your period or intercourse, the first week of June sounds reasonable for a due date.”

“So, it wasn’t…”  She trails off.  She’d been hoping Dr. Parenti would confirm another round of in vitro had worked, but if he was estimating dates, that didn’t seem likely.  Unless she saw another specialist, and that didn’t seem likely either.

“Wasn’t what?”

“Nevermind, I was overthinking.”

“I don’t see anything here that’s cause for concern.  I’m going to leave you with a few pamphlets.  Make an appointment next week with Felicia so we can keep an eye on things.”

“Alright.”

The visit to Dr. Parenti does little to allay her concerns.  With the confirmation that she is not pregnant by in vitro, she’s left to assume she might be dealing with an unplanned pregnancy by an unknown father.  She doesn’t know what she’s going to tell her family.  They aren’t on the best of terms right now.  Or are they?  At the very least, she will have to figure out a few things before she calls her mother, that’s for sure.  

*****

Chapter 4, Day 4:

Scully can’t sleep.  For one thing, she’s uncomfortable, but for another, she can’t turn her mind off.  She doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s worried about Mulder.  She doesn’t like the thought of him in the middle of the ocean on an oil rig with a partner she’s not sure she can trust to watch his back.

Two o’clock rolls around and she hasn’t been able to keep her eyes closed more than a minute or two, so she gets up and logs into her work email to get a head start on things that might be waiting for her.  There’s an email from Mulder in there, time-stamped at 6:43 p.m.

Scully -

If you get bored tomorrow and need something less mindless to do, I thought you might want to take a look at the photos of the body that washed up in Texas.  Does it look like death from explosion to you?  This has black oil written all over it, Scully, I can feel it.

They’re sending the body to Quantico sometime tonight.  Maybe you can make a call and get the autopsy report.

Good luck either way.  I wish I could be with you.

-Mulder

She opens up a series of attached photos and scrolls through them.  She can’t tell from the photos alone what may have caused the angry, red lesions covering the body.  Her ID still works for the Quantico database, so she checks the log to see when the body arrived and when the autopsy will be performed, and by who.  Her suspicions are raised when the file indicates that the body is not to be autopsied, but transported to Mexico first thing in the morning.  The serial number for the cold storage locker is at the top of the intake sheet and she memorizes it before she shuts down her computer.

Without stopping to talk herself out of it, she gets dressed and heads to Quantico.  It’s not even three in the morning when she flashes her ID to the night guard and makes her way down to the morgue and scrubs in.

*****

It’s seven a.m. when she calls Skinner, only after trying to reach Mulder for an hour.  She doesn’t think she can speak freely over the phone, so she asks him to meet her at Quantico as soon as possible.  Twenty minutes later, and clearly annoyed, he comes through the door.

“Close the door,” she says to him.  “Lock it.”

“What’s going on?” he asks, doing as she says.  “What are you even doing here, Scully?  You’re due to report to SA-”

“I realize that, Sir, but Mulder emailed me photos of the body of the man killed on the oil rig last night, and I couldn’t let it go.”

“Let what go?”

“His belief that the black oil had something to do with this.”  She gestures to the body on the table next to her and Skinner grimaces.  “Now, I can’t reach Mulder, and I don’t know who to talk to about this.”

“About what?”

“What I found in the autopsy.”

“How did you even get access to the body, it’s my understanding the situation has become political and this man was supposed to be sent back to Mexico untouched.”

She ignores Skinner, takes up a pair of long tweezers and walks around to the top of the table.  “I found it by accident in the third ventricle of his brain,” she says, inserting the tweezers into the area in question.  

As soon as Scully puts slight pressure into the area, black liquid oozes out of the brain and pools at the back of the head.  Skinner looks alarmed and tries to pull her away from the body, but she lifts her elbow out of his grip.

“No,” she says.  “It’s okay.  It’s alright.”

“What do you mean?  I was under the impression that this stuff could literally jump into a man's body.”

“It can, and I've seen that happen, but that’s the thing.  This man was clearly infected by the alien virus.  It entered his system and it was massing in the pineal gland, but now it's dead.”

“I don’t understand.  What killed it?”

“Well intuitively, you would say the same thing that killed him, which would be exposure to high levels of radiation.  Yet it makes no sense because the virus itself has radioactive properties.”

“Then we need to get in touch with Mulder and Doggett.  They need to know what they’re dealing with.”

“Actually I was hoping you could convince Kersh to order a controlled evacuation of that rig as soon as possible.”

“I can’t go to Kersh with this.  It’s not evidence you can even explain or that he’ll understand.”

“If the virus gets loose, Mulder’s life is in danger.  Everyone on that rig is in danger.”

“We don't know that for sure.  There are nearly two dozen men on that rig and not one other case.  Why?”

Scully shakes her head and has to swallow the lump in her throat that comes on quickly.  Damn these pregnancy hormones.  “I don’t know,” she whispers.  If she can’t convince Skinner that Mulder is in danger, there’s no way she’ll convince Kersh.

*****

Against Skinner’s orders, Scully does not report to SAC Connors.  Instead, she heads to the basement and into the back room to hook up Mulder’s radio transmitter.  She tries to reach the oil rig all morning.  A blister blooms on the side of her finger from depressing the button on the microphone continuously, but she doesn’t give up.  Finally, something like a voice cuts through the static.

“This is Orpheus,” a faint voice replies to her signal.  “Go ahead.”

“Orpheus, I’ve been trying to reach you for hours,” she says.  “This is Special Agent Dana Scully.  I need to speak with one of the agents you have on board, either Mulder or Doggett.”

“I can take your message, Agent Scully.”

“No, I need to speak with Mulder or Doggett directly.”

“Agent Doggett’s fishing, Agent Scully,” a different, instantly recognizable voice answers.  “You’ll have to settle for me.”

“This isn’t a joke, Mulder.”

“You found something, didn’t you?  Is it the virus?”

“Yes, I did.  And it’s dead.”

“Dead?  What killed it?”

“Possibly radiation.”

“That’s not possible.”

“I know,” she says, holding a hand to her head in frustration.  “I know, and this could be an isolated event, but that he's infected at all means that everybody out there could be at risk.  And that includes you and Agent Doggett.”

“We’ve got to quarantine the rig.”

“No,” she says, emphatically.  “Mulder, you have got to get off the rig.  Agent Doggett can give the order.  We can quarantine you and the crew when you get back.”

“Scully, if these men are infected the last place we want to be is onshore where they can infect other people.  You're sitting on the answer right there, Scully.   It’s in the body.  You need to find out for sure what killed it.”

“What if I can’t?”

There’s a beat of silence and Scully thinks the transmission may have gone dead.  “Tell the kid I went down swinging,” Mulder finally says.

“Mulder?”

There’s no answer.  Scully throws the microphone down and puts her head in her hands.

*****

Biting the bullet, Scully goes to Kersh herself, bringing him her autopsy report and photos of the body.  She breezes past his secretary and knocks on the door before she lets herself in.  Kersh looks surprised to see her.  It’s the most emotion she’s ever seen him display.

“Sir, I’m sorry to come unannounced,” she says.  “I wouldn’t be here unless it was an emergency.”

“What kind of an emergency crops up in wiretapping?” he asks, disdain in his voice.

“This is my autopsy report on Simon de la Cruz.”  She places a file on his desk and then steps back.

The disdain in Kersh’s voice turns to full on anger.  “Who authorized you to conduct an autopsy on this man?”

“No one, Sir.”

“Agent Scully, this is an insubordinate stunt the likes of which I would expect from Agent Mulder.”

“I don’t have time for reprimands, I need you to look at this report and I need you to order an immediate evacuation of the oil rig that Agents Mulder and Doggett are on.”

Kersh flips open the file with thinly veiled disgust.  “What am I looking at?”

“This man was exposed to a virus.”

“And?”

“And the entire crew of that ship may be infected as we speak.”

“You want me to order a multi-billion dollar company to shut down their operations because you suspect their crew might have a virus.”

“This isn’t a suspicion.  This is-”

She’s cut off by the ringing of Kersh’s phone, which he promptly answers.  He stares at her with contempt as he listens to the caller.  She turns to give him the semblance of privacy as he mmhms and I sees his way through the call.  Eventually, he hangs up, and Scully faces him again.

“I see I’m not the first one you went to to plead your case.”

“Sir?”

“That was the president of Galpex-Orpheus expressing his dismay that AD Skinner ordered an evacuation of his rig when I expressly assured him his business would not be affected by the investigation.”

“How could you even promise such a thing?  Especially when the company could have very well been negligent.  Who exactly do you work for?”

“As of now, Agent Scully, you are suspended until further notice.”

“Sir, if you just-”

“Effective immediately, Agent Scully.  Turn your badge over to AD Skinner on your way out of the building.”

Trembling with rage, Scully turns and exits Kersh’s office.  She has to fight the urge to slam the door on her way out.  On the elevator down to Skinner’s office, she curses the man for being such a hard-headed bastard.

She feels rather defeated as Skinner ushers her through his door and she places her badge on his desk.  He looks perplexed.

“I’ve been ordered to turn in my badge,” she says, holding her head high, but feeling like she’s on the verge of tears.

“You went to Kersh?”

“I felt I had no choice.”

“I want you to explain something to me.”  Skinner hands her an open folder.  “I had Agent Navarro copy me on the blood tests you ordered on de la Cruz.”

Scully browses the report Skinner hands her and then stops to read more carefully.  She knits her brow and studies the first page, and then the next.

“This indicates that his T-cell count is impossibly high,” she says.  “To put it in layman’s terms, it would mean he’s a virus-fighting machine.”

“What would explain that?”

She thinks for a moment.  “Well,” she says.  There are isolated cultures, in northern Italy for one, where people are immune to certain diseases.  Heart disease in that case, through a genetic mutation.”

“So this man had what?  A kind of genetic immunity to the alien virus?”

“His employment records listed him as mixed Mexican ancestry, when in fact he is Waicha Indian. The Waicha are an indigenous Mexican culture that has a rare undiluted gene pool.  Maybe these genes may have an innate immunity to infection.”

“Alright, he’s immune.  But, he died from being burned.”

She shakes her head, forming an explanation.  “No, not burned,” she murmurs, shaking her head and thinking out loud.  “Irradiated.  Because the virus had no effect on him.  The crew members who were affected by the virus couldn't control him, so they killed him, by irradiating him.”

“So why not kill Mulder?  Or Agent Doggett?  Why kill only this man?”

“All I can think is that he must have been a threat.  Possibly because of something he knew.”

“Even if we did know, and were able to give word to them, would it be something that would put Mulder and Agent Doggett in danger as well?”

“I don’t know.”

Under the pretense of escorting Scully to retrieve her things, Skinner walks her down to the basement and she turns the transmitter back on.  Both of them attempt to contact the oil rig in separate shifts.  She paces while he sends out the signal.  Agent Doggett is the one to respond this time.

“AD Skinner?”

“Agent Doggett?”

“What is that noise?” Scully asks, moving around Skinner to listen more closely to the speaker.  “It sounded like banging.”

“Agent Doggett?” Skinner asks again.

“Yeah, right here,” he shouts.

“Can you hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“What is that noise?”

“Banging.”

Scully takes the microphone from Skinner.  “Agent Doggett, I think I know what killed de la Cruz.”

“Right now we got bigger problems.  We’re gonna need a chopper.”

“Tell him there’s a chopper on the way,” Skinner says.

“There’s a chopper on the way,” she tells Agent Doggett.

“Agent Scully, listen.  There are three men on board here that are not infected.  Me, Mulder and a man named Diego Garza who may be mentally unstable.  Could be why he tried to wreck this radio room, just like his friend Simon de la Cruz.  He may resist rescue attempt because he believes there are men in flying saucers who are coming to get him.  Agent Scully, do you-”

The transmission begins to break up on their end and Scully tries to answer Doggett back, but the feed goes completely silent.  Skinner flips off the radio and she slumps against the table for a few moments.

“I guess I better walk out now before Kersh has me thrown out,” she says.

“I’ll deal with Kersh.  Go home and try not to think about it.  I’ll have Mulder call you when they land.”

“Do you think they’ll make it?”

“Of course.”

She nods, but she can tell Skinner isn’t too sure.  She picks up the attache she dropped off in the office when she came in and heads out, with her boss behind her.

“You wouldn’t have enjoyed wiretapping anyway,” Skinner says.

“Probably not,” she returns.  “But, I needed something to take my mind off the fact that I have no idea where I’ve been for six months, no idea how this baby came to be, and no idea what I’m going to do.”

Skinner looks mildly shocked and puts a hand on her back.  “Would you like to speak with Karen Kosseff about this?”

“I don’t think therapy’s going to help this time.”

They ride the elevator together in awkward silence until the doors open to the parking garage.  She can tell Skinner wants to say more to her, but she walks out and doesn’t look back.

*****

Her cell phone rings just a few minutes after she walks through her door.  She can barely hear him, but it’s Mulder.

“Are you alright?” she asks, holding a hand over her ear to try to hear him better.

“Doggett and I are the only survivors,” he answers.

“I’m sorry, are you saying everyone on that rig is dead?”

“Blown to smithereens.”

Scully sucks in a breath.  She has no idea what that means in terms of containing the virus.  It isn’t good news.

“Where are they quarantining you?” she asks.

“They’re not.”

“Mulder…”

“Doggett and I are fine.  You can check me out yourself when I get back.”

“I will.”

“Look, I’ve got to go.”

“Stay vigilant, Mulder.  Be aware of any signs of-“

“I know the drill, Scully.  Lo-uh...I’ll see you later.”

There’s a click on Mulder’s end and then silence.  Scully hangs up the phone with an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach.  The baby kicks and she rubs her hand over her belly.  She’s no less worried now, having spoken to Mulder, than she was before.  She needs to see him and look into his eyes herself to make sure he’s okay.

Suddenly, she feels a small jab of pain in her side and she sucks in a breath and presses her hand to her ribs.  Some flash of a memory comes to her in the moment, but it lacks specificity.  She only remembers being annoyed with Mulder for wanting her to explore crop circles with him on a Saturday.

The baby shifts within her.  The pain lasted only a second and doesn’t come back.

*****

Scully is abruptly pulled from sleep by a noise she registers as knocking only after jerking awake and flailing an arm out for the phone on her nightstand and realizing she’s on her couch and her phone didn’t ring.  She struggles to get up and pushes the hair out of her face as she makes her way to the door.  Before she even checks the peephole, she suspects Mulder is on the other side.  He looks relieved when she opens it for him.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” he says in lieu of a greeting.  “I just wanted to check to make sure everything was okay.”

“Yeah, I...I guess I fell asleep.  What time is it?”

“Not even ten.”

“Come in.  You’re back already?”

“Landed about an hour ago.”

She can tell she startles him when she grabs his face and holds his head steady as she looks in his eyes.  He looks nothing but concerned.  No black clouds in the whites of his eyes, just a little bloodshot which tells her he’s tired.  She releases him and finally feels the relief she’d wanted when she spoke with him earlier.

“Am I clear?” he asks.

“All clear.”

“Skinner told me what happened.  I’m sorry, Scully.  I didn’t mean for you to-”

“I know you didn’t.  It’s okay.”  Even as the words leave her mouth, she feels her shoulders begin to shake and she drops her head.  Once again, she’s unable to keep her motions in check and she knows it must be an aspect of the pregnancy because she can usually keep her frustration under control a lot better.

“Oh, Scully.”  

Mulder puts his arms around her and she lets her head fall against his chest.  There have only been a handful of times she’s allowed him to hold her like this, times of distress and heartache.  It’s always been comforting, but never more so than now.  She feels the urge to cling to him and release her pent up fear into his chest.  It’s like she’s realizing for the first time how strong he is and how weak she is.

“It’s not okay,” she whispers.  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do right now.”

“You need time to adjust.”

“I can’t sit at home all day alone, I’ll go insane.”

Mulder moves one hand in a broad circle over her back and then he reaches up to push her hair over her ear.  She closes her eyes and sighs.  If she could stay like this for awhile, maybe she could absorb some of his strength.

“There’s something else you should know,” he says.

“What?”

“Kersh has been sanctioned and his office is under investigation.”

Scully gasps a little and pulls back to look at Mulder’s face.  “What?”

“Your suspension has been removed from your record, but Skinner doesn’t think it’s a very good idea for you to come back just yet.”

“Did Skinner file a complaint against him?”

“Yes, but he’s not the only one.  Kersh was suspected of accepting bribes in other matters and has been under surveillance for some time.  You might have to testify to what you heard in his office today.”

“When can I come back?”

Mulder pulls her back into a hug.  “Give it a week at least.”  

“What am I going to do with a week?”

“What if we went away?”

“Away?”

“Yeah, like a vacation.  What if I took you somewhere?”

“Where?”

“How about some place tropical?”

“Are you just saying that because you have a hot tip on the whereabouts of the Fiji mermaid?”

Mulder pulls back and chuckles.  He puts his hands on her face and swipes at her tears with his thumbs.  “You see,” he says.  “You’re still the skeptical Scully I know and love.”

Her heart jumps in her chest a little.  It hits her that part of the reason she hasn’t felt much like herself is that she definitely feels different around Mulder.  Not a bad kind of different, just different.  Like she needs something from him, but she doesn’t know what that is.

“Running away never solved anything,” she says.

“It’s not running, it’s just a vacation.”

“I’ll think about it.”  She pauses and studies his face for a moment.  “Mulder, in the months I can’t remember, did you ever ask me to go look at crop circles with you?”

“You turned me down cold.”  He cocks his head and purses his lips.  “Are you...did you remember something?”

“Being annoyed with you.”

“That certainly narrows it down.”  He smiles at her and she closes her eyes for a moment.

“Did you go without me?”

“To find the crop circles?”  He sighs when she nods her head.  “Yeah, but I came up empty handed.  You on the other hand, had an epiphany.”

“What?”

“Apparently you and God had a little tet-e-tet in a buddhist temple.”

“Clearly I was pulling your leg.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“That doesn’t sound like me.”

“I was just as surprised as you are.  Listen, I’ve got tomorrow off.  Think about where you want to go and call me.  Skinner will be thrilled he doesn’t have to force time off on me this year.”

“What about Agent Doggett?”

“He’s a big boy.  I’ll promise to send him a postcard.”  

Mulder brushes his thumbs over her cheeks again and smiles.  His eyes move over her face and there’s a fleeting look of sadness there when he lets go of her.  She walks him to the door.

“Night, Scully.”

*****

Chapter 5, Day 5:

Scully wakes occasionally through the night, the need to relieve her bladder the main culprit of her restlessness.  She sleeps later than usual, having shut off her alarm before she went to bed the night before.  She lies in bed and thinks about where she might want to go on the little getaway Mulder’s offered her.  The beach sounds nice.  Even if she won’t be wearing a suit and she has little tolerance for the sun, it would be nice to smell the salty air and feel an ocean breeze.

It hits her though, as she’s getting dressed, that she is completely unprepared to bring a baby home to this apartment.  She has nothing.  No onesies, no receiving blankets, no bottles, bibs, crib, nothing.  Things like that take time and planning.  That’s probably why pregnancy lasted nine months, to give women time to prepare a nursery.

She doesn’t call Mulder ahead of time, she just shows up, knocking on his door at 9am.  Not surprisingly, he’s in sweats and a t-shirt when he answers.  His hair is spiked up in the back and his eyes are sleepy.

“I’m sorry,” she says.  “I woke you.”

He yawns and rubs the back of his head.  She ducks under his arm to enter his apartment, looking around to see if everything is as she remembers it to be.

“You thought about where you want to go?” he asks.

“Nowhere,” she answers.  “I realized that I have nothing for this baby.  None of the things I should have.  I need to get a crib and...and all the other things.”

“Okay.”  He nods and scrubs his face with his hands.  “Okay, we’ll go to one of those baby stores and get stuff.”

“I have to get the spare room cleaned out first and paint.”

“You have a spare room?”

“Yeah, across from the bathroom.”

“I always thought that was a closet.”

“No, it’s a spare room.  Mostly it’s old textbooks and kind of like a place to store things.”

“Okay, so, paint store first, then baby store.”

“Except I might have to order things and then who knows if they’ll come in time.”

Mulder yawns and scratches the back of his head again.  “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.”

“I’m gonna get dressed and get bagels.”

“And cream cheese?”

“Extra cream cheese with cream cheese on the side,” he says, still scratching the back of his head as he walks away and closes the door to his room.

Only a few minutes later, Mulder emerges in jeans and another t-shirt.  He grabs his keys and wallet from the table.

“Stay here, relax, and think about what color paint you want,” he says.  “I’ll be back.”

Scully sits back on the couch and closes her eyes.  She breathes deeply for a moment.  It’s not long before the need to use the bathroom sneaks up on her.  She sighs and pushes up from the couch.

Mulder’s bathroom is as cluttered as usual.  He’s got a leaky faucet that drips like a metronome.  He’s got new towels though, softer than his old ones.  She can see that he’s also switched brands of toothpaste and uses the same one she does.  Still squeezes from the middle though.

There are file boxes on the floor of Mulder’s bedroom.  Probably cases Agent Doggett wouldn’t let him look into.  She opens one of them and then drops the lid on the floor when she sees her name on outside of the file.

The cover page is all identifying information.  There’s a photo clipped inside that she doesn’t recognize of herself.  It looks like a candid.  She’s smiling and though it’s a close up of her face, she can make out what looks like a carnival of some sorts in the background past her shoulder.

She flips the page and reads Mulder’s written statement, dated the day after her abduction and witnessed by AD Skinner.  He talks about the investigation, mostly, and what they were in the woods in Bellefleur looking for.  His handwriting gets a little unsteady when he recounts the moment he witnessed the group disappear.

The next page is the results of a pregnancy test that she ordered and signed for.  It’s dated the morning of her abduction.  So, she must have known, going out to Bellefleur, that she was pregnant.  Her automatic reaction is to touch her stomach apologetically.  She’s absolutely sure she didn’t feel there was a danger in going out to Oregon.  She never would have put the baby at risk like that.

There’s a memo on Skinner’s letterhead to the HR department requesting that Margaret Scully be removed as emergency contact on her file.  She furrows her brow over that, but behind it is a handwritten call log from Skinner’s secretary that indicates the request came from her mother in response to being notified of her disappearance.

The next page is a transcript of an interrogation done by Agent Reyes of Mulder.  Her breath catches in her throat as she reads it.

AGENT REYES: You and Agent Scully were close?

AGENT MULDER: Yes, we are close.

AGENT REYES: Right.

AGENT MULDER: To pick up where Agent Doggett left off, yes, we’re more than just partners, though that's been a more recent development in our relationship.

AGENT REYES: How recent?

AGENT MULDER: About four months recent.

AGENT REYES: Why?”

AGENT MULDER: Why what?

AGENT REYES: Why did you decide to become intimate with your partner?

AGENT MULDER: It wasn't so much of a decision as...it just happened.

Her hands are shaking as she closes the file.  She holds it to her chest as she gets up and goes back out to the living room.  She’s standing in the middle of the room when Mulder comes back with the bagels and as he raises the bag at her with a smile, she holds up the file in her hand.

“You lied to me,” she says.

Mulder glances from the file in her hand to her face.  “Scully, I...I didn’t lie.”

“You made me believe something that wasn’t the truth.  A lie by omission.”

“No, I never...you didn’t ask.  If you had asked me-”

“How the hell am I supposed to ask if you’re the father of my baby?”

“I thought, at the very least, you would know that.”

“Well, I didn’t.  I didn’t know anything.  And you know everything and you didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted to.  God, Scully, I wanted to tell you so badly.”

The jabbing pain Scully felt the night before returns, only a little sharper and more intense.  She winces and grabs her side, hunching slightly.  Her mind flashes onto another moment in time, of waking up on Mulder’s couch, covered with his Navajo blanket.  She’d let it slip to the floor and walked into his bedroom.

“Scully, are you okay?”

Mulder’s arms go around her and he hunches with her, supporting her.  She pushes him away and straightens with a small groan.

“Why did you keep it from me?” she asks.  “Were you hoping I’d never find out?  Do you not want this baby?”

“Jesus, of course I want this baby!” he shouts.  “I was hoping you’d remember us on your own.  Don’t forget, I know you, Scully.  You can’t be told something, you have to see it for yourself.  It wouldn’t have been enough for me to tell you about the four months we were together, you’d need proof.”

“I do need proof.”

“And forgive me,” he continues.  “But, I didn’t know what to think.  Every other abductee that’s come back is only missing a day of memory at most.  Whatever process you went through is intended to erase the painful memories, I think.  And you lost the entire time we were together.  What’s that tell me?”

“I guess we’ll never know.”

The pain gripping her side becomes too intense to bear any longer and she cries out.  It brings her to her knees, but Mulder is there, holding her up.  He gathers her close and eases her onto the couch, touching her cautiously.

“Call an ambulance,” she whispers.  Her chin has begun to tremble, an indication to her that her blood pressure has risen.  Her vision starts to swim and she blacks out.

*****

For the second time in a week, Scully wakes up in a hospital.  It’s evening, judging by the low light coming through the window, and her room is dim with only the soft light above her bed on.  She has a vague recollection of being loaded into an ambulance and being admitted and of Mulder shouting at people.

She’s groggy and knows she doesn’t have all her wits about her, but she feels the baby stir inside her and she thinks that must mean he’s okay.  She places her hands on her belly and breathes deeply.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

Scully turns her eyes to the door and sees Mulder enter.  He rushes over to her side and puts a hand on her shoulder to keep her down when she tries to sit up.  “Don’t strain,” he says.

“Thirsty,” she answers, licking her parched lips.

He pours a cup of water for her and adjusts the bendable straw to her mouth.  She drinks what she needs and then tips her head away.

“What happened?” she asks.

“The doctor said it’s a partial abruption,” he answers, taking a seat in the chair next to her bed.  “He wants you to rest and he says he’s going to keep you here for a few days to monitor you and the baby.”

She caresses her belly lightly.  “He’s okay?”

“You’re both fine.”

“I’m sorry that I-”

“No, I’m sorry,” he interrupts.  “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“And I should have told you from the beginning, but I just didn’t know how.”

“Quite honestly, Mulder, if the situation was reversed, I don’t know that I would know how either.”

Mulder’s cell phone rings and he fishes it out of his pocket, looks at the display, silences it, and then puts it back in his pocket.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Reyes,” he answers, shaking his head a little.

Her mood changes with the mention of Agent Reyes.  Whatever was there between them before her abduction, six months is a long time to wait, and he never gave any indication they’d made promises to each other.  If he has feelings for Agent Reyes, she will have to understand.

Scully moves her hands lower on her abdomen and looks up at the ceiling.  “Shouldn’t you answer her?”

“She wanted me to take a look at a case she’s working on.  We got cut off earlier when I was in the hall.  It’s not urgent.”

“You can go.”

He shakes his head.

“Seriously, Mulder, you don’t have to worry about me if that’s what’s stopping you.”

“Of course I’m worried about you.  Both of you.”

“I’ll just be resting.”

“I’d rather be here.”

“To do what?”

He purses his lips and cocks his head slightly.  “Be here,” he states, like he doesn’t understand the question.

“Take the call.  Work the case.  I don’t need you.”

The instant the words are out of her mouth, she sees the hurt on his face, but she doesn’t want him there out of a sense of obligation.  He’s hesitant to get up, looking at her incredulously, but finally he stands.  His arm swings up like he’s going to touch her, but then he curls his hand into a loose fist and drops his arm.

“Call me if you need anything,” he says.

She watches him go and then tips her head back, releasing the tears that had threatened to come just a few minutes ago.  They roll down her temples and into her hair.

*****

Chapter 6, Day 6:

Mulder doesn’t visit her the next morning, but she isn’t surprised.  There isn’t much to do on her forced bed rest except watch TV.  It’s unfathomable the amount of game shows are on in a two hour span of time.  

The monotony of her day is broken up by the arrival of her mother.  She’s not just surprised, she’s stunned.  She shuts the TV off and shifts into a more comfortable position, unsure of what she’s supposed to say.

“I wanted to see that you were alright,” her mother says.

“How did you know I was here?” Scully asks.

“Fox called me.”

Of course he did.  She didn’t even think about it, but in her mind, Christmas was only two months ago.  Obviously, though, even with the change in their relationship, she never told him what happened and she wonders why.

Her mother looks around the room, clearly uncomfortable.  She has the same look on her face she used to when Melissa invited her boyfriend du jour over for dinner.  Scully wishes she could remember if they’d spoken between February and September.  She only knows they haven’t spoken from Christmas to her birthday.

“You can sit down,” Scully says.

“I only wanted to see for myself that you were alright.”

“I’m fine.”

There are a few furtive glances at the swell of Scully’s stomach, hidden under the thin hospital blankets, but then her mother finally sits down.  Her gaze falls more steadily on her daughter’s abdomen to the point of staring.

“It’s a boy,” Scully says.  “In case you were wondering.”

“You found out?”

“It couldn’t really be helped.  They had to make sure everything was okay under the circumstances.”

“Yes, I would imagine they would.”

There comes an awkward silence and Scully thinks about what it would mean to apologize for things she wasn’t sorry for saying.  She would do it though, if it made it easier for her mother to want to be a part of her life and part of her grandchild’s life.  She doesn’t like the rift that exists between them and didn’t imagine it would last so long.

“I know we haven’t seen eye to eye in the past,” her mother says suddenly.  “But, surely this latest incident has persuaded you to see my point.”

Scully blinks and the possibility of a reconciliation vanishes.  “No, Mother, it does not,” she says.  “It only reinforces my point.”

“Dana, you have a child to consider now.”

“I am considering him.  And I don’t want to have this argument with you again.”

“I will never understand you.”

“You don’t have to understand me, you just have to respect my choices.”

“Your father wou-”

“Don’t,” she says, her voice dropping an octave into the range of cold.  “I’m not a little girl anymore.”

Her mother stands and moves towards the door with an exhausted, fretful look on her face.  Scully would feel badly about it if not for the things that were said and done last Christmas and if not for the memo she found in her file about wanting to be removed as her emergency contact.  She’s glad she didn’t apologize, but there is something more she wants to say.

“Mom,” Scully says.  “I am sorry that I’m not the daughter you want me to be, but I will not apologize for being the person I am.  Let me ask you something, do you give Bill the same speech you give to me each time he ships out?  That he has a son and a wife at home to consider.  If you got the Navy housecall that he was lost at sea, would you ask to be removed as his emergency contact?”

Her mother’s lips twitch and her head jerks slightly in the negative.  “What Bill does is dangerous, but it’s important.”

“So is what I do.  We are both working to make this world a safer place and now, even more than ever, I am determined to see that through.”

“Once you become a mother, you’ll understand.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“You push everyone away, Dana, you’ll end up alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Scully answers, placing her hand over her belly both protectively and defiantly.  It isn’t just the baby she’s thinking of though.

Her mother leaves with a weary backwards glance.

*****

Scully spends the rest of the day in and out of sleep and contemplating calling Mulder.  She knows nothing about the case he’s working on and it worries her.  She also feels guilty for sending him away like she did.  She shouldn’t have told him she didn’t need him.

It’s after visiting hours, so of course that’s when Mulder slips into her room.  She’s still awake, but barely.  Her defenses are down enough to smile when she sees him.

“Hey,” he says.  “You’re awake.”

“Mostly.”

He’s dressed in a suit, not casual clothes, which piques her guilt again.  He wasn’t supposed to be working today, but she told him to, even when she knows he works too much.

She gestures for him to come closer and he does, slipping his hand into hers as he sits beside her on the bed.  He touches the hair that’s fallen across her forehead and tucks it back over her ear with a smile.  Forgiving and forgetting come so easy to him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Druggy,” she answers.  “How’s your case?”

“It’s not really my case, I’m just helping out.  Scully, let me ask you something.”

“Mmhm.”

“How did you manage to remain so skeptical after all these years?”

She chuckles, unprepared for that kind of question, especially when he looks so sincere.  “Why do you ask?”

“It’s strange being on the flip side of things.”

“How so?”

“Reyes called me on this case because she believes in visions that she’s had, in the past and present, and she thinks a case she worked a long time ago is connected to this one because of it.  She thought I might be more open to her theory.”

“It’s probably just a coincidence.”

“That's what I said.”

Scully raises her brows with a bit of amusement.

“It’s hard being the voice of reason,” he says, while squeezing her hand.

“What are the visions she’s had?”

Mulder sighs and sits back a little.  “So, I didn’t tell you this, but Reyes and Doggett go way back?”

“They do?”

“Yeah, I think there might even be a thing between them, I don’t know.”

“A thing?”

“You know.  A thing.”

“I thought…”

Mulder tips his head in question.  She closes her eyes and breathes out, feeling foolish.  With a shake of her head, she opens her eyes again.

“Nothing,” she says.  “Go on.”

“They met on a case eight years ago, before Doggett was FBI.  He used to be NYPD.”

“Don’t tell me there was a turf war over a case.”

“No.  Doggett’s seven-year-old son was kidnapped and murdered.”

“My God.”  Her free hand unconsciously moves to her belly.

“Reyes claims that when they found Luke Doggett, she had a vision of the body as ashes.  She also claims Doggett later told her had it too, but he denies it.”

“You know that could have been the power of suggestion.  He must’ve been distraught at the time.”

Mulder nods in agreement.  “She saw the same thing when she encountered a body a few days ago, and it turns out that man was someone they questioned about Luke’s murder but could never arrest.”

“Was that before or after she knew who he was?”

“Before.”

“I don’t think there’s anything there.”

“Uh oh.”

“Why uh oh?”

“Something has to be wrong if we agree.”

Scully smiles a little.  There’s a lull in the conversation and Mulder reaches out and places his hand above hers on her stomach.  He splays his fingers and smiles, an awestruck and reverent look coming over his face.  The baby kicks and Mulder looks at her before he chuckles.  

“Did he just…?” Mulder asks.  She nods just as the baby gives another strong kick, right at the center of Mulder’s hand.  He looks at her and laughs, like she planned it or had something to do with it.  She’s never seen him look so happy and she feels her eyes well with tears.  It should have been so obvious to her, the way he feels about her.  It isn’t just because of the baby, either.  It’s how he looks at her.  She wonders again how they got to this place and how that line was crossed.  

Their gazes hold on each other and there’s a beat, then two, then three.  Mulder’s lips part and his eyes bounce down to her mouth and then back.  He wants to kiss her, she can tell and if he does, she knows she’ll let him.  He doesn’t though, he just ends up shyly dropping his head and biting his lip.  She wishes she could remember just one of his kisses, to know what they’re like.  New Year’s Eve doesn’t count.

“You know when they’re letting you go yet?” Mulder suddenly asks.

“Not yet.”

“Do you still want my help with getting the room ready?”

“I do.”

“Because I can get started on that for you, you know.”

“I’d like that.”

“Okay.”

He moves his hand off her belly, but she grabs onto his wrist, not wanting him to leave.

“You called my mother,” she says.

“Yeah.  She um...”

“I know she removed herself from my contact list.”

“She didn’t deal with your disappearance very well.”

“That’s not the reason.  I never told you?”

“No, you didn’t tell me anything.”

Scully nods.  “You know I went to San Diego over Christmas.”

“Yeah.”

“I came back early, and not to go zombie hunting with you either.”

“I thought you flew in the morning of New Year’s Eve.”

“No, I left Christmas Eve, actually.”

Mulder looks shocked.  “Scully, why?”

“My mother and Bill thought it was an appropriate time to sit me down and lecture me about my life choices and to demand that I quit the FBI or risk being cut off from the family.”

“What?”

“Bill basically told me my career was unimportant and that I had something wrong with me, a death wish, actually, is what he said.  He also said I was selfish, reckless, and thoughtless, among other things.”

“Jesus, what brought this on?”

“I think maybe missing Thanksgiving because I was in Africa.”

Mulder closes his eyes and sweeps a hand down his face.  He presses his fingers into his temples and shakes his head.  “Scully, I’m sorry.”

“No.”  She grabs his hand from his face and squeezes it hard.  “I’m assuming I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to think this was your fault.”

“You wouldn’t have been in Africa if not for me.”

“I was in Africa because that’s where I needed to be.  Our work is important.  Neither my mother or my brother are willing to admit or accept that what I do is just as meaningful as what he does.  It’s me that’s no longer tolerant of their attitude about it.”

“They’re your family.”

“You’re my family,” she whispers, resting their joined hands on her stomach.

She can tell Mulder is moved.  His lips move in that way that tells her he is trying to think of something to say, but failing.  She doesn’t really want him to say anything though.

“I don’t know how we got here,” she says.  “I need you to help me remember.”

The door opens just then and a night nurse comes in, white shoes squeaking as she marches over with a dinner tray.  Her arms are thin, but strong.  Her grey hair is in a loose bun, like she was trying to give the impression of being severe, but didn’t quite pull it off.  She looks at them both with vague disapproval as she sets the tray down on the table next to Scully’s bed.  

“Sir, you can’t be in here,” she says.  “It’s after hours.”

“He’s the father,” Scully answers.

“Congratulations, that doesn’t mean rules don’t apply.”

Mulder carries Scully’s hand up to his mouth and kisses her knuckles.  “I’ll come back in the morning,” he says.

Scully pulls on his hand until he leans closer and she puts her hand on his face.  He smiles and kisses the corner of her mouth.  His five o’clock shadow rasps against her fingertips as he moves away.  Her eyes follow him out the door and she aches for him to return.  She thinks the shift inside herself had already taken place last February, but she hadn’t yet recognized it.

*****

Chapter 7, Day 10:

She can finally go home.  Finally.  She’s getting pretty tired of all the relaxing she’s had to do, but her doctor has given her the all clear to resume her life with the caveat that she take it easy for the next few weeks.

Mulder had been at the hospital every day, taking her orders on what she’d like done to her spare room to get it prepared.  The most he’s done, as far as she knows, is clear it out and get it painted.  She spent over two hours looking at paint samples he brought her and finally decided on a very pale shade of mint green, until she looked at the wallpaper and border samples and changed her mind entirely.  Mulder finally took both books from her and said he’d handle things.

She’s anxious to see the room, but she’s sick of being cooped up inside and in bed.  She wants to be out in the world.  When Mulder picks her up, she demands he take her shopping.  There’s a Pottery Barn Kids exactly eight blocks away from the hospital.  She knows because she scoured the Yellow Pages in her room, looking for the nearest baby store.

“There’s a whole Pottery Barn for kids?” Mulder asks, incredulously.  “Exclusively for kids.  Like, adult Pottery Barn on one side of the street, and baby Pottery Barn on the other?  They can’t just have one integrated Pottery Barn?”

As he wheels her out the door and walks with her to the car, drives to the store and parks outside, he comes up with a whole variety of Pottery Barn exclusives that has her rolling her eyes, but laughing.

“Pottery Barn Geriatrics,” he says.  “Pottery Barn Pets.  Pottery Barn Yuppies.  Pottery Barn Sailors.  Pottery Barnyard Animals.”

“We’re in public,” she tells him outside the store.  “Try and behave.”

“Do they have a Pottery Barn jail too?” he whispers in her ear as he holds the door open for her.  “Or, Pottery Barn Juvenile Delinquent Detention Center, I should say?”

There’s an overwhelming amount of furniture on display in the store.  Every few feet the model of a nursery is set up with completely different styles of decor and bedroom sets.  Mulder follows her through the maze of nurseries, thumping mattresses and yanking on the bars of cribs like he’s kicking the tires on a new car.

“Behave,” Scully whispers to him.

“We need to get one of the ones with the round edges.  Look at this corner, it’ll put someone’s eye out.”

“I’ll look the cribs, you go look at the sheets.”

Mulder separates from her and she continues her wandering, sliding her hands over bedrails to feel the wood and leaning over to check the depth inside.  The price tag on the first couple she’s interested in make her shy away, but she finds one she likes that seems reasonable.  It’s natural oak, rounded edges so Mulder shouldn’t object, and it converts to a toddler bed.  The matching changing table doubles as a dresser.  The tag says assembly is quick and easy and it has a ten year warranty.  She’s sold.

Her back has started to ache a little, so she sits down in a nearby chair.  Not only is it the most comfortable chair she’s ever sat in, the way it moves is a lot smoother than a rocker.  She looks at the tag.  It’s called a glider, and it’s expensive.  Too expensive to give it another thought, but she closes her eyes to enjoy it anyway.

“Don’t you look cozy,” Mulder says, bringing her back from the light doze she was starting to drift into.  He’s got a shopping cart with him full of God only knows what.

“I am quite comfortable, yes.  What is all of that?”

“Check it out.”  He pulls out a set of crib sheets and holds it out to her.  She gives a small huff of amusement.  The print is cartoon baby monkeys piloting a variety of rocket ships and spacecrafts.

Mulder has an expectant look on his face like he’s waiting for her approval and permission.  They’re only sheets and they are cute.  She shrugs to give him her nonchalant agreement and he grins.

“What else is in there?” she asks.

“Stuff.  Did you find a crib?”

“That one.”  She points to the set in the faux nursery across the aisle and Mulder leaves the cart to inspect it.

“Looks good,” he says when he comes back.

“There’s a matching changing station.”

“That’s the one you want?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’m gonna go get it.  You stay here and keep enjoying your chair.”

“Mulder, no.”  She slides forward to push herself out of the chair, but Mulder leans down and holds the arms of the chair, blocking her from getting up.  The chair glides back and she leans with it, rolling back a little.

“It’s...he’s mine too, isn’t he?” he asks.

“What do you mean?  Of course he’s…”

“The responsibility.”  He ducks his head suddenly like he’s embarrassed and she puts her hand over his arm and holds his elbow.  “We never talked about it.”

“I know.”

“Even when we were trying to do this, we never talked about it.  I wanted to ask what kind of role you wanted me to play, but this is different, Scully.  Science didn’t make this baby.  We did.”

“I hope our child has the strength of your beliefs,” she whispers to him and he leans even closer to rest his forehead against hers.  “You’re the one that told me not to give up on a miracle.”

They’re both quiet for a few moments and then Mulder pulls back.  “I’m gonna go get that crib,” he says.

Scully sits back and watches him push his cart to the registers.  He consults with a saleswoman, pointing out the items to her and then they walk over and she inspects the tags.  He looks over to make sure he’s got it right and she nods at him.  It takes a little time to make the order and she rocks in the chair, watching him take care of things.

“We’re all set,” he says, coming back to her with a load of shopping bags.  “It’s going to be delivered today between four and seven.”

“That soon?”

“We’re lucky they had it in stock.  Let’s get you home.”

*****

They stop for lunch on the way home and as Scully devours most the footlong meatball sub they were meant to share, she suddenly finds herself on the verge of sleep.  Another side effect of the pregnancy, she thinks.  Either that or she’s returned a narcoleptic.  One minute she’s licking tomato sauce off her fingers and the next she feels as though she can’t keep her eyes open.

She manages to stay awake in the car, but yawns compulsively.  The thought of inspecting what Mulder has done to her spare room keeps her from falling asleep.  Part of her feels badly about not offering to help him carry some of the shopping bags up to apartment, but she she’s so tired.  Minutes later, she’ll blame her tears on the fatigue and the hormones when she finally sees the room.

“Mulder,” she murmurs, her eyes instantly spilling over with fat tears that roll down her cheeks.

“That bad?”

She shakes her head and passes her hand over the empty wall across from the door.  The room has been painted in a delicate, very light shade of blue, but that single wall has been stenciled with puffy clouds.

“You did this yourself?” she asks.

“I called the guy that came and painted all by myself.  The gunmen helped me move everything out.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Now you’ve seen it, why don’t you go take a nap and I’ll wait for the delivery guys.”

Scully wipes her cheeks and nods.  He’s done so much for her in the past few days and before she knew about their situation, she might have been inclined to say it was out of guilt, but the joy he seems to be taking in being involved in the preparation for the baby tells her otherwise.

“There’s one more thing I’d like to ask of you,” she says, tracing the shape of one of the clouds on the wall with the tip of her finger so she doesn’t have to look at him.  “Before I was released today, my doctor suggested I attend a birthing class this weekend.  I need a partner.”

“Is it one of those Lamaze things?  Breathe in, breathe out, relax the back, heeheehoooooo, heeheehoooo…”

“What do you know about Lamaze, Mulder?”

“Only what I’ve seen on Oprah.”

She smiles a little and turns to glance up at him.

“For the record, I’m always your partner,” he says.

“I know.”

He brushes his hand down the back of her head as she passes him by on the way to her room and she pauses for a moment to lean into it.

*****

Scully wakes to the sound of voices.  She can hear Mulder speaking with someone outside her door, but the conversation is low and it just sounds like a murmur.  Assuming it’s the delivery, she stretches languidly and takes her time getting up, trusting that Mulder can handle it.

She opens the door to her room just as two men are walking out of the spare room with bundles of plastic wrapping.  One of them nods to her as they pass by.  Mulder follows just a second later and smiles at her.  As he walks them out, she stretches the muscles out in her back and shuffles into the spare room.

There’s a large box containing the crib propped up against the wall of clouds.  Against the left wall is the changing table, already assembled, fortunately.  And then, in front of the closet, is the glider chair she’d spent her time relaxing in at the store.  The only difference between the chair currently in her spare room and the one at the store was the padding on this one was blue and not white.  There’s also a nicely wrapped box placed on the seat.

“You got me the chair,” she says when he returns to lean against the door jamb.

“You looked so peaceful in it, I had to,” he answers.

“You really don’t...you really…”

“Don’t worry about it, Scully.  Sit down.”

“I can’t, there’s a very intriguing box in the way.”

Mulder smiles and comes over to scoop up the box, placing it in her lap when she sits down.  He sits on the floor next to her and she unties the white ribbon around the present and then scratches at the wrapping paper.  She shakes off the top of the box and parts the tissue paper inside to reveal an old, well-loved cloth doll.

“Oh,” she says, lifting the doll from the box.  “Mulder…”

“Back when we first tried...well, I had high hopes.  I wrapped her up after the implantation and she’s been in my closet waiting.”

Scully smoothes her hand down the braids of yarn for the doll’s hair.  “Was she your sister’s?”

“No, she was mine.”

With a chuckle, Scully bops Mulder on the nose with the doll and he scrunches his face at her and smiles, but his eyes are serious.  Her chuckles taper off and she looks from Mulder to the doll.

“Really?” she says.

“Yeah, really.”

“What’s her name?”

This time Mulder does chuckle.  “Dolly,” he answers with a shrug.  “In my defense, I named her when I was two.”

Scully smiles.

“The story is though,” Mulder says.  “My grandmother always ordered Christmas presents to be sent out from a department store.  I got Dolly the same year my cousin Amy received a toy fire truck.  By the time they figured out it was a mix-up in the delivery, I was deeply attached to Dolly and wouldn’t give her up.”

The story doesn’t surprise Scully at all.  What little insight she’s had into Mulder’s childhood, it’s mostly been painful.  This story though, is sweet and so like Mulder.  She immediately cherishes it and craves more of it.  She won’t pry though.

“I love it,” she says.

“Should I get started on the crib?”

“You think you’re up to the task?”

“How hard can it be?”

*****

Easy assembly isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  Three hours and a few bandages later, the crib is in place and ready to test the weight of the mattress.  Scully had washed the sheets while Mulder muttered obscenities under his breath about the quality of instructions in the box.  Even she would admit that the diagrams were somewhat useless and not exactly helpful.

The important thing is, the crib is assembled and ready to go.

“Moment of truth,” Mulder says, lowering the mattress down to rest on the supports hooked on the four sides.  He presses a little metal bar below the rails with his foot and miraculously, it lowers easily and locks again when he raises it.  He looks more relieved than proud.

“Nice job, Bob Vila,” she says, and waits for the retort from him about his virility and her appreciation of it, but it doesn’t come.

She’s been slowly coming to the realization that the Mulder she has now is different from the one she’s accustomed to.  It’s small things, like the decrease in sarcasm, that take her by surprise.  He’s somehow softer and a little calmer.  Not even once has he brought up work to her without her asking.  Work used to occupy all of his time, now it seems like he’d rather be anywhere else.  Actually, it seems like he’d just rather be with her.  The truth is, the feeling is mutual.

“So, any more heavy lifting need to be done?” Mulder asks.  He flexes one arm for her and squeezes his own bicep.  “Be honest, Scully, exactly how impressed with me are you right now?”

There he is.  The Mulder that flirts with her relentlessly and playfully, the one that tries to draw her out to play with him.  The one that tries to make her smile.  This is how she likes him the most.  This is how...she loves him.

“I’m unable to put into words how impressed I am,” she tells him.

He chuckles lightly and bumps his arm into hers as they stand in front of the crib.

“You can help me with the sheets,” she says.

Mulder does the tugging and fitting of the sheets into place.  Her belly gets in the way and makes it difficult.  The little space monkeys go perfectly with the wall of clouds.  Unbeknownst to Scully, there is also a little pillow in the shape of a crescent moon in the bag of purchases and he sets that in the corner of the crib with a smile.

Scully puts Dolly in the crib, leaning against the moon.  They both stand and stare into the little bed for a few moments.

“Well,” Mulder says.  “I guess it’s getting late.”

It’s actually not that late.  It’s not even nine.  She wants to ask him to stay, but she’s not sure for what.  There’s nothing to do but relax.  No work to discuss.  No reason to keep him with her, save for the fact she would just like to be with him.

“I guess,” she says, disappointed with her cowardice.  

“I’ll see you Saturday then, unless...you can call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

He leans down to kiss her good night and touches his lips to the corner of her mouth, much like he had when he left her in the hospital.  He lingers there, as though waiting for her to turn her head, to kiss him back, maybe, but she’s rooted to her spot and unable to move.  Her lips twitch and her mouth parts by a millimeter or two, but by then it’s too late and he’s pulled away.

“Night, Scully.”

“Good night.”

*****

Chapter 8, Day 13

Birthing class is not the most uncomfortable thing Scully has ever done, but it’s up there.  Mostly because she looks around the room at expectant couples in various stages of pregnancy, and feels like a sham.  

There’s a young couple in front of her and Mulder who can’t keep their hands off each other in some way.  There’s another couple sitting across from them that can’t keep their hands off her stomach.  Twins, they happily exclaimed at the beginning of class.  There’s another couple, older than both her and Mulder, that clutch each other’s hands with a nervous energy.  

Mulder and Scully sit next to each other, but apart.  The only time they’ve touched is when Mulder gave her his hands to help her sit down on the mats laid out on the floor.  She has trouble concentrating on the video of a live birth that plays on the TV at the front of the room, distracted with her own thoughts.  

Amongst these other women, she should feel a kinship of impending motherhood, but instead she feels more different than before.  None of them were missing a year of their life, she was confident about that.  None of them suddenly woke up thirty-eight weeks pregnant.  None of them couldn’t remember how they got pregnant.  None of them had a partner that felt he had to ask permission before he touched her.

“If you don’t get the epidural, can I?” Mulder whispers to her as the woman on screen begins moaning in pain.

Scully quietly snorts a short laugh.  The baby in the video is crowning, and voices are heard murmuring words of encouragement.  This video is not going to prepare anyone in the room for what’s going to happen.  She’s certain a video didn’t prepare Angela Villareal when she’d had to deliver her baby during a hurricane in Florida.  Seeing it just isn’t the same as experiencing it, she’s well aware.  

The video baby begins to wail with a watery cry when it’s finally pulled gracelessly into the world and placed on its mother’s chest.

“It’s a girl,” the doctor on screen says.

The young couple in front of them start clapping, as if they’ve reached the denouement of a performance.  The instructor stops the video and smiles warmly at the class.  She’s older, blonde once upon a time, now heavily streaked with white.  She’d introduced herself as Midwife Gail, but you can call me Gail.

“So, what did we all think?” Gail asks.

There is some nervous tittering and some of the couples ask silly questions.  She has to remind herself that not everyone has been to med school.

“What about sex?” the woman in front of them asks.

The other couples chuckle nervously, but most look eager for an answer.  Gail smiles benevolently in a way that suggests she’s answered that question a thousand times over.

“Sex is perfectly safe,” Gail says.  “In a normal, low-risk pregnancy, you can have intercourse right up to full term.  Your doctor should advise you if there are any concerns about sexual activity.”

“It won’t hurt the baby then?” asks the man to their left, the one who looks close to his 50s.

“Not at all,” Gail answers.

As Gail goes into more detail about the changes of the body and how it affects arousal or pleasure, Scully tunes out.  She would really like to move away from the topic altogether.  Mulder seems to sense her impatience and he reaches over and rests his hand on her neck, rubbing lightly with his thumb.  She tips her head into his touch and he misunderstands it as a dismissal.  His hand begins to slide away, but she looks over at him and asks him with the slow dip of her lashes not to stop.  He pauses and then squeezes her neck a little more firmly, not unlike a massage.  She rolls her head and forgets about the class.

“...so why don’t we try a few,” Gail’s voice breaks her bubble of serenity some time later.  She doesn’t know how long she’s spaced out for, but pamphlets are being passed out and Mulder takes one for the both of them.

“What are we doing?” Scully whispers to Mulder as everyone begins to stand.

“Exploring labor positions,” he whispers back, taking both her hands and bringing her to her feet.

“As I said earlier,” Gail says.  “Standing and walking are great ways to get gravity to do most of the work.  And there are many things your support partner can do to help you along.  Let’s look at a few of these.”

Scully inclines her head towards Mulder as he holds the pamphlet towards her.  Pictures of a pregnant woman in various positions with a brief description of each photo comprise the front and back side of the page.  Some of the positions look positively embarrassing and Scully can’t imagine being able to do them without feeling more uncomfortable than she already would be.

“Every labor is different,” Gail says.  “Practicing some of these positions will help you decide what’s going to provide you with the most relief when the time comes.  Now, let’s start with everyone’s favorite.  We usually refer to it as the slow dance.”

Gail instructed the mothers to be to rest their hands on their partner’s shoulders and for the partners to support their weight.  

“Want me to get you a little box to stand on?” Mulder whispers into Scully’s ear as she reaches up to place her hands on his shoulders.

“Now we’re going to sway,” Gail says, moving her arms in a gentle wave.  “Side to side. Nice and slow.”

They had to work to find a rhythm.  Scully felt like she was back in sixth grade again, trying to figure out how to dance with a boy, all stiff-armed and terrified to get too close.

“Partners, this is an opportunity for you to offer a gentle massage of Mommy’s back.”

Mulder’s shoulders dip slightly as he lowers his arms and moves them around her waist.  She has to move closer now that he’s not supporting her arms and rests her cheek against his chest.  Her stomach bumps his pelvis and she withdraws with a murmured apology, but he rubs the center of her back and pulls her closer.

There’s something about it that feels familiar to her, like her mind is searching for a memory that won’t come.  She’s not uncomfortable, but she’s uneasy, not being held by Mulder, but that she should know what it’s like.  

“Have we done this before?” she mumbles against his chest.

“Something like this,” he whispers back.

“Great, let’s try another,” Gail says, moving through the center of the couples.

They run through a few more positions and then there’s a brief talk about birthing plans and another round of questions.  Scully is wholly unfocused on the rest of the lecture and the baby kicks her steadily from the time she leaves Mulder’s arms until the end of the class.

*****

Chapter 9, Day 17:

She doesn’t tell him about the nightmares.  Not at first, not when it’s just disjointed imagery that she only knows make her wake with a sense of unease.  She’s not sure if her dreams are memories or just latent fears of what was done to her.

She dreams of cold metal and the pinch of needles and being blinded by too white walls.  She dreams of not being able to move and of panic.  She dreams of the sound of machines, whirring, hissing, thumping machines.  

The first time she wakes in a cold sweat, she almost calls him, has her hand on the phone, but lays back down to catch her breath and looks at the clock.  She counts the seconds until the red numbers change and it helps calm her enough to fall back to sleep.

When it happens again, when the images seem too real, she’s dialing his number before she can stop herself.  She’s shivering and almost mute, unable to do more than gulp for air after she whispers his name.  He talks nonstop, keeping his voice in her ear as he drives to her.

“I’m crossing the bridge now, Scully,” he says.  “There’s no traffic.  There’s a red light ahead, but I’ll run it if I have to.  I’m coming up on the traffic circle now.  Taking the third turn.  Two blocks away.  I’m parking across the street. I’m using my key downstairs right now.  If I lose you in the eleva-never mind I’ll just take the stairs it’s only one flight.  Can you hear me opening the door?  I’m coming down the hall.  I’m here.”

He takes the phone from her hand and hangs it up before he slides onto the bed behind her and puts his arms around her.  She hasn’t stopped shaking, but she has her breathing under control.  She feels clammy with sweat in her hairline and her chest, the back of her neck and the small of her back.  

He doesn’t say anything, just pulls her arms in towards her chest and presses himself as close as possible like he’s trying to warm her up.  Her body slowly relaxes, and eventually she stops shaking.  

“Did I wake you?” she asks.  Her throat feels dry and raw.

“You know me, Scully,” he answers, and she feels him push himself up and off the bed behind her.  “I’m always awake even if I’m asleep.”

He’s in her bathroom, turning the faucet on.  A few moments later he’s back next to the bed.

“I’m going to turn on the light,” he says.  “I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

When she doesn’t answer, he pulls the chain on her lamp.  She squints and blinks and shivers a little.  He moves his hands over her arms and shoulders and pulls her up so she’s propped against him as he sits beside her.  He lifts a glass of water to her lips and she drinks slowly.  

Mulder sets the empty glass down on her table and puts both arms around her again.  He’s got a thin t-shirt on, but it’s soft against her cheek.  She sighs, feeling foolish now that her body has relaxed.

“Bad dream?” Mulder asks.

She’s not sure she wants to tell him, but she can’t keep it to herself either.  It’s hard though, to tell him she believes in something she has no proof of.  She always has proof, never operates on hunches the way he does.  

“What if they did something to the baby?” she whispers.

“All your tests came back okay,” he says, but she hears a touch of uncertainty in the way his voice rises slightly.

“But, what if there’s something we can’t test for.  Something...we wouldn’t even know where to look.  There’s no precedent for this.”

“No precedent for what?”

“I don’t know.  I’m having...I might be remembering what happened to me.”

Mulder rubs his lips together, the way he does when he’s thinking things he doesn’t want to say to her.

“Some of it is vague,” she continues.  “Some of it is more...vivid.”

“What do you remember?”

“Tests.  Just...knowing I’m being tested in some way.  Prodded.  Needles.  Tonight I...I was in a...like a chair, but like an exam table.  There was some kind of fluid.  I couldn’t tell if I was being injected with it or if it was being extracted.  The line was like an umbilical cord.  They were doing something to the baby.”

“Do you want to be regressed?”

She sucks in a breath and holds it.  If there’s more that happened to her, she doesn’t necessarily want to know it.  She can live with not knowing what was done to her in greater detail, but she doesn’t know if she can handle the fear of what may have been done to her baby.

“I don’t think I can.”

Mulder nods and brushes his thumb across her cheek.  “It might not be real.”

“What do you mean?  What might not be real?”

“In all probability, these dreams are just a manifestation of repressed fears, ones you may not even be conscious of.”

“What if it isn’t?”

“We’ll deal with it.  Just like everything else.  We’ll deal with it.”

Scully knows he’s trying to be reassuring, but the fear is still there.  It may not go away either, at least, not until the baby is born.

“Close your eyes,” Mulder says.  “I’ll worry about it for you if you want me to.”

“I don’t think it works like that.”

“Close your eyes anyway.”

Scully sighs and closes her eyes.  Mulder eases her down to the bed and she turns over onto her side to bite her lip.  She hears his shoes thump onto the floor and then he’s sliding under the covers behind her and wrapping himself around her.  She wants to burrow down into the cocoon of his arms and pretend there’s nothing to worry about.  

The baby stirs inside her.  She’s noticed that the baby is more active when Mulder is around, responding to either the sound of his voice or his hands on her.  She can’t settle when the baby is restless.

After some time, she feels Mulder’s breath even out against the back of her neck. His limbs grow heavy over her, but his thumb moves continuously over the back of her hand so she knows he’s still awake.

With great difficulty, she turns over to face him.  When she starts to move, he lifts his arm like he’s anticipated the change and then brings it back down over her with practiced ease, all with his eyes closed.  It speaks of his familiarity with her body and it puts an ache in her chest.  She stares at the relaxed pout of his bottom lip.

“Mulder,” she whispers.

“Hm?”

“Who made the first move?”

His lips curl into a brief smile.  “You and I both know you’re braver than I am.”

“It was me?”

“Mm…”  He moves his hand in a broad circle against her back.

She tries to think about what that might have been like.  Were they in her apartment or his?  On a case?  In the office?  No, she wouldn’t do something like that in the office.

“Tell me,” she says, moving her face close enough to his so that he can feel her whisper against his cheek.

Mulder takes a deep breath and rubs another circle on her back before he opens his eyes.  He stretches his shoulders and blinks at her.

“It was a Saturday,” he says.  “You came over to my place to help me with reconciling an expense report.  We ordered takeout from Wong’s even though it’s farther, because you like the sweet and sour chicken better from there and they have the crab rangoon.”

“Don’t put that all on me, you like the spare ribs.”

“I do like the spare ribs, but House of Hunan has better egg rolls.  Anyway, we finished the report before the food arrived.”

“Really?”

“Miraculously, I had all the receipts this time.  Stop interrupting.”

“Sorry.”

Mulder smiles and reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear.  His eyes move over her face like he’s taking a mental picture of the moment.  She tries not to look too expectant.

“I asked if you wanted to watch a movie,” he says.  “I let you pick.  Notorious was on one of those old movie channels, but we missed the first ten minutes or so.”

She starts to relax, as usual, lulled by Mulder’s storytelling.  She tries to imagine them on his couch, eating Chinese and watching a black and white movie.  It’s not unheard of.  They’d been doing more social things together lately.  She closes her eyes to help lose herself in the imagery.

“You got up to put the cartons in the refrigerator, even though I told you to leave them,” he says.  “When you sat back down, you were closer than you were before.  You kind of leaned against me, so I put my arm around you.”

“That sounds like a move to me.”

“It wasn’t a move.  You’re the one that put the moves on me, putting your hand on my thigh like you did.  My upper thigh.

“Maybe it was an accident.”

“It was no accident.  I looked at you and you were looking at my mouth like…”

Scully opens her eyes and can’t seem to bring her gaze any higher than his bottom lip.  “Like what?”

“Like you wanted something from me.  No, like you expected something from me.”

“You lied.”

“I didn’t lie.  I may have kissed you, but you made the first move.”

“You put your arm around me.”

“You sat next to me.”

“I sit next to you all the time.”

“It was a move, Scully.”

“Did we…?”

“A week later.”

“Only a week?”

His lips pucker as he smiles.  “It was a really long week.”

She wonders what that week was like and how they handled it.  Were they in the office, trying to keep their hands off each other?  Were they on a case?  Was it hard to maintain professionalism?  When did they make this baby?  And how?  

“I love you, Scully,” he whispers.  “I know you may not remember it, but I do.  And I think, I hope, you loved me too.”

“I never told you?”

“You keep a lot of things to yourself.”

He says it without malice, but Scully feels cut by it regardless.  “I’m-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” he whispers, quickly cutting her off.  “When you’re ready, you’ll say it.”

His confidence amazes her.  He’s so sure they’ll get back to where they were when all she feels is uncertainty.  She’s uncertain about everything right now.  Her career, the future, her past, the baby.  The one steady thing though, is Mulder.  He’s her lighthouse in the fog.

Very cautiously, Scully reaches up and touches his face, bringing her fingers lightly down his cheek and then touching his bottom lip with her thumb.

“Are you making a move, Scully?”

“Did you have to ask me the last time, Mulder?”

He lifts his head from the pillow they’re sharing and touches his mouth to hers, gently, but not unlike a lover.  He teases her mouth open slowly, unhurried and patient.  She kisses him back and threads her fingers through his soft hair.  After only a few moments, he whispers her name and then she feels the flutter of his lashes against her cheek as he breaks their kiss and dips his head.

“Turn out the light,” she whispers.

Mulder chuckles and touches his forehead to her shoulder.  “You’re nothing if not consistent,” he says. “That’s what you said the first night too.”

“You’ve...seen me before.  It isn’t new for you.”

“Not like this,” he whispers, running his hand down her arm and to her belly.  She feels the urge to apologize again, but Mulder rolls away from her and pulls the switch on the light.  He comes back to her and finds her lips with practiced ease in the dark.  She is warm from his body and warm from his kisses.  Her body responds to his immediately, remembering him in ways her brain can’t.

Her hands pull at his shirt with impatience, first behind his shoulders and then at his hip.  She’s been building a frantic need since the moment he told her about them to experience it for herself.  She has his kisses now, but what she needs is his skin and his touch.  

Maneuvering is difficult.  She wants to roll onto her back and pull him over her, but the pregnancy makes it impossible.  She moves her leg up over his thigh, but can’t get close enough.  She is able to snake her hand up his shirt though and over his chest.  She scratches at the smattering of coarse hair over his sternum.  He grips the back of her thigh and pulls her leg higher over his hip while sliding his leg between hers.

“Is this okay?” he mumbles against her mouth.

There’s already a moan in the back of her throat as a response.  She doesn’t know how he could ask that.  She groans his name.

“Are you sure?” he whispers breathlessly, pressing against her eagerly, but also holding back.  She doesn’t want him to hold back.  She curls her nails into his chest and bites his chin.

“Scully,” he hissess.  “Is it safe?”

She realizes he’s not asking if this is what she wants, he knows it’s what she wants.  Now that she’s here, she doesn’t want to stop either.  She takes a moment to assess the way she feels.  Aside from finding a manageable position, and a higher than usual level of arousal which is always uncomfortable until release is found, there isn’t any pain.  Her chest does feel tender, like the slightest touch might be overstimulating, but it doesn’t concern her.

“I think so,” she finally answers.  

“Should we wait and ask your doctor?”

“I am a doctor.”

“So, it’s safe?  After your abruption?  It’s okay?”

“I...don’t know, actually.”

Slowly, Mulder releases his grip on her.  The frenzy she was feeling begins to wane.  She can still feel the rapid thump of his heartbeat against her palm until she takes her hand out of his shirt and their bodies relax and separate.  There are a few moments of quiet, where it’s just the two of them breathing in the dark.

Fear begins to creep over her again, the reason that brought Mulder here in the first place.  She brings her hand down to the underside of her belly in a protective hold.  She made a promise that she wouldn’t let any harm come to this baby, and that includes from herself.  She has to stop thinking the worst.

“Have you slept over here before?” Scully asks.

“Yeah.”

“Will you stay over now?”

“Of course I will.”

Mulder rolls towards her and she has to take a few moments to find a comfortable position, but she settles on her side at an angle against his chest.  He tucks his head down and kisses her neck lightly as he rubs the side of her hip.  She sighs and slides her hand back to lace her fingers with his and bring his hand down to join hers in the protective hold of the baby, silently acknowledging they will deal with whatever comes together.

*****

Scully is woken by the sound of Mulder’s cell phone, ringing in his pocket.  She opens her eyes just as he’s slipping out of bed and answering the call in a low voice, obviously trying not to wake her.  He steps out into the hall and she closes her eyes and curls into the warm spot he left behind.

When he comes back just a few moments later, she opens her eyes when he touches her cheek.  She leans into the press of his hand and then looks at the clock.  It’s almost eight.

“I need to get to the office,” Mulder says.  “I’m gonna use your shower.”

“Mmkay,” she says sleepily.  “There are towels in-”

“I know where everything is.”  He smiles and then pulls away.

If her life hadn’t been so crazy the past couple weeks, she probably would’ve noticed, but there are several of Mulder’s suits hanging in her closet, on the right side, where she keeps the winter clothes.  She tries not to look shocked as he selects a dress shirt and pants, a tie and a jacket, and then he lays it out on the chair next to her bed.  She sits up as he opens the bottom drawer of her dresser, where she keeps her sweaters, only now it’s full of undershirts and his underwear and socks.  She apparently gave him a drawer and a side of the closet.

Carelessly, Mulder tosses a white t-shirt, a pair of plaid boxers, and brown socks onto the chair with his clothes and then walks into her bathroom.  He leaves the door open, maybe on purpose, maybe out of habit.  She hears his clothes hit the floor and then the shower comes on.

She sits in bed, wondering how often this has happened.  She wonders if she’s ever joined him.  Surely, she must have.  She’s thinking about joining him right now.

And what if she did join him?  She thinks about what he told her last night, that he’s never seen her like this before, so it would be new for both of them.

Before she can find excuses to talk herself out of it, she pushes the bedclothes away and slides out of bed.  She undresses quickly and though she’s self conscious about the changes in her body, she walks into the bathroom and pulls back the shower curtain enough to step into the shower in front of Mulder.

She keeps her eyes down at his feet, no higher than his knees.  He puts his wet hands on her shoulders and turns them so she’s in the spray.  She closes her eyes and tips her head back to let the water run over her face and hair.  His hands slide onto her hips and she wipes the water away from her face as she opens her eyes to look up at him.  His eyes are slowly moving down her body.  In fits and starts, she does the same, looking down, glancing up, looking away, and then finally taking him in.

She starts to reach down to touch him, but he catches her hand and brings it to his chest, rubbing her fingers before kissing her knuckles.

“Both of us, or neither of us,” he says.

“My next appointment is on Wednesday,” she answers, raising her eyes to his.

“We’re experts at waiting things out.”

She can’t help but smile and then she puts her hands on his ribcage.  Their bodies aren’t quite touching, but they’re close.  

“I should let you finish showering,” she says.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’m late from being too busy scrubbing your back.  Or scrubbing your front,” he adds, with a waggle of his brows.

Hopefully it won’t be the last, she thinks.

*****

Mulder calls her later that morning as she’s eating scrambled eggs and reading the newspaper.  Her hair is still wet.  She hasn’t bothered with a blow-dry as she has nothing to do.

“I need to go up to Buffalo on a case,” he says.  “The police think they have a homicide, but not a mark on the body.”

“Why do they think homicide?”

“Victim is an elderly man confined to his wheelchair.  Somehow he ended up in the woods behind his house.  They say there’s slime inside the house.”

“Slime?”

“Their word, not mine.”

“What do you think it is?”

“My hope is that it’s not bile.  We don’t need another liver-eating mutant slinking around.”

“Then your victim would be missing his liver.”

“True.  Aliens do leave a mucus-like residue when they shed their skin you know.”

“That must be it.”

“Feel like doing some slicing and dicing?”

“Don’t tease.”

“I’m serious.  The body’s being sent back to DC and Doggett and I are heading up to Buffalo on an eleven-thirty flight.  Skinner approved you for an autopsy, if you want it.”

“I want it.”

“Victim’s name is Arlen Sacks.  He’ll be ready for you in just over an hour.”

“Good luck in Buffalo.”

“Good luck with Mr. Sacks.”

Scully hangs up the phone with a smile.  Who knew the prospect of an autopsy could brighten her day?  She needs to go get ready.

*****

She’s typing up her report when Mulder calls.

“I need to know if you found anything?” he asks as soon as she answers.

“What’s wrong?”

“Agent Doggett is missing.”

“Missing?”

“He was searching the grounds outside and I can’t find him.  Did you finish the autopsy?”

“I did.  I don’t know if what I found will be helpful in locating Agent Doggett or not, but Arlen Sacks was not murdered, Mulder.  He died of heart failure, evidently after he was blinded by a chemical substance of some kind. The eyes have residual traces of a slimy substance known as hydrolytic enzymes.”

“It’s venom.  Produced by reptiles.”

“How do you know that?”

“The Buffalo PD sent samples of the slime they found inside the house out to their labs for analysis.  That’s what they came back with too.”

“I also found a bacteria in the venom that I’ve just ordered a culture on.”

“Keep me posted if you can.  I’m going to find Doggett.”

*****

An hour later, Mulder calls her back.  “Scully, I want you to look up what you can on a biologist named Herman Stites.”

“Why?”

“I want to know more about the man who’s driveway I’m sitting in spitting sunflower seeds out my window.”

“Is he a suspect.”

“Might be.”

“Mulder, the victim had reptile venom in his eyes, are you now saying that it was a man who did this?”

“Are you saying it’s not, Scully?”

“I know this may be hard to believe coming from me but some kind of reptile attack is the only explanation consistent with the scientific evidence.”

“I don't think it’s a monster we are dealing with here, I think it’s a man.”

“Why do you say that?”

“A hunch.”

The lab assistant, Gina, that Scully has been working with to process her samples waves to her through the glass wall separating them.  Scully puts up her finger to tell her she’ll be there in a moment.

“Mulder, I have to go.”  She hangs up before he tests some wild theory on her and goes back into the lab.  The monitor displays the microscopic enlargement of the bacterial culture being analyzed in a like a magenta splatter on the screen.

“What am I looking at?” Scully asks.

“As you asked,” Gina says, zooming in even further on the bacteria than she already has.  “We cultured the bacteria from the hydrolytic enzymes that were sprayed in the old man's eyes.”

“It looks like they're breaking down the tissue.”

“That's exactly what they're doing. The venom blinds its victim, then the bacteria excretes protease and collagenase throughout the victim's body.”

“Digestive enzymes.”

“Muscle, bone, all of it is slowly liquefied for easy digestion while the victim's skin is made hard and brittle forming a sac or shell from which the reptile can drink.”

“So the reptile sprays its victim, then all it has to do is wait.”

“There are precedents for this sort of thing in nature.”

“Yeah, but there are no species that can do all of this. At least not yet.”

“What do you mean?”  

Scully doesn’t have time to explain it to her, she needs to do what Mulder asked her to do and look up Herman Stites and what he does as a biologist.  She goes back to the desk she was using outside the lab and does a background search.  Ten minutes later, she’s dialing Mulder’s number.

“Mulder,” he answers.

“You were right about Herman Stites, Mulder,” she says, still reading the information she’s dug up on her screen.

“What did you find?”

“Well, Stites is a crypto-biologist, specializing in reptile genetics. Listen to this, it says here that he published a monograph last year claiming to be on the verge of creating a new species of reptile.”

“Did he succeed?”

“I don't know. He dropped out of sight and never published a follow-up, but Mulder, the bacteria inside this venom...if Stites is genetically altering reptile breeds it may explain the peculiar properties.”

There's silence on the other end of the line and Scully frowns, pressing the phone a little harder to her ear.  “Mulder, are you listening to me?”

Still nothing, but she can hear him breathing.   “Mulder?  Mulder?”

“I think Mr. Stites may have a lot more than that to explain,” he says, and then she hears the click of disconnection.

She futility calls his name into the phone twice more until she punches the END button and nearly slams the phone to the desk in frustration.

*****

The next time she hears from Mulder, she’s at home and he’s at the hospital where Agent Doggett has been admitted.

“How is he?” she asks, and though she’s genuinely concerned, she’d been far more worried about Mulder than the formerly missing Agent.  

“They’ve got him on an anti-venom right now.  His eyes are bandaged, but they’re confident he’ll make a full recovery.”

“That’s good news.”

“Yeah.”  Mulder pauses long enough that she can hear the sounds of the hospital in the background.

“Is there something else?”

“Stites is dead.”

“So, it was him?”

“What Doggett shot at wasn’t human.  Not completely anyway.”

“Don’t even say it, Mulder.”

“What if Stites was using himself as the guinea pig, or guinea lizard in this example?”

“Stites didn’t turn himself into a reptile, Mulder.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it isn’t possible.  And it’s more plausible that he created a synthetic enzyme that he could spray at his victim.  Agent Doggett’s vision was impaired, he couldn’t know what he shot at.”

“But, I saw it.”

“You saw a lizardman attack Agent Doggett?”

“You know, Scully, I missed this.”

Scully takes a pause.  Arguing with Mulder about logic is almost habit, and for her, practically happened yesterday.  The worry, though, that’s also a habit.  One she dislikes immensely.

“I’ve never missed waiting by the phone, wondering if you’re okay,” she says.

“Sorry, Scully.”

“When will you be back?”

“Tomorrow, probably.  That’s when Doggett is supposed to be released.”

“You’re going to stay with him?”

“You know I feel...I always had you looking out for me.  I don’t know if I ever told you how much I appreciated it, Scully.”

“You looked out for me too, Mulder.”

“Not very well though,” he says with a chuckle.  “Clearly doing a bang up job with Doggett too.”

“You’re not responsible for the world, Mulder, or for anything that’s happened to me either.”

It’s like she can hear his melancholy through the phone.  She hates when he self-flagellates like he does.  He practically makes it an art form.  She wants to shock him out of it before he starts to wallow.

“Except for knocking me up,” she says.  “I hold you responsible for that.”

“Scully…” he breathes and then clears his throat.  “I accept full responsibility for that and I’m prepared to accept the consequences.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Count on it.  Night, Scully.”

“Good night, Mulder.”

Her dreams are pleasant and unmemorable that night.

*****

Chapter 10, Day 19:

Doggett’s eyes don’t heal enough to leave the hospital the next day, so Mulder doesn’t leave either.  He comes home the following morning and calls Scully after he lands, letting her know Skinner has summoned him and Doggett to a meeting and he’ll stop by later.

It’s almost dark when he finally shows up, his suit rumpled and tie askew.  He kisses her rather chastely on the lips when she lets him in, but still it makes her ears and cheeks burn.  She needs time to adjust to Mulder the lover, time to reprogram her brain to accept affection without feeling feverishly nervous about it.  Unaware of the heated state he’s put her in, he flops down on her couch and lays his head back to look up at the ceiling.

“What’s going on?” she asks, easing herself down onto the couch beside him.

“Kersh has been formally indicted,” he answers.  She doesn’t expect him to gloat about it, Mulder doesn’t gloat, but she doesn’t expect such a neutral reaction to the news either.  He’s almost sullen.

“What’s wrong?”

“The units under Kersh are being reassigned, obviously.  The x-files are in jeopardy again.”

Scully reaches over and puts her hand on Mulder’s arm.  “We’ve won that fight before.  We can do it again.”

“When you remembered the crop circles in England, do you remember talking to me about signs and fate when I got back?”

She shakes her head.  “I don’t believe in fate.”

“You did that night.  Anyway, maybe it’s a sign.”

“Of what?”

“Of what's been coming for awhile now.”

“What are you saying?”

Mulder turns his head towards her.  His eyes flicker between her face and her abdomen.  She squeezes his arm.

“Mulder?”

He takes a deep breath.  “I asked Skinner if I could take a leave of absence to figure some things out,” he says on his exhale.  “Doggett asked to remain on the files until their fate is determined.  Reyes is going to fill the vacancy my absence opens.”

Scully never imagined Mulder would voluntarily leave the x-files, and certainly not in the hands of someone else.  She’s stunned into momentary silence and her eyes fill with tears.  She looks away and wipes her knuckle against the corners of her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Mulder asks.

“Are you doing this because you think it’s what I want?”

“Yes.  No.  I know you can’t remember, but we had a conversation about this just days before you left.  It was the last conversation we had, really.”

“About you leaving?”

“About...the future.”

“Mulder, this has been your life.”

“Exactly.”  Mulder nods.  “Exactly.  There is more to life than this.  For me, for you...for us.”

“Are you asking me to leave as well?”

“I think I’m just...I’m asking you to have a conversation about our options going forward.”

“I don’t…”  

Scully shakes her head, at a loss for words.  Mulder has put her in a place that she can’t even remember being in.  She’s not quite sure what he’s asking for or what he means when he says options.  If she could only remember a shred of what it was like to be with him, or what her state of mind was six months ago, it would help immensely.

“Are you telling me this was something I wanted?” she asks.

“I don’t know what you wanted, actually.  We would be finishing a conversation from months ago.”

“One I don’t remember.”

“I know.  I know, but…”

“Are you talking about leaving the x-files or the FBI altogether?”

“Probably the FBI altogether.”

“I don’t understand.  I really don’t.”

“Can you tell me the loss has been worth it?  My sister, your sister, your...daughter.  Countless innocent people spanning decades.  And we’re just two people tilting at windmills.”

Scully looks down at her swollen belly.  She can’t say she would trade the life of her sister for her unborn child, but if she were to erase a piece of her past, she may not have what she has now.  What’s done is done, they can’t go back, they can only go forward.

“Can you live with knowing there is evil in the world and though you’re capable of stopping it, you won’t?” she asks.  “I know you, Mulder.  I know what it would do to you to sit passively while the world falls apart.”

“It would be trading one burden for another, I agree.”  He takes another glance at her middle.  “But, it’s safer.”

She clasps her hands over the swell of her stomach.  “How do you know?  You think if we leave, it’ll end?  We’ve seen too much and we know too much.  The x-files might be our best source of protection one day.”

Mulder turns his head to look back up at the ceiling.  She just had this argument with her mother, she can’t believe she’s having it now with Mulder.  At the very least, he’s not questioning her capabilities.  He sighs deeply and then stands.

“Maybe you’re right,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.  “I still need to think about things.”

“Mulder?”

“I’ll call you later, okay?”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, I...I do my best thinking alone in the dark.”

“I can turn out the light.”

He snorts and lets his hand drop from his face.  His fingers dangle close to her, but then he closes his hand into a loose fist and turns away.  It takes her too long to get up from the couch to stop him.  He’s out the door before she makes it to her feet.

“Damn,” she whispers.

*****

He calls her less than half an hour later, not even enough time for him to get home.  She lets it ring three times before she answers, even though she’s had the phone in her hand since he left, just waiting.

“Don’t say anything,” he says.  “I try to keep telling myself that it’s enough that you’re back, but I don’t want to go back to how we were before we were us.  You may not be able to remember, but I’m unable to forget what it was like to have you for four months and to have been happy.  I think the only thing that’s kept me going for so long is you.  Yes, I want the truth about a lot of things, but now I want what we’ve been fighting for everyone else in this world to have.  Security, happiness, love.  I wanted you to walk away from it when we were in Oregon, but I wanted to walk away with you.  If you say you want to stay, I’ll stay.  I just want you to know that my heart isn’t in the casefiles right now, my heart is with you and with our baby.  That’s all.”

There are hot tears sliding down Scully’s cheeks, which she wipes away with one hand.  She tries to be silent and not to let Mulder hear her crying through the phone.  When he stops speaking, she licks her upper lip and swallows hard.

“You don’t know what it was like,” he says in a near whisper.  “Watching you disappear in front of me, not being able to stop it, finding out you were pregnant, and then spending six months not knowing if I’d ever see you again, let alone the baby.  I resented every single case I had to work on that wasn’t yours.  I hated myself for not being able to spend every waking minute searching for you.”

“Stop,” she murmurs, voice bubbling with a sob.

“And for you to come back and not remember we’ve shared and what’s been the happiest, most treasured and precious relationship I’ve ever had, is probably the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.  When I look at what I’ve lost, I have to include us on that list as well.”

“Stop,” she says again.

“I don’t want to upset you, but I can’t let another conversation go unfinished.”

She takes short, shallow breaths.  Her chest aches and her ribs ache.  The baby kicks her in the side so hard that when she squeezes her eyes shut, she sees stars.  She has a sudden vision of sitting next to Mulder on his couch, slumped towards him while she stares drowsily at her stocking feet, propped up on his coffee table.  His gravelly voice mumbles softly in her ear: I just find it hard to believe.  Her voice slurs a reply: What part?  His tone is amused: The part where I go away for two days and your whole life changes.

“What happened the weekend with the crop circles?” she asks.

“You had a vision of the different roads your life could have taken and decided they all led to exactly where you were.”

“Is that the weekend we…”

“Yeah.”

“I need to think about things too.”

“Good night, Scully.”

“Night, Mulder.”

She hangs up the phone in turmoil.

*****

Chapter 11, Day 23:

Mulder hasn’t called her, but Scully isn’t surprised.  He has essentially left the ball in her court.  She knows though, it’s not about whether or not she stays or leaves, it’s about being a part of the conversation.  He wants her to be a part of a monumental decision he’s about to make, and that says a lot to her about the way things must have been when she left.  Something like that is not just consideration between partners and it goes beyond merely including her in his plans.

When she did call the night before, she got his answering machine.  She left him a brief message reminding him about her doctor’s appointment and gave him the time.  She doesn’t know if he’s coming or not.

She arrives early to the appointment and checks in with the receptionist.  There are two other women in the waiting area, one reading a magazine, the other filling out paperwork on a clipboard.  Just as she sits down in an empty chair on the empty side of the room, Mulder walks in.  He smiles when he sees her and she didn’t know how anxious she actually was that he wouldn’t show up until the relief washes over her.

Before he sits, Mulder takes her hand, bringing her wrist to his mouth as he bends down to invade her space.  He puts his free hand on her stomach just for a moment and then he sits beside her, still holding her hand.  The woman across from them, reading the magazine, takes discreet glances in their direction, an amused smile on her lips.

Slightly embarrassed, Scully turns to look at Mulder.  He raises their hands again and rests his cheek against the inside of her arm.

“I missed you,” he mouths to her.

“Me too,” she mouths back.

They wait fifteen minutes for Scully to be called back to the exam room.  Mulder holds her hand the whole time, and they don’t say anything.  As she changes into the paper gown that’s on the table waiting for her, he studies the charts of fetal growth on the wall.

“It’s really remarkable,” he says.

“What is?”

“Life.”

Scully slides onto the table just as the nurse comes in to check her vitals.  Her temperature is 99.2, blood pressure in the normal range, pulse a little quick, but nothing to worry about.  The doctor will be in shortly.

“Sit by me,” Scully says, glancing at the empty space next to the table, the side that’s free of equipment and monitors.

Mulder squats down on one of the rolling stools in the room and rolls up next to her, swiveling to face her.  “Will we get to hear the heartbeat?” he asks.

“Probably.”

“Will we get to see him?”

“I don’t know.”

“I have something for you.”

“What?”

Mulder digs into his jacket pocket and brings out a onesie that’s been folded into a small square.  He lets it unravel and drapes it over the swell of her stomach over the gown.  She chuckles.  It’s dark blue and in white letters reads: Party at 2am, my crib - bring your own bottle.

“It’s actually from your three fairy godfathers,” he says.  “Frohike would like you to consider Melvin as a middle name.”

“Not a chance,” she says lightly and they smile at each other.

“Have you thought about names?”

“No.”  She folds the onesie back into a tiny square and hands it to Mulder.  She lets her grip linger as he takes it.  “Have you?”

Mulder shrugs and puts the onesie back in his jacket pocket.  “I figured you’d be much better at that than I would.”

A doctor that Scully doesn’t recognize knocks on the door as she enters, Scully’s chart in her hands.  “Dana, my name is Dr. Wilder,” she says.  “Dr. Parenti had a personal matter to attend to and I’m taking his patients for the time being.  How are you feeling today?”

“I’m fine,” she tells her.  

“Good, good.  Taking it easy?”

“I am.”

“Glad to hear it.  Have you had any pain at all?  Headaches, nausea, cramping, or spotting?”

“No, not at all.”

“And how active would you say the baby is at this point?”

“He kicks a lot,” she says, rubbing the spot on her left side the baby had kicked her all morning.  “Mostly in the early morning and…”  She takes a pause to glance at Mulder.  “He’s very responsive to his father’s voice.”

Mulder straightens a little on his stool and his chest expands a little.  She wishes she’d told him that earlier, that the baby seemed to get excited when he was around.

“Let’s take a listen then,” Dr. Wilder says.  “Shall we?”

Scully leans back against the reclining table as Dr. Wilder prepares the fetal doppler.  She turns her head to look at Mulder, who’s watching the doctor squeeze a bit of cold gel onto her stomach.  She keeps her eyes on Mulder’s face as the wand is passed over her abdomen in search of the baby’s heartbeat.  When the quick whir-thump echoes from the speaker, his eyes get larger and a slow smile blooms on his face.

“He takes after me,” Mulder murmurs.

“Why do you say that?” Scully asks.

“Sounds like me when I’m drumming my fingers on the dashboard and you tell me to knock it off.”

Dr. Wilder smiles broadly and Scully rolls her eyes shut on a short laugh.  She keeps them closed and listens to the sound of the baby until the doppler is turned off.  The doctor scribbles a few notes in her chart.

“I’m going to take some measurements now,” Dr. Wilder says.  

Mulder’s phone rings and he fumbles in his pocket, grimacing an apology at both Scully and the doctor.  He quickly silences it after a glance at the screen and then shakes his head at Scully.  The doctor takes her measurements and then jots a few more notes in the chart.

“Everything looks good,” Dr. Wilder says.  “Do you have any concerns or anything else you’d like to talk about today?”

“Um,” Scully says, pushing her hair back over her ears so she can take a discreet glance at Mulder.  “I was wondering about intercourse.”

Mulder’s phone vibrates loudly in his pocket and she sees color rise to his cheeks, but she’s not sure if the embarrassment is from the interruption or the question she just posed.  He silences his phone again with a mumbled apology.

“You can take it if it’s important,” Scully says.

“Not now,” he answers, quickly.

“Well, Dana,” Dr. Wilder says.  “Though your abruption was minor and everything is going well right now, I’d advise against intercourse.”

“Oh,” she says, surprised at the rejection.  At once she feels disappointed, disheartened, embarrassed, lonely, and a little ridiculous.

“I know that’s not what people like to hear, but-”

“We’re not going to take any risks,” Mulder says.  “If it’s not safe, it’s not safe.”

“It doesn’t forbid stimulus altogether,” Dr. Wilder continues.  “Nothing rigorous, of course, but manual or oral stimulation would be permitted.”

“Oh,” Mulder answers.

Scully wants to dissolve into the table.  She can’t believe she’s actually having a conversation about what kind of sex she’s allowed to have with Mulder with a doctor she’s only just met.  It has got to be one of the most mortifying things she’s ever done.

“You can go ahead and get dressed, Dana.  Felicia will schedule your next appointment on the way out.”

“Th..uh, thanks,” she stutters.

Dr. Wilder leaves the room and Scully slips off the table.  Mulder stands up and turns his back to her, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Who was on the phone?” she asks, sorting her clothes to get dressed.

“Looks like the office.”

“Agent Doggett?”

“Probably.  But, I told him not to call me unless it was an emergency.”

“And you didn’t pick up?”

“I was a little busy.”

“Call him.”

“I’m gonna step out in the hall.”

“I’ll be right out.”

Scully dresses as quickly as she can.  When she leaves the room, Mulder is in the hall on his phone, speaking low.  When he sees Scully he nods to her and then ends the call.  His face is grim and anxious.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“We need to go to the office,” he answers.  “Right now.”

*****

Mulder leads Scully into the basement office with a hand to the small of her back.  Agent Doggett is sitting behind the desk and Agent Reyes is standing with her back to the door, an open file in her hand.

“We’re here,” Mulder says.  “Now could you tell us what’s so damn important?”

“Would you like to sit down?” Agent Reyes asks, pulling the chair in front of the desk back and looking at Scully.

“No, thank you,” Scully says.

���Two nights ago, Billy Miles waltzed into a genetics lab in Maryland and murdered a doctor there and set the place on fire,” Agent Doggett says.

“What?” Mulder says.  “Are you sure?”

“We’ve got security footage,” Agent Reyes answers.  “It’s Billy Miles.”

“But, are you sure it’s Billy Miles,” Mulder counters.

“Oh yeah, we’re sure,” Agent Doggett says, standing and smoothing his tie as he picks up a piece of paper from the file on his desk.  “And there’s something else.  This facility, Zeus Genetics, it’s the same place that handled Agent Scully’s fertility treatment.”

“What?” Scully asks, moving forward to take the paper from Agent Doggett, but he doesn’t give it to her.

“According to your records,” he continues, “you had an appointment with a Dr. Parenti two months before your abduction.”

“Are you accusing me of something, Agent Doggett?”

“I’d also like to know what you’re implying,” Mulder says.

“Dr. Parenti is the co-founder of Zeus Genetics,” Doggett answers, finally giving the paper in his hand to Scully.  “Is that your signature there on that page?”

The form is an authorization for the implantation of fertilized eggs.  She’d signed three just like it two years ago.  The page is almost identical to the others, except for the ID of the second party providing genetic material.  She had Mulder’s ID memorized: 774521.  The ID on this form reads: AN804689.  Her signature is at the bottom, dated July 16, 2000.

“It’s my signature,” she confirms, her stomach churning.  “But, I don’t remember signing this.  Nor would I have.”

Mulder takes the paper from her and scans it quickly.  He doesn’t look at her, just passes it back to Agent Doggett.

“What does any of this even mean?” she asks.  “And what does it have to do with Billy Miles.”

“That’s what I intend to find out,” Agent Doggett answers.  His tone is almost threatening.  

“John,” Agent Reyes says, calm and quiet, familiar to Scully only in that she’d used that same tone on Mulder many times when trying to get him to keep his cool.

“Where is Billy Miles now? Mulder asks.  “Has he been brought in for questioning?”

“We don’t know,” Agent Reyes answers.  “Right now he’s a suspect at large.”

“Excuse me,” Scully says.  She feels sick and in need of the restroom.  

The tiny basement bathroom is poorly lit and airless.  It always has been.  Normally it doesn’t bother her, but today she feels claustrophobic.  She coughs up a bit of bile that’s risen in the back of her throat and then splashes some cool water on her face.

When she’s feeling more composed, she comes out of the restroom to find Mulder waiting for her.  They stare at each other for a long time.

“I think you should go home,” he says finally.

“Mulder, I didn’t sign that authorization.”

“We’re gonna dig into Zeus and into Dr. Parenti.  You need to go home.  You’re supposed to be resting anyway.”

“Please tell me you know me better than to think I’d-”

“Do I?” he interrupts.  “Because you didn’t tell me about your mother or your brother.  You knew you were pregnant for a full day and didn’t tell me that either.  How do I know it’s not just something else you withheld?”

Scully digs her nails into her palms and wills herself not to cry.  “There’s got to be an explanation for it.  I wouldn’t have signed that form.”

“I guess we’ll see what turns up in the investigation.  Go home,” he says to her one last time, before turning and heading back to the office.

*****

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Scully says, as soon as her mother opens her front door.  She’s minutes away from breaking down and her chin trembles, her voice grows pinched.  “I just really need you to listen to me right now and not judge me or turn me away.”

“Dana, I would never turn you away,” her mother says, reaching out to usher her inside.

Scully is sobbing before the door even closes behind her.  Her mother embraces her gently, but her hold is secure.  She stays there until she feels like she can speak again, but her face is a mess, eyes itchy and puffy.

“I can’t tell you everything,” Scully says.  “But, there are some things I need to tell you because I’m afraid for this baby and afraid you may have been right.”

“Right about what?”

“I may have pushed too many people away.”

“I have a feeling we both need to sit down right now.”

“That might be a good idea,” she whispers, nodding softly.  Tears still drip slowly down her face, but she’s too tired to brush them away.  Her mother does it for her and then guides her into the den and puts her on the couch.

How long it takes her to pour the story out to her mother, she isn’t sure.  It feels like it takes hours.  She tells her as much as she can about the nature of her job and the ties it’s had to her abduction, her cancer, her daughter, and this pregnancy.  She’s vague where she needs to be, but more open than she has been about what she’s seen and done with anyone than she has been before, aside from Mulder.

When there’s nothing left to tell, she goes quiet.  Her throat is raw and she feels lightheaded and weak.  She tries to excuse herself to get a glass of water, but her mother makes her stay where she is and gets it for her.  She takes the glass when it’s offered a few minutes later and her mother sits down beside her.

“Your father served a combat mission once when I was pregnant with Melissa,” she says.  “His ship was hit and half the crew was lost.”

“Dad never told me that.”

“No, he didn’t like to talk about it.  I received a visit from a Navy official a day after the attack informing me that your father was amongst those listed as missing in action.”

“Mom, that’s horrible.”

“Yes, it was.  He was recovered, thank God, on one of several boats that made it safely to a carrier ship days later.  I got a call after that letting me know he as safe, but I still didn’t hear from him for two more weeks.  And his next leave wasn’t until after Melissa was born.”

“I can imagine how worried you must have been.”

“I’m sure you can.  Your grandmother Scully was extremely helpful at the time, helping me with Billy and later, Melissa.  But, whenever I started to complain about the stress of Bill’s job on me, she told me the only thing to do was keep a stiff upper lip and remind myself that I’d married a Navy man.  Worrying comes with the territory.”

“That doesn’t make it stop.”

“No.  No, it doesn’t.  I didn’t share or understand your father’s passion for the sea, but I loved him regardless.  I don’t understand your commitment to a cause that’s so obviously impacted your life in such horrifying magnitude.  I love you regardless.”

“I know you do,” Scully whispers, staring down into her empty water glass.  

“I do understand that what you’re doing is important to you.  I never imagined I’d have to endure the same fear I used to have for your father’s safety with my own children.”

“I am sorry that it’s been so hard on you.  I don’t want it to be.”

“You are your father’s daughter.”  There’s a far off look in her mother's eye when she states this, and Scully can not tell if it’s meant lovingly or scornfully.

The conversation trails off from there and Scully realizes she’s struggling to stay awake.  She’s emotionally drained and exhausted.  She feels childish and small as she waits for her mother to make up the guest room for her.  Before she falls asleep, she feels the covers being drawn up over her shoulder as her mom tucks her in.

*****

Chapter 12, Day 30:

She stays at her mother’s for nearly a week, and though it doesn’t exactly repair their relationship, it heals some parts of it.  At times they treated each other with the caution of strangers, both fully aware of how brittle the bonds were between them.  They spent time shopping for the baby and reminiscing.  There were moments where Scully had to make an effort to let her mother just be her mother and consciously allow herself to be taken care of.  That had been difficult, but it was a nice feeling to be cared for.

She’s only been home for a day, but she feels the loneliness and quiet more acutely than she has before.  Without work or an agenda, she isn’t sure what to do with herself.  

The one thing that’s truly bothered her the last week is Mulder’s silence.  She’s tried not to let the anxiety of more missing pieces to her life’s puzzle get the best of her, but at night, when she tries to sleep, she’s plagued by the what ifs that may never go answered.  She had thought, at the very least, Mulder would keep her updated on anything he might uncover, but he’s made no attempt at communication with her whatsoever.  

She’s washing dishes from dinner when there’s a knock on the door.  She dries her hands and checks the peephole.  Mulder is in the hall, bouncing on his feet, a gash dripping blood over his right eyebrow.  She throws the door open, concern pulling her brows together.

“Mulder?”

“Scully.”  He bends towards her and wraps his arms around her, holding her tight.  She puts her own arm around him for a few moments and then reaches up to cup the back of his head.

“What happened?” she asks.

“I promise I’ll tell you everything.”  He pulls away and then kicks a duffel bag inside her door before closing and locking it behind him.  “We don’t have a lot of time though.”

“Time for what?”

“I’ll tell you everything on the way, but you need to trust me now.”

“I do trust you.”

He picks up the duffel bag and holds it out to her.  “Take this and pack whatever you think you can’t pick up along the way.”

She doesn’t know what that means.  Doesn’t know what or for how long she needs to prepare for.  She can tell by his face that he’s serious, but he also looks exhausted, and the gash on his forehead needs tending to.

“Your cut needs to be looked at,” she says.  “Let me clean you up first.”

Mulder sighs and lets her lead him to the kitchen table.  He sits down and she gets her first aid kit.  She douses a cotton ball in hydrogen peroxide and dabs at his cut, but he hisses and grabs her wrist.

“Easy, Doc,” he says.

In response, she bops his nose with another cotton ball and he chuckles, then releases her to finish cleaning the wound.  

“How was your mother’s place?” he asks.

“How did you know I stayed there?” she answers, frowning slightly.

“You’ve been under protective watch since you left the Hoover Building last week.  Doggett ordered it.”

Scully pauses with the cotton ball poised over Mulder’s brow.  “Protective watch or surveillance?”

“Protective watch.”

“Care to tell me what I’m being protected from?  Does it have anything to do with this cut on your head?”

“It’s gonna take some time to explain, and yes.”

As Scully places the bandage carefully over Mulder’s brow, he wraps his arm around her hip and rests his cheek against her stomach.  She puts her hands on his head and strokes his hair.

“I really need you to pack that bag now,” he says.  “We’ve got to meet Doggett and Reyes.”

“Okay.”

Before she walks away, Mulder grabs her arm and pulls her back to him.  He reaches up and cups her face, bringing her down into a kiss.  It’s sweet and gentle.  She smiles into it and pulls back to rest her forehead against his.

“Now you can go,” he says.

As she walks away, Mulder starts turning out the lights in the apartment.  She takes up the abandoned duffel bag from the foyer and takes it to her room.  It’s already half full with his clothes, but she throws in some of the new maternity clothes she’s bought and grabs the toiletry bag from her bathroom, but doesn’t stop to assess the contents.  

She puts on a light jacket and stops to slip into a pair of shoes.  Mulder takes the duffel bag from her and guides her to the door.  She manages to grab her purse on the way out and then Mulder waits behind her as she locks her door.  His phone rings while they’re in the hall and he yanks it out of his pocket immediately.

“Mulder,” he says, slinging the bag over his shoulder.  He nods towards the stairs and follows behind her a step as she leads them to the lobby.  “I’m leaving with Scully now.  What do you mean he’s gone?”

Scully is suddenly halted by Mulder’s hand on her shoulder, pulling her back before she makes it around the corner.  The phone is no longer at his ear.  He gives her the bag again by swinging it to her front from behind and then he takes his gun out of his holster.

“Keep behind me,” he whispers.  He takes his car keys out of his pocket and hands them to her.  “When we get outside, go to the car, open the driver’s side door and get in.”

Scully takes his car keys and nods.  He raises his brows to ask if she’s ready and she nods again.  As soon as Mulder steps out from behind the corner, gun first, Scully moves behind him, following in his deliberate gait.  She’s between him and the side wall, inching along as he checks the points of entry and exit down the line of the barrel of his gun.

The lobby is clear of whatever threat he’s looking for.  He takes a quick inspection of the front door and then waves her on, placing her in front of him to step down the small flight of stairs to the sidewalk while he covers her from behind.  Without looking back, she speed walks to Mulder’s car and opens the driver’s door.

Mulder is right behind her, climbing in before she’s able to fully scoot across the bench seat to the passenger side.  Too late, she realizes his car is boxed in, and any chance of getting away quickly, as he obviously wants them to do, is unlikely.  There’s also a figure in the middle of the street, standing motionless at the intersection ahead.

“Mulder,” she murmurs.

“Shit,” he says.

The figure moves, heading slowly in their direction.  He passes under the light of a street lamp and Scully gasps and squints.

“Billy Miles?” she wonders aloud.

In the next instant, a black Sedan races through the intersection at high speed, purposefully running straight into and over Billy.  The tires screech mercilessly as the car comes to a stop next to Mulder’s car.  To Scully’s astonishment, Billy Miles is pushing himself up from the asphalt as though nothing had just happened.

The window of the black Sedan lowers.  “Get in,” Agent Reyes shouts.  “Now!”

Mulder wastes no time shoving his door open.  He yanks open the back door of the Sedan and Scully throws the duffel bag to him before she slides across the seat.  He helps her get out of his car and into the other and then he jumps in behind her.  Agent Reyes steps on the gas even before the back door is closed.  Scully turns around to see Billy Miles running behind the car, but he can’t keep up.  They lose him after the first turn Agent Reyes makes, though it’s obvious neither she nor Mulder believe he’s gone by the pathological way they both keep checking behind them.

*****

“It’s Billy Miles, but it isn’t,” Mulder says, once they’ve cleared city limits and are on the highway.  Scully had waited for the tension and fear of being followed to die down before she demanded an explanation.

“Don’t start there,” Scully says.  “I want to know everything that’s happened this past week.  Everything you’ve uncovered.”

“Wouldn’t it be more fun to play the license plate game?” Mulder says, dryly.  

Scully glares at him in return.  She sees Agent Reyes glance at them in the rear-view mirror.

“Whenever you need to stop, Dana, let me know,” Agent Reyes says.

“Thank you, Agent Reyes.”

Scully glances out the window at the highway signs.  They’re on the I-66, but she has no idea where they’re headed.  She sighs and watches a semi merge ahead of them.

“I’ll start with the document Agent Doggett showed you,” Mulder says.  “It was either forged or altered.  You didn’t sign it, and you didn’t have an appointment with Dr. Parenti on July 16, 2000.”

“How do you know that?”

“First and foremost, I pulled our case log.  We were in Kansas City on July 16th.”

“Doing what?”

“Weird doppleganger case.  Don’t even ask.  But, we were there from July 15th to the 18th.  If that’s not enough, Doggett and I went down and had a little talk with Doctor Frankenstein.”

“Who?”

“Parenti.  The man’s got a room full of alien fetuses that he claims are studies of birth defects.”

“What?”  Scully feels the blood drain from her face.  Her hand goes immediately to her belly.

“Relax,” Mulder says, putting his hand over hers.  “He had nothing to do with this baby.”

“How do you know that?”

“There’s an accident up ahead,” Agent Reyes suddenly says, tapping her brakes as they move up on a sea of red tail lights.  

The three occupants of the Sedan are tense and on guard until they pass the fender bender on the highway.  The traffic, though mild, eases up again and evens out.  For those moments of uncertainty, a sudden pain hits Scully low in her back and moves around her body like a slow blooming cramp.  Her belly hardens a bit under her hand and then softens again.  She bites her lip and holds her breath, but says nothing to Mulder or Agent Reyes.  They don’t need to worry about her in addition to everything else.

For some reason, she’s struck with a memory of knocking on the door to a cabin and Mulder pulling her inside.  I was starting to get ready for bed and I started to feel really dizzy.  He’s holding her hands.  I just want to get warm.  He’s spooning up behind her and putting his arm around her.

“I know Parenti has nothing to do with the baby,” Mulder continues, and the memory fades.  “Because when we asked him about you, he was genuinely surprised that you’d gotten pregnant.”

“How do you know he wasn’t lying?” Scully asks.

“You want to know everything, right?”

“Of course.”

“No matter how upsetting it might be?”

“Dammit, Mulder, just tell me!’

“Your fertility treatment was a charade,” he says.  “The embryos you were implanted with weren’t your own.  That was the scam they were running as a facility.  What they were trying to do, what they’ve been doing, is implanting genetically altered embryos into unsuspecting women, preying on their desperate hopes to conceive.  None of them lived, but none were supposed to.  They were only created for their tissue samples and further experimentation.”

At this point, Scully simply feels numb to new information.  She listens stoically to what Mulder relays to her, telling herself that she’s okay, that if Mulder believes she’s fine, and that the baby is unharmed, she can endure anything.

“When your IVF failed,” he says.  “Your file was marked as NSI, Not Suitable for Implantation, but the eggs you gave Parenti were saved for further experimentation.”

“Where are they now?”

“Destroyed.  I’m pretty sure Billy Miles was responsible for that.”

“The Billy Miles that isn’t Billy Miles?”

“I’m getting to that.  That authorization that Doggett uncovered was just one of many that they used to falsify legal records and continue carrying out their experiments.”

“Parenti admitted all this to you?”

“No.  A woman named Lizzie Gill came to us who worked for the program for years.  She filled us in on some of the missing pieces of the puzzle.”

“This woman just comes to you out of the blue?  And you don’t question her credibility?”

“She came to us for protection, when she realized that these facilities have been systematically destroyed, one by one, over the past few weeks.  She wanted to trade information for safety.”

Scully shakes her head and looks out the window again.  They’ve entered a light fog and the windows are misted over, giving the lights they pass by on the highway a blurry halo.

“Reyes can explain more about Billy Miles,” Mulder says.

Agent Reyes takes a quick glance in the rear-view mirror and meets Scully’s weary gaze.  Her eyes shift in Mulder’s direction and then back to the road.

“Why don’t we use this rest stop ahead,” Agent Reyes says.  “I need to let John know you’re safe.”

Safety is an illusion, Scully thinks.  They’re never safe.  Not really.

Agent Reyes pulls the car off the highway into a rest area.  Mulder gets out first and rounds the back of the car to Scully’s door.  He takes her hand to help her out.  Her back aches a little, but she straightens and heads to the restrooms.  

When she comes out, Agent Reyes is on her cell phone, pacing along the front of the car.  Mulder is nowhere to be found.  She gets back into the car and opens up the duffel bag to see if she has any chapstick in her toiletry bag.  Her lips are feeling dry and chapped.

Without the benefit of the dome light, Scully fishes her hand around the bag and comes up with a book of some kind.  She positions it closer to the window and thumbs the pages.  It’s a journal - Mulder’s journal.  The last entry is dated a week ago.

How did this child come to be?  What set its heart beating?  Is it the product of a union, or the work of a divine hand?  An answered prayer?  A true miracle?  Or is it a wonder of technology -  the intervention of other hands?  What do I tell this child about to be born?  What do I tell Scully?  And what do I tell myself?

Quickly, Scully closes the journal and shoves it back in the duffel bag.  Her heart is racing.  She’d been relying on Mulder’s unwavering confidence in her pregnancy, but to read that he feels as unsure as she does makes her even more frightened.  Of course, the entry is a week old and it was before he uncovered all this new information he’s sharing with her now.  She’s got to wonder though if he still harbors any of these doubts.

Agent Reyes gets back into the car before Mulder does.  She takes the front passenger seat though, not the driver’s seat.  Scully assumes Mulder insisted on driving after she left the car.

“I wish I could say something that won’t exacerbate your concerns,” Agent Reyes says.

“I’m afraid it’s about eight years too late for that,” Scully answers, immediately regretting the bitterness in her voice.  “I’m sorry, Agent Reyes, my hostility isn’t directed at you.”

“You can call me Monica.  Agent Reyes is so formal.”

“You might as well call me Dana.  I’m not even sure if I’m an Agent anymore.”

Mulder returns and gets into the driver’s side.  When they’re back on the road, Agent Reyes, Monica, starts giving her the background information on Billy Miles.  She learns about her investigation into a doomsday cult and the prophecies of their leader known as Absalom.  She’s also surprised to learn that Monica has been working closely with the Lone Gunmen recently in tracking Absalom’s whereabouts and activities.

“What I don’t understand is,” Scully says, after the story is told, “why you’re trusting the ravings of a cult leader in the first place.  Does this so called super soldier theory make any sense to you?”

“We got corroboration from another source,” Mulder says.

“Who?”  Scully asks.

Mulder looks in the rear-view mirror at her.  “Alex Krycek.”

“Oh, you have got to be fu…”  Scully shakes her head in disbelief.  “Alex Krycek is a pathological liar.”

“Krycek is an opportunist,” Mulder answers.

“He tells you what you want to hear when he knows it’ll get him something.”

“All that matters to me at this point is that he claims you’re in danger.”

Scully takes a deep breath.  “Because of what this baby is?”

“Because of what it isn’t.  You weren’t supposed to be able to conceive, Scully, but you did.  They’re afraid of you, and what it might mean.”

“What does it mean?”

Mulder meets her eyes in the mirror again.  “Life finds a way.”

Scully lowers her head into one hand and rubs her brow.  “I can’t be the subject of a never ending x-file.  I just can’t.  Not anymore and not now.”

“The baby is a miracle of nature,” Mulder says emphatically.  “Not of science.  Whether alien or otherwise.”

“How do you be so sure of that?” she whispers.

He’s quiet for the next few moments before he simply murmurs, “Caddyshack.”

“What?”

“Trust me.”  His eyes meet hers briefly in the rear-view mirror with an imploring look.

Agent Reyes turns to look over the seat at Scully and gives her a sympathetic smile.  Scully lays her head back on the seat and closes her eyes.

*****

Chapter 13, Day 31:

Scully is fully aware she’s dreaming.  She’s watching herself from across Mulder’s room - watching her and Mulder, actually.  They are laughing, trying to kiss at the same time, but the height difference is hindering them.  Instead of being frustrated by it, they’re laughing, lips missing their target repeatedly.  It doesn’t help that while Mulder is trying to bend his neck towards her, she’s trying to pull his t-shirt off.  Hers is already gone.  She’s barefoot, in dark slacks and a white bra.  

Mulder stumbles back as she yanks his shirt over his head.  He lands in a seated position on his bed, still laughing.  He says something, but she can’t understand his words.  Whatever it is, it makes her laugh and she straddles his lap, one knee down on the bed at a time.  He squeezes her backside and she pushes his shoulders down so that he moves down to his back, staring up at her.  She shimmies backwards and off of him.  He groans and moves up on his elbows.

She unbuttons her pants, smirking at him as she wiggles them off her hips and then steps out of them once they fall.  She pushes his knees apart and steps into the vee of his legs as he flops onto his back again.  She murmurs something that makes him laugh and then she grips the waistline of his jeans, sliding her fingers under the edge.  The backs of her knuckles brush his abdomen.  His muscles clench, but he laughs.

When he starts to grope for her hip, she frees one hand and slaps at his wrist as she unsnaps his pants with her thumb.  The next instant, she’s startled when he makes a grab for her and pulls her up onto the bed and looms over her.  She startles him right back by reaching down and cupping him through his jeans, arching her back up so one of her breasts brushes the side of his arm.

He pins her to the bed with a kiss as she works his zipper down.  She uses her thighs, her knees, and then her feet, to push his jeans over and off his hips.  The whole time she’s stripping him, she doesn’t stop stroking him.  His body moves lower so that he can rub his hips against hers and they both groan softly.

She takes the upper hand again, pushing him up and then onto his back again.  She stands on her knees over his hips, reaching back to unhook her bra.  Quickly, he pushes his boxers down to his thighs.  Her impatience is obvious by how hastily she pulls her panties to one side and then sinks down onto him.

They both sigh and she tips her head back, mouth open.  He rubs the tops of her thighs encouragingly.  Their rhythm isn’t slow, nor is it frantic.  It’s practiced and assured.  Mulder’s hands slowly creep up her thighs to her hips, to her sides, and then to her breasts.  She leans forward into his touch, bracing herself with her hands on his chest.

Scully is no longer a spectator, she’s back in her body, looking down at Mulder from the curtain of her hair as it swings past her cheeks.  He’s looking at her like he’s awestruck, like a child who’s just received everything he wanted at Christmas.  It makes her blush and shiver from head to toe.

She wakes with a small gasp, not from pleasure, but from pain.  It comes over her like it did the night before, from her back to her middle, but with a bit more intensity.  She feels like her insides are being squeezed just below both points of her hips and there’s a sense of pressure bearing down on her.  All at once it abates and she feels like she can breathe again.  She looks at the clock.  It’s not yet six.

Outside, the sky is grey and pink, but they’re driving away from the sunset, headed west.  Agent Reyes is driving.  Mulder is asleep in the passenger seat in front of her.  She shifts, clutching the underside of her belly to help steady herself as she sits more upright.

“Good morning,” Agent Reyes says quietly.

“Where are we?” she asks.

“In Georgia.  About two hours away from where we’re headed.”

“Where are we headed?”

“Democrat Hot Springs.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“That’s the idea.”  Agent Reyes smiles into the rear-view mirror.

Scully rubs top of her belly and watches trees and grass and dirt pass by.  There doesn’t seem to be anything around for miles.  When the pain grips her again, she looks at the clock.  Eight minutes have gone by.  She closes her eyes and tries not to look like she’s so obviously controlling her breathing.

In her mind, she’s back in the dream state, but also back in time.  She’s on the couch with Mulder, carefully maneuvering a beer bottle from one hand to the other as he lowers her back to the cushions.  She laughs as he licks her neck and her shoulders jerk softly.  He reaches down and tickles her sides so that she nearly drops the beer bottle.  He takes it from her hand and kneels over her to rest it on the coffee table next to a bowl of popcorn.

He hunches over, sliding his hands under her white, long sleeved shirt and inching it up her waist as he kisses her.  Her ribs shake with more laughter and she turns her head towards the TV.  They’re watching a golf tournament.  Her shirt comes up over her head and she stretches her arms up so Mulder can peel it off.

His mouth moves over her neck and chest and belly.  She chuckles and brings his face back up to her.  Her lips move - take me to bed.  He slides his arm under her back and pulls her up as he stands.

They both laugh as she trips and hops out of one shoe and then the other.  He’s trying to catch her hips, but she keeps batting him away, twisting to walk backwards into his room, but then spinning around so she’s behind him and he turns to try to catch her again.

“Dana, are you alright?” Agent Reyes asks.

Scully opens her eyes.  She’s no longer in pain, but there are tears leaking out from the corners of her eyes.  In that moment, she realizes something.  Every time she’s been in pain since she’s been back, it pushes a memory to the forefront of her mind.  It wasn’t just an erotic dream she’d been having, it was real.  The moment existed.  And she was happy.

“I’m fine,” Scully says.

She has four minutes to go until the eight minute mark and another contraction might hit her.  She won’t say anything until they make it to Democrat Hot Springs, but she’s fairly certain she’s in labor.  She’s also fairly certain neither Mulder or Agent Reyes have ever delivered a baby.  One of them is going to have to learn.

*****

Before they arrive in Democrat Hot Springs, Scully has lost count of the contractions she’s had.  They’re down to six minutes apart.  She’s also been able to remember a few other moments during that time - moments like Mulder sitting bare chested at her kitchen table while she sat on his lap in his dress shirt and fed him bites of ice cream from a carton, taking more for herself than she gave to him, but when he wasn’t eating the ice cream, he was nuzzling her neck and chest, which she preferred.  

She remembers a tense argument, though she doesn’t know what it was about.  She could see in their expressions that both of them were using harsh words at each other.  She turned her back on him at one point and when she tried to leave he wrapped his arms around her from behind and they stood like that for a long time.

She remembers coming to tell him the results of his mother’s autopsy and how she held him all night.

She remembers letting him treat her cuts and abrasions in the aftermath of Donnie Pfaster’s attack on her, but she doesn’t specifically remember the attack.  She remembers Mulder offering her his arms and his shoulder to cry on and that he’d held her all night.

Her mind keeps returning to the night in Mulder’s bed that started on the couch.  She keeps seeing his face as he looks at her.  Every time the memory becomes more tangible, like she can almost feel his hands on her hips or her breasts.  It helps her block out the pain of the contractions.

She’s two minutes out of a contraction when Agent Reyes turns the car onto a well-hidden lane and slows to compensate for the rocky dirt road that leads straight into an overgrown tangle of trees.  What’s left of the town they stop in is essentially abandoned wooden shacks.

“This is it,” Agent Reyes says, turning the car off.

“Think they have HBO?” Mulder quips.

Agent Reyes gives him a hint of a smile and then gets out of the car.  Mulder follows and opens the back door for Scully.  She’s slow to get out, but both Mulder and Reyes are scoping out the area and don’t notice how she much she uses the door for support.  By her count, she’s only a minute or less away from another contraction.

“What is this place?” Scully asks.

“John grew up nearby,” Reyes answers.  “He was born here actually.  According to him, this is where people used to come for the waters, until the springs dried up and they quit coming.  He thought it would be a safe place to lay low for a bit.”

Mulder is inspecting a water pump that stands in the center of the cluster of shacks.  The handle is stuck, but he works it free and raises and lowers the pump a few times.  Muddy water spills out, but runs clear the more he pumps.

Reyes pushes open the door to one of the shacks, the one that looks the largest of all the structures, and disappears inside.  Scully starts to feel the onset of a contraction and feigns stretching as an excuse to dig her fists into the pain in her back.  As she stands and watches Mulder pump water, she has the flash of another memory of him bent over his desk, shirtsleeves rolled up, pointing something out to her in a file, but she can only stare at the way the muscles in his forearms flex.  She remembers being shocked at herself for how tantalizing she found him to be.

“I think we can use the space in here,” Reyes calls, standing in the doorway of the shack she’d entered previously.  “There’s some furniture left behind and drop cloths.”

The pain having subsided a bit, Scully walks slowly towards the shack, keeping her hands at her back.  She has to take a deep breath before she moves up the single step onto the wooden porch and she knows her eyes betray the cool exterior she’s trying to project when she looks at Reyes.

“Dana?”

“I didn’t want to say anything earlier, but I’m fairly certain I’m in labor,” Scully says, glancing over her shoulder.  She speaks quietly enough that only Reyes can hear her.  “Please don’t tell Mulder yet.  There isn’t much we can do about it right now.”

Reyes pulls her mouth tightly closed and nods.  It’s obvious she wants to say something, but Mulder is coming up behind them.

“The water seems okay,” he says.  “Maybe not to drink, but at least to wash with.”

“I’m gonna see what I can do to clean up in here,” Reyes says, turning from them both and retreating back into the shack.

“And I’m going to take a walk around the perimeter and check things out,” Mulder says, putting a hand on Scully’s back.  “You’ll be okay here?”

“Fine,” she says.  “Go ahead.”

Mulder kisses her cheek and then he walks away.  She ambles into the shack, mentally preparing herself for another contraction due shortly.

*****

Six contractions later, Mulder comes back.  Scully is standing in the kitchen of the shack, in the midst of a contraction.  She’s bent over the lip of a cracked farmhouse sink filled with cobwebs.  She can’t stand straight and she can’t hide the pain any longer.

“How far apart are they?” Mulder asks.

“Four minutes,” she mutters.

Mulder sighs a little and pulls her hands from the sink, turning her so she is leaning against him.  She grits her teeth and squeezes his arms.  It’s like the slow dance position from birthing class, but it’s different when the pain is real and strong.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Mulder asks, rubbing his fist in a circle against her low back.

Scully doesn’t answer right away.  She’s currently inside the memory of washing dishes at her sink and of Mulder whirling her around and shuffling her around the room as she protests that her hands are wet.  Mulder says he doesn’t care and dances her around the table.  His grey t-shirt darkens with her handprints.

“Scully?” he asks.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she says.

“You have to talk to me Scully.  Let me decide if I should worry or not.”

“The contractions are about four minutes apart now.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means I’m in labor.”

“Should I take you to a hospital?”

“Do you believe what Krycek said?  Am I in danger?  Is the baby in danger?”

“I believe there is a threat.”

“Then you and Agent Reyes are going to need to be prepared to deliver this baby.”

“How long do we have?”

“I don’t know.  Hours, maybe.  Things will probably speed up after my water breaks.”

“I’m gonna trust you to tell me what you need.”

“Okay.”

She closes her eyes for the next few moments and he sways with her, massaging the muscles in her back up and down along her spine.  Even though she’s not currently in a contraction, it still feels good.  It feels good just to be in his arms.

“You danced with me once in my kitchen,” she says.

“You remember that?”

“Mmhm.”

Her belly tightens and a cramp hits her low in her pelvis.  A trickle of warm fluid slides down her leg and then rushes out in a burst.  She groans and Mulder steps back to look at her.

“My water just broke,” she says.

*****

Mulder yells for Reyes.  Agent Reyes appears moments later, gun drawn.  She holsters the weapon when she sees there’s no threat present, but her eyes grow wide all the same.

“Scully’s water broke,” Mulder says.

“Um, okay,” Reyes answers.  “So, what do we do?”

“Mulder, go get the duffel bag,” Scully says.  “I need to...change clothes.  And I need to sit down.”

“I have a place for you,” Reyes says, putting her arm around Scully’s shoulders.  “Come.”

Scully gingerly follows Reyes to the other room and Mulder runs out to the car.  The dark and dusty room that Scully had walked through twenty minutes ago now looks brighter and almost passable as a room.  There is a wrought-iron bed in the corner with fresh sheets.  The drop cloths have been removed from the furniture and the floors and window are scrubbed clean.

“You did all this?” Scully asks, truly surprised at the transformation.

“I found the linen upstairs in a cabinet.  Candles too, if we need them later.  The dirt came off pretty easy.”

Scully takes a grip on the iron rail of the bed and smiles appreciatively.  “Since you seem capable in a crisis,” she says.  “I’m going to probably need to rely on you more than Mulder.”

“I don’t consider the situation a crisis, though it’s certainly not ideal.  Staying calm is the best we can do.  It’s too bad we don’t have any mood music.  Whale song would be perfect.”

“Whale song?”

Mulder comes back into the shack with the duffel bag as Reyes is making low moaning noises through her nose.  He looks at Scully and raises his brows.

“Whale song,” Scully tells him.

“They’ve got recordings of whales talking back and forth to each other,” Reyes says.  “When you listen to it…”  She closes her eyes and smiles.  “It’s almost, I don’t know, metaphysical.”

Reyes makes a few more whale noises as Mulder quietly crosses the room to hand Scully the duffel bag.  He keeps his brows raised and takes a sidelong glance at Reyes as he passes by.  Reyes opens her eyes again.

“You guys are looking at me like I’m some kind of goof,” Reyes says, but she’s smiling.

“No,” Scully answers, taking the bag from Mulder.  “No, I was just thinking that you remind me of someone.  My sister.”

“Oh, I thought you only had brothers.”

“She was killed about five years ago.  She would’ve appreciated the whale song, I’m sure.”

“I’m gonna get some more water,” Reyes says.  “Well probably need it.  Mulder, I was thinking about trying to get that wood burning stove over there a try, but I need wood.”

“I’ll get it,” he says.

“I’ve got a lighter in the car.”

Scully is left on her own to change and to bear the next contraction which is not far off.

*****

By mid-afternoon, there’s been no real change in how Scully feels or in the progression of labor.  Her contractions last just slightly longer and are just slightly stronger, but they’re bearable.  She’s walked the length of the shack countless times.  The walking seems to help.  In the corner, a fire burns quietly inside the stove.  It makes the room a bit stuffy, but they need it to boil water to sanitize some equipment.

When she found out that Mulder had packed her medical bag in the duffel, Scully could have wept for joy.  There are enough instruments and supplies in there to give her more peace of mind when she thinks about what will need to be done in the coming hours.  She’s already used the stethoscope several times to try to listen to baby’s heartbeat and make sure it’s not too quick or too slow.

Scully’s emotions have been all over the board.  She’s had moments of extreme confidence that the delivery will go smoothly and everything will be okay and she’s also had moments where she’s wanted to break down and cry about everything that could go wrong.  She’s been angry and annoyed at Mulder for dragging her out here and she’s also been grateful and appreciative of his willingness to keep her and the baby safe at all costs.  She’s been energetic and tired and weepy and joyful and talkative and sullen, all in the expanse of seven hours.

“Why don’t you try a nap?” Mulder asks.  He’s been pacing with her for the last twenty minutes, letting her lean on him when she has to.

“How can I nap now?” she responds, rolling her eyes a little at the suggestion.

“One of the pregnancy books I was reading said-”

“What pregnancy book?  When were you reading pregnancy books?”

“I’ve read three or four.  Anyway, one of them said you should try napping.  Or at least laying on your left side.  I can massage you.”

“I don’t want a massage.”

“Okay, well why don’t you try at least laying down?”

Scully sighs and turns so she can shuffle over to the bed.  Mulder helps her crawl up and she lays herself down on her left side.  It does alleviate some of the pain from her back, but it feels like there’s still a knot low by her tailbone.  Mulder adjusts one of the sheets over her.

“On second thought,” she says.  “I think a massage might be nice.”

“Where do you want me?” he asks, flexing and wiggling his fingers.

“Low back.”

Mulder maneuvers himself up onto the bed and in a position he can rub her back effectively.  She sighs gratefully and closes her eyes.

“I’m sorry I got you into this, Scully,” he says.

“You didn’t get me into anything,” she murmurs.  

“Except for the whole knocking you up part.”

Scully opens her eyes a crack and gives him a little smile.  Mulder smiles back and reaches up to push her hair back over her ear.  She closes her eyes again and takes a few deep breaths.  

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine.  I’m just...every time I’ve had a contraction, I feel like it’s pushing some memories to the surface.”

“Like what?”

“Like dancing with you in my kitchen.  Like waking up on your couch under your blanket and going into your room to tell you I was cold.  Like my hand on your thigh while we watched a movie, most definitely making a move.”

Mulder grins.  “That’s like all our greatest hits right there.”

“What about a time in your apartment watching a golf tournament.”

“A golf tournament?”

“You made me laugh.  I tried not to spill a beer.  We ended up in bed.”

“Oh.”

“My mind keeps coming back to it.  I just keep seeing your face and...and I know how it makes me feel, but I keep thinking I’m missing something.”

“How does it make you feel?”

“Warm.”

Mulder is quiet.  He changes his position slightly and uses his other hand to keep massaging.  She grimaces and internally chastises herself for not being completely honest with him.

“In love,” she whispers.  “I know that I was in love with you in the moment I looked down at you, but your lips are moving and I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I told you I loved you for the first time.”

Scully breathes deeply, in and out, three times and then squeezes her eyes closed a little tighter against the tears she feels building.

“That night was different for other reasons though,” he says.  “It felt different.  It felt like walking into a room and knowing someone’s there, but you can’t see them.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“We weren’t watching a golf tournament, we were watching Caddyshack.  Just about nine months ago.”

“You think that’s when we conceived?”

“I know it.  I felt it.”

He says it so assuredly that it almost takes Scully’s breath away.  “That’s what you believe?” she asks.

“I do.”

“I...would like to believe.”

“How are you feeling, Scully?  Is there anything I can do?”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” she whispers.  She concentrates on her breathing and manages to fall into a light doze.

*****

It’s dark when Scully wakes, pulled from sleep by what sounds like the slam of a door.  Something smells like it’s burning and she sees soft plumes of smoke swirling around the shack in a few places.  The woodburning stove still crackles.

“Stay quiet,” Mulder whispers.  She can’t see him, but he’s somewhere across the room by the sound of his voice.

She wants to ask what’s happening, but if Mulder thinks she needs to be quiet, she’ll be quiet.  She sees Reyes’ silhouette by the window, clutching her gun with both hands, pointed at the floor.

“It’s an officer,” Reyes whispers.  “A woman.  She’s using a flashlight to look inside the car.”

“I’ll go,” Mulder whispers back.

“Mulder,” Scully pleads.  “Don’t do anything rash.”

“No, I’ll go,” Reyes responds.  “I’ll see what she wants and try to keep her away from here.”

“I’m staying right by this door,” Mulder whispers.  “I’ve got your back.”

Reyes holsters her weapon and Scully watches her slowly push open the door, keeping her hands up and visible.  She closes the door behind her.  Scully can’t hear what’s being said, but she finally sees Mulder, crouched low at the side of the door with his back to the wall, head turned so he can have a view out the window.

“What’s happening?” Scully finally whispers.

“Not sure,” he answers.  “Reyes has her back to me.  I can’t see the other woman.”

A contraction, the likes of which Scully hasn’t experienced before in terms of pain, seizes her suddenly and she whimpers, nearly crying out.  She has to bite her lip to endure it and even the burst of the new memory of drawing blood and running her own pregnancy test can’t blot out the intense cramping and pressure she feels in her pelvis.

“Scully?” Mulder whispers.

She can’t answer, she can only whimper and gasp for breath.  All at once, she’s overcome with the urge to push.  She hears Mulder sliding across the floor, staying low to the ground.

“What’s wrong, Scully?”

“I have to push,” she breathes.

“Oh, God.  Okay, okay.”

Scully peels the leggings she’d changed into off her legs and then Mulder helps her to sit up on the bed.  He also helps her scoot back so she can lean against the wall and covers her with the sheet.  She clutches her stomach, breathing swiftly.  Her face grows damp with sweat almost immediately.  The contraction abates, but the effects linger on.

Outside, six shots are fired in quick succession and then silence.  Scully feels like she can barely breathe.  Mulder mutters an obscenity under his breath and lets go of her.  She props herself up with one hand, but her arm feels weak and she whimpers again.

Torn in two, Mulder hesitates, he stretches his head up to try to peer out the window across the room, but then finally goes back to Scully and holds her up again.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes out.

“It’s okay,” he says.  “I’ve got you.”

In the next instant, the door bursts open and Reyes stumbles inside, followed by the dark figure of a woman with a shotgun.  Scully growls in pain as the cramping pressure builds again and can’t stop herself from pushing.  Her fingers clutch for purchase of something and she ends up clutching the sleeve of Mulder’s shirt.

“I’m a federal agent,” Mulder yells.  “Put your gun down and don’t come any closer.”

Scully can feel Mulder slowly reaching for his weapon and she digs her nails into his arm.  Agent Reyes already fired six shots and now she’s being pushed to her knees by the woman behind her with the barrel of the shotgun.  With what little light that streams in from the open door, Scully can see that Reyes is bleeding from the side of her head, somewhere along her left temple.  She needs Mulder too much right now for him to do something rash.

“Agent Reyes?” Scully asks through gritted teeth.  “Monica?”

“They’re here,” Reyes pants, each breath sounding like an exertion on her ribs.  “I can’t stop them.”

“Who’s here?” Mulder asks.  “Who are you?”

“What do you want?” Scully moans.

“This baby will be born tonight,” the woman says, voice rough and deep.  “And we will witness it.”

“You’re not witnessing a damn thing!” Mulder screams.  “Get the hell out of here!”

“Oh, God,” Scully moans, drawing her knees up close to her chest and pushing through the pain.  She can feel the baby move down and then recede with the end of a contraction.  

The woman lowers the shotgun to prod Reyes in the shoulder.  “You,” she says.  “Assist.”

“We need to relight the candles,” Reyes murmurs, crawling across the floor.  

Another contraction rolls through Scully’s body and she feels like her insides are being crushed by the amount of pressure she feels.  She groans through a clenched jaw and squeezes her eyes shut.  She can hear Mulder calling her name, but she can’t speak, only bear down and crush his fingers in her hand.

When the contraction ends, she expels a harsh breath and opens her eyes, feeling dizzy.  Another figure has appeared in the doorway, standing beside the woman with the shotgun.  She moans again, this time more out of fear than pain.  The second figure steps into the room and moves aside and another figure follows, then another, and another.  

Reyes has been attempting to light the candles with shaking fingers.  She can’t get the lighter to work and it sparks, but doesn’t catch.  Blood is oozing down her temple and cheek and dripping from her chin.  She looks woozy and unstable.  Finally, she’s able to get the flame to work and she lights two candles close to the bed.

More people, if Scully can call them them, start filling the shack with their grim, stoic faces.  There’s got to be at least twenty of them, edging closer to the bed each time another arrives.  So many bodies pressed together makes the room feel airless and Scully claustrophobic.  Mulder is tense and agitated next to her.  She can feel his need to leap up, to fight, but she keeps him beside her with a bone-crushing grip on his hand even though she can barely breathe.

The last to arrive is Billy Miles, dragging a half-conscious Gibson Praise with him by the neck.  The crowd parts as much as possible, admitting him to the center of the room where he discards the boy like a used rag.

“‘msorry,” Gibson slurs before passing out at the foot of the bed.

“What did you do to him?” Mulder yells.

There is nothing but silence returned from the blank, expressionless faces around them.  Neither do they help when Reyes has to crawl amongst them to retrieve the bowl of sterilized instruments near the stove.  She drags it across the floor as she crawls back towards the bed.

“Please don’t take my baby,” Scully moans, her head falling back and then rolling to the side to look up at Mulder.  “Don’t let them take the baby.”

Mulder shakes his head and blinks back tears.  He swallows heavily.

“I need you,” Scully says.  “I’m telling you now, I need you.  I always have.”

Scully can see the fear in Mulder’s eyes as he leans down and kisses her forehead.  She whimpers when he pulls away and then rests his head against hers for a moment before pushing her forward a little to kneel behind her.  He takes her hands and laces her fingers together and she leans against his chest.  

Reyes wipes the blood from her face by sliding the inside of her arm across her cheek.  She kneels in front of the bed and lifts the sheet up over Scully’s knees.  She weaves slightly and then blinks like she’s trying to keep herself awake.  Tears fill Scully’s eyes.

“Please, don’t let them...” Scully pleads, but the wind is knocked out of her by another contraction before she can finish her sentence and she groans from somewhere deep in her abdomen.

“Push, Dana,” Reyes says.  “You’re doing great.”

“You can do this, Scully,” Mulder murmurs into her ear.  “You can do this.”

The unwelcome spectators in the room are silently staring down at her.  She locks eyes with Billy Miles, but what stares back at her is definitely not human.  It makes her skin crawl.  This is not how this was supposed to happen.  Not what she envisioned when she wanted to have a baby.

“Jesus,” Scully hisses, losing energy and letting her head hang forward.  “I can’t do this.  I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can,” Mulder says, wrapping their arms around her and rocking her back and forth.  “You have to.”

“Push,” Reyes says.

Scully takes a deep breath and pushes with all the strength she has.  She can feel the baby crowning, can feel her body working from the inside out to help get him through, to help this little life fight to break free from her body.  She braces her back against Mulder’s chest and cries out hoarsely until a dizzying wave of relief comes over her and her body slumps against his in exhaustion.

The baby wails from somewhere between her knees.  It’s a shivery, angry cry.  Scully can’t see him, but her own eyes are full of tears and she can barely lift her head from Mulder’s chest.  Reyes wraps the baby in the first thing she manages to grab from the duffel bag, one of Mulder’s soft grey t-shirts, and then puts him in Scully’s arms and Mulder enfolds them both in his, shielding them from the room with his body.

Scully is trembling.  She holds the baby tightly, eyes darting around the room like a caged animal.  She doesn’t know what she’s going to do to protect this baby from these people, but she’ll do it.  She’ll be damned if they lay a finger on him.  One of the spectators turns his head and looks at Billy.  The others do the same.  After a few tense moments, Billy turns and leaves.  One by one, they all follow.  

“Where are they going?” Scully whispers.  “Mulder?”

“I don’t know,” he answers.

Reyes slinks to the floor, succumbing to the injury received from the blow to the head.  She falls next to Gibson’s lifeless body, who hasn’t moved a muscle since he was dropped carelessly by Billy.

The sounds of a helicopter approaching fill the room, and then they’re assaulted by light and wind.  Scully puts her arm over the baby to protect him.  Her limbs feel drained and altogether useless.  There is one more sharp pain in her abdomen and in the next instant, her whole life flashes before her eyes from the moment she shook hands with Mulder in the basement office.  She remembers everything so quickly and forcefully that it tears a scream from her throat.  The sticky feeling of hot blood on her thighs is the last thing she’s able to consciously recall.

*****

Chapter 14, Day 32:

Scully is very tired of waking up in hospitals.  She’s also very tired of the foggy, druggy state of mind associated with waking up in a hospital.  She feels weak, but mostly okay.  Her eyes roll open and shut a few times.  She’s got a band on her wrist for Atlanta Memorial Hospital.  Very faintly, she can hear Mulder murmuring to someone across the room.  When she finally turns her head, she sees that he’s got the baby in his arms and he’s speaking softly to him, rocking him gently and pacing back and forth.

“...and the big, scary Flukeman was never heard from again,” Mulder says.  “The end.”

“Please don’t tell me case files are what you plan on sharing for bedtime stories,” Scully murmurs.

Mulder grins and turns towards the bed.  “Had you big time,” he says.  “I saw you open your eyes.  No, I was just telling Junior here that his Mommy would be awake soon and couldn’t wait to see him.”

“That’s true,” she says, struggling to push herself up in bed.

“Careful,” Mulder says, moving close.  “You lost a lot of blood.”

She feels lightheaded, but otherwise fine.  She reaches for the baby and Mulder places him in her arms.  

“He’s got your coloring and your eyes,” Mulder says, as Scully cups her hand over the baby’s head.  “But, it seems to me he looks suspiciously like Assistant Director Skinner.”

Scully chuckles lightly and stares into the dark and unfocused eyes of her son.  Mulder does the same.  After a few quiet moments, she looks up at Mulder and watches him marvel at the baby.  He finally glances up at her and then they both smile, but quite quickly, Scully’s smile fades and she looks down at the baby again.

“I want you to know,” she says.  “I remember everything.”

“Really?”

“To a degree.  I still don’t remember being taken, though I remember being in the woods with you.  Aside from that though, everything.”

“That’s great.”

She nods, but then it occurs to her that she wasn’t the only one in that shack that needed medical attention.  “Is Gibson alright?” she asks.  “And Reyes?”

“Reyes had a mild concussion,” Mulder answers, his voice strained.  “She’s fine.  Gibson is in stable condition.  He was...he was Absalom’s informant, helping him track and monitor the alien activity.  The super soldiers found out about him, kidnapped him and essentially tortured him to get information.  They needed to keep him alive though.  And then they needed him to find you.”

“I thought they were there to take him from us,” she whispers, glancing up at Mulder.  “I don’t know why they didn’t.”

“I don’t know either.  I guess he wasn’t what they thought he was.  It doesn’t make him any less of a miracle though.”

“When I got the results of the pregnancy test, I was in disbelief.  I didn’t want to tell you because I was afraid of...of the how and the why…  I wanted a second opinion when we got back from Oregon and then I was going to tell you.”

“You feared the possibilities.  I know because I was afraid of them too.”

“We both know the truth though.”

“Caddyshack?”

Scully smiles and reaches up to cup Mulder’s cheek.  Between them, the baby makes a little squawking noise and Mulder lowers his gaze to quietly shush him and run a finger along his cheek.

“Hey now,” Mulder whispers.  “None of that.”

“What should we call him?” Scully asks.

Mulder studies the baby’s face and tilts his head a little.  “What about William?” he asks.  “After your father.”

“And yours.”

“Do you know it means strong-willed warrior?”

“I didn’t.”  She looks down at the baby and tries to imagine him as a William, but it almost seems like a burden to put on his little shoulders.  “What about Liam?”

“Liam?  Hm.  And stepping up to the plate, Yankees first baseman, Liam Scully.”

“Liam Mulder,” she corrects.  

Mulder doesn’t say anything, but judging from the look on his face, he’s on the verge of tears.  She can tell he’s having a difficult time swallowing.  

“That night in Bellefleur,” she says.  “When you told me there was more out there than the x-files, you were right.  He’s right here, living proof of that.  If you want to walk away now, I’m with you.  Because, I’m sorry that I never told you before, but I do love you.  I loved you then and I love you now.”

Mulder’s mouth trembles and then he licks his lips.  “Just you and me?”

“Well…”  She pats the baby gently and tips him towards Mulder.  “We’re kind of a package deal now.”

“I’ll take it.”

Scully nods and she drops her eyes to Mulder’s mouth.  Now that her memory is intact, she doesn’t feel as trepidatious as she has of late about kissing him.  She leans in and presses her mouth to his, kissing him tenderly.  He kisses back just as tenderly and then pulls away.  Their son yawns and Mulder takes him from Scully’s arms.

“If you liked the Flukeman story, Liam, wait until you hear about The Great Mutato.”

Scully snorts softly and lays back against the scratchy pillow and closes her eyes.  She won’t mind waking up one more time in a hospital as long as it doesn’t happen again for a very, very long time.

The End

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #msr #season 8 au #mulder #scully