IT CAN BE

This story was written for the X-Files Secret Summer Fanfic Exchange (2019) created and orchestrated by OnlyTheInevitable\\ gaycrouton.

Prompt: "I'm ok with twists or turns, fluff or angst, but true to characters."

A gift to Pstafford3 (Twitter)

Beta by: ATTHS_TWICE and admiralty

"Well, you need a father, of course. I can get you genetic counseling on finding an anonymous donor if that's what you want... unless you already have someone in mind."

"Yeah... I, uh... I just have to figure out how to ask him."

Flashback in 8x13 — Per Manum

|| 2 days later ||

"If Emily had lived … do you think I could have done it? Been a single mother?"

They've been sitting in a car outside of an abandoned warehouse for nearly an hour indulging one of his hunches. Mulder had anticipated catching the third degree for calling her at 2 A.M. on a Saturday morning, but this is not the degree he expected, so he proceeds with caution.

"That's a rather loaded question."

He doesn't say it to be abrasive or to deflect away from the seriousness and vulnerability he hears in her voice. He says it because he's not sure what else to say.

Their interactions following the revelation of her stolen ova have been strained. While Scully hasn't outright ignored him or overtly lashed out at him, she's certainly maintained a respectable distance, keeping her fury and frustration hidden beneath layers of masked professionalism. After their discussion in the elevator, Mulder had braced himself for fire and brimstone, but so far, all he has been afforded is silence, which is far worse.

Two weeks have passed, but the tension is still unbearably high, leading him to believe that she has conferred with several specialists of her own choosing and has now reached the same conclusion he arrived at little over a year ago — the ova are not viable. While he can appreciate her anger, he doubts that she fully grasps his intent in keeping it from her or the depth at which it has eaten away at him.

When he discovered her stolen ova back in 1997, he immediately took them to a specialist to be assessed, and when he hadn't gotten the answer he wanted to hear, he had them sent them to another one. That pattern held for well over six months before he finally relented.

Keeping it from her had been an easy decision to make in the beginning given how gravely ill she was, but as her health returned, his justification in continuing to do so had been more complicated. Ultimately, he had kept it from her out of pure, unadulterated hope. Hope that there was an answer — a different path that he could take that would lead him to something other than the devastating news he currently had: the ova are not viable.

How in the fuck was he supposed to tell her that? On top of everything else, how could he possibly tell her that he had found her ova, but that there was nothing to be done with them? That they were useless? He couldn't even say it to himself in the mirror without becoming physically ill.

If the syndicate possessed the power to cure her cancer, then was it not reasonable to assume that they also possessed the ability to reverse her infertility? Somehow turning unviable ova into something viable? It didn't seem any less likely than curing incurable cancer.

Scully was the scientist, not him. Yet, the leading experts in the field had already told him that he was wasting his time and money looking for alternatives and storing ova that were not viable. Within a year, he was convinced that there was nothing conventional that could be done and was unable to stomach telling Scully that the fate of her ability to conceive a child of her own making would rest in the hands of the same monsters who had taken that right from her to begin with.

He valued his partnership with Scully more than anything, and he would move mountains or die trying before he would ever hurt her. And this news — this secret, would undoubtedly hurt her, so instead of telling her the truth, he had kept it from her and continued to search for solutions on his own with the hope that when the time came, he would have an answer. But in the blink of an eye, weeks turned into months and months into years, and still, there had been no resolution, conventional or otherwise.

And then came Emily.

Emily's sudden appearance changed everything. She was living proof that Scully's ova had been viable at one point, or that perhaps, out of all those extracted, he had just been unlucky enough to grab the one vial that was useless.

That was the other issue. Telling Scully the truth would require another harmful and devastating admission. There were more out there, and they were currently unaccounted for. When he returned to the research facility to retrieve the other vials, they were gone, either removed or destroyed, and there was no way to determine which since the facility had been burned to the ground.

The matter was further complicated by his degree of uncertainty with regards to her current medical status and the nature and permanency of the effects of the experimentation that was performed. While it was clear that they had taken a substantial amount of Scully's reproductive material, it was unclear if they had taken everything. Had what was in that drawer been a representation of everything they had taken? Or had there been more stored elsewhere? Had the extraction left her completely barren? Or had it merely ensured that it would be difficult for her to conceive naturally? If so, did she know?

Seeing her with Emily had only deepened his despair. He should have told her about the ova then. Hell, he should have told her as soon as she returned to work, months before Emily ever came into the picture, but he continued to hold back, having convinced himself that all he needed was more time. But all of that changed two weeks ago when he found Scully standing in a daze on the elevator. In that moment, every argument and justification he had ever made crumbled.

He couldn't keep it from her any longer. Not when she had brought it to him directly. She deserved to know the truth, and he had already kept it from her for far longer than he should have.

This is how Mulder came to be the asshole who told his partner about her stolen ova on an elevator.

"So you don't," Scully says, breaking their silence. "You don't think I could have done it."

There's an edge to her voice that makes him inwardly cringe. It comes out matter-of-fact, but Mulder knows better.

"I didn't say that. I just said it was a loaded question," he replies, doing his best to choose his words carefully.

"You either do or don't. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."

The bite in her voice is unmistakable. Scully is pissed, and frankly, she has a right to be. He just wishes that he could find a way to articulate his intentions to her. While he's well aware of the fact that he can be a certified asshole, he would never do anything to intentionally harm her, and he knows that underneath all of the anger and hurt, she knows that.

Everything he has done, he has done to protect her.

"Scully—"

"I asked you to back me up … to testify on my behalf and you did, but there was … hesitancy there. From both you and my family."

"I can't speak for your family, Scully. I can only speak for myself, but you're right, I did have reservations … but none of them had anything to do with you or your ability to parent or raise a child."

"Then—"

"Three years after your abduction, a child shows up with your DNA. I was questioning the validity of it and what it could mean, especially in light of what I knew they had taken from you. Had the circumstances been different, I would have been happy for you … elated even, but instead I was terrified … for you and for her … and at the same time I was furious."

"Furious?"

"They took something from you that they had no right to take … something that was yours to give to a person of your choosing. And Emily? She didn't deserve … no child deserves to be a pawn in someone else's game. I know that better than most."

The silence that ensues is thick, but instead of letting it hang, Mulder presses forward.

"I just had a feeling … a feeling that it wasn't real."

"She was real, Mulder, and she was mine."

"Yet she wasn't. She bled green."

She doesn't argue with him on this point because she can't, but she's clearly not pleased with him for making it to begin with.

"I shouldn't have kept this from you, Scully. I know that, and I'm sorry."

"Yet you did it anyway. For almost two years."

"You've never asked me why."

"Because it doesn't matter. You had no right."

"It does matter. It matters a lot."

"Okay. I'll bite. Why, Mulder? Why did you think that keeping me in the dark about MY OWN genetic material was a good call for YOU to make? Were you afraid that I would break down and check myself into a psychiatric ward? Or was keeping it from me more about your impending fear of me leaving you alone to chase monsters in the dark?"

The heat radiating off of her body and venom in her voice startles him into silence.

This is the reaction he anticipated two weeks ago, but the anticipation hasn't diminished its impact. It would be easy in this moment to give it right back to her and let his rising pulse predominate, giving her the fight she's clearly looking for, but he won't. If she wants to be angry, that is certainly her right, but she is at least going to have all of the facts straight first.

"Do you honestly believe, after everything that we've been through, that I would ever do anything to intentionally hurt you, Dana?"

The use of her given name is intentional. It's a quiet, subtle ceasefire, and the effect it has is immediate. As soon as it rolls off of his tongue, she stills, the fire in her eyes dissipating as her attention shifts. Holding her gaze, he lets the silence that follows hang, cooling the air around them before he continues.

"The look of devastation that crossed your face … I would have done anything in the world to keep that look off of your face, so yes, I kept it from you. I consulted every credentialed doctor and accredited research facility in the country and refused to let them destroy them despite being told repeatedly that they weren't viable. I wanted to find a solution, even if it wasn't a conventional one … so that one day, when I did tell you, it wouldn't be the news I have now. Keeping this from you was wrong, and you have every right to be angry but don't think for a single second that it didn't weigh on me, because it did. It still does."

The silence that follows is heavy, the intensity of the moment driving Scully to avert her eyes. The fire that filled them earlier has fled, making way for the emotions brewing underneath. She's hurt, devastated even, and now, she's trying desperately not to cry.

Pulling his handkerchief out his pocket, he hands it to her and waits, unsure of what to say or if he should say anything else at all.

At this point, it's clear that this stakeout is a bust, but he doesn't want to make it more awkward or break the moment by starting the car and pulling away. Instead, he fixes his eyes ahead, giving her a bit of privacy as the light of dawn begins to creep up over the horizon.

"You still haven't answered my question," she says after a few moments have passed.

Her voice is low, but the tone she sets requires no translation. Scully is a woman of action, so the fact that she has returned to her original question is her concession. While she may not like or agree with what he has kept from her, she has forgiven him.

"If you're asking me if I think that you would be a good mother, then the answer is yes," Mulder replies.

The lack of hesitancy in his response appears to surprise her, shifting her gaze back to his.

"Then why the—"

"You asked specifically about being a single mother," he replies evenly.

"Yes, and?"

Sighing, Mulder shifts uncomfortably, unsure of how much more he should say if anything at all.

"Well, I just don't see that as being an issue, and I'm not saying that because I think you are incapable of doing it alone."

"They why are you saying it?"

"Scully … look … I …," he says, taking a deep breath. "I already feel like I'm six feet under, I don't want to say anything to make it worse."

"That ship has already sailed, so you might as well just say it."

Sighing and regarding her cautiously, he relents and says what's on his mind. If she wants an honest answer, he will give her one. Given all he has kept from her over the past two years, he owes her that much.

"It's just … you have too much to offer someone else to be forced down that road alone."

Of all the things she expected to come out of his mouth, this was clearly not one of them. The blush rising in her cheeks does little to hide her surprise at his admission. He would feel more guilty for making her uncomfortable if she didn't look so radiant. Even with minimal sleep and tear stained eyes, she's still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. That much hasn't changed in the six years he's known her.

"Look," he says, returning his focus back to the warehouse. "All I'm saying is that if raising a child is something you want to do, then there is absolutely no reason for you do it alone unless you just want to."

"Mulder, I haven't been asked out on a date in years."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Well, it's true."

"Men can be idiots."

To this, he receives no argument, only a ghost of a snort as Scully relaxes more deeply into her seat.

"Well, then, I guess all the men currently in my life are idiots."

"Guilty as charged," he says, raising his hands into the air.

Their soft laughter echoes in the car briefly before again returning them into silence, but unlike the silences that preceded them, this one is comfortable. Mulder knows he should quit while he is ahead, but he can't.

"You're a lethal combination, Scully. Not all men can handle that."

"Lethal combination?"

"Stunning and intelligent. Typically, you get one or the other … both are… well, a bit rare and can be a bit intimidating."

Scully doesn't say anything in response, but the pink hue rising up through her neck and into her cheeks warns him that he's teetering dangerously close to the edge. He doesn't want to embarrass her or make her uncomfortable, but he also wants her to know that he does see her, not just as a partner but as a woman. A woman who has a tremendous amount to offer, little of which has anything to do with her reproductive status.

When she doesn't speak, he begins to backpedal a bit, not wanting to end on a note that is upsetting or uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Look, I think you will be an excellent mother with or without a partner, so if that's what you're asking, then that's my answer. Forget the rest."

"You didn't make me uncomfortable Mulder," she says quietly, avoiding his eyes. "It's just … not something I'm used to hearing."

"Hmmm … sounds to me like you need better friends, or maybe just a better partner. One who actually encourages you to get out of the car."

"Mmmm … my partner can certainly be an ass, but he's grown on me. And most of the time, I don't actually mind being in the car."

"And the other times?"

To this, she only smirks, nodding her head in a manner of dismissal and averting her gaze back to the warehouse. When it's clear she's going to let the question hang without answering it, Mulder changes the subject.

"Why … why bring this up?"

He asks the question half expecting her to skirt around it without directly answering it, but she doesn't.

"Because I'm almost 35. There are options out there … I just have to decide whether or not I'm going to take them."

"Well, whatever you decide, you'll have my full support, Scully."

The silence that follows surprises him, causing him to shift his focus back to her and study her expression. What he finds is as intriguing as it is troubling. There's clearly something weighing on her mind. Something she isn't sharing.

"I wish it were that simple."

Reaching out, he takes her hand in his and gives it a squeeze.

"It can be."