The Secret Life of Dana Scully
By SisShippy
Disclaimer: The same standard disclaimer applies. I own nothing X-files. I do own the story idea and any poetry that may appear.
He sat in the spare, dimly lit room, cradling his infant son in his arms. The apartment was quiet and she was asleep in the next room, so he spoke in a whisper.
"I've known your mom for over a decade now and she still continues to surprise me. We spent seven and a half years working together and a couple of those years, toward the end of our working relationship, we spent dating. It wasn't until I returned from my not so brief, and anything but pleasant, stay on a UFO, that I learned many more things about my Scully.
"My Scully. That still sounds so strange to say, and if she ever heard me say it, she'd probably kick my ass. For future reference, little man, do not say ass.
"I still vividly remember the day I learned that your mother, my Dana, possesses the soul of a poet. I had been . . .relieved of my duties at the FBI, and was finding it particularly difficult to find a job. People just aren't as accepting of the resurrected as they used to be. Anyway, I found it difficult to stay at my apartment for extended periods of time, so I spent a great deal of time here while she, in all her expectant mother glory, went to work every day to search for the truth we had spent so much of our lives hunting for. My quest had become her quest somewhere along the way, and I'm still not sure how I feel about that, anymore than I'm sure of when it happened. Don't get me wrong, it isn't that I wanted to keep the search for Truth to myself, I love that your mom has adopted something that means so much to me. Its just that I'm not sure how I feel about her dedication to continue what was once our work when she has so much to lose, and has already lost so much along the way.
"It was during a stay here that I stumbled across an old classic, Moby Dick. It had been the copy that her father had read to her from when she was a child. I later learned, when I was caught red handed, her mother had given her the book as a gift for the baby, our baby, for you. Tucked away in the pages of the beloved novel were poems that my Dana had penned in recent months. Touching works written from her very soul. Written about a great love and a greater pain, about hidden emotion and unspoken admiration. Written about love finally realized and acted upon only to be lost to forces unknown. Lines such as "in his eyes I see the tortured soul he has always been" and "he is perfection at its finest, artwork come to life" were written neatly on the tear-stained paper. I'm sure she could publish these works for a nice sum should she ever decide to give up the FBI and the doctor gig.
"When your mother came home that afternoon, she found me sitting on the sofa with the book opened on the coffee table and the papers containing what I hadn't been meant to see piled neatly next to it. I will never forget the look on her face any more than I will forget her greeting, "Mulder, what the hell are you doing?" Some things never change, and don't use the word 'hell' either. I explained I was going to catch up on some reading before Oprah came on and before I cooked dinner – admittedly the dinner thing was impromptu, hoping she would forgive me for prying – and stumbled across her works of art. Unfortunately I wasn't going to get off the hook so easily. "I can't believe you of all people would go through my things." If I didn't feel guilty before, I did now.
"Dana, I-I wasn't exactly 'going through' your stuff. I was just going to re-read a classic and found these things in the pages. I-I'm sorry." I hadn't planned to get caught and I really hadn't planned to upset my pregnant girlfriend. There's another term that will always require some getting used to. My pregnant girlfriend, I can't deny ithas a nice ring to it. "This is some beautiful work though, very moving. You did a wonderful job." Even the heartfelt kudos didn't seem to ease her embarrassment.
"Thanks. I should have known I couldn't keep those from you forever."
"She could have. It wouldn't have been that difficult. But I just had to want to read Moby Dick. Of course most people don't put poetry they want to keep hidden in the pages of novels either. That's okay, I'm a responsible guy and I'm willing to admit that I shouldn't have been snooping in the first place. Dana looked in the general direction of her feet and ran a nervous hand across her abdomen. Her confession was soft, nearly inaudible, "they're about you. I've . . .uhm . . .I've never really been good at telling someone how I feel about them and that seemed like a pretty safe way to get those feelings out."
"My point in telling you all this is to show you now what a special woman brought you into this world. To illustrate to you the type of woman who will love you every day for the rest of your life. The woman who has loved you since before your conception and who will love you long after she has left this world to do great things in other worlds, worlds that we have yet to know. The soul of a poet is only given to very special people, William. So, while I'm gone, you treat your mom like the extraordinary woman she is, okay?"
"Mulder? Mulder, are still you here?"
"She must be up from her nap. Not a word, got it?" Mulder placed a finger to his lips making a "shh" sound. "This little man-to-man is our little secret. I thought you were sleeping?"
"I tried, but I couldn't. Is everything okay in here?"
"Yeah, we're fine. We were just having a little chat. He's a good listener, our son."
Dana smiled sadly and slipped her hand into the pocket of her robe. "He'll be hungry soon."
"That's okay, I can . . .oh yeah, I can't." Mulder flashed her a lopsided grin and handed their creation to her.
She chuckled softly and cradled her son snugly in her arms. "No, you can't, but you don't have to leave either." Dana sat down in the rocking chair Mulder had recently vacated and prepared to nurse their baby son.
Mulder sat in the floor facing Dana. After a few minutes of watching the scene before him in amazement Mulder spoke, "I don't have to leave, Dana. I don't want to leave. I'm going to stay here with you, help you raise William."
"No, Mulder, you aren't. You have to leave, to stay safe. We can't lose you, not now, not again." Dana pleaded.
He nodded once in agreement and moved so he could rest his head on her knee. "All right, but I'm going in protest."
She didn't respond to Mulder's latest comment, she didn't have to. Instead, Dana turned her attention to a now full William.
"Sleep my child, so innocent and pure.
Dream of mobiles and rattles and toys galore
Rest my son, so peaceful in the night
Slumber your companion until the break of light
My perfect infant son, a miracle to behold
As days go by, before my eyes, into a man you'll grow
Your father's nose, your mother's eyes and chin
The day you were born, my life truly did begin
Sleep wee one, it's time now to rest
Lay your tiny head gently on my breast
Lullabies will send you into a peaceful dreamland
To a place where you will fly along side the sandman
Precious young child, close your eyes
I will hum you a lullaby
Endless love, happiness and success for you
That is my hope for your life, now so new
Sleep tiny angel dream the sweetest dreams
Of floating through the sky on a magic moonbeam
Sleep sweet boy, now is the time to rest
The sleep of angels, your slumber be blessed"
She patted Mulder on the head, signaling him to move so she could put William in his crib. Mulder moved but stopped her when she moved toward the crib. "No, lets take him with us. These days won't last forever, Dana." He was speaking not only of the first days of their newborn son's life, but also of the days he had to spend with them both.
"All right, but when he's sleeping with us for the next ten years, I'll be sure to remind you its your fault."
Mulder's eyes grew wide and he looked at the sleeping boy, "this will not become a habit, young man," he whispered firmly. They stepped into her bedroom and Mulder shut the door behind them to try and sleep the sleep of angels
The End