TITLE: Ben AUTHOR: Jess < JessLB@aol.com > RATING: PG-13 KEYWORDS: MSR, Babyfic CATEGORY: SXRA I suppose I might call it an x-file. Sort of. ARCHIVES: Certainly. Keep my name attached, and drop me a line before you do, though, okay? FEEDBACK: It would bring a big, happy smile to my face. SUMMARY: An unexpected event hits too close to home and draws Mulder and Scully closer than ever. DISCLAIMER: *g* If you think CC and Company would *ever* do a storyline like this, you really are crazy. But I think we all know by now that not only do I not own Mulder, Scully, Skinner, or anything else affiliated with The X-Files, but if I *did* own them, well....things would be very, very different. Author's Notes: You know how some author's cling to their stories like babies? No pun intended. Well I am so glad to be rid of this story. I started it back in January, my first ever started fanfic, and just now, in April, am I completely done with it. It's been one hell of a ride, I must say. I have to say, though, that I'm really pleased with how it all came out. I'm just glad it's all over. By the by...when I began writing this story, it was only a mere rumor that they'd get the X-Files back. So I, being me, gave them back the 'Files, but I kept them up with the other agents. *shrugs* Just pretend like the basement is being remodeled. For, um, nine months.....shut up. ;-) Notes, The Sequel: I couldn't have done this without the help of my editor, wonderful wonderful Jan. She pointed out very important details that would have gone otherwise unnoticed by yours truly, and she remembered poor Mulder's wound when I was too busy trying to keep the rest of the scene real. Phew. On behalf of Mulder, thank you Jan. ;-) ------------------- Part One Washington National Bank Washington D.C. June 7, 1999 7:12 p.m. Special Agent Fox Mulder was not a rookie. Not by any means. He was an Oxford graduate with a degree in psychology; he had held his own against aliens, secret governments working within the democracy of the United States, severely neurotic former FBI agents who took a travel agency employees hostage, lake and forest monsters, and the return of not one, but two ex-lovers who he'd had just as rather have left forgotten. He never lost his cool; not once. He was a trained federal agent -- he knew how to protect himself. He was trained to handle bomb threats, drug busts, and hostage situations. But at that moment, staring into the eyes of the disturbed man in front of him, Fox Permanently knew he was about a tenth of a point away from the edge. And at the moment that the gun-toting man tightened his grip -- and aim -- on Special Agent Dana Scully, Mulder thanked God that his partner knew him well enough to flash him a patent smile with I'm okay, Mulder marked all over it. Otherwise, the man holding her hostage would have been a dead son of a bitch. *** It had been a deceptively sunny day out; one that had started out wonderfully and was now slowly twisting into Mulder's worst nightmare. There hadn't been much work in the office, and he had offered to take her to get their paychecks cashed at a local bank when they were leaving for the day; she'd agreed. Mulder had even gone so far as to offer to take her to her favorite Chinese restaurant for dinner after their rendezvous at the bank. The two agents had walked into the bank, unaware of the imminent danger awaiting them. Mulder remembered it all too clearly now, as he watched Dana -- she was always Dana to him in highly-charged, emotional times -- flinch as the criminal caressed the side of her face with the back of his hand. He had leaned down to whisper a joke about the bank teller when it had happened. The man had jumped out of line in front of them, grabbed the nearest person -- Scully and put the gun to her temple, a bag on the counter, and demanded all the money. Mulder had seen one of the tellers hit the red button to alert the police as the incident had occurred, and now he could only hope and pray that once it was learned he had a federal agent held hostage, the FBI wouldn't hesitate to get their lazy asses down here and help him. "Why don't you just put the gun down, and we can talk this out," Mulder coaxed gently, his insides reeling with disgust. The man laughed sardonically. "Oh yeah," he drawled, "and then why don't we all huddle around the campfire in a pow-wow and get in touch with our feminine side?" His voice hardened suddenly, and he cocked the gun at Mulder. "Shut the fuck up." "I'm a federal agent," Scully interjected. Mulder knew she was trying to keep her voice from shaking, but he could sense the terror behind her calm words. "You don't know what you're doing." "Federal -- shit! Mother fucking. . ." He let out a string of curse words as he flailed his arms around in anger. He stopped suddenly and nodded towards Mulder. "She your partner?" Mulder nodded wordlessly. He didn't trust his voice. "Oh ain't this just all the more specialer," his enemy sneered. He re-trained his gun on Scully. "Give me your gun, sweetie. Now." Scully complied reluctantly, her gaze never leaving Mulder's. While the man was momentarily distracted, Mulder drew his weapon and focused it on the suspect, glad to have at least gained some ground in this nightmare. "Federal agent, put your gun down *now!*" he shouted, and the other hostages screamed. So it comes to this, he thought wryly. Two men with guns and a little lady. His eyes glared into the other man's, daring him to pull the trigger on Scully. "Not a good idea, Fib," he said. "Put it down." "Let her go first." He seemed to ponder the idea for a moment before whipping his gun around and shooting the gun off in a general direction. Mulder and Scully both flinched and turned towards the sound of the scream. Mulder saw the blood soaking up the carpet where the woman had fallen and knew immediately that she was dead. Guilt consumed him. The assailant shrugged, grinning. "Sorry, Fib. But I warned ya." "Why don't you take me instead?" Mulder offered, looking everywhere but at Scully. "Let her go, take me." He dared to take a glance at her, and he could read her mind -- heart? -- instantly. Don't do this, Mulder. I can't let him do this to you, Scully. "Why the hell should I do that? You're both feds, aren't ya? It don't matter which one of you I kill; I still get me a fed." "I'm more liked at the Bureau; I mean more to them than Scully does. You'll get more from me than if you take her." He was desperately grasping at straws here, and he knew it. But anything -- *anything* -- to get that gun off of Scully and somewhere else. Even onto himself. "What's your name?" "Mulder." "Mulder," the man repeated musingly. "Well," he said, back to business, "well Agent Mulder, I do believe we might be able to do business here." Mulder could literally feel every muscle in his body relax with relief. It was at that moment that they decided to rush the building. Mulder heard the shouts, the screams, the sound of weapons going off, the sound of feet pounding on the pavement. There was only one thought in his entire mind: Save Scully. So he dove in her direction, intensely aware that her mouth formed his name, shouted it, screamed it at him to stop, but it was too late. He felt the bullet enter him, and he cried out in pain. Then there was nothing; nothing but utter, consuming darkness. *** Georgetown Memorial Hospital Room 215 June 10, 1999 3:06 a.m. The room was quiet, heavy with emotion, as Dana Scully sat in the hospital chair beside the bed, her forehead puckered with worry. The object of her gaze lay completely motionless, save for the slight rise and fall of his chest under the crisp white sheet. She closed her eyes. What an ass her partner was. His twisted logic had him believing that if he took a bullet for her, thus saving her life, that he could die on her and leave her to pick up the shattered remnants of their unspoken -- A cough from the patient on the opposite side of the curtain ended that train of thought. Unspoken what, Dana? she asked herself. Unspoken bond? Affection? Carefully hidden love? She didn't know the answers to those questions. She knew only that if Fox Mulder died, she'd die right there with him. "I'd offer you a penny for your thoughts if you didn't look so damn cute when you worry like that." Her head popped up at the sound of his voice and she grinned like a teenager. "Hi," she answered softly. He squeezed her hand. "Hi yourself." They stared at each for a moment longer than necessary, drinking in the sight of one another. It was an unspoken custom between the two partners -- after one had been at death's door, they always allowed themselves that one wonderful minute to simply look at each other, their gazes declaring what their voices could not. Mulder broke the reverie first. "So, how long have I been in here?" "Three days," she told him, retrieving her hand. She frowned at him, wondering if she should examine him first. "The bullet just grazed your shoulder." "I feel like a bomb exploded somewhere in the northeast part of my body." She nodded sympathetically. "He got the same one I did." Mulder laughed at the irony and lifted himself up, with her help, to examine the bandage. He poked at it, remembering a similar scenario four years before. "Speaking of our gunman. . ." "One Jeremy Hill, twenty three. A recent grad from Berkeley with an MA in political science. I did a little checking." He nodded her forward. "It seems that Jeremy had been going through a rough patch lately. His girlfriend recently broke up with him for his best friend. His parents are going through a messy divorce, and his just lost his job." She stood up and moved herself to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. "I spoke to his mother and sisters. They all said pretty much the same thing." "Which was?" "Our little friend was uncharacteristically, and extremely, angry lately. The day of the robbery, he hit his brother during an argument over the remote control." She saw him stifle a chuckle. "He's being held over at the county jail for further questioning." He lifted an eyebrow at her and she smiled sheepishly. "I figured you'd want to get your own shot at him." "No pun intended," he added, rubbing her arm. She merely lifted an eyebrow at him and got up. "The doctors want to keep you until the end of the week, just in case." She anticipated his reaction and held up a hand. "Mulder, no. That bullet might not have done any external damage, but you were shot in the same place before." The words brought back the memories of that horrible moment where she had pulled the trigger on him in desperation, and Scully paused. "They just want to be sure you're okay," she finished gently. "I understand, but you're a doctor, Scully. Am I well, or am I well?" She arched a brow. "You're definitely well enough to try to weasel a compliment out of me." She gathered up her coat and, after a moment's hesitation, bent over and brushed a kiss on the top of his forehead. "Night, Mulder." "Night? What the hell time is it?" She glanced at a clock. "After three a.m., Mulder. I'll go talk to the nurse about getting those release forms signed. She flicked the light by the door. "Get some sleep, okay?" "Good night, Scully. Thank you." The door closed on his words and she was gone. *** Mulder's Apartment 11:21 p.m. The next night, Mulder lay on his couch, staring up at his ceiling, a thousand thoughts running through his head. Scully had kissed him before -- never on the mouth, of course, and a kiss on the forehead was nothing new. It was characteristic; he'd been in danger, she'd been worried. So why did a shudder run through him at the thought of it? Christ, he thought. If a kiss on the forehead can do this to me, making out is definitely out of the question. He smiled at his thoughts. Not that there's a danger of making out with Scully. First, they'd have to admit to something more than friendship. Then they'd have to kiss. Next, they'd have to -- He was interrupted by a soft knock at his door. One glance towards the clock and he knew it was Scully. He knew her knock, and no one else would ever come this late, anyway, he reasoned. He was at the door in two strides. "Hi." She sighed. "What's the matter?" he asked immediately. Usually, she just settled for a late-night phone call. "I -- nothing. Can I come in?" He pushed the door open wider wordlessly. "Mi casa es su casa, Scully." "Gracias," Scully murmured absently, standing in the threshold between the foyer and his living room. Mulder closed the door. "What's wrong, Scully?" She sighed again. Two sighs in as many minutes was not a good sign, he noticed. He tried again. "Scully? Hey, Scully, you can tell me." A million thoughts ran through his mind and he raced to mentally check off what could be wrong with her. Someone died -- no, she'd say right away. Something about work -- nope, she'd just call, then come over. Smoking man? -- no, she'd have used her key. 'Mulder, I was attacked.' That sounded familiar. His breath caught, taking in her sweatshirt and pants. No, she came from home. Next topic, please. Mulder, I've met someone and -- No. Never. He wouldn't let her. "I had a nightmare," admitted Scully, arresting him from his thoughts. "About you, about the robbery." He breathed a sigh of relief. A nightmare; he could do nightmares. "Want some coffee or something?" he asked, guiding her to his couch. She nodded and he ran off to fix it for her. He returned moments later carrying two steaming mugs. His partner took one and sipped it carefully as he sat down next to her and waited. "You dove in front of that bullet. But he missed his mark by about ten degrees and you were shot in the chest." She fiddled with the cup before finally setting it down on his coffee table. "I woke up crying, Mulder, because in my dream you died." "Scully, I --" Scully held up her hand to silence him. "No, Mulder. I wasn't crying because you had died. I was crying because I was angry at myself for letting you continue to do this to me." "What do I do to you?" he asked incredulously. "I mean, I know that *sometimes* I can get a little carried away with a case and happen to take off without remembering to leave a note, Scully, but I don't think that that classifies as --" "It's not about you ditching me, Mulder. We'll save that for another night. It's about you and this damn hero kick you've been on since the day we met." "Hero kick?" "Yes," she confirmed, taking his cup from him and putting it next to hers on the table before them. "Mulder, what exactly do you expect to happen when you take a shot for me?" "I expected to save you, Scully," he responded honestly, bewildered. Where the hell is she going with this? he wondered. "Exactly my point, Mulder. Stop trying to save me and just be my partner, for Christ's sake. Do you really think I could live with myself if you pulled a stunt like you did the other day again and actually died? Have you ever thought that maybe I couldn't live with the guilt of having your death on my shoulders, Mulder?" "I can't say I'm sorry, Scully, because I'm not. Nothing you say could ever make me not take a bullet for you. That's just me. Any other partner would do the same thing, too. We're supposed to do that sort of thing. We're partners, remember?" "Cut the bullshit, Mulder. I don't buy it. You do it because you're Mulder and that's just what you do." "So how am I supposed to not do it anymore if it's what I'm destined to do?" "You could trust my instincts more often, Mulder." "I trust you," he began indignantly. "Yes, you trust me, but you don't trust my instincts. Jeremy wasn't going to shoot me, Mulder. He had about thirty-five FBI agents storming the building and surrounding him. You took an unnecessary risk." He took a deep breath, trying to buy time. Her arguments were always so goddamn logical and reasonable that he sometimes suspected that she plotted her defense before the argument even began while he floundered around, spouting irrational pyschobabble about this and that as her right eyebrow went up to that perfect arch. How could he ever make her see that, as much as she might not understand it right now, nothing on earth could ever stop him from keeping her out of harm's way? He'd jump in front of a moving bus, bullet, or madman again in a heartbeat if it could divert the attention onto himself. "Scully, I don't know what to say," he admitted finally. "I know you don't like it when I do that, but what am I supposed to do? Just yell, 'Hey Scully watch out' and watch as the most important thing in my life gets shot or run over or abducted or whatever? You'd do the exact same thing for me, so if we're done with this hypocritical argument, I'm missing the 90210 reruns." Dammit, he did it again. Did I just say 'the most important thing in my life'? Could he have embarrassed himself more? Embarrassed *her* more? When the hell would he learn to keep his mouth shut around Scully and to carefully plan his points beforehand? He could only hope that the lack of lighting covered his flushed face. He sneaked a peek at her. She was staring straight ahead, her hands clasped on her lap. "Scully? Scully, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have --" She rose suddenly. "I better go." "Scully, don't go," he said, hopping his voice didn't sound as whiny to her as it did to him. "Come on." Mulder approached her silently from behind as she made her way towards the door. Scully pivoted abruptly and almost ran into him. "Dammit, Mulder," she said in a strangled voice, and he realized she was trying not to cry. She fell easily into his strong embrace, her tears intermingling with his gray cotton t-shirt. He put his hands on her hair, and tried to speak in a soothing, reassuring voice. When she quieted, he led her, still in his arms, over to his sofa and sat down on it. They laid in the comfort of each other's arms for close to an hour. But Mulder had lost all track of time. All he knew was that he was laying on his couch, Scully in his arms, and she wasn't resisting the comfort. His feelings of friendship and comfort and keeping Scully safe all evaporated the minute she raised her head to look up at him with those deep liquid blue eyes of hers. Mulder's heart began to beat a bit faster, and he bit his lower lip, trying to decide whether or not to hurt her feelings and demand she leave right now before he lost all self-control, or to hurt her feelings and.... The thought trailed off as she brought up a hand to his face. He swallowed. Humor, he thought desperately. She likes humor. Humor saves face, Mulder. Good old humor. "Hey, Scully, you know, I wasn't kidding about those reruns. I, uh, I'm missing my favorite episode," he joked weakly, clearing his throat. She didn't move. "Mulder," she said softly. Mulder stared back into her eyes and found everything he felt returned: fear, desire, need...love? She gave him a half-smile, just like the one he remembered from so long ago, when they had stood in his hallway and tried to do this before. And it was at that moment that the cards turned in their favor. He brought his face down to meet hers, all at once reveling in the emotion that he felt at the contact. It was at that precise moment that he knew, no matter what, he could never let her go. *** Scully leaned into the kiss, trying to imprint every emotion in her brain, wishing that the bells in her head would quit ringing. Dana, those bells aren't in your head. An eyebrow quirked and she lifted her face from his. Mulder's dark hazel eyes opened questioningly, filling her universe, and she immediately missed him. "Hey, uh, Mulder, I think your phone's ringing," she told him, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice. "So?" he returned easily, trying to capture her attention once more. "Mulder, answer it." He groaned and she rolled off of him so he could get up. She thought she heard him mutter, "cursed" under his breath as he picked it up. "Hello?" he said into the phone, his breathing ragged. He listened for a moment, his gaze never leaving Scully, then put a hand over the mouthpiece. "It's Skinner." Scully nodded and flushed, cursing her pale skin. Great timing, boss, she thought irritably. Or maybe it was good timing. Maybe they did need to slow down. They'd just taken a huge step in their relationship. A year ago, when he'd almost kissed her in his hallway, she'd been able to brush past that one, never mention it, tuck it safely away in her memory like a bad date. But this -- an actual kiss couldn't go unnoticed. They could never pretend like this hadn't happened. Damn that man for having such an effect on me, she thought. She didn't realize it, but her expression had changed into one that Mulder knew all too well -- she was gearing up for a defense. "Yes, sir, I'll do that. Yeah. I've, uh, got to go." Scully raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I was sleeping." It raised higher. "Uh-huh," he said, beginning to sound desperate. "I don't know where she is, sir. . . .Yeah. Okay. Okay. Monday, right. Yeah. Bye." He hung up the phone gratefully and sank back down onto the couch next to Scully. "What did he want?" she asked him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Get some rest, don't work too hard. The normal post-shooting jingle." He tried not to stare at her profile. "So, uh...." She flashed him a small smile. "I should go, I guess." He started to nod, then grabbed her arm as she tried to stand. "No." "What?" Mulder was shaking his head vehemently. "No, Scully. You aren't doing that this time." She brushed off his hand and stood up, placing both hands on her hips. "Just what am I doing?" "This," he replied, gesturing. "Putting distance. Trying to escape the issue by ignoring it." He stood also. "You did it before; you aren't doing it again." At that particular moment, she wanted nothing more than to kick his ass. She wasn't sure if it was out of anger at him for being so off about her character or for being so dead-on. "I was just tired, Mulder," she retorted, pronouncing each word. "Bull, Dana." Suddenly, he grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at him. "Look at me. I kissed you. You kissed me back." He let her go and pounded a fist onto the couch. "Right here. We kissed each other and we both liked it. It's not hard, Dana." She glared at him. "I'm not three years old, Mulder. I understand what we did --" she pounded her fist onto the couch just as he had done, "-- right here. And if you ask me, I'm right in trying to go home. We both need to take a step back here, and --" "And what? 'Analyze the situation?'" he mimicked her perfectly. "Forget it! I saw your face, Dana, the minute that phone rang, you saw it as some God-sent reason for you to ignore what just happened." "I'm not ignoring --" Before she could continue, he had brought his face down to hers once more. "Let's just get one thing straight here, okay? I'm going to kiss you. I'm not going to deny it and neither are you. We won't pretend like it never happened. As a matter of fact, tomorrow morning we're going to have a long, overdue talk about what it means to both of us." She felt his hands slip under the collar of her shirt. "What are you doing?" "Checking for bees," he whispered. She smiled and lifted her face to meet his. "Wait," she said at the last minute. "You're Mulder, aren't you? Not a bounty hunter or an Eddie Van Blundht?" "Sorry, it's really me." They made a move towards each other before he held up a hand and ran over to the phone. She heard a click as he turned the ringer off. "Okay, so are we set now?" She nodded. "I think so." Mulder approached her slowly, as though he were fearing a second rejection. He stood patiently before her for a moment, allowing her to make the final choice. They stood kissing, time stopped, until she felt her legs ready to give out -- either from Mulder's kiss or from standing for so long. He sensed it somehow and as they fell onto the couch again, she pulled away slightly. "Mulder?" "Mmm?" "Maybe we should -- you were just shot, Mulder...." Her voice trailed off weakly as he dropped kisses along her jawline. "I'm okay." "Mulder," she said dubiously. He sighed and pulled away. "If you hurt me, I'll tell you. Okay?" She tilted her head up to meet his again, but he pushed away. "Ow." "Did I hurt you?" she asked anxiously, and he saw her eyes were filled with concern. Mulder shook his head, laughing. "Sorry. I just couldn't resist." For a moment, he wasn't sure if he had blown it, and she was going to leave him, or if she was going to simply try to permanently maim him. She must have decided on something in between, he thought, because she simply rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Mulder," was all she said before she began kissing him again. And he did. *** June 12, 1999 Mulder's Apartment 8:09 a.m. He woke up to the soft smell of strawberry shampoo tickling his nose and his arms steadfastly held a small body tightly against him. He opened one eye, cautious in case it was another dream, and flicked the coppery hair out of his face. It wasn't a dream. A small smile fastened itself onto his face. She rolled over in his arms and opened her eyes after a pause. Blue met hazel and winked. "Hey." There was a God. "Hey," he whispered back. There was a moment of silence, and Mulder couldn't help wondering what she was thinking. He knew he loved her, if hadn't known it before, the minute she opened her eyes while in his arms. But God only knew what she thought of the whole deal. He brushed a strand of hair tenderly out of her eyes and waited. "In my dream," she began, "remember? I woke up crying because I was angry at myself, like I said. Angry for letting you ditch me and try to save me." She put an arm around his waist and pulled herself closer. "But I was also angry at myself for never saying what needed to be said before it was too late." "Which was?" "That I need you." "You have me." "That I want you." "I want you, too." She took a deep breath and gazed into his eyes. "That I love you." Mulder knew that in some unconscious way, it was her test for him, to try to throw him off, see what his reaction would be. He didn't hesitate. "I love you." "How is it that easy for you to say, Mulder?" "Scully -- Dana. Dana, it just is. I love you, and maybe I've always known it, at least on some level. But I know it now, on every level there is. I love you. It's just that easy." A small smile touched her lips. "I need a shower." She rolled away from him and started off towards his bathroom. "Use some of that strawberry stuff," he called after her. "I really like that." *** June 13, 1999 Mulder's Apartment He was seething. There was just no other word for it: pure, unadulterated anger that seethed through him like a wild current. She had gotten her shower, and he'd managed to pull himself off the couch to make her breakfast, when she'd breezed through the kitchen, planted a quick peck on his cheek, and told him she was going home. She'd call. She didn't call. He'd given her the entire day. His phone lay silent, but not forgotten, on his coffee table. He'd given up staring at it sometime after ten p.m. and before 2 a.m. He didn't dare call her. She was obviously asking him for a little space, regardless of their declarations. She was Scully, he knew exactly how she worked. She wanted time. Time. He'd thought six years was time enough, but then again who was he to criticize? I'm almost thirty-eight years old and I refuse to pick up the phone and call my partner. Truth be told, she scared him. He'd had plenty of relationships before, even a few good, healthy ones. Nothing compared to what he felt towards Scully, to what he knew they had. It was just a question of whether or not she realized that herself. He looked at the phone again and made a decision. He was six numbers into her phone number before he hung up. Time. Fine. Whatever. *** June 14, 1999 FBI Headquarters Washington D.C. Scully put her briefcase down on her desk and turned on her monitor, glancing over at Mulder's empty desk which sat facing hers. Good, he wasn't there yet. After showering at Mulder's place on Thursday, she had given him a kiss goodbye and returned to her own apartment. She didn't want to know what he thought of her, acting like some scared teenager. She was thirty-five, for Christ's sake. But she couldn't help it; being so close to Mulder scared the living shit out of her. One puppy-dog look from him and she was putty in his hands. Dana wasn't ready for him yet; she needed time away to sort out her feelings, decide what was the best course of action now. She knew he'd respect any decision that she made, no matter what that might be. God, he was not going to be happy. Mulder chose that moment to enter the office. She caught his eye and gave him a tiny smile as he made his way over to their desks. "Morning," she murmured, glancing up at him. "Funny thing happened to me this weekend," he began innocently, but his eyes were dangerous. Oh no, and so it began. She sighed. "Yeah?" "Yeah. Met a really cute girl. She spent the night and the next morning we said 'I love you' to each other. She left that morning." Scully remained silent. "Yeah. But that's not the funny thing. The funny thing is this," he said, leaning across his desk, "my phone was silent all weekend. *Both* phones. And my doorbell. Silent as goddamn mice." "Maybe you knew what she was doing, Mulder," she said quietly, starting to type up their expense report as he came over to sit on top of her desk. "I know, yes, but I don't understand." "Mulder," she sighed. "This isn't easy for me at all." "Explain it to me, Scully." "This isn't the place, Mulder, and you know it." "I don't care." He lowered his voice. "After what happened Wednesday and what we told each other, you're going to just walk away? After six years, Scully, it's not worth it?" "It's not that," she argued, frustrated. "Mulder, we're a lot of things to each other. Friends, partners, --" "Lovers?" "Keep your voice down. We can be partners and stay friends. We can be lovers and be friends. But we *cannot be* lovers and partners at the same time." "Why not?" he demanded. "They already know our Achilles' heel, Mulder," she hissed. "You want to hand them the bow and arrow?" "*That* is your argument?" "Don't do this." "I don't believe this," he muttered, throwing his hands in the air. "I don't *believe* this. I love you, you love me --" "It's complicated, Mulder. I don't know what else to say." "So what, we just pretend it never happened?" "No, of course not. How could we?" He shrugged his shoulders, a signal for her to explain. Scully paused. Was she doing the right thing? Don't think about it, Dana. Just talk. No regrets, remember? "Mulder, I didn't stop thinking about you this entire weekend. Nothing has changed in the way I feel about you. But us -- you and me together -- cannot work out right now. I'm not doing this because of C.G.B. Spender or anyone else. I'm doing this for us, because it's the right thing to do. I love you, Mulder, and no matter what, I want you as my friend. As my partner. We need to take a step back and make sure that, regardless of the risks, we both know what we're doing." She hesitantly touched his arm. "Okay?" His eyes were like daggers shooting into her heart. There was a tense moment of silence between the two of them before Mulder stalked back over to his desk. "Fine," he replied coolly. "Whatever." "Mulder...." He switched on his AM/FM radio and ignored her. She wanted to reach out and touch his arm, tell him that she wanted to move forward, that all she needed was a little time. But Dana Scully knew a losing argument when she saw one, and at that moment, Mulder had closed off to her. She sighed and turned back to her screen. *** July 20, 1999 FBI Field Office Chicago, Illinois SAC Frank Kauffman leaned back in his chair, his fingers together in a pyramid-like style. "Let me get this straight, agents." He glanced at the field report before him. "Our suspect is a white male, approximately thirty to thirty-five years of age, medium height and build, dark hair and eyes, no identifiable marks on his body. And oh yeah, he's a ghost, too." He threw the report onto his desk. "This is crap, agents. Pure fucking shit." He stood and walked around to the front of his desk and sat down on it, glaring at Mulder and Scully. And I thought Skinner had it nailed, Mulder thought ruefully. He glanced over at Scully. She was paler than usual, and she was sweating buckets. He adjusted his collar. It was awful hot. Wasn't Illinois as high as you could go without going to Alaska? Why the hell wasn't it cooler up here? "Now, Assistant Director Skinner may accept this bologna, but I don't. I don't have time to sift through ten pages of bullshit about a ghost whose stuck in a house and is now torturing half of Chicago by killing half its residents. Agent Scully? Can you attempt to redeem this shit?" I think he's going for a record: how many times can one man say 'shit' in five minutes? Scully looked passive but he could tell she was ready to burst. She crossed her legs, and Mulder tried not to notice. "I included my own report, sir." "I know that," he sneered. "But I'm *asking* you now." She swallowed, and he noticed a fresh bead of sweat along her forehead. Damn. He wanted more than anything to reach out and kiss it away, but they barely touched each other since that night in his apartment a month before. They weren't making any progress in the personal relationship department, but at least they weren't taking any steps back. He called her more often now, just for the sake of wanting to listen to her smooth voice. She was more determined than ever to solve each and every case using her damned logical science, and he did his best not to snap at her when she did. Just like old times, he mused. He didn't realize that he was the only one making advances. This was their first real case, besides the busywork that Skinner had been giving them to keep the X-Files Division alive and kicking. She maintained a safe distance, and he did his best to follow her lead, but sometimes God, sometimes he just wanted to -- "I believe that Agent Mulder was manipulated by an unidentified informant claiming to have information, sir. Through an elaborate hoax, he was lead to believe the claims in your report." "Can you confirm these -- claims, Agent?" "No, sir." Kauffman looked triumphantly at Mulder. "Got anything else to add, Mulder?" Before Mulder could reply, Scully had shot out of her chair and was out of the door before the SAC could stop her, muttering a hasty "excuse me" as she shut the door behind her. They exchanged a confused look before Mulder was after her. She emerged from the bathroom a few moments later and looked surprised to see him waiting outside for her. "What, Mulder?" "Are you okay?" he asked, examining her face. She was doing that a lot lately, going to the bathroom. He wondered if she was sick. I wonder if she'd *tell* me if she was sick. "I'm fine, I just had to go to the bathroom, Mulder." He grimaced. Whatever. "Okay." They returned to Kauffman's office, with Scully considerably less agitated than before and took their seats. Their SAC threw them an annoyed glare before dismissing them. "Scully," he started, touching her elbow on their way out. She flinched. "Sorry. Are you sure you're okay?" "I'm *fine,* Mulder. Will you just drive me back to the hotel?" Neither spoke another word to each other for the rest of their trip. *** FBI Headquarters Washington D.C. August 9, 1999 2:15 p.m. Mulder watched her walk calmly back into the office after yet another frantic plight to the ladies' room down the hall and sit down at the desk that faced him. And still she said nothing. He waited a full three minutes. Nothing. He tapped his pencil on the edge of his desk, increasing the speed when he received no response. He watched her face carefully for any kind of signal and sighed. She was barely aware that he was sitting across from her, let alone that he was trying his damnedest to annoy her. "Hey, Scully?" Her head snapped up. "What?" "Are you okay?" She relaxed. "I'm fine, Mulder," she said professionally, shuffling some papers. But he saw the look in her eye. She was anything but fine. But it was a lost battle; she'd never admit it to him, certainly not now. They were partners, but they'd lost the chemistry. Mulder knew the entire office was buzzing, trying to figure out what had happened between Mr. and Mrs. Spooky. The sound of his phone ringing pulled him out of his reverie. "Mulder," he said tiredly into the phone, his gaze never leaving Scully's. "May I speak with Ms. Scully, please?" Mystified, he covered the mouthpiece. "Scully, hey -- somebody's on the phone for you." She furrowed her brow. "Who?" "Who is this?" he asked into the phone. "This is Doctor Allen," the voice began. Mulder felt his heart skip a beat. Doctor? Thoughts of a return of her cancer flew through his head. "It's, uh, Dr. Allen," he told her. Her eyes widened, and she reached across her desk for his phone. "It's Dana...Mm-hmm. Okay, that's fine, Becky...That's not a problem....Yeah, it's 555-3416....What? -- no, I'm sure he doesn't mind." Her eyes flittered towards his and fell away. "Mm- hmm. Thanks for calling. See you then." She hung up the phone and sat back at her desk. "Scully?" he asked, uncertain. She waved a hand, standing up. "It's nothing, Mulder." "Where are you going? Got a hot date or something?" Her eyes flashed towards him, and he immediately regretted the snide comment. "No. I'm, uh, going home." "Why?" he asked, sitting up. She never went home early. "Are you sure you aren't sick?" Scully gave him a patented Mulder-I'm-fine-really smile. "I'm fine. Really." She touched his shoulder lightly as she passed by him on her way out. "I'll see you tomorrow." *** Mulder entered his apartment and threw his coat in the direction of the coat hanger. He loosened his tie and stepped into the quasi- darkness. He stopped almost immediately. Scully sat on his couch, leaning against the back, her eyes closed. He wasn't sure if she was asleep or just resting, so he carefully stepped into the room and watched her. "It's not my cancer," she said simply, never opening her eyes. He unconsciously breathed a sigh of relief. She sighed and her eyes met his. "I haven't been feeling well lately, so I called my doctor for an appointment last Friday. It's not my cancer," she repeated. Mulder took a hesitant step forward, unsure what to do. Finally, he found his voice. "So, uh, if it's not your cancer, then. . ." "Before I even went to see Dr. Allen, I think I already knew what was wrong." She wet her dry lips and diverted her eyes from his. "I'm pregnant," she said, and he felt like she'd kicked him in the gut. "It's nothing certain, yet, but..." Her voice trailed off. He felt his feet were weighed down with stones. "How -- how, um, can you be sure?" Christ, his voice sounded like dry sandpaper. A wry smile touched her lips. "Well, Mulder, I'm a doctor, first of all. But before that, I am a woman, and we do tend to know these kinds of things." He was silent for a moment. "How -- how, is this possible?" Scully appeared as lost as he was. She shrugged. "I don't know, Mulder," she said tiredly. "I don't know how. Maybe Antarctica had something to do with it, maybe...." Her voice trailed off, and she looked up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. "So your, uh, appointment. Tomorrow. Is that for uhh --" He gestured. "To find out?" She gave a short nod. "I'll know tomorrow, yes." Mulder couldn't help it, he was shocked. He couldn't move, couldn't say the words he wanted -- needed -- to say to her. He knew she wanted him to tell her how he felt about this new turn of events, good or bad, but he just couldn't. He didn't trust his voice. "I should go," she said, standing. She stopped a few feet away from him. "I just thought you should know." "Scully, I --" "Don't, Mulder. I understand, it's okay." When she shut the door behind her, he thought that maybe she took his heart with her as well. *** August 10, 1999 Dr. Allen's Pediatrics Clinic 8:55 a.m. Scully sat in one of the chairs in the waiting room, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible. She brushed away an imaginary piece of lint from her impeccable suit and smoothed her skirt down. As she absently tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, she felt a hot breath tickling her neck. "So, you come here often?" Her head jerked up at the sound of his voice and he smiled sheepishly. "Fancy meeting you here, Mulder," she said, trying not to grin and make this too easy for him. "I didn't think you'd stoop to picking up women at pregnancy clinics." "Well, you know," he said, shrugging, as he sat down beside her. "I was hoping I'd meet this one particular girl." She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, she's real sexy. Red hair, blue eyes, about yea- high," he said, putting his hand out by his knee. She glared at him. "Seriously, Scully, did you think I was really not going to tag along?" "I wasn't sure," she admitted. "You weren't exactly thrilled last night." "You didn't catch me on a good night, what can I say. I'd just gotten brushed off by my partner. I was in a bad mood." She touched his arm. "Mulder, I'm sorry I --" "No, it's okay, Scully. Let's just -- concentrate on today, okay?" She nodded. "Okay." The nurse opened the door and peered out. "Dr. Scully?" "Well, that's my call," she said, standing. He stood with her. "Want any help?" he asked with a leer. "Sit down, Mulder. You've helped enough." She heard his laugh even after the door closed behind her and the nurse. *** An hour later. Mulder finished counting the tiny sheep that littered the wallpaper. Two hundred sixty five. Not bad, he mused. Something in his peripheral vision caught his eye and he glanced over to his right just as a very pregnant woman sat down next to him, husband in tow. They nodded to each other as he tried to look everywhere but at the woman's bulging waistline. "Oh, honey," cried a younger woman from across the room. "Honey, the baby kicked." The man beside her rolled his eyes -- this was obviously not the first kick, Mulder noted, amused -- and allowed her to place his hand on her stomach. God, this place is crawling with pregnant women. Yes, dumbass, they tend to come to pregnancy clinics. Scully could be one of these pregnant women. Because of him. I got Scully pregnant. Maybe. He laughed experimentally. I knocked up my partner. I slept with Scully and now the woman who had her ova stolen from her is pissing the day away into a cup. He laughed louder this time, but still no one looked up. They must be used to this by now, he thought. He was saved from further self- humiliation by the soft creaking of the door. "Um, Mr. Mulder?" asked the nurse tentatively. He stood. "Me." She nodded. "Dana asked me to come get you." Judgment Day. He walked back with the nurse, and as she pointed him towards a half-open door, he broke out into a sweat. Do I want this baby, if there is a baby? I mean, come on, Scully's not an idiot, she's a doctor and if she suspects she's pregnant, what are the odds that she's not? He pushed open the door with his toe to see his Scully sitting on the edge of an examination bed, biting the corner of her mouth in boredom. Her hospital gown hung loosely over her thin shoulders, and her hair was a bit tousled, and she was staring at the ceiling like she had the day after they'd met, when they'd stood in the middle of the pouring rain and he'd told her they'd just lost nine minutes. << People don't just lose time, Mulder! It's a universe invariant!>> << Not in this zip code. >> Had he fell in love with her before or after that? It didn't matter; he was in love with her now. And he knew that regardless of whether or not she was pregnant at that instant, he wanted her to have a baby -- his baby. "Hey," he said softly. She turned her head. "Oh, hey. Becky's off getting the results from the lab." She gestured him in. "Sit down." *** Twenty minutes later. "Mulder, stop it." Scully felt a small gust of wind once again as he walked past her towards the wall with the window, where he promptly pivoted, glanced at the door, and walked back past her again. "Mulder....Mulder!" "Mm?" "Sit down. Pacing like that isn't going to speed anything up." "Scully, I can't sit down. I'll just get even more nervous." "Mulder, please. You're making me nauseous." He glanced at her, then reluctantly sat down. The minute he did, the door opened to reveal Dr. Allen. Two heads, one red and one dark, spun around in the direction of the sound. Mulder watched as she shut the door behind her and stood in front of them, glancing at her folder. She tossed it onto the counter behind her and crossed her arms, and he went sick. In two seconds, one word would decide the rest of his future. Yes. No. Yes or no. No or yes. No matter which way things turned out, he was either going to be a father, or a ridiculously nervous ex-lover to an equally nervous partner. It was an agonizing ten seconds. "Well?" he croaked out. Becky Allen glanced at Scully, then towards Mulder. "What do you think?" He wanted nothing more than to strangle her. "I think Mulder's going to strangle you, Becky," Scully interrupted. She winked. "Okay. Sorry. You have to forgive me. The rest of my patients today are women four months pregnant or more, so this is the only fun I'll have. I can't tease them." He was seriously going to strangle her. Scully never liked his tie, anyway; maybe he'd use it as the noose. . . . "So, Dana, Mulder. Congratulations. You're pregnant." He wanted nothing more than to hug the damn doctor. *** Scully's hands flew immediately to her abdomen at Becky's words, as if to assure herself that she really *was* going to have a baby. A baby. Her baby. The baby she wasn't supposed to be able to have.... Mulder's baby. The thought was enough to bring a slight blush to her cheeks and she flushed, hoping he wouldn't see it. "You're, uh, sure?" she heard him ask. Dr. Allen nodded. "Yep. Just as you suspected, Dana, about two months." Silence. "Well, I guess I'll leave you two alone. Come out when you're ready." She smiled and shut the door behind her. *** There was a strained moment of silence between them, each trying to gauge the other's true reaction. His eyes sought out hers over the rift, and he found himself moving to cover the distance between them, and suddenly her head was on his chest, her arms around his middle, and he was holding onto her as though she were a lifeline to him. Hell, maybe she was. He only knew he wished that they could stay frozen like this forever, where no covert government agency was trying to kill them, no race of aliens were trying to recolonize their planet and their life, no repercussions would come from their encounter two months before. His thoughts were abruptly cut off by her voice. "Mulder?" "Hey, Scully, I've just got two things to say." "Yeah?" "No goddamn purple dinosaur and if it's a boy, under no circumstances is he going to be a junior." Her soft laughter was music to his ears and he held her closer. *** She felt like a coward, doing it this way. But she couldn't face him; if she did, he'd only charm her into staying, and that was exactly what she didn't want to end up doing. The beep interrupted her thoughts. "Mulder, it's me. I was hoping to get you in person, but. . . .well, I wanted to tell you that I'm -- I'm going away for a little while. Nothing's wrong, I'm okay. Really. I just -- this is too much, Mulder, all at once, and I need to step back, I need to get this all processed before we can figure out what we're going to do. It won't be long, just a week maybe. I put in my leave of absence with Skinner a few minutes ago, and I just wanted to tell you. I -- I'll call you when I get back." She prepared to hang up the phone when she heard the impatient click that his line was being picked up. "Scully?" Scully closed her eyes. "Mulder, why didn't you answer your phone? Why'd you let me just ramble on and on like that? You know I hate answering machines as much as you do --" "Where are you going, Scully?" She knew he'd ask that. "No, Mulder. The whole purpose of this trip is to get my head cleared." "I'll help you." "No, you can't, Mulder; I can't think around you. All you'd do is ask if I was okay and hover. I need to think, not dodge fifty questions." He was silent for a moment. "Will you at least tell me where you're going, Scully, in case something happens --" He broke off. "Yeah, I see your point. But seriously, Scully, what if something did happen? How would I know?" "I'll be fine." "Would you tell me if you weren't?" he countered. Damn him for knowing her so well. Scully bit her lip, her hand gripping the phone tighter. "I'll call you, okay?" He let out a long breath. "Promise me that you'll call if you need me." "I will, Mulder." She quickly hung up the phone before he could make her change her mind. *** Mulder's Apartment August 11, 1999 12:01 a.m. A baby. Scully was going to have his child. It was impossible to comprehend. But he'd been there, seen the blood test he'd demanded of Dr. Allen, watched the look of surprised joy wash over Scully's face. It was all frighteningly real. Not because he didn't want the child, never that; he'd spent almost thirty-eight years alone, wishing for a family. Now he had one, a true family, with the only person he'd ever want one with. He was overwhelmed with happiness at this new turn of events, but one small word had been eating away at him since they'd gotten the news. How? Mulder tried to think back, to remember any time since he and Scully had found out that she was infertile that They might have gotten to her. He remembered the day the same woman who'd brought them this baby had told them she would never be able to conceive.... << "What do the results say?" "Dana..." "Becky, I need to know. It's bad news. Isn't it?" Becky had crossed the room and stood before them, and Mulder had gripped her hand tighter, anticipating the absolute worst. "You won't be able to have children, Dana. I'm sorry. I ran every test I know of against the original, and they all came back the same. I can't tell you what happened. In all other aspects, you're a perfectly healthy woman." Scully's face had gone white, and she leaned against Mulder weakly. "Who can't ever have a child of her own." Becky had given her a hug, told Mulder to take her home and make her get some rest, then left them alone. "Scully," he'd begun, wishing he could do something to take the pain away. "Don't. Just -- just hold me. Please?" She had said that last word so quietly, like a child begging for another cookie. He'd melted. >> But they had gotten through that together, just like they'd weathered everything else. This would be the biggest test of their faith, but he had no doubt in their ability to make it through. He just wished he had answers. *** August 12, 1999 Margaret Scully's residence 9:51 p.m. As she lay in her childhood bed a few nights later, Dana Scully did something she rarely did. She cried. She didn't question why; there wasn't a need. She welcomed it. Perhaps it was because after so many years of keeping her fears and tears at bay, she needed a release. As a child, the only way her brothers would allow her to play with them was if she never cried, never complained -- never 'acted like a girl.' Maybe it was because of that, that she felt like crying was a feminine weakness. As she lay there, tears streaming down her face and collecting into a puddle on her pillowcase, she thought of Mulder. He didn't understand this -- her need to escape. He was accustomed to change, to having his life altered by a single event; maybe he even expected it. She wasn't. And for the change -- for this baby to come after one night which had never been spoken about since, just seemed absurd. Hell, Mulder had been with her when Becky had told her she would be unable to bear children. He'd taken it harder than she had -- she'd always wondered why. Was it because somewhere in him, even back then, he wished for something more than their friendship, their partnership? Or had he, like always, simply been hurting because she was hurting? She had just begun to accept the idea of never having children, and now here she was, laying in a bed that was about three feet too short for her frame, hand on her stomach, trying to establish a connection with the new life forming within her. This is real, Dana, she told herself. And you can't run away from this; neither of you can. No matter what happens at work or in your personal lives, this child is always going to be there, always reminding you of what you shared, if only briefly. And what of their personal lives? Did Mulder plan on them raising the baby together? Marriage? Living together? Raise it but keep their personal lives separate? Could you do that, Dana? she asked herself. Watch Mulder date while you sit at home watching his child -- or could he do the same? She doubted either answer was yes. As for the baby, it in itself was something she was hesitant to broach. Two years ago, she had been told she couldn't have children. Months later, Mulder had presented her with his knowledge that he now had her ova, her unborn babies, stored in a vault at the Lone Gunmen's office. To now be pregnant was not only impossible, but improbable. But Becky had done the sonogram before they'd left; and there it was -- their tiny bundle of life, their tiny miracle that had been conceived in such love that had turned so quickly to awkwardness. Scully searched her thoughts, her memories, for how it should come to be this way. They had taken her again. Three times, she thought angrily, three times I've been taken, and each time I was raped, medically raped. Her first abduction in five years before had resulted in the loss of her children; the metal implant in her neck could only have been inserted after a second kidnapping, and now this. She touched briefly on the fact that she could remember nothing of her trip to Skyland Mountain with Cassandra Spender a year before. Had that been the time? Had she been given back her children then? Would she ever know the cause of the miracle growing inside of her? The next morning, she phoned him after breakfast. He answered on the fifth ring. "Scully?" She smiled. "Do you always answer your phone with my last name?" She could feel his grin from across the distance. "What were you doing? You sound out of breath." "Jogging around the park." "Ohh. Meet any cute girls?" "Yeah, one. She wanted to know where I went to color my gray." "Ouch." Scully bit back a laugh. "So, Scully, are you okay?" "Actually, Mulder, I really am okay." She felt him nod. "Be there in twenty minutes." And he stayed true to his word. Her mother offered him a cup of coffee, tried to get her daughter to stay, but they both declined. "I have to go to work tomorrow, Mom," Scully reminded her. "Call me, sweetie. I worry." Margaret Scully turned to Mulder as Scully shut the passenger door behind her. "Take care of my babies, Fox." He looked at her in surprise. She hadn't told him she had told her mother. He wondered if she'd ask him about his intentions. Maggie noticed his face and smiled, putting a hand on his arm. "It's okay, Fox. You have my blessing." It was only thirty minutes later, when she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek that Scully realized that she hadn't told him where she was. She stared at him for a moment, her expression a mixture of surprise and amusement. He looked at her innocently. "I love you, Mulder," she said softly. He ran a finger along her jaw before kissing the top of her forehead. "I told you I wouldn't hover, didn't I?" When their lips met, she thought how lucky she was to have him by her side, to know her well enough to know where she was going and to give her the space she needed. And she knew that somehow, no matter how hard it would be at times, they were going to be okay. They'd survive this. Together. *** The television sat muted, the black and white picture on the screen the only light in the large room. "So what do we do now?" A simple question to an outsider, but to the six men who stood watching the screen, it was the only question. Five heads turned towards the gray-haired man who stood the closest the the TV. "We wait." "For what?" a colleague argued. "For them to keep breeding?" There was a murmur of agreements. "We've already let it progress too far. We should have gone with the plan and stopped this the minute we found out about them," another joined in. "And what do we do now?" he asked, quietly puffing on a cigarette. "They already know she's pregnant. They know about our experiments, too. We take the baby now, and what would we have? Not only Mulder, but her as well. No." "We can eliminate her from the equation --" "No," he said calmly. "We will wait. I am in charge here. We wait." He lit another cigarette and smiled, although it never reached his eyes. "You forget, my friends, that a child gives us the upper hand. Always. We can control them both." He touched the screen gently, almost forgetting that he wasn't alone in the room. "We will wait." --------------- Part Two It was never anything that appeared obviously; everything between Fox Mulder and Dana Scully was infinitely subtle. The words were never spoken, no glance was shared to see if the other agreed -- it simply was. He began to spend nights over at her house, notwithstanding her arguments that both she and the baby were just fine alone. But thoughts of Eugene Tooms, Duane Barry, Donny Pfaster, and others ran through his head on a daily basis, and he breezed past her obstinacy. Although his bed was her couch, many nights he found himself standing in the threshold to her bedroom, just watching her sleep. Somehow, the gentle rise and fall of her chest was a reassurance to him that this was reality. The day they had found out that she was pregnant, they'd driven back to work in Mulder's car. "You're going to be one of those fathers who doesn't let me do anything without your help, aren't you?" she had deadpanned as they pulled into the FBI parking garage. "Oh, come on, Scully, be realistic. You can breathe, eat, and sleep just fine without me." But he had grinned at her. And when they'd vacated the car, he had gone over to her, and after a moment of tender silence, had put his hands over her stomach, although he knew there was nothing to be felt. He'd simply needed to touch the space that housed their creation. And after a moment, she too had put her hands over his, and they'd stood that way, gazing into each other's eyes. A few weeks after moving in with her, he had successfully succeeded in dragging her out to Toys R Us to look at baby toys, despite her protests that they didn't need to do that for months yet. He had veered straight for the baby boy section, while she'd taken the time to stroll through the baby clothes, her fingers gently brushing over the small pink and white frocks. She hadn't noticed him watching, a small fire truck in hand. Mulder had quietly put the toy back on the shelf when she turned to face him. He saw her thoughts as clear as day: Emily. This baby wasn't her only child, and he hadn't thought of it that way until that moment. Scully already had a child, a little girl buried in California. This child, their child, would never know his or her older sister. Mulder had stealthily retrieved the pink dress while she was taking a bathroom break, had it wrapped, and had put it in the trunk of his car. He pulled it out for her after dinner that night. He'd watched her face evolve from surprise to sadness to an unnameable fear that this baby would be taken from her also. Then she'd gotten up from the table, kissed his cheek, and quietly told him thank you. He had been laying on her couch, falling asleep to Letterman later on that night, when he heard her bedroom door creak open and her feet padding across the floor. Suddenly, she had bent down and put a hand over his. "Come to bed, Mulder," she whispered softly, and he had. They had slept peacefully in each other's arms the entire night, and he soon realized that only Scully could chase away his nightmares. Now, as he sat comfortably on her couch, her feet cushioned on his lap as she watched TV, he realized how completely domestic it felt. He stopped massaging her feet to absently turn the page on the book he was reading. "That good, Mulder?" Her voice brought him out of his reverie. "Mm?" She gestured. "The book." "Oh. Yeah -- yeah, actually it is. Listen to this, Scully: 'As you enter the third month of your first trimester, you'll really begin to feel pregnant! Your baby is growing, and is about the size of a grapefruit by now. He's just beginning to grow his or her genitalia, respectively. He can also --'" Suddenly, he broke off and wrinkled his nose. She raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Mulder, say it." "It says, 'he can also now release his own waste, which will be felt by you. This will account for the extra amount of time spent going to the bathroom!'" He glanced at her. "Please tell me that he isn't going to the bathroom inside of you, Scully." Scully laughed and pulled her feet away. "Where are you going?" he asked as she stood. She winked. "I have to go to the bathroom." "That's just not funny, Scully," he shouted as she disappeared into the bathroom. A minute later, as he became absorbed once again in his book, he called back to her. "Hey, Scully! It says here that women beginning their second trimester have an increased sex drive. That true?" He could literally feel her raising an eyebrow. When she appeared a moment later, he raised his own. "Well?" She leaned over him and kissed him. "You tell me," she answered as she sat down on his lap and continued to kiss him. "Hey, Scully, whoa -- hey. Wait a second here. I haven't read anything in here about any extracurricular activities with Junior around." She pulled away and took the book from him. "What the hell are you reading anyway? 'What To Expect When You're Expecting.'" She handed it back to him. "Page 158, Mulder." She waited patiently as he flipped through the book over her head as she continued to kiss him, and waited for his reaction. "Well now I think I've heard everything," he muttered. His kiss swallowed her laugh. *** Dauphin County National Bank Harrisburg, Pennsylvania October 13, 1999 2:23 p.m. "Anything?" "Nothing; over." "Bates, you open?" "Negative." "Scully, try again." "Negative, Mulder. He isn't here yet." Mulder threw down his set of headphones and stood up, his hand over his eyes. Half an hour into this bust and he could feel the beginnings of a migraine coming on. Not to mention the fact that Scully was out in the field chasing this monster in her condition. She'd kill me if she knew what I was thinking. 'I can take care of myself, Mulder,' he thought. Her voice filtered through the headphones, and he picked them up again, nodding to the switch operator to tune into her signal. "Mulder, you there?" "Always, Scully. What do you have for me?" "He just came in, Mulder. I think we need to do this, and do this quickly." Skinner and the two other agents glanced at Mulder. He closed his eyes tightly. It hadn't been his decision to do this case; it had come on specific orders from the Director of the FBI for he and Scully to be on this case. They'd been in the field for over a week now, trying to determine when their man would make his next move. Six banks had been robbed throughout Pennsylvania in the past two months, all done by the same perpetrator, all with fatal outcomes, and the victims' families were demanding vengeance. ASAC Whittmar had selected Mulder to head the bust from inside of the van, parked discreetly across the street from the bank in a used car dealer's lot. Whittmar had also designated Scully to lead the arrest from inside the bank, and after much argument, Mulder had consented, under the strict conditions that she take all necessary precautions. "Mulder?" "I'm here, Scully." "Mulder, if we don't do this now, we may not get another chance. He's ready to move, I can tell." He was quiet for a moment. "You got your vest on, Scully?" "Primed and ready for action, Spooky." "Your call, Scully. Just don't be like me and screw things up, okay?" "Over, Mulder." He saw her motion to Agent Bates from the security camera inside the bank that they had rewired to see out in the van. Scully moved swiftly across the bank and raised her gun at the suspect. "Federal agent, nobody move!" He heard the frightened gasps of the rest of the patrons in the bank and was reminded of another bank robbery, one that had taken place four short months ago, the one that had brought Scully to him, no matter how indirectly. He heard a gunshot, her sharp intake of breath, and Bates' shout. Without thinking, he had ripped his headphones off, had his gun, and was running towards the entrance of the bank in two seconds flat. He knew it; he'd known it was a bad idea for Scully to do this. Scully...Scully....ScullyScullyScullyScully. . . .He repeated the mantra over and over again in his head, hoping against everything that he'd arrive and find her safe and sound. He heard Skinner shout after him to come back, don't blow the cover. But there was only one thing on his mind, and that thing was in a bank that he was sprinting towards. Mulder burst through the door at record speed and quickly navigated to where the shooting had occurred from. He raced into the huge room to find Bates and Robinson cuffing the assailant, another agent bending over a woman convulsing with blood, and Scully laying motionless on the floor. His heart plummeted, and he staggered to where she lay, the pristine white carpet soaking up some of her blood. "Scully," he croaked, pulling her into his arms. He saw Skinner and a dozen or so more agents swarming into the building. Their eyes met and the Assistant Director made his way over to the pair of agents who lay sprawled on the floor. Mulder spied the paramedics rushing in behind Skinner and he motioned them over. "I need some help," he called hoarsely. Two hurried over to where he knelt, cradling Scully's limp form against his own. "What happened?" "She was shot," he whispered. "Where?" "I --" Mulder's eyes went vacant. "I don't know," he finished softly. "Mulder," Skinner said as he approached. "Is she --" "What's her name?" one of the paramedics asked. "Scully -- Dana. Dana. Dana Scully." "Agent Scully, can you hear me? Can you speak, Dana?" He worked quickly, putting an oxygen mask over her face as he spoke. She grasped Mulder's hand. "Mulder," she whispered weakly. "I -- " "Shh, shh," he whispered back softly. "It's okay." The medic was checking her pulse. "She's losing blood, we need to get her into the hospital." His partner came over and together they lifted her onto a stretcher. "Does she have any allergies, anything that might be complicated by this?" "She's four months pregnant," he told him, gripping her hand tighter. "All right, let's go," shouted the EMT and as Mulder ran along beside them, his hand never leaving Scully's. "I'm going with her," he said firmly, jumping into the ambulance. They closed the doors behind him and sped off, leaving a cloud of heady dust in their wake. And then the smoke cleared, leaving behind a confused and angry Assistant Director Skinner. *** Harrisburg Hospital October 15, 1999 12:03 p.m. Scully opened her eyes and blinked against the harsh bright light. "Mulder," she murmured. Instantly, she felt him squeeze her hand. "What happened?" "You were shot," he said, sitting up. She noticed how rumpled his clothes were and wondered how long she'd been in her present state. "During the bust." "Where?" He appeared to be holding back some emotion in his eyes, and it was one she knew quite well from her own experience. He was trying not to cry. "Right shoulder." She smiled a little. "Now we match," she said softly, letting her eyes fall shut again. It was never a picnic to be shot, and it looked like her head was protesting her idiocy. Suddenly, her eyes flew open and she tried to sit up. "Mulder, the baby --" "Calm down," he said soothingly, pushing her back down. "The baby's fine. You're both fine." Scully drew in a deep breath and tried to focus. The baby's okay. The baby's okay. "I'm sorry." "Why? You didn't pull that trigger, Scully. He did. He did this, not you. Don't even think that." "How can I not, Mulder? Do you even know how lucky I am that this baby is still alive? You told me to stay out of the field, and I didn't --" "You didn't do this, Scully," he said forcefully, his grip tight on her hand. "No, but I could have prevented it, couldn't I have?" His answer was suspended as the door opened and Skinner stepped quietly into the room. "Agents." "Sir," Mulder said evenly, but she could hear the nervousness behind the word. What had happened? "I was just checking in to see if you were awake yet, Agent Scully. How do you feel?" "I'm fine, sir." He nodded, picking at his collar, trying to ignore the obvious way his two best agents were holding hands, in no attempt to conceal it from him. "Well. I want to see the both of you in my office when you return to work." Mulder nodded and Skinner slipped out of the room as stealthily as he had entered it. Scully turned to him. "What was that all about?" He picked at the fuzz on her hospital blanket. "I probably -- I probably said some -- things -- after you were shot that didn't go unnoticed by our friendly AD." She arched an eyebrow. "What things, Mulder?" He looked up at her. "You were shot, Scully, and you were just laying there, bleeding to death in my arms and I --" "You what, Mulder?" He sighed in resignation. "The paramedic asked me if there was anything he should know about your health that might be immediately affected by your wound." "Oh, no." "Oh, yes. I mean, I guess it's pretty possible that in all the commotion he didn't exactly hear me, but I was kind of adamant in my demand that they help you." "We had to tell him sometime." He looked at her, obviously surprised by her attitude. "Scully?" "Well, Mulder, we can't turn back time and have you shut your mouth at the right moment, can we? So we just have to deal with this, just like we were going to eventually. Only we're a month or so earlier than expected." He kissed her forehead. "That's what I love about you, Scully. You're willingness to expect the unexpected, to go with the flow." She gave him a patent ScullyLook. "That's what I love about you, too, Mulder." He raised an eyebrow. "What's that?" "Your willingness to drive over to Dairy Queen and pick me up a hot fudge sundae with mustard." He gave her a disgusted look. "That's just gross, Scully." "I wouldn't mind some Chinese, too." "Okay, now that's pushing the envelope, Agent Scully." "Since when do you care?" He grinned. "Ah'll be bahck." *** FBI Headquarters Washington D.C. October 25, 1999 9:12 a.m. Assistant Director Walter Skinner glared alternately between the two agents before him. Scully's posture and appearance were as impeccable as ever, and Mulder was characteristically bored. "Was there a reason to this meeting, sir?" he asked, receiving a withering look from Scully to his right. "Oh, very much so, Agent Mulder. Would anyone care to fill me in?" "On what, sir?" Scully asked, folding her hands in her lap. It suddenly occurred to him that neither agent was going to cave. He took a deep breath and took off his glasses, rubbing his forehead. "Agents, no one in this room doesn't know what the reason is. I'm just waiting to hear the words." Scully glanced at Mulder. "What words would that be, sir?" "Agent Scully," he said warningly. She closed her eyes, trying to summon strength. When she opened them, Mulder could see the old Scully in them, the Scully that knew how to handle every and any situation. "I am pregnant, sir, as you expected," she said. He nodded. "Obviously so. Mulder's concern for your well-being and for the baby was quite evident." Mulder shifted in his chair. So this is what you feel right before they drop the blade on the guillotine, he thought uncomfortably. Skinner pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to remain in control. "Were you planning at any point to inform me of this, Agent Scully?" Scully threw a withering glance her partner's way. Jump in here any time, Mulder. He's already going to have my ass, Scully. Keep going.... "Well, sir, we felt, for many reasons both personally and professionally, that it would be prudent of us to wait as long as possible before telling the Bureau." "We?" Mulder could feel her eyes burning into him, though she wasn't looking right at him. If he didn't jump in soon, she was going to kill him. He took a deep breath. "Agent Scully and I, sir." There was a tense moment of silence. "Excuse me?" Mulder and Scully shared a quick, bewildered look. "Sir?" he asked, confused. Then it hit him -- Skinner knew Scully was pregnant. He just didn't know that Mulder was the father. Oh shit, he thought. "How long has this been going on?" Scully tensed. "Sir, I understand your concern for Bureau policy, but that is a personal and private question which has no relevance in this." "On the contrary, Agent Scully, it has everything to do with this." He stood and walked around his desk until he stood before them, a dark looming figure. "Two of my best agents come to me and unexpectedly announce that they're pregnant. Not only does this affect the two of you, but this affects me. Do you have any notion of the scale of the speculation that has been circulating around this office about you two for the past six years? How I've had to fight my own superiors from coming down hard on you two based solely on observations made by the other agents? So no, Agent Scully, as personal and private as the question may be, you relinquished all rights to privacy the minute you decided the hell with Bureau policy. So I ask you again: how long has this been going on?" Scully crossed her arms. "That was the first time, sir," Mulder answered quietly. Scully glared at him. "Is that the truth?" "Are we on trial here?" he countered. "Not yet, but you will be once OPR gets word of this. I can't very well hide this under a stack of paperwork, agents. You have to file maternity leave through OPR. You're required to let them know. I can't protect you on this. This isn't Dallas. You have a lot more to own up to now." "They'll separate us," Scully said softly, more to herself. "I can't promise you anything, agents. We all know that there's no formal, written rule regarding this. But you two also know OPR and Cassidy, and how much fraternization is frowned upon. They can separate you if they want to. But your track record gives you an advantage; you're one of the best pairs of agents in the FBI." Walter Skinner sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "But there's also the fact that we were just in there a year ago regarding your partnership. This is thin ice. But yes, Agent Scully, separation is an option. I don't know what else to say." "You can't do anything about that?" Mulder demanded. "You're an AD, sir. With all due respect --" "With all due respect, Agent *Mulder,* it isn't my place. It's out of my hands once you file your report." A tense, awkward silence filtered through the room. "How much longer will you be working, Agent Scully?" Skinner asked finally, breaking the tension. "I see no reason why I shouldn't be able to work up until the end. I won't be in the field anymore, not after this recent incident." Another tight stillness filled the office. "Is that all, sir?" Mulder asked after a minute. He nodded. "Dismissed."The pair rose in unison and walked towards the door. "Oh, and agents?" called Skinner. Mulder was surprised to see a faint shimmer of a smile on the older man's face. "Congratulations." *** Scully's Apartment 9:14 p.m. Firm hands were shaking his shoulders roughly, trying to rouse him from sleep. He shook his head against the pillow. "No," he mumbled. "Mulder," he heard her hiss. Another strong shake. "Wake up." "What?" he groaned, annoyed. "Wake up!" She slapped his shoulder. "Ow! Dammit, Scully!" His hazel eyes opened suddenly and glared at her. "What?" he demanded. "Are you awake?" "Yeah, I think so," he replied dryly. "What's wrong?" he asked, suddenly serious. "Is it the baby? Are you okay?" "I'm fine, Mulder," she said, sighing. "I just...I was just up thinking, and...." "You weren't sleeping?" he repeated sternly. "Mulder, how are we going to protect this baby?" she asked suddenly. Mulder looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean?" She gestured. "From the smoking man, C.G.B. Spender. From the rest of those men." She sat up in bed, leaning back on the pillows for cushion. "How many times have we been unable to save ourselves, Mulder? Or each other, for that matter. Look at my abduction. Your sister. *You.* Antarctica. We sweep our apartments for bugs each week and yet they always know where we're going to be. How can we protect our baby from Them?" He was silent. It wasn't that the same fears hadn't woken him up many nights, he'd just been able to push them aside, not wanting to think any harm imaginary or real onto his and Scully's child. "I don't know," he said finally. "I guess...I guess we can't. Not really. We can only do what we've been doing, Scully, and hope that works." "Hope it works? Mulder?" "I don't know what to tell you, Scully. I've thought of this myself. I don't know what to say. What do you want to do?" "I don't know," she answered quietly. "Do you want to quit the FBI? Go under?" "Go under?" Scully repeated incredulously. "All right, Mulder, that's a good idea. And when the baby's old enough to understand, do we tell him or her that we're Dana and Fox or -- or Rob and Laura, undercover mommy and daddy? What if we did tell him? Then what? Risk him telling his best friend the cool new story about his mom and dad's life, when that very same friend could be a mole working for Them? Or do we lie to our child, Mulder, for the rest of its life?" He gazed at her for a minute. "All you had to do was say no, Scully." She let out an exasperated breath. "Mulder, come on! This is important." "I know it's important, Scully. I love that baby more than I've ever loved anyone except for you. If anything ever happened to it, I don't know what I'd do. I don't even want to think about it." His hand caressed her cheek soothingly. "I had a dream tonight," she whispered, staring straight ahead. "I dreamt that the baby was born. And then the smoking man came....He made me choose. Between you and the baby. 'One or the other, Agent Scully. You can't have them both.' I was so scared, Mulder." A tear slipped down her cheek, and she dashed it away angrily. "I chose you, Mulder! I chose you over our child! What kind of a mother am I, to give my own baby to that man? God. I was so torn. I didn't know -- I couldn't live without you, Mulder, the thought was so vile." She turned her tear-stained face to look at him. "What if they made me choose, Mulder? I don't think I could do it." He gathered her into his arms and held her as she cried, the rounded bulge in her middle between them. He put one hand on her stomach, the other around her shoulders, and imagined that he was holding their baby between, safe and sound. "What were you going to do with Emily?" he asked suddenly, quietly. "I was going to leave the Bureau," she whispered after a moment. Mulder hesitated. "Maybe that's what you should do." She raised her head to look at him, disbelieving. "I'm serious, Scully. Maybe you should quit; leave the FBI, take the baby, and go someplace where they can't hurt you." "And you'll be where?" she retorted incredulously. "Here. Doing what I do, Scully. Doing what's putting you both at risk." "How can you suggest that, Mulder?" "How can you suggest otherwise?" They both were silenced. "What if we both asked for a transfer out of the x-files?" he asked softly. "Could you do that, Mulder? Just leave on a whim and never go back, no regrets?" "I'd do anything to keep you safe. You know that." "I don't think you could, Mulder. They're too much a part of you." "*You're* too much a part of me, Scully. I won't watch you or my child die because of this contrived cause of mine." "Your cause, Mulder, is nothing short of genuine. Don't belittle it." "So what do we do?" "I don't know. Sleep, for now. I'm sorry I woke you up. We still have five months to go. We'll come out on top, Mulder. We always do." *** October 28, 1999 FBI Headquarters 9:52 a.m. She groaned and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her back. "I can't do this anymore," she murmured. Mulder glanced over at her and grinned. "Giving up already, Mom?" Scully threw a furtive glance around them. "Mulder," she said, a warning tone in her voice. He held up his hands in mock piece. "All right, all right." He turned back to his computer screen and went back to playing Minesweeper. I wonder how long it'll be before anyone starts asking questions, he mused. Three months? Five months? Or maybe it'll pop up one day. 'Hey Mulder, late night?' 'Yeah, Junior didn't get in till late last night. Prom.' 'You got a kid, Mulder?' His chuckle was interrupted by Scully. "Mulder, come here," she said tightly. "Just a sec, Scully, I'm winning." "Mulder, now." He jumped out of his chair, letting it slide a few feet, and was by kneeling by her side instantly. "What's wrong?" Scully had no idea what her face must look like: shock, bewilderment, surprise, happiness. The fluttering somewhere within her stopped her breath, and a slow smile spread across her face. "It's the baby," she whispered, not because there might be a coworker listening in, but because the awe of what was happening inside of her had just hit her. "Are you okay?" he asked huskily, his heart stopped. She raised her eyes to meet his, and he saw that tears threatened to overflow. Calmly, she took his hand and guided it to her stomach, placing it on the small, gentle swell. Mentally, she cajoled the baby to resume it's sport. Come on, little one, show your father what you can do. Almost immediately, he jumped back. "What was that?" he asked loudly, and a few of the other agents glanced in annoyance their way. "The baby, Mulder," she answered patronizingly. "No kidding; what the hell is it doing to you?" She would have laughed if her thoughts hadn't been completely directed upon the life inside her. "He's moving, Mulder. It's called quickening. He's just moving around, getting settled. It's perfectly normal." He approached her again, although somewhat cautiously, she noted. "Does it hurt?" "It's a little fluttering, nothing bad. It's a wonderful feeling." Mulder was quiet for a moment. Until that moment, the baby in Scully's belly had been nothing more than a blurred picture in his wallet. Now it was real -- frighteningly real. He knelt again and put a gentle finger on the tip of the small swelling that was her stomach, as though gently asking for permission. She nodded at him, and he flattened his hand against her stomach and felt. The baby moved again, and he bit his lip to hold back tears. This child was an absolute miracle. Beyond the fact that Scully, who was thought to have been infertile, was having his child, beyond the fact that at thirty-eight he realized that he had never truly loved anyone, even his Scully, as much as he loved that tiny creature that was theirs. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her. "Oh, God, Scully," he whispered. She rose and motioned for him to follow. They made their way quietly through the FBI corridors until they were in the vending room. She ushered him inside, locked the door behind them, and kissed him. When they broke apart, he smiled a little smugly at her. "What was that for?" "You were about to blow our cover, Agent." He pulled her close to him again, resting his chin on the top of her head. "I just realized that nothing up until that moment mattered at all and that nothing beyond you and that baby will ever matter anymore." "You do realize it's going to be Hell going back out there after that, don't you, Shakespeare?" He grinned. "One more for the road." As their lips met once again, Scully knew instinctively that he was right. *** Margaret Scully's residence December 24, 1999 6:47 p.m. "I changed my mind." "Get out of the car." "I don't want to do this anymore." "You're acting like a baby." "He's going to murder me, Scully." "He isn't the Big Bad Wolf, Mulder." "I beg to differ. And it'll only take one huff to blow this house down." "Get out of the car. Everybody's waiting for us. I can see my sister-in-laws looking out of the windows." "I thought you wanted me to be around when the baby's born. I'd think twice before you say 'get out of the car' again." "Mulder, get out of the car." He made a face at her and pulled his lanky frame from her silver Taurus. "This is cruel and unusual punishment, Scully. You're breaking the sixth amendment." "Seventh, Mulder, and being with my family on Christmas is not torture." "It's not the whole family, Scully." "Mulder, have you ever stopped to realize the irrational, unsubstantiated fear you have of my brother? It's completely psychological. All older brothers are protective of their younger sisters. I'd bet money that you were with Samantha, even at eight. Bill is no different. He isn't going to kill you or maim you or threaten you bodily harm in any way. He's human, not Robocop." "He hates me, Scully," he insisted as she rang the doorbell. He heard a flurry of activity inside and the locks on the door being fiddled with. The door opened with a flourish to reveal a tall man, obviously in his early thirties, with a shock of dark brown hair and the trademark crystal blue eyes of the Scully family, wearing a Santa hat and a grin a mile wide. "Dana!" he shouted, throwing his arms around her. "Hey, Charlie, I can't breathe," she teased, hugging him back just as fiercely. Mulder shuddered to think what it was doing to their poor baby. "Let me look at you," he breathed, pulling back and holding her at arm's length. "Short as ever --" He smiled at her glare. "-- hair's a little dark, but something's changed." He glanced over and saw Mulder for the first time. He instinctively stepped back. "Mulder, right? 'Not Fox, Charlie, Mulder,'" he mimicked. Mulder nodded, impressed. "The ever elusive Charles Scully, I presume?" Charles grinned and shook his hand. "So you've heard about me." "Mulder was beginning to doubt your very existence, Charlie," Scully interjected, smiling at the two men. "Charles, who is it?" called a familiar voice, and Margaret Scully stepped into view. "Dana, you came," she said lovingly, throwing her arms around her daughter. "How is everything?" "We're okay, Mom." Maggie looked at Mulder for confirmation and he nodded. "How are you, Mrs. Scully?" She smiled brightly at him. "Come in you two, you must be freezing. Where are your manners, Charles?" "Think I lost 'em in the Navy," he muttered, closing the door behind them all. *** They made their way into the living room, and Mulder looked in shock at the wide expanse of green in the corner of the large room. "What'd she do, Scully, cut down the forest?" She gave him a look. "Lucky for you everybody's here. We all decorate it tonight." "Everybody?" he asked, his mind searching for excuses. "Don't even think about it," she hissed as Bill stood and walked over to them. He hugged his sister tightly, politely inquiring about how she'd been and work, then turned to Mulder. His gaze flickered over him. "Mulder." He cleared his throat. "Bill." Tara, Bill's wife, came up behind them, hugging Scully and shaking hands with Mulder, as Margaret re-entered the room, arms filled with a laughing dark-haired little boy. A pretty brunette followed her. "Mulder," Scully said, pulling him towards them, "this is Karen, Charlie's wife. And their little boy, David." David buried his head in his grandmother's neck and they laughed. "He's a little shy," Karen explained. "Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Mulder." "Just Mulder," he corrected her. Well, there's two on my side. Although I doubt Charlie or Karen could do damage like Bill. "Well," Margaret said, clasping her hands together, "Dana, Fox, why don't you two go take off your coats. Dinner's ready, if anyone's hungry." "I am, I am!" shouted David, wriggling down and running full speed towards the dining room. The rest of the family followed, leaving Scully and Mulder alone in the living room. Scully squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him, and shook off her coat. Time to face the music. *** 6:59 p.m. It had lasted as long as possible. We can't put it off any longer, she thought, or we won't say a word. She didn't have to. "So, Dane, Mom tells us you had some news," Bill said, taking a sip of his wine. Mulder coughed and glanced at her. "Um, yes, I do," she said, trying to stall. "But it can wait until after dinner, really. . . ." "Oh, no, come on Scully, everybody wants to know now," Mulder said charmingly. Payback, he thought, smiling innocently at her. The table nodded in agreement, and she reached for his hand under the table. "All right." She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "I, uh, already told you, Mom, of course." She drummed her free hand on the table. Her family looked at her expectantly. "Just say it, Dana," she muttered under her breath, trying to summon strength. "Dana?" Charlie asked. She looked up. "I'm...going to have a baby." She gripped Mulder's hand tighter. "We're having a baby," she amended. Silence filled the room. "Excuse -- excuse me. We?" Bill interjected, his eyes flashing. "We who, Dana?" "I didn't know you were seeing anyone," her other brother put in. "Well, I'm not, exactly." She squeezed his hand to get her point across. I'm dying here, Mulder. Help wanted. "Well, what *are* you doing, exactly?" questioned Bill impatiently. "Sc -- Dana and I are having a baby," Mulder said calmly. He refused to look at Bill. "Oh Jesus Christ," he muttered, throwing down his napkin. "I knew this, I *knew* this was going to happen one day. What did you do, *Mulder,*" he asked sarcastically, his voice rising, "rape her?" "William!" his mother hissed. He continued his tirade. "Conveniently have her abducted so you could come here later on and blame it on your little green men?" "Grey," Scully replied, her eyes flashing. "How can you be calm about this, Mother?" Bill shouted, standing. "What is this, Dana? Is this another baby you can't remember conceiving? Another question you don't have the answers for? Another Emily?" At this, Mulder stood and glared at him. "That's far enough, Bill." "What the hell do you know, Mulder?" "Bill, sit down," his wife said quietly, a hand on his arm. He shrugged it off. "I know you don't love your sister very much, because if you did you wouldn't be standing there flinging accusations at she and myself, especially about her daughter." "Well what the hell should I think? My baby sister comes home announcing she's pregnant, and I'm not supposed to put two and two together and wonder if it this isn't another ill-conceived Emily? That's just bullshit, Mulder. Bullshit!" "You have no idea what goes on in our lives, you have no right --" "You caused Emily! You caused this!" "I didn't cause Emily, Bill; the men who took your sister did." Scully put her head in her hands. "Right; she wasn't yours?" Mulder glared at him. "*You're* the sorry son of a bitch," he muttered distinctly before walking out of the room, mumbling a sorry as he passed Margaret Scully. The rest of the dining room was silent as they heard the front door slam shut. "I don't believe you, Bill." Scully glared at him once more before the front door once again announced a departure. *** It was freezing outside. And the car wasn't that much warmer. He vaguely wondered if he should go back in for his coat and grab the keys while he was at it. Scully'd kill him. Which Scully? his mind taunted. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of the driver's seat. The passenger door opened suddenly and she poked her head in. "Care for company?" "Better not come near me, Scully. I'm dangerous." She rolled her eyes and sat down, shutting the door behind her. "I think you're about six months too late for that," she said wryly, hands on her now obviously rounded abdomen. "I told you I didn't want to get out of the car." "At least there wasn't any blood." He glanced over at her and she saw his eyes were empty and desolate. "The night's still young, Scully." She sighed. "He's difficult, Mulder." Her response was a deep snort. "Very difficult. But --" "But he's your brother and you love him, even if he did just bust an artery back there. I understand, I-I really do. But it was a low blow, Dana. It was okay talking about me, and about you. I even laughed a little inside at his twisted logic." He turned to her. "He's right in his thinking, even if he is wrong. I know how I must look to him. Six years ago, you were his innocent younger sister. Two years with me, and you're missing for three months. Your sister is killed. You almost died. I dragged you out to a haunted house last Christmas, and I couldn't save your daughter the year before. But then he started in on the baby, and I couldn't. . . .Face it, Dana, I'm the masquerading Devil in Gucci." "Mulder, stop." "It's all true. You know it is. I'm dangerous. I told you. You should go. Go far away from me, have the baby and never let me close." "Mulder, tell me. Do you actually think before you speak or do you just open your mouth and let the words come out?" "Open my mouth and let the words come out. Come on, Scully, how long you known me?" "It shows. You told me this once before, Mulder. And what did I tell you then? My work is here with you now. My life is with you, Mulder. Without me, you're half a person, and without you -- without you, Mulder, I don't know what I am. I don't even want to know who I'd be." He pulled her close. "I don't deserve you. Or little Spooky." Her muffled laugh was music to his ears. "You seem so intent on it being a boy, Mulder. I hope you won't be too disappointed." "You're funny, Scully, but not funny enough." He grinned and put his hands on her stomach and she received a decisive kick in response. "This baby is a boy, Scully. I feel it. Trust me." "It's not an x-file, Mulder," she said incredulously. "Whatever. But I'm right. So I think we should just refer to him as Spooky from now on." "Spooky," she said dubiously. << Do you think I'm spooky? >> "Come on, Scully, it's cute." "You hate it." "When it's used within the confines of the FBI, yes. For my son, I love it." "I don't imagine you've thought of this, Mulder, but he may have trouble when he starts school with a name like that." "So we'll call him Mulder," he said, shrugging. "I did the same thing." She smiled and nodded towards the house. "Ready?" He sighed. "Lead the way, Spook." *** Christmas Day 6:33 a.m. A soft voice drifted through her dreams, gentle hands pulled at her shoulders. Scully made a soft sound and started to roll over. She groaned when she remembered that was impossible with her stomach. "I'm up, I'm up," she protested. "You can let up, Mulder." She opened an eye and saw him grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Merry Christmas, Scully." "Mmm. What time is it?" "Six thirty. Your mother adjusted roll-call to let you sleep in." He helped her out of bed and they made their way downstairs, where Scully found the rest of the family gathered around the tree. All conversation ceased as they entered the room, and four pairs of eyes darted in Bill Jr.'s direction. "Well it's about time, Matthew's getting antsy," he said, glancing up at them from his spot on the floor, his son in his lap. Visible relief spread throughout the room. She smiled at Mulder and they picked their way across the floor, which was littered with bows, ribbons, and a large train set. She let go of Mulder's hand and leaned down to her eldest brother. "Thank you, Bill," she whispered, loud enough only for his ears. He covered her hand with his own. As the commotion spread throughout the room, and the soothing sounds of Bing Crosby's White Christmas were overtaken by shouts of "Mine!", "Matthew Scully, leave your cousin's eyes alone," and "Fox, you're too thin. Are you eating enough? Do you want a donut?", Bill leaned over to his sister. "You know I still hate him, don't you?" "You wouldn't be my brother if you didn't," she replied easily, unwrapping the present in her lap. He closed his eyes. "You never used to be so stubborn, Dana. I guess...I guess my consolation is that you two must really love each other, enough to come here and attempt to break down me." Scully smiled as she spied Mulder struggling to explain to little David why Aunt Dana's belly is so big now. "I guess we do, Bill. I guess we do." *** Scully's Apartment February 23, 2000 12:05 p.m. "Beauregard." "No." "Blake." "I had several bad dates in college with a man named Blake. Next." "Borden." "As in Lizzie?" "Forgot about that. Brian?" "Too common." "Jesus, Scully, work with me here." She laughed and turned around on the couch so that he could rub her back. He picked up on her cue and put the book down. "You know, Mulder, Spooky may very well be a girl. We could have settled this months ago when I had a sonogram. We should really have a girl's name ready, too." "Scully, I'm telling you here. Spook's a boy. And I kind of like Borden." "I'm ready to call him Junior and wipe my hands with this mess." "Ben." "What?" "Benjamin. For the baby -- Ben." "Ben....Mulder, I like that." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "It's rather spooky." He poked her back teasingly. "So we've found it. Ben." "What about a girl's name, Mulder?" she prodded him. He sighed dramatically. "Well, I always assumed if it was a girl, we'd name her Melissa." She looked up at him in surprise. "What?" "Noth -- nothing. Nothing, I just -- I didn't expect to hear that. But I like it." "So Spooky is no longer. Here that, little guy?" he said in his baby voice, bending down so that his lips nearly touched the large mound that was her belly. "You're Ben or Melissa. That okay with you?" The baby kicked absently and Scully smiled. "I think that's a yes, Mulder. Now that that's settled, I'll have to ask you for my birthday present." "Oh, is today your birthday?" She made a face. "Funny. Where is it?" He got up and disappeared into the bedroom and returned a few minutes later with a package in his hands. "I found this in the bedroom," he teased, handing it over. She grinned and tore into it, emerging with a small box. Her brow furrowed as she popped open the lid and gasped. In the center was the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen -- a sparkling diamond-shaped sapphire set on a thin yellow-gold band. "Jesus, Mulder," she breathed. "Before you start spouting theories and conjuring up all sorts of things, I need you to listen to me." She nodded. "I didn't buy that ring with the intention of it being an engagement ring. I didn't buy it with the intention of it being something completely committal." "Keep going, Romeo," she said wryly. He made a face. "I don't want you to think I'm only giving this to you because you're going to have my baby. I told you I loved you before we knew about Ben, and I meant it. But I don't want to force this on you, either. I want to marry you, Scully, but only if it's what you want, too. But if you don't want it to be an engagement ring, I'll accept that." Scully stared at him for a minute before replying. "Mulder, I don't know what to say. I honestly never expected this. I didn't even know the thought of marriage had crossed your mind." "I've always wanted to be with you, Scully," he assured her quietly. She looked first at her stomach, then at the ring in her hands. Then she held the ring out to him, and he took it cautiously. I ruined it, he thought. She thinks I'm hovering, that I'm only doing this for the baby. Dammit. "Are you going to put it on my finger, Mulder, or just sit there like a bump on a log?" "You-you want to wear it?" "Women usually wear their engagement rings on their fingers, Mulder, yes." He slipped it on her finger. "We're going to get married then." "Yes." "You...want to marry me." "Yes, Mulder," she answered, sighing. "I love you," he said suddenly, kissing her. "And Ben." "Melissa. And tell me, Mulder, were you always such an eloquent speaker? The girls must love you." "There's only one girl I care about," he said softly. "Good. Because that girl would really love it if you'd start attempting to put up the crib." He groaned. "That's just mean, Scully." "Mulder, my due date is in one week. Where do you want to put the baby? In the sink or in the nice, five hundred dollar crib we bought?" He pushed himself off of the couch and began to fiddle with the pieces of the crib that were scattered around her living room. "Five hundred dollars," he grumbled. *** Mulder's Apartment March 5, 2000 5:53 a.m. Scully opened her eyes and found herself gazing into Mulder's hazel ones. She smiled and stretched. "Hey." "Morning." "What time is it?" "Almost six." She groaned. "I can't wait until I can sleep past six thirty on weekends. Why are you smiling?" she added suspiciously. "Nothing. You-you just looked so angelic while you were sleeping." She snorted as she spied her reflection in the mirror on the ceiling. "Yes, Mulder. You'd sleep angelically if you weighed twenty-five pounds more than normal and had a waistline as wide as mine." He ruffled her hair and got out of bed. "I think you look sexy," he said over his shoulder. She let out a small smile as he disappeared into the bathroom next door. Suddenly, a slight twinge in her lower abdomen caught her attention, and she frowned before realization set in. "Mulder?" "I've been thinking about what your mother suggested, Scully, and I think maybe she's right." "Mulder?" "We could go up to the Rhode Island house and stay up there for a couple of months, figure out where we're going from up there." "Mulder!" Silence. Then, his head appeared around the corner. "What, Scully?" he asked, somewhat irritated. "My water just broke." "Do you want another glass or something?" "No, Mulder, my water broke," she repeated, emphasizing the last word carefully. "What do you want me to do about it," he began, then paused. "Oh." She watched as the annoyed expression on his face gave way to his trademark carefully guarded one, but not before she detected the fear and concern behind his green eyes. He quickly crossed the room and helped her sit up. "Are you okay? Are you -- do you want me to call the doctor?" He was cautious not to let the panic of his mind seep into his words. Scully would have laughed at his words if a contraction had not ripped through her body at that moment. She gasped and gripped the edge of the bed. "Mulder, go get the hospital bag out of my closet," she said tightly when it had passed. "Mulder," she prodded when he made no move to leave her side. "I'm fine now. Just get the bag." He nodded, and she picked up the phone to call Dr. Allen. It had been previously arranged that the baby would be born at Georgetown, where the OB/GYN had another practice, in return for the woman's agreement to deliver the baby. Scully hung up the phone as he helped her to stand up, and they began to make their way towards the front door to leave. "Mulder, breathe," she said sternly. "Is it supposed to hurt?" She raised an eyebrow at him as he let go of her arm to open the door. "If you can't handle the contractions, Mulder, I shudder to imagine how it'll be in the delivery room." "Can't wait," he replied dryly. *** Georgetown Memorial Hospital March 6, 1999 12:01 p.m. Mulder approached the door carefully. He pushed it open slightly with his foot and peered around the door. "Promise I won't bite," she deadpanned. Damn, she'd seen him. He grinned and pushed the door open wider. "Just thought I'd bring you a little present." Her eyebrow arched and she pressed the button to move the back of the bed up higher. "What's that?" He crossed the room, an sheepish smile on his face. "Thought you might get lonely all by yourself." She reached out her arms, and he settled the baby easily into them. "Aw, Mulder, you brought me a baby. You shouldn't have, sweetheart." He made a face at her and kissed the downy tuft of hair on the baby's otherwise pink, bald head. "Well, it's his birthday. Twelve hours old. Thought we should all celebrate baby's first birthday." "Mulder, you celebrate first birthdays when the baby turns a year old. Not half a day old." "Scully, you have no sense of spontaneity," he whined. "Anyway, apparently little Spook here wailed so loudly down at the nursery that the other babies woke up. "Spook, Mulder? He has a name," Scully said as she gazed into the baby's pale hazel eyes. She laughed softly and shook her head. "What?" he asked, a question in his eye. "No, it's nothing. Just that most babies are born with blue eyes." "And?" "And Ben has green eyes. Your eyes. It's fitting that our child would have to contradict the norm." He sat down on the bed, one hand balancing himself across her legs on the bed, the other hand lightly on his son's head. "At least now I can get my fifty bucks back," he said quietly to himself. "Come again?" Mulder looked up, jounced out of his reverie. "Um, I said I can get my money back now." "Money back for what? Mulder?" She watched his face carefully, surprised to find him blushing. "Mulder, what did you do?" "There was a, uh, bet. At the Bureau -- a few years ago." Suspicion spread through her. "A bet on what? No, let me guess. Dyed or natural?" He smiled sheepishly at her. "It's a guy thing, Scully, I couldn't help it. I stood up for you, you know, I told them they were wrong, but there you are. They stole that money from me, Scully. I swear to God." "Only fifty, Mulder? You don't have much faith in me," she remarked. Mulder leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose. "Well, look at it this way, Scully. With a head of hair like this, if Ben ever gets lost, we'll be able to spot him in a crowded baseball stadium. He'll never be able to hide from us." She laughed and slapped his arm. "It won't be so --" "Orange?" he suggested seriously. She gave him a Look. "*Bright.* It won't be so bright when he gets older. It'll darken with age." "So, you disappointed we got the blue and not the pink?" "Mulder, I was perfectly content -- and still am -- to be having a child. That the baby was a boy --" "As I told you he would be," he interrupted proudly. She continued on as if he hadn't spoken. "-- is of no importance. The only important thing to me is that he's healthy and safe." *** Georgetown Memorial Hospital Maternity Ward 12:06 p.m. He watched in silence as the man leaned over to kiss first the baby between him, and then the woman holding the child. Their lips lingered together, barely touching, as they stared into one another's eyes. Had he ever been unsure of their bond before that moment, it was surely sealed in that kiss. He moved into the shadows as a nurse entered the room and left a moment later, the red-haired baby boy in her arms. Taking one last look at the couple, who now lay together on the bed, their hands entwined, he followed at a discreet distance behind the nurse. She disappeared behind the door and re-emerged behind the glass mirror that separated the babies from onlookers. He watched as she lay that infant down in his crib labeled Benjamin William Mulder, 9 lbs 12 oz, Dr. R. Allen. As he peered closer, he realized how much the child did resemble both of his parents. The hair of his mother, eyes of his father. Temperament of his paternal side, intelligence of his maternal. The baby boy kicked his tiny legs into the air in another fit of sobs. Yes, he thought, he does have his father's temperament. "Excuse me, sir?" He turned to find a pretty blond nurse by his elbow. "Are you the grandfather? Would you like me to hold up the baby for you?" He glanced at her. "Yes," he exhaled slowly. "I'd like to see him." She smiled and entered the room, crossing to where the boy lay. She picked him up and brought him over to the window, holding him up for inspection. The man on the opposite side of the glass lifted a wrinkled, worn hand to touch the window where the baby's foot was. After a moment, he nodded at the nurse to put him down. The air outside was cold and bitter, stinging him clear to the bone. He shoved his hands into his pocket and began his long walk home. They'd never know. They would marvel at the sheer miracle that this child had been born, wonder at how after two years of infertility, she could conceive so quickly. If his son was anything like the man he thought he was, he would realize that perhaps the arctic cold had done her good in the long run. They would protect their son with their lives. He would struggle between his quest and the two people he loved in life. And soon, the quest would end. They would never think to thank the man that had allowed their son to be. He was not conceived by them, but first in the mind of the man who now entered his lonely apartment, his thought in turmoil. Created, not in love, but by a man with an agenda. A man who knew the world's secrets, and a man who had sold them in exchange for relinquishing his soul. But the child, he was special. He had enemies; twelve hours old and already he was the heated topic of conversation at the secret installation in London. The man's colleagues would be distressed to hear of his intentions, but they would follow his orders. No, he thought as he settled the Morley in his mouth and reached for his lighter. No harm will come to you, Benjamin Mulder. You are far too precious alive. Epilogue The year before August 1998 Coordinates unknown 3:46 p.m. The two men hovered over the gurney, staring at the patient before them. One of two doctors turned to the third and final man in the small room. The older man stared calmly back at him. "Second thoughts, doctor?" "N-no. I just thought...why are we doing this? I thought...I thought we took care of the problem what, four years ago?" The other doctor nodded. "Yes, why now? I don't understand the purpose." "The purpose?" the man in the shadows said, and they saw a quick flash of a match. "The purpose is for control, doctors. We all three know what a...danger our patient is to our plans. Our work. Our future. In restoring what we took from her, we allow ourselves a better chance of staying discreet. There have been a few distinctive developments in the past few days. And if our agenda proceeds as planned, we will have a newer, more...*permanent* method of containment." He stepped out of the corner and touched the woman's hand gently. "I'd like to see Agent Scully when you're done with the procedure. You know how to get ahold of me." The door closed quietly behind him. The End. _________________ http://members.tripod.com/~SueBridehead_2/fanfic.html JessLB@aol.com