Chapter One
Author's note: This story fits in chapter 4 of a story called "Mater Semper Certa Est", posted a few months ago. Although it's not absolutely necessary to read it to get the essence of this one, I recommend it. What you get here is Mulder's reaction to what happens in the other story, which mainly focuses on Scully, as the title tells you.
Enjoy and don't hesitate to tell me what you think!
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me, they belong to Fox and Chris Carter, and although I'm thankful he invented Mulder & Scully, I can't forgive him he begrudged them longer streaks of happiness. Season 11, if it ever becomes a reality, better be good!
It's out.
Scully takes a deep breath through her nose and lets the air flow out through her mouth very slowly, carefully watched by Mulder, who heaves a sigh of relief.
It's finally out.
After having struggled with the painful memories all by herself for 15 years, sublimating them most of the time so the pain doesn't eat her up, she's finally told her story to the two people who ought to know, William and himself. Mulder has waited for her to confide in him for years, and now he's relieved she's finally brought herself to open up to him, although he knows that if it hadn't been for William, she might not have. But he doesn't care.
That she's allowed her memories to resurface, digging them out from somewhere deep inside her, is all he cares about. She's overcome her fear of dealing with them, that's all he ever wanted. What's most important to Mulder, though, is her willingness to admit that she's having unresolved issues. The way she fell silent after having said so much shows him the vulnerability she usually hides not only to the outside world but also to him. Even now, she tries to stay in control of her emotions.
Mulder watches her in awe. He knows her too well to not see how she struggles to keep her composure in front of William, probably in front of him, too. The way she presses her lips together, how she avoids his gaze and forces a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. Her fingers are entwined so fiercely that her knuckles are white.
The three of them are sitting together for a while after Scully ended her story. Nobody is saying a word. William is deeply touched obviously. Mulder's quite sure the boy hadn't really known what to expect when he had asked what it was like for his birth mother when he was gone. He seems to be a bit overwhelmed now and unable to deal with seeing her so upset and churned up inside. One day, when he's a father himself, he'll completely understand what Scully had gone through, Mulder ponders. He knows that you have to be a parent to know what the bond to your child consists of, how solid and everlasting the love for your own flesh and blood comes to be. At least, that's the way it happened to him. Mulder had never thought of becoming a father before William's arrival in his life. He had a very distant relationship with his own father and hadn't been blessed with experiencing fatherly love first-hand. In addition to that, he'd spent so little bonding time with William. Even under these odd circumstances, he's felt nothing but all-encompassing and primal love for his son from the start. He'd been surprised by his own ability to feel that way.
Maybe fathers can't even imagine a mother's connection to her baby. Men cannot begin to fathom what it's like to feel a new life grow inside yourself, to carry it in your womb for nine long months, to bring it to life at enormous pains, and to nurture it with your own body. It must be an overwhelming yet fulfilling experience. Every new life is a miracle, but in Scully's case, it was so much more than that. It was like a rainbow after a storm, a promise for the normal life she'd always wanted deep down for herself. It symbolized her way out of the X-Files and the darkness they dragged along. Having to decide to give her baby up, her hope, was the cruelest thing Scully could've been asked to do, but she did it nonetheless. This tiny and fragile-looking woman had survived what must have been like a natural catastrophe descending upon her, a tornado which lifted her up, swirled her around, and dropped her down somewhere else, in a spot completely different and antagonistic. A spot where she ceased being a mother.
"Wow," William mumbles into the silence now. "I had no idea my adoption was so dramatic."
What have you been thinking, Son? That she gave you up just like that? That is was anything but traumatic for her? She would've given her life for you. I...would've given my life for you. Well, that's what we did more or less, because after you were gone, our lives weren't the same anymore.
Of course, Mulder isn't saying any of this aloud. It'd put a pressure on the boy he wouldn't be able to cope with and he surely doesn't deserve. He hadn't thrown the dark shadows on their lives, it had been the Cigarette Smoking Man and his cronies. His own biological father had done this to Scully and him. This is something he shares with his son. They both have a biological father and a father who raised and educated them. He's glad, though, and thankful, that thinking of his begetter, William obviously doesn't feel the same strong urge to spit out like himself.
"Thank you, Mom. I've been waiting to hear this for as long as I can remember."
"I know," Scully says. She sounds so powerless all of a sudden, Mulder realizes as his stomach cringes. Whatever has driven her earlier is gone. Her whole demeanor, as well as her empty eyes tell him how exhausting this has been for her, that she couldn't have gone on any longer.
William gets up and kneels in front of Scully, who is still too overwhelmed to move from her chair. He gives her a somewhat clumsy hug, being still in the process of building a relationship with his birth mother. He's closely watched by his biological father, who sees that as much as the boy is grateful for finally knowing about the circumstances of his adoption, it's not easy for him to cope with it. He rises and an awkward silence occurs between them. Nobody knows what else to say.
"I, uhm... I think I should be looking whether Mom,...I mean my adop-tive...uh Helen,... I mean, whether...Helen needs help with dinner," William stammers. He nervously rakes through his hair and leaves the porch without looking at either of them.
When her son has closed the screen door behind him, Scully leans her head against the chair's backrest, closes her eyes and swallows.
"You okay?" Mulder asks.
"Uh huh."
She doesn't sound okay, though, neither does she look okay. Mulder deplores that she'd never deemed him worthy of knowing how she spent those last hours with William and about her ordeal afterward. But he has to be fair, she said she had wanted to confide in him but had lost the strength to do so along the road. He hasn't forgotten how they unlearned to talk with each other on the run as the everyday struggles to remain undetected and alive had overshadowed every effort whatsoever to deal with other personal emotional issues. And when they had finally settled down, he hadn't been a good listener anymore. She'd been worried more about him than he about her, he's had to acknowledge to himself, until one day he'd retreated so much from her that there was nothing else for her to do but leave him.
Fuck that damn depression!
Why hadn't he agreed when she'd advised hospitalization. He'd trusted her for years as his physician and as his friend. How come he'd lost his faith in her all of a sudden? He should've known that every decision she made would be in his best interest. Why had he ceased to believe that?
Mulder shakes his head to bring him back to the present. This weekend is not about what had gone wrong in the past, it's about finding a starting point together, a common ground to emerge from into a togetherness they shared for too brief a time 15 years ago, when they were allowed to enjoy being mother, father and child for only a couple of weeks.
"Well done, Scully," Mulder praises her, "You made it easy for him, and I bet it wasn't easy for you."
She's hidden her most painful emotions from William, has told him just enough for him to understand her motives and that he was given up for his own good. She's made him understand how difficult the whole process was for her, but the real scope of her despair she's kept to herself.
"I had this conversation a million times in my head and I always asked myself how I'd explain if I ever had the chance."
"Was it like you imagined?"
"I don't know, actually," Scully says. "So many different scenarios seemed possible to me. In most of them, he yelled at me, blamed me, ignored me." She swallows again. Her voice is thick when she opens her mouth again. "Hated me."
Mulder gasps. Why on earth does she still believe any of her actions made her susceptible to blame or hatred?
"He hung on every word you said, Scully. I saw sadness in his eyes, horror, also sympathy for you, but no blame whatsoever. And definitely no hatred. There's no reason for you to feel guilty."
Scully doesn't reply to Mulder's attempts to put her at ease, and he doubts he even gets through to her. He knows the only person who needs to forgive Scully is Scully herself, but he also knows that this is not very likely to ever happen. Part of her will always contemplate if giving up her son really had been the right decision.
Just when Mulder wants to get up to put his arms around Scully's shoulders, the door to the porch opens and Helen pops her head out.
"Dana? Fox? Dinner is ready. Are you coming inside?"
Mulder turns his head. "We'll be right there, Helen. Give us a minute, okay?"
Helen nods. She knows what the conversation between William and his birth parents was about and willingly gives them the time they need to recollect themselves.
Five minutes later, Mulder and Scully appear at the dinner table. Helen volunteered to cook and has come up with a traditional roast with mashed potatoes and vegetables, swimming in dark, thick gravy. Good, homemade comfort food. Moreover, one of William's favorite dishes.
"Mmm, Helen, this sure looks delicious," Mulder says while pulling out one of the remaining chairs. "Sit with me, Scully." He motions her to place herself next to him.
Being used to eaters who are hungry from a day of manual labor on a farm, Helen shoves huge amounts of food on Mulder's and Scully's plates.
"Whoa, do you plan on fattening us up, Helen?"
"I bet you city people live on a low-calorie, cholesterol, and fat-free diet and forgot what real food tastes like. This is soul food, Fox, it'll do you good!"
"Mom's the best cook!" William exclaims and puts a fork laden with food into his mouth. "She cooks like a starred chef," he proudly adds.
"Bill!" Walter flashes his son a warning look, "don't speak with your mouth full! Chew and swallow first!"
"Sorry, Dad," the boy mumbles and casts his eyes down.
Mulder smiles at him and is once again impressed by the atmosphere prevailing in the Van De Kamp family. The way Walter and Helen raise their son is characterized by love and dedication, yet also by firmness and discipline. Mulder asks himself whether he would've been able to fulfill his fatherly duties just as consistently as Walter. If he thinks about what it would've been like to raise a boy, things like playing ball, going to the movies and eating junk food come to his mind, not dealing with unwanted behavior or setting boundaries. During the short time he spent with baby William, he wasn't even able to cope with him crying when Scully put him down to sleep. 'Let him be,' she told him, 'he'll fall asleep eventually.' But he always felt the urge to take him out of his crib and rock him into sleep. 'You're spoiling him, Mulder,' she used to say then. 'Sing him a lullaby and put him down. He'll never learn to fall asleep himself if you carry him around every night until he drops off.' How can she be so cold-hearted, he thought at the time. Now he knows that she wasn't cold-hearted at all but raising and educating their son.
By the time Mulder has ended this train of thought, William has swallowed his food and starts talking again. "Dana and Fox can enter any crime scene just by flashing their FBI badges, Dad! Did you know that?"
"I didn't, Son, but as federal agents, I assumed they would be entitled to do so." Walter smiles at William's open admiration of his birth parents' profession. Having an FBI agent as a parent is much more exciting than calling a farmer your father, of course, a fact he establishes without any hard feelings or jealousy. He has seen his adopted son being eager to find out about his birth parents for a long time, now that he actually found them, Walter is happy that William is pleased with what they turned out to be.
"It doesn't mean that the local police are always happy to welcome us at their crime scenes," Mulder says, arching an eyebrow. "Right, Scully?"
Mulder throws his FBI partner a glance to see whether she's enjoying the family atmosphere at the dinner table just as much as he is but finds her listlessly poking at her food. His heart convulses at the sight. Her face is white as a sheet, her eyes are dark and the lines on her forehead deep. She looks up after her name has been spoken and stares at him like a deer caught in the headlights.
"What?" she breathes.
"Don't you like it, Honey?" Helen asks a little preoccupied that her choice of food isn't to Scully's taste.
Not only Mulder realizes that Scully's mind has been anywhere but in this room. Four pairs of worried eyes look at her. William ceases to chew, Walter lowers his glass, and Helen furrows her brows. Mulder puts his hand softly on hers when she shows no reaction to Helen's question. "Scully?"
"I, uhm...I'm not really hungry, actually." She puts the cutlery down and shoots a quick glance at everyone around the table. "I don't feel so good, I think I should lie down. Excuse me, please." She dabs her mouth with the paper napkin Helen put beside the plate, forces a weak smile and rises from her chair.
"Do you want me to come with you?" Mulder asks, still holding on to her hand.
"No, enjoy your dinner," she replies, pulling her hand from him. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine. Good night. See you all in the morning."
Without any further ado, she turns around and leaves the dining room. The four remaining people look at each other, three of them with bewilderment on their faces, only one knowing exactly what's going on.
"Poor girl," Helen sighs sympathetically, and Walter asks, "What was that?" William just resumed chewing silently, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.
"She's still upset because of what we talked about," Mulder explains. "It wasn't easy for her to go back to the time of William's adoption."
"I'm sorry," the boy whispers. "I didn't mean to upset her."
"I know, Will. Don't you worry, she'll be alright tomorrow. Scully is strong. She wanted to tell you everything, and I'm sure that it was a healing experience for her. All she needs now is a little bit of time to recompose herself." Mulder takes a sip of his wine, then he wipes his mouth, too. "I think I'd better have a look at her, though, because when Scully says she's fine she usually isn't."
"I'll put the leftovers in the fridge in case you're in need of a snack later," Helen tells him.
"Thank you, Helen. Sorry for being so rude tonight."
"Nonsense! You're not being rude at all. Go, Fox! Go, go, go!" She motions for him to follow Scully upstairs to where the bedrooms are.
Mulder smiles at her thankfully. He pats William on the shoulder. "Good night, Buddy. How about we shoot some hoops tomorrow?"
"Yes, definitely!" William's face lights up.
"A little challenge from the three-point line?"
"If you don't expect me to let you win," William replies with a self-assured grin on his face.
If Mulder hadn't been so preoccupied about Scully, he would've enjoyed a little father-son-banter and might have taken it a little further, but for now, all he wants to do is look how she's doing. "Great, we're on then! Have a good night, everybody," he says instead.
Mulder takes the stairs to the upper floor two at a time. Standing in front of the door to their bedroom, he isn't so sure anymore whether Scully really appreciates his concern or whether she prefers some privacy now. She's kept the day she gave William up from him for so long, he's not convinced she now wants to share any more with him than she already has. But she looked so devastated at the dinner table that he can't just leave her alone now. He knocks softly, then cautiously opens the door a tiny crack.
He finds her rolled up on the bed in a fetal position, her back turned to him. No movements are visible, no sounds audible.
"You okay, Scully? Can I come in?"
As she's not reacting to his question in any way, he takes it as an invitation. He quietly shuts the door and tiptoes around the bed to see whether she's sleeping. Her eyes are open, albeit lifeless and dull. Their usually bright blue color has turned into a pale gray. At least, she's not crying, he tells himself. Her shoulders are trembling, though. Mulder takes a blanket from a nearby chair and spreads it over Scully's body. She doesn't seem to notice any of this, not even his presence in the room. He positions himself on the bed facing her, aligning his lanky body to her small frame and absolutely convinced now that it was the right decision to look after her. Scrutinizing her features and gently stroking her cheek, he says, "Rough day, huh?"
His touch eventually seems to get through to her. Her eyes flutter and she looks at him. "I'm so exhausted, Mulder. I feel like a hollow shell. As if all my insides have been sucked out."
"Letting all these memories resurface took its toll on you, Scully. It's alright to be tired," Mulder assures her. If he could only ease her mind, take some of the pain off of her. "Is there anything else you want to get off your chest? Something you didn't want to share with William but may want to share with me?" he dares to ask her.
Scully closes her eyes and inhales deeply. When she opens them again, they're full of tears. In a hoarse voice, she whispers, "He cried, Mulder. When I left him with Monica, he cried for me to come back."
Mulder's taken aback at how Scully's eyes are flooded with tears and she's still working hard to keep them from falling. He wants to cry out to her to let go, to fully open up to him, to let him be her rock. Why for God's sake is it so difficult for her to be weak in his arms? He's been to so many horrible places with her, has seen her distraught so many times, why can't she just let herself fall and trust him to catch her? He already knew that she'd been tormented by William's cries in her dreams anyway. He'd heard her apologize to her son countless times in her sleep, begging for his forgiveness. During such nights, he'd wake her to deliver her from the struggle, to pull her close until her mind freed itself from the horror she'd lived through in her nightmare. Never had he asked her about the dream, though. He'd hoped she'd tell him whenever she was ready. She never was.
"My baby cried and I just walked away. The more he cried, the faster I walked. What kind of a mother was I?" Mulder's insides get all tangled up in a solid knot because of her using the past tense.
The tears are gone from her eyes, and her state of mind has changed from sadness to self-doubt, to regret, and even rancor at herself. He hates to see her shoulder all the burden, always claiming that she'd been the one who made the decision to give him up. They'd argued about it often, but she would never allow him to take part of the responsibility for what happened to William. But she doesn't need to anyway, he hates himself enough already for having left her alone to save his pitiful ass.
"The best mother he could possibly have, Scully! And you have been his mother all those years. Don't say you were his mother, you still are."
Mulder turns to lie on his back and holds his arm out to invite her into an embrace. He's relieved when she moves over to him, pillowing her head on his chest and entwining her leg with his.
"You're the most unselfish mother I know, willing to sacrifice everything for your child. You didn't just walk away, stop talking yourself into believing this crap. I know you had to muster up all your courage and willpower to do what you did." He strokes her back through the blanket she's wrapped around herself like armor. "You have to forgive yourself, Scully. No one else is blaming you but yourself."
As if she didn't listen to what he said, or maybe simply ignoring it, she continues, "I betrayed God's miracle. I prayed for a child and was given a beautiful son. Then I disdained the wonderful gift I had received by giving him away. I should've relied on my faith, should've believed that when God granted me a son, he'd also grant me the strength to raise him. Instead, I faltered and failed."
"Bullshit, Scully!"
Over the years, there's been more than one occasion that the power of her faith had impressed Mulder, the crisis of when they had believed her to be in the final stage of her cancer in particular. The sight of her sitting in a hospital bed saying her last prayer together with Father McCue had been branded into his memory forever. Her faith has often been a source of consolation for Scully, and he was glad she had something to hold on to in her times of distress, but he wouldn't allow it to burden her with a kind of guilt she doesn't deserve.
"The enemies we faced were too powerful. At least, as far as William's well-being was concerned. We fought them over and over again putting our own lives on the line, but of course, you couldn't let that happen to him. You-had-no-other-choice!" he supplies, emphasizing every single word by inserting a brief pause between them. "When will you finally stop deliberately neglecting that fact, Scully?"
He hates to see her being so hard on herself. She's the most caring and sensitive person he's ever met, pouring her tenderness and affection out on everybody she deems worth it, but when it comes to herself, she's as strict and unrelenting as a boot camp instructor. He blames it on the Navy brat she was raised up as and the many years she spent in a male-dominated environment. The cliché that women are the weaker sex never applied to Scully. He loves that part of her, this steel core that has helped her survive when so many others, male and female, would have given in. But he also loves her seldom seen feminine side, when she allows herself to need his strong chest for comfort.
"Give yourself some credit, will you?" he tries again. "You did what you had to do, and you paid the highest price a mother can pay."
To his relief, she seems to relax a bit. Her shoulders aren't trembling anymore. She pulls the blanket up to her chin and releases a sigh. When she lifts her head off his chest to look at him, he sees that the tears in her eyes have finally dried up completely.
"This is not only about me. What about you, Mulder? What demons are you fighting?"
Mulder gets the message. She's done talking about herself, and he knows her too well to try to push her any further. But he also knows it's more than just a diversionary maneuver to get a chance to put up the walls around her heart again. This weekend with all its talking has the potential to heal some of his own wounds as well. Now he's compelled to open up too, to voice some issues he hasn't yet talked to her about.
"You mean other than having been a regular first-class jackass for most of the time?"
He receives a puzzled look as if she doesn't know what he's referring to.
"Don't look at me like that! Wouldn't you say I behaved like one after having come back from the dead? I can't forget your face when I woke up in the hospital. It was so full of sadness and fear that I almost thought I was having a near-death experience and you were looking at me passing away rather than me coming back from a comatose state. And what did I do, huh? I made a completely inappropriate joke. Ugh!" He's still disgusted by himself when he thinks back to that moment.
"You'd just woken up, Mulder. You didn't know any of the circumstances of your recovery."
She puts her head back on his chest and Mulder resumes stroking her back. "Oh no, please, don't defend me! I don't deserve it. I can't believe I let you carry my bag when you brought me home after I was discharged. You were seven months pregnant, for heaven's sake, and I let you carry my bag!" His voice is sharp as a knife.
"I insisted on doing that, remember? It wasn't very heavy and you were still weak," Scully reminds him.
Mulder stops stroking her back. "Nuh uh, stop defending me! I was so unappreciative it makes me sick to this very day. You cleaned my apartment, you cared for my fish tank, you paid my rent." He stares at the crown of her head on his chest. "You never gave up on me, Scully. You fought for me even though the odds were bad. And what did I do when you eventually wanted to lean on me? What? I pushed you away, kept you at arm's length." He let our a bitter chuckle. "Well done, Mulder! You can be proud of yourself, you pitiful whiner!"
"My pregnancy had come to you as a complete surprise just like it had to me," Scully tries to build a bridge for him.
"It did, but I bet you dealt with it a lot more maturely than I. I pulled a blanket over my head just like a child and told everybody - including you - to leave me alone instead of dealing with it. As if all my problems would go away if only I ignored them long enough."
"Why was my pregnancy such a problem for you, Mulder? I often pictured the way I'd eventually tell you and I wondered how you'd react at learning that you'd be a father. I would've never thought you'd react the way you did."
"It hurt you."
"Of course it hurt me. I had buried you, Mulder, had accepted the fact that I was going to raise this child without you, and then a second miracle was happening right in front of my very eyes and I got you back. Can you imagine what that was like?"
"In a way, yes, as you had come back to me once after I had already thought you were lost, but I was too occupied coping with what had happened to me to be able to put myself in your shoes even for a second. What a self-centered dick I was!"
As Scully doesn't reply, not even telling him to stop berating himself, Mulder knows he isn't so far from the truth. Although she'd been very understanding and patient with him at the time, he knows she also cursed him once in a while for keeping a distance between them. He dismissed his chance to explain himself then, it's about time he started doing so now. "The world I came back to was so different from the one I used to know." He shrugs. "I felt so out-of-place, I didn't know where I fit in."
"You weren't convinced the baby was yours," Scully notes dryly.
"Not in the sense that I thought you..." He trails off, but Scully knows what he was about to say and doesn't spare him the monstrosity of his train of thought.
"Not in the sense that you thought that I had been hopping into someone else's bed right after your abduction, did you? Thank you, what a credit of trust!"
"Scully,..." Mulder groans, "that's not what I meant."
She sighs. She's pushed herself off his chest by now, sitting on her heels next to him. Mulder shivers at of the loss of physical contact.
"My whole pregnancy was overshadowed, Mulder. First by your abduction and the search for you. Then by your death and the painful reality that our child would have to grow up without a father. When I got you back, I was hoping to finally be able to enjoy it, to share it with you, but instead I had to accept the chasm you so eagerly kept between us. You'd moved further away from me than ever before. I didn't feel any connection between you and me."
"I remember my bewilderment about how long your hair was when I first opened my eyes. It had been much shorter in my memory, and I asked myself how long I had been sleeping. Then I saw your belly. Dammit, Scully, I had to look twice just to be sure you simply hadn't put on some weight."
He hears her letting out a bitter chuckle. "Some weight? I was huge, Mulder! A walrus!"
"You were beautiful, only that I couldn't delight in your state when I finally realized what it was. I told myself I was hallucinating. At the time I had left you, you had been a slim, barren woman, and when I returned you suddenly were a heavy, pregnant woman. And I didn't have any explanation for it."
"No?" Scully arches an eyebrow.
Mulder rolls his eyes. "I knew how babies were made, and I remembered we did what was necessary to make one, but it was not supposed to happen this way. Especially not after we had failed with IVF."
His voice is thick with emotion, as always when his thoughts travel back to the turn their partnership was taking at the time. Neither of them would've called the other their lover, and if asked whether they were dating, they both would've shaken their heads vehemently. Their partnership wasn't strictly platonic anymore, but it hadn't turned into a romantic love affair either. There were still many nights they slept apart, each at their place. They were sleeping alone more often than together, actually. When working on a case, Scully always insisted they had separate rooms, and they never kissed at the office, not even gazed at each other. Okay, Mulder might have gazed a few times and he definitely made moves to kiss her in what he believed to be their basement lair rather than an office, but she made sure they never crossed the line while on duty.
Although that 'line' was so hard to identify. Where exactly was it, that line between their professional and their private lives? The two universes hadn't been clearly separated. How could they have been? They spent more time together than most working duos, had gone through numerous personal crises together, trusted each other blindly, and relied completely on each other. Sometimes Mulder had the feeling they weren't acting as two different individuals but rather as one organism, at least while working on a case; and they were almost always working on a case.
"Let's be honest here, Scully. Did you think of procreation when we...uh...on our first night...or on one of the not so many nights thereafter?" His insecurity regarding how to put the words forces Mulder to stop talking. It suddenly dawns him that they've never really talked about that transition period of their relationship, but he's willing to grab the bull by the horns now, to finally voice his thoughts. "I mean, it wasn't like we were having one of those conventional relationships. Sleeping with each other had most certainly brought some new dynamics to it, but what were we exactly? Can you name it?"
Scully looks at him with questioning eyes. "We were partners. Friends."
"Yeah, sure we were partners and we were friends, but we were also more than that, right? I usually don't sleep with my friends. So what were we, Scully? What? A couple? Lovers? Partners having sex?"
All those names others gave to their relationships didn't seem to fit in their case: entanglement, flirtation, romance, love affair, fling... No, it definitely wasn't a fling, Mulder's mind supplies. It was serious from the start and determined to be long-term, permanent even, although marriage some day also seemed so unlikely for them.
"You once called me your touchstone," Scully reminds him softly. "Do you remember? I had just told you about your former lover being found dead."
"How could I forget that moment? I almost kissed you. I wanted to kiss you so badly. Diana's and my story had long been over, you had become the one person in my life that I couldn't imagine being without."
He'd orbited her for years like a satellite the earth, until her gravitational force had eventually pulled him completely into her sphere. Was becoming physically intimate simply an inevitable consequence? Just another way to get yet a little closer than they already were? An organic metamorphosis from friendship to romance, so to say?
"The one person, but not the one woman." Scully establishes with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that I asked myself for a long time whether you saw me as a woman with feelings and desires or rather as your asexual partner you can kiss on New Year's Eve or climb into bed and cuddle up with once in a while."
"Come on, Scully, give me a break! What did I miss here? You made it perfectly clear that you weren't in to that usual fluffy stuff at all. You know, like bouquets of red roses, romantic dinners, love letters. Actually, you threw me off unceremoniously more than once by saying 'See you on Monday, Mulder, ' not even considering that I might have planned to spend the weekend with you."
It had been a difficult phase for them taking a step forward and then again two backwards, trying to make the other decipher a secret language. Unsuccessfully most of the time. For two people so dedicated to the truth, they had avoided getting to the bottom of their true mutual feelings like the plague.
"I know," Scully admits contritely. "Nothing ever was easy with us, Mulder." She sighs again.
"No, it wasn't."
"I didn't even know whether you reciprocated my feelings."
Now it's him who sighs. How incredibly stupid he had been to leave her guessing. They didn't have sex regularly like a usual romantic couple, they never made out just for the fun of it, and yet Mulder would claim they were in love with each other. It had taken him seven years until he allowed himself to stand by his feelings for Scully, and when he'd finally come to terms with loving her, he didn't have the guts to act on it. Suffice it to say that he'd never been truly in love before, at least not with someone who truly loved him back. What he had had were entanglements, affairs, flings, maybe romance,...but never deep, true, and unconditional love.
"I did, Scully. I don't know why we never spoke about our feelings. But honestly, to me, it never really seemed necessary. You showed me how you felt every day out in the field. Your actions spoke louder than words, and I thought so did mine."
He tries to find her eyes, but she keeps looking away. He stares at her intensely until she turns her head to meet his gaze. What he sees in her face is blankness and lack of understanding.
"When you came back, it seemed to me you had forgotten completely about us. Or at least, didn't want to think back to it." There's a bitterness in Scully's voice that leaves no doubt about how much she'd been hurt by the cool distance he had kept.
"I had not," he insists, "I hadn't forgotten anything."
He takes one of her hands, lifts it up to his mouth and places a gentle kiss on the back of it. She pulls it back somewhat annoyed.
"Then why couldn't you believe in the miracle you'd once told me to hope for?"
"I don't know. Maybe it was too huge an issue. I mean, we'd never talked about raising a kid together or being a family."
It still amazes him that even when she was trying to get pregnant, they had never talked about their expectations. Mulder isn't sure he even had any. When Scully asked him the awkward question whether he'd be her sperm donor, what made him agree was his ability to finally give her something after all that had been taken from her. He was the reason for her infertility, and all of a sudden he could help her become a mother. Hell, how could he have turned her down and still be able to look at himself in the mirror? The question of whether she'd preferred to be a single mother or wanted them to be a family never really occurred to him. He would've been perfectly fine with being known as Uncle Mulder as long as Scully was a happy mom.
"We didn't feel the need to discuss family matters because the chance was so slim it would happen with IVF and practically non-existent the...uhm...other way. But then it did happen, Mulder! I don't know why, and I don't know how, I only know it did."
"Contemplating fatherhood overwhelmed me, Scully. I had so much to do with finding out where my place in the world was," Mulder says.
"Your place was exactly where it had been before. Why would it have changed?"
"It wasn't that easy for me. I came back into the lives of people who had already said their goodbyes to me, who had moved on. Not only you, but also the Gunmen, Skinner, my neighbors, the guy at the supermarket,... even the bureaucrats had already made a good job at it. My social security number had been frozen, my driver's license and passport canceled, if you hadn't intervened my landlord would have had a Salvation Army truck picking up my stuff before the ink on my death certificate dried. How was I to know where to fit in? I had literally ceased to exist!"
"You don't have to tell me, Mulder. I stood at your grave. And the bureaucratic mail was sent to me as the executrix of your will. I was reminded every day by an impersonal letter or uncaring phone call that you were dead, while in the meantime a part of you was growing inside of me. Dividing cells in my womb, rotting cells in that coffin. The irony of it, the injustice,...it hurt like hell."
"God, Scully,..." Mulder croaks. He lets out a bitter chuckle. "Rotting cells. Nice image."
He pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a moment to think about what he's going to say next, how to put the words together to make her understand his helpless, overwhelmed, and angst-inducing frame of mind at the time.
"Your world had continued turning. Night had followed day, one season had superseded the other, after every new moon there had been a full moon. But my world had come to a complete stop. For six months, nothing had happened in my life. Nothing good, that is. Cells had been rotting, but that had been about it."
He knows this last remark will earn him an angry look from Scully. And he is right. He's thrown a silent stare so cold it sends a shiver down his spine. Why on earth did he have to turn her gut-wrenching image into a cynical joke? He's such an idiot.
"Look, Scully, I'd not only missed half a year of my life, but also half a year of yours. A lot happens to people in half a year. You were the best example. I inwardly questioned what else I had missed besides you becoming pregnant."
"What happened to me happened before you were taken. I was already pregnant when you left," she reminds him.
Only that he hadn't had a single clue. Sure, afterwards it was easy to connect all the dots. Her fatigue, the nausea and lack of appetite, her passing out in the middle of a forest. They had all been early symptoms, and for every other woman Mulder would've considered the possibility of a pregnancy, especially after having had unprotected sex with said woman. But not in Scully's case.
"Scully, when we were in Oregon, the idea of you being pregnant didn't even cross my mind. Did it cross yours?"
Scully closes her eyes and only shakes her head.
"I was so worried about you. I hoped you were simply overworked and just needed some time to recharge your batteries and pushed the lurking fear that the cancer might've returned as far to the back of my head as possible. If I had had the slightest idea you were carrying my child, do you really believe I would've gone back to Oregon?"
"Maybe not."
"Maybe?" He laughs bitterly. "Sure as hell I wouldn't have! I would've stayed home to be able to stroke your back when the morning sickness made you vomit. I would've stayed home to fulfill the weirdest food cravings at any uncivilized hour or to massage your swollen feet when needed. I would've wanted to share this with you. Had I only known."
When he did eventually have the chance to do all those things for her, oddly enough he felt like he couldn't be of any use to her.
"It seemed like you didn't need me at all, Scully. I felt like an innocent bystander looking at how you were going on with your life. You'd mastered everything so nicely without me. Your pregnancy, your daily routine, even your work with the FBI. Got yourself a new partner."
Scully jolts out of the bed so vigorously that Mulder bounced up and down on the mattress.
"You don't really mean what you're saying, Mulder, do you?" she whispers breathlessly. "I didn't get myself a new partner. Doggett was assigned to me, whether I wanted it or not. And what else was I supposed to do than try to go on somehow? I was responsible for another human being, not only for myself anymore. If it had just been me, I would've preferred to lie next to you in that coffin." She inhales deeply to steady her voice which threatens to crack. "I had put my baby's and my own well-being at risk during the search for you, had left my partner in the dark about it, had broken FBI rules just to be able to go on searching for you. And you have the nerve to tell me I mastered everything nicely? It wasn't nice, Mulder! It wasn't nice at all!"
That's why he hadn't told her. He knew he'd never find the right words to describe his bitter thoughts and emotions. Has he really just said she mastered everything nicely? He had seen it on her face when he woke up at the hospital how much she had suffered, how much she had feared and mourned for him. What for God's sake has made him say she'd mastered everything nicely? He grinds his teeth so hard that the sounds emerging from his jaw make Scully look at him.
"Mulder," she begs him, "please tell me you weren't thinking that I just moved on without you."
Mulder flashes her an apologizing glance. "No," he answers her in a toneless voice, "of course, not. I'm sorry, I didn't put the words right. I meant I felt superfluous. Like the third wheel. You were having a baby, had a partner who wasn't obsessed with the X-Files...you had everything you needed. Everything you'd always wished for."
As the last words have left his mouth, Mulder frowns, then closes his eyes and bites his tongue. Shit, that didn't sound right either. To his luck, Scully's anger has already dissolved. She's not taking his words literally, but rectifies the last things he said.
"Those were the things I had always wished for, right, but they weren't all I needed."
Mulder lets this pass without comment out of fear of again saying something stupid. He wasn't able to accept her miracle as his also, no matter how hard he tried. He was so detached, not feeling any connection to the unexpected interloper occupying her prominent belly doing somersaults. How can he tell her without hurting her feelings? Simply thinking the word 'interloper' is already giving him a bad conscience because it's a symptom of his pathetic fear that the baby had superseded him in Scully's affection. Later he learned that Scully had enough love inside her heart for more than just one person.
"I needed you, Mulder," she continues, "you gave meaning to those things. You, and only you." Mulder nods. Why he didn't allow himself to believe it at the time, he can't say.
Scully has become fidgety by now. She's pacing back and forth between the bed and the door while she speaks. "I'm not saying I wasn't functioning or looking forward to motherhood, but I missed you every second of every day, Mulder. I wanted and I needed you, as my partner, as my baby's father, and as my...my perfect other. Living without you was as if a part of my body had been amputated and at the same time I felt this miraculous new life growing inside my womb. There were so many conflicting emotions tugging at me, I sometimes didn't know how to make it through one more day without you. It was hard enough to cope with it while I believed you had died, but it was even harder when you were standing right in front of me but yet so out of reach. I had you back but still was so alone."
Mulder closes his eyes. Deep down he had seen all this, her sadness, her loneliness, her disappointment in him. Her eyes had been like an open book despite her efforts to conceal her inner turmoil in order to give him the time he needed to heal. The selfless care she granted him at a moment she needed to be cared for still humbles him to this very day.
"I know it sounds stupid, Scully, and I'm sorry to be saying it, but I felt so useless," he tries to explain more to himself than to her. "I felt like a sperm donor in the making of this baby, only that this time the procedure hadn't taken place in a culture dish. In my imagination, I didn't have anything to do with this pregnancy except for having knocked you up."
Scully doesn't have to voice how much hearing him use these words about her hurts her. Her face, her voice, her entire demeanor tells him, and he's sorry to be doing this to her, to be causing her pain over and over and over again. But he can't help it, he has to tell her now. If he doesn't today, he might never do it. Today seems to be the day for the both of them to pour their hearts out and share their last secrets.
"When I appealed to my brain, it told me that I was involved, but my soul couldn't do other than feel like an onlooker. I simply couldn't relate emotionally to the cluster of cells in your belly. It's not like I didn't want you to become a mother. You know how hard it was for me to cope with the fact that you were barren just because some people wanted to teach me a lesson. I just lacked the understanding that I had been a part of it. Plus, I didn't know whether you wanted me to be a part of it."
Scully stares at him, her brown furrowed. "You didn't know whether I wanted you to be a part of it?" she repeats, obviously unable to believe what she's just heard. Mulder shrugs.
"Well, I still thought you'd be better off without me. All I had done was cause you pain and suffering. The list of what and who you'd lost since you started hanging out with me was miles long."
"How often have we had this conversation, Mulder?" Her tone is stern and reproachful. "How often have I told you that I made my choices and that I didn't regret a single day that you were one of them? That I decided to be with you and accepted all the consequences?"
"Dozens of times."
"There you go."
There's more to it, though. "I also thought the sprout would be better off without me. I didn't believe I could be a good father with the role models of fatherhood I had in my life."
"I knew you'd be a wonderful father. Why did you think I asked you to be my sperm donor?"
"I thought you were only after my excellent genes," he quips, but his attempt to joke the matter away fails, Scully's features remain earnest. She's standing several feet away from him now, as if to show him how far apart they'd been at the time. He avoids looking at her but he can feel her eyes boring into him.
"I could've chosen the genes of an acclaimed scientist, a star pianist or a top-ranking athlete from a catalog."
"Oh, really? A top-ranking athlete? Hmmm, to compensate for the lack of affinity for sports in your genes, I suppose." Another pathetic tease from Mulder prompts Scully to retort in the manner she knows best.
"A variety of factors come into play when a female decides which male she will allow to inseminate her. It's the law of procreation."
Now Mulder's really stunned and what he says next is not meant as a joke. "So how come you asked me when you could have had a star pianist?"
"You do have the lanky, elegant fingers of a pianist, Mulder."
"Oh?"
"And you can hit a baseball beautifully."
"Thank you," Mulder finds a moment of joy and pride and waggles his eyebrows in remembrance before saying, "but do I have to remind you that I'm an arts scholar? I can't say I won many accolades as a scientist."
"That was what I'd throw into the gene pool," Scully quips with a smirk, hoping to smooth things over. "I was hoping for a perfect mate, just like any other female. That's it."
"And you thought I was the one?" She can't be serious, can she? A beautiful, likable, warm, intelligent brainiac like she really thought that a damaged, socially incompatible, albeit admittedly bright but still unusual weirdo was her perfect mate?
"It was you or no one, " she whispers so silently, Mulder hardly hears it. He holds his breath, momentarily paralyzed by her openness, then he pats on the spot next to him.
"C'mere!"
Scully slowly walks over to the bed from the corner she's positioned herself in for the last part of the conversation and places herself next to Mulder, who's sitting with his back to the headboard. She tucks her feet under her legs and kneads her fingers so vehemently in her lap that he finally takes in her hands in his out of fear she might break a finger. He starts drawing gentle circles on their backs in an effort to soothe her.
"I'm so lucky. I've always been more dependent on you than you were on me. Up to this very day. I simply knew you'd manage to raise this kid perfectly without me and so I thought it would be better if I didn't butt back into something I was already taken out of."
"You're a jerk, Mulder! You know that?"
"As I said, I was a real dick." Mulder is grateful for the short laugh he was able to elicit from her, then he continues. "I awakened from my state of self-pity and self-centeredness when you broke down in your apartment in front of the pizza man. When I checked you into the hospital and the nurse thought I was your husband and consequently the father-to-be, something clicked. It took me completely off-guard when I realized I not only feared for your life, which I already had a lot of experience in, but also for the baby's life. And not only because I knew you'd be devastated if you lost it, but because I'd be devastated myself. That was the moment I understood I was related, very closely related. I hadn't known I wanted to have a baby with you, until I was afraid this might go wrong and we'd never get a second chance."
Scully inhaled deeply. "You put your hand on my belly."
"Yes." Mulder smiles dreamily. "And I felt him kick me. As if he wanted to knock some sense into me. Like," he imitates a child's voice. "'Hey, you moron! You knocked up my mom, now get your act together and be there for her!' Of course, I didn't know he was a he at the time." He flashes her a short, sheepish grin. "It was awesome, Scully! The movement inside your womb, the realization that there was indeed a human being growing inside of you, and the knowledge that this human being actually was a part of me... It took my breath away."
Scully's eyes start filling with tears. "Our time together as a family was so short," she says with a heavy sigh.
"It was. Much too short. But it was the happiest time of my life. And I don't want to do without it. There I was, a man who'd never thought he could be a family man, and suddenly I had become one, and I couldn't picture my life without my son and his mother anymore. I missed you two so much when I was away. I asked myself what the use of protecting my miserable existence was if it meant separation from the two people I loved and cared about the most. What kept me holding on was the prospect of reuniting with you and William one day, of resuming what we had those few weeks after he was born."
That, of course, is the moment Scully's self-loathing kicks in. "Oh, Mulder," she whispers. "I'm so sorry for what you had to face when Skinner and I finally found you it that dark, cold cell. It ripped my heart apart when I saw the grief on your face after I told what I had done, that we'd lost William."
As much as he wants to spare her the whole truth, it's time he finally tells her about his state of mind at the time. He's procrastinated too long by far. Why he's never told her, he can't say. Cowardice? Numbness? Lack of words? Post-traumatic syndrome? No, scratch that! All of it but one: cowardice. He definitely was a coward. Unable to open up to the woman who'd put herself on the government's wanted list just to be with him. The time had come to give her the explanation he'd buried so deep inside himself for so many years, he'd almost forgotten all about it himself.
"When I realized I lost him, Scully, when I realized I was never going to see my son again, it felt like I failed him just like I had failed my sister. Once again, I allowed a family member to be taken away from me."
Scully gasps. With her hand on her mouth she says, "good grief, Mulder, it never occurred to me that for you it must've seemed like a recurring pattern in your life. First Samantha, then your father and mother, and finally William. I'm so sorry."
"Not to mention you. They tried to split us up more than once. They knew that taking all my loved ones away from me would break me eventually. I was fortunate enough to get you back each time I thought I'd already lost you. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here today."
"Why have you never said anything?"
"No offense, but this coming from you sounds a bit odd, Scully."
Scully shakes her head, huffing angrily. "We screwed it up, Mulder. Both of us. We should've talked more, should've shared what was on our minds, instead of dealing with it separately. We were not only not healing ourselves, but also preventing the other from healing. We might've prevented estranging ourselves from each other. We might've prevented our separation," she sobs.
"We were heartbroken, Scully. Scarred. Traumatized. Unable to cope with the loss and unable to really talk to each other. Parents aren't supposed to lose a child. It's not envisioned by nature."
"And still, we screwed it up. We could've talked away some of the pain. It could've spared us so much."
"Maybe, but wouldn't you say we're pretty fine right now?" Mulder squeezes Scully's hands to make her look at him. "We're back together, and William is here with us. He's having a good life, a life you allowed him to have. Our sacrifice wasn't for naught, Scully. It was worth every bit of pain and sorrow it caused us, because he is safe, he is happy and cared for. And now we're being rewarded. Our son is downstairs eating dinner, looking forward to spending time with us tomorrow. He doesn't loathe us for having given him up. He calls us Mom and Dad! Can you believe it? He cares about us. You should've seen his face when you left the dinner table. It was so full of concern and sympathy for you. We can't catch up on the time without him, and we will never be a traditional family, but we're finally more than just some names on his birth certificate in a folder locked away at the adoption agency."
Scully's eyes are wet with tears but there's also a smile developing at the corners of her mouth. "Thank you, Mulder."
"Thank you for what?"
"Everything."
"Well, that's not exactly the accuracy I'm used to coming from you, Miss Science!"
Scully chuckles but becomes earnest again immediately. "Thank you for forgiving me for when I gave up on us. Thank you...for taking me back." Saying those last words, she looks at their entwined hands and a tear falls down on them.
"Are you nuts, Scully? Thank you for taking you back?" He must've misheard something here! She's thanking him for taking her back? "Only a complete idiot wouldn't take you back. I might be a moron once in a while, but I'm not that stupid!"
"Thank you for this weekend," Scully continues, interrupting Mulder.
"I listened to what your mom told me, Scully. Her last words to us were about William. I admit it took me a few days until I figured it all out, why she looked at me when she said them. She was smiling at me, Scully!" Mulder has to swallow the lump down his throat that keeps building up whenever he thinks back to the moment Margaret Scully drew her terminal breath. "She practically ordered me to go and find William for you. I felt like she was sending me out on a quest to find William for you. Like this humble knight," he points at himself, both thumbs touching his chest, "was sent out by his gracious Queen to conquer unknown territory."
Scully's eyebrows take a hike toward her hairline. "A humble knight? You?"
Mulder ignores her remark, hardly hears it in the first place. His mind is elsewhere. "And when we were sitting on that log by the lake and you told me about the questions haunting you, the questions you had about your lost child, my mind was set. I knew I was going to find a way for you to get some answers. Of course, I hadn't imagined us together with him on a weekend getaway. This is so much better than what I had hoped to accomplish."
For a moment, they gaze at each other, words not being necessary any longer and non-verbal communication taking over. Neither has to express what they are to each other, they know. They always have and always will. Then the silence is broken by an unmistakable growl emanating Mulder's stomach.
"You hungry?" Scully asks.
"Well, I didn't finish my dinner."
Scully purses her lips. "Then let's go downstairs. I'll fix you something."
"Helen said she'd put the leftovers in the fridge."
"Even better." Scully disentangles her hands from Mulder's, unfolds her legs and gets off the bed. "C'mon, I'll heat it up for you."
In the kitchen, Mulder places himself on one of the bar stools at the counter, observing how Scully opens the refrigerator door and pulls out several Tupperware boxes. She fills a plate with a slice of roast, some mashed potatoes, and vegetables, completed with two spoons of gravy. She then pops the plate into the microwave and sets the timer to 180 seconds. "Your midnight snack will be ready in a minute."
Mulder frowns. "I think I saw you setting the timer to three minutes. Another scientific inaccuracy, any reason I should be worried about you, Scully?" he teases her.
"Hardy har har, Mulder. Very funny!"
"I can't help it. I'm a notorious joker, " he says displaying an innocent grin.
Scully only shakes her head and sighs. "Something to drink?"
"A glass of water would be nice."
Scully opens three cabinets before she finds the right one, but the shelf with the glasses is too high for her to reach. "Jesus, who furnished this house? A giant?"
Mulder jumps off his stool and positions himself right behind her, pressing his lean body against her back. "Wait, let me get it for you."
Scully turns around to face him and looks right at the imprint on the chest of his T-shirt. Mulder grabs two glasses but doesn't give them to her. Instead, he keeps them in his outstretched hands way out of her reach and presses her further against the counter. Her eyebrows hit her hairline.
"Now what?" she asks expectantly.
He grins at her, obviously enjoying himself immensely. "I never knew getting glasses out of a kitchen cabinet could be so arousing," he ponders.
"Arousing? I don't know what you're talking about, Mulder. I'm not arous-"
The last syllable is swallowed by Mulder's mouth on hers, and the way she reciprocates his kiss betrays the words she has just spoken. The way her tongue welcomes his leaves misjudgment on his part very unlikely.
"Not aroused, Scully?" Mulder asks, his lips not leaving hers.
"Mmmaybe a little," she breathes into him.
The microwave announces the completion of its task chiming a loud 'bing' and destroying their moment of endearments. Scully heaves an annoyed moan and reluctantly breaks the kiss.
"Ah, dinner's ready," Mulder acclaims matter-of-factly on his part. "I think I should be filling these." He's fidgeting with the glasses in front of her face for a moment, then walks over to the sink and fills them with water from the faucet.
Scully snorts audibly when she takes the plate out of the microwave and places it quite callously on the kitchen counter. Mulder hands her one glass ignoring her attitude and places himself on the bar stool again. He puts the glass to his mouth and looks at her above the brim while he takes some thirsty gulps.
"Don't look at me like the cat that ate the canary," Scully demands but only earns herself a triumphant smile from him.
"Not aroused," he mumbles to himself and chuckles silently. He knows she's frustrated that he had turned her on so fiercely and then off again in a matter of seconds. He also knows his comment is not suited to ease her annoyance. As if on cue, she hisses,
"Oh, shut up, Mulder, and start eating!"
He holds his open palms innocently up to her. "No cutlery."
She pulls hard at the drawer she assumes to be holding the silverware, which is actually stuffed with spatulas, a bread knife, ladles of various sizes, sets of salad tongs, and a few cake servers. She tears open the next one which is home to aluminum foil, plastic wrap, and sandwich paper. Another one she tries holds the cutting boards, and the next is filled with little containers of herbs and spices, all labeled and neatly lined up like tin soldiers.
"Darn, where is it?" she curses.
Mulder has been watching her with amusement. "There's one drawer left you haven't yanked out yet," he points out casually.
"Who places the silverware at the other end of the kitchen as far as possible from the plates? That doesn't make any sense!" Scully rants, her fire fueled by every little one of his comments. Her cheeks have adopted that crimson color which indicates passion but also fury.
"There's no such thing as the science of kitchen furnishings, Scully."
"I didn't say it was science! It's common sense, for heaven's sake!"
As Mulder predicted, Scully finds the utensils she was searching for in the one last drawer that hasn't been looked into yet. Blowing a rebellious strand of hair from her face, she takes out a knife and a fork and hands them to him, scowling like a wild cat. Mulder tries to hold back his grin but can't keep the corners of his mouth from rising. He loves it when her scientific brain hits the wall of the banality of everyday situations. He also loves it when her temper gets the better of her and his composed, self-controlled, always rational partner gets worked up by her emotions.
"Scully,...it's only drawers in a kitchen." He leans over the counter, takes her hand, pulls her around it and into his personal space. "With your phenomenal brain, I bet you'll have it memorized by tomorrow and will be able to function in this kitchen as if to the manner born." He flashes her a loving smile and watches her unwind a little. The glint in her eyes is fading, her cheeks turn to their original color again, and her shoulders aren't as tight anymore. Mulder feels her relax into him. He kisses her hair and strokes his hand up and down her lower arm.
"Eat. Your food is getting cold, Mulder," Scully says, her anger finally having completely dissipated.
"Aren't you gonna have something?" he asks.
"No. I'm not hungry. I'll simply watch you. It smells good, though."
"And it tastes good, too. Helen really is a great cook."
"Oh, she's so much more than that. She's such a nice woman and a wonderful mother to William. Both are wonderful parents. I can't tell you what a relief it is for me to finally know that."
"I think I have some idea," Mulder says with his mouth full, glad that Walter isn't present to shake his head at him, mumbling somewhat dismissively 'like father, like son'.
"Imagine if he had ended up in a family with no love, no care, no warmth. With parents who neglected him, mistreated him, or even abused him." Her voice breaks at the end. "God, I wouldn't have survived it if that had happened, Mulder."
"It didn't happen, there's no use in losing a single thought about it. He's happy where he is."
A comfortable silence manifests itself between them. Mulder enjoys his midnight snack, Scully watches him. Eventually, he puts the last piece of roast in his mouth, wipes his lips, and empties his glass of water.
"What do you say, Scully? Shall we finally call it a night?"
Scully takes the empty plate and puts it in the sink together with the silverware and the glasses. "Do you really think we'll get some sleep?"
"Well, if you let me spoon you, chances are good I'll fall asleep. I need to rest. I have a challenge coming up tomorrow on who can score more baskets from the three-point line, Will or this old man here." He points to himself.
"Do you stand a chance against him?"
"Not if we play one on one. That's why I suggested the three-point shots," Mulder says with a grin.
"I see. Can I root for one of you or do I have to be impartial?"
"Who would you want to root for?"
"Hmmm." She bites her lower lip. "You know, I have that soft spot for the underdogs. The outsiders."
Mulder's eyes widen. "What? You think I'm the underdog?"
Scully laughs and starts scooting up the stairs. Mulder follows instantly, striding after her. When she's at the landing, he leans forward and catches her top at the waist. He's still three steps down from her, which doesn't keep him from being close enough to reach her with his long arms, but three steps altogether give her a height advantage neither of them is used to. When she turns around and looks down on him, they stare at each other for a moment in surprise, then smile.
"So, this is what it's like to be forced to look up to meet people's eyes," Mulder says, "I haven't done that since I was fourteen."
"And I haven't looked down on someone over the age of eleven for a long time," Scully notes with a grin.
Mulder climbs one step and is almost at eye-level with her now, albeit still two steps down from her. Her eyes follow his and he's drawn into them by the hypnotizing intensity of her gaze. He takes the final two steps to stand right next to her, looking down on her now as their height difference is very prominent with both of them stocking-footed. He pulls her chin towards him with his index finger.
"I don't care why you root for me as long as you do."
"I've always rooted for you, Mulder."
"I know, Scully. Forget I asked."
With this, he presses his lips on hers in a slow, sweet kiss.