TITLE: Miracle

AUTHOR: Anika I own nothing. I really don't.

CATEGORY: MSR; Scully POV

SPOILERS/TIMELINE: Set in Season 7, references to season 8

SUMMARY: Scully doesn't feel good… is it cancer or something else?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ok, I wrote this when I was really struck by the flu. Thanks to sandwich-guy next to me, I almost threw up in a full lecture room. I know, too much information  Hopefully, you'll enjoy this little something!

One of those days.

When I got up this morning- correction, when I tried to get up this morning- I knew nothing good would come out of it. Dizzy and nauseous I sat up in bed, trying to get a grip on myself. It took me not less than ten minutes to get up. My legs felt like jelly, my whole body felt like jelly. Thinking of jelly made me feel sick. I somehow managed my way to the bathroom. I sat on the edge of the bathtub, enjoying the cold surface. After you've battled cancer moments like these scare you. I was worried. Colds usually didn't strike me down and certainly not like this. Apart from that, I didn't have a sore throat or anything else pointing at a cold. I was scared, very scared actually. It was ironic, somehow. Give me aliens, mutants and what not but nothing would shake me as much as this.

It took me forever to get to work, or it just seemed like forever. Sitting in my car, I felt like going back to sleep. I turned the radio really loud so I wouldn't fall asleep and to my own surprise, it helped with the nausea. Sometimes I could just be as weird as any of Mulder's cases. By the time I arrived at work, I felt slightly better. People don't greet me anymore, or I don't greet them anymore. I am never able to say. In those early years I would greet almost every second agent that passed me. They became less and less. I became Mrs. Spooky and therefore as much an outsider as Mulder. It had worried me in the beginning, now I wouldn't want it any other way.

The elevator ride was torture. Having felt slightly better I hadn't even thought about taking the stairs instead. But standing in a small space with way too many people around me, going down I felt as if my breakfast desperately wanted to see the daylight again. I wondered for a moment why I had bothered to eat at all. I had hoped it would help settle my stomach. Well, it had but that was before the elevator ride.

As I step into Mulder's and my office my stomach doubled over. For a moment I wasn't sure if Mulder himself was the cause or the thing he was holding.

"Morning." He said in between bites. I had frozen and couldn't take my eyes off this ‚thing', which I supposed was a sandwich.

"You ok?" he asked, directing his look away from the file he'd been reading to my face.

"I'm fine, Mulder." I managed to say somehow. My feet led me to the chair opposite of Mulder but my eyes never left the sandwich. I felt the nausea swap over me but I was fixated on that damn thing. It crossed my mind that Mulder must have thought me crazy, which was kinda nice since usually I was the one labelling him as crazy.

"Have you heard a word I just said?" Mulder asked me. I could finally tear my eyes away from the thing to meet Mulder's. He looked worried and confused. I didn't feel good, not all. I wondered if I looked sick. As far as I could tell, I simply felt sick.

"You look pale. What's the matter, Scully?" Apparently, I did look sick. I hadn't wanted Mulder to worry, not before I had seen a doctor. But there was so much dread in his eyes. My own eyes wandered back to the sandwich. At that moment a little drop of darkwhite oily substance fell from the sandwich onto the desk. It was the last straw; I couldn't hold it in much longer. Knowing this office and everything surrounding it as good as my own apartment I knew I wouldn't make it to the bathroom, so I darted over to the waste basket. Mulder was at my side in an instant, rubbing my back and keeping my hair away. I could feel the question hanging between us and I knew how scared Mulder was. He waited for me to give him some sort of signal telling him I was ok. I couldn't do that. I didn't feel better and I was just as worried as he was.

"What's the matter?" he whispered close to my ear. The unspoken question was still in the air, the threat of cancer or something alien in me always present. I wished so much that I could tell him everything was fine.

"You make me sick." I got out, my voice sounding weird in my ears. Mulder drew back a bit, startled. I realized how wrong that came out.

"Your sand-," I could hardly get it out, „-wich. It's making me sick." Mulder quickly got up and walked over to the desk. I watched as he wrapped the sandwich in the paper and shoved it into a drawer. I imagined how it would stay there for days probably, or even weeks and months. I thought of how it would mold, how it would turn green and blue and start to smell. Just thinking about it made me lean over again and another piece of my breakfast landed between crumpled paper.

"You're scaring me." Mulder, who was back at my side, told me. Truth be told, I was scaring myself.

"You're feverish." He said after tucking another strand of hair behind my ear." He tried to keep his voice calm, but didn't succeed very well. I knew he was freaking out. Like a big wave, exhaustion suddenly washed over me and I felt the need to close my eyes and sleep.

"We gotta get you to a doctor." He took me into his arms. I leaned against him, my eyes closed. For the first time of the day, something felt nice.

"Scully." He whispered. I snuggled closer to him. He picked me up and for a moment I thought I would throw up again, but the feeling subsided.

"Where we going?" I mumbled against Mulder's chest. I felt that we were moving, but I couldn't open my eyes.

"Hospital."

I mumbled something like 'hm' before I blacked out.

It was some dream. Mulder was there of course, as were several children. One of them looked just like a mini-version of him. We were having a picnic and having fun. I spotted my mother and Bill and even Charlie, all smiling. Someone yelled ‚mommy' and it took me a moment to realize I was meant by that. I turned and mini-Mulder ran towards me, arms open wide and a toothless grin across his face.

I woke up and found myself in a hospital bed. Hospitals had almost become a second home. Usually it was Mulder who injured himself. Whether it was me or him who was sick or injured, we spent far too much time in hospitals. To my surprise I found that I was alone. Mulder would never leave my side voluntarily, so someone must have sent him away. That scared me, it seemed to mean bad news. But I felt better. My stomach felt quiet and normal and I almost felt hungry. At least the thought of food didn't repel me. But I just wanted Mulder by my side and I wanted someone to tell me what was wrong. Not knowing was always the worst.

The door opened and the doctor walked in. She was tall and blonde and for a split second I thought she was just Mulder's type of woman. She smiled at me sympathetically. I looked at her name plate, Dr. Bowman, and then back at her face. I prepared myself for any news she might give me.

"How are you feeling?" she asked me.

"Tired." I answered shortly. I wanted to ask what was wrong but somehow I couldn't form the words. But she seemed to read the fearful unspoken question in my eyes. Her smile widened.

"Don't worry, you're not sick. At least not in the widely understood definition of the term. We checked first if your cancer might have come back. Mr. Mulder made sure of that." She smiled in a special way. It was almost solitarily.

"Congratulations, Ms. Scully, you're pregnant!" 'What?!'

"What? No, that is not possible." It wasn't. It couldn't be, it just couldn't.

"You're pregnant. You can believe me, we ran the test twice because Mr. Mulder looked just as shocked and as sceptic as you. But it's true, you're two months along." She smiled at me. I didn't. I wasn't sure what I was feeling. Happiness rushed through me but there was this little voice nagging me, saying it just wasn't in the realm of possibility.

"Mulder knows?" I asked her. Hadn't she just said something like that? Was that the reason he wasn't here?

"Yes, we couldn't stop him from snooping around. He was really worried about you. I told him to give you some time. I believe he went to get coffee. He looked like he needed it."

"It's just not-" I stopped there.

"You're overwhelmed now, I can tell. I'll send the charts in so you can see for yourself. And I'll tell Mr. Mulder you'd like to see him. I will be back for the ultrasound, so you and the proud daddy can see or yourself. It seems like you both need undeniable proof." She squeezed my hand and left me alone.

I felt like having been hit with a bat, but in a positive way. Pregnant. Two months along, so it really hadn't been the in-vitro. Mulder and I did this the natural way. We created a baby. A barren woman would give birth in seven months. It seemed like an x-file. I tried to think two months back. Mulder and I had been together for five months. Right after I had told him that the in-vitro hadn't worked out, we had shared a chaste kiss that had become more and more passionate. We made love that night and again the next night and the night after that, too. Two months ago I had met Daniel Waterston, the man I once wanted to spend my whole life with. That day I realized how much I really loved Mulder and I told him. I told him that he was everything to me and I mirrored his words from years ago when he told me that I made him a whole person; we contemplated each other. That night- the baby was a creation of that night. I put my hand on my still flat belly. 'Hello there', I said in my mind and smiled, tears of joy streaming down my face.

That's how Mulder found me. Seeing my tears, he rushed to my side. I laughed at him and for a moment he was confused, but then a smile spread across his face.

"I can't believe it." I whispered.

"I couldn't either, at first. The doctor told me to give you this," he handed me the chart. I opened it and I had the proof that I was pregnant. I stared at the piece of paper. Then I felt Mulder's hand on my belly. I looked at him. Tears sprung to my eyes again.

"It's a miracle." I said softly as Mulder put his head on my stomach.

"I told you never to give up on a miracle." I heard him mumble against me. I closed my eyes in pure bliss.

"Maybe I should listen to you more often." I told him, running my hand through his soft hair and finding myself wishing our child would have the same hair. He laughed and it felt wonderful against me.

"I've been telling you that for years."

END

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