Lakeview Cafe & Restaurant
Tuesday 8.30am
Coffee seemed to help clear my head. It seemed to be taking forever for them to bring out the French toast I had ordered. I fold the napkin in front of me, trying to forget how my stomach is growling so loud the man sitting in the booth behind me can probably hear it. This place is nice, small but tidy with a soothing green paint on the walls, and table tops to match. The view of the lake is wonderful, and I can see this would be a popular place for tourists at the right time of year. But this morning it is just me and a couple of locals it seems.
A cough from behind me reminds me there is an elderly man reading a newspaper there. When I walked in it looked as though the man was at home here, he was slouching comfortably in his eat reading the paper, he had empty mugs next to him and a plate with smeared sauce and crumbs on it. He looked like this was his usual breakfast spot. For some reason he had looked up from his paper as I neared him, and his eyes hadn't left my face except to move to my belly briefly. I had smiled politely, a little confused at his attention. It made me self conscious, he couldn't know of course. I wasn't showing yet, although in a few months time I would be... I shook my head to clear it; I didn't want to think about that right now.
The smell of French toast wafted towards me and I turn and smile at the waitress. She has piled my plate high and smothered the toast in maple syrup; I feel saliva gathering in my mouth. My mind is filled with those wonderful pieces of bread, egg, milk... I stopped listing the ingredients in my head once the plate was in front of me, I just dig in, I take much bigger mouthfuls than I normally do, not caring what the people around me think. I can't believe how hungry I am, or how fast I finish off my plate, and drain my second de-caff. I don't know whether it is stress, pregnancy, or just how bloody good they tasted. But either way I feel much better as the food begins giving me energy. The de-caffeinated coffee hadn't done anything for me, but I'd have to get used to it. I couldn't drink a lot of coffee while pregnant. I feel a smile I can't stop spreading across my face. I have to be careful what I eat or drink; I have to plan for a baby. A baby. I'd resigned myself to the fact I couldn't have a child, and hadn't let myself think of these things. But now I can. And just thinking about it I feel butterflies in my stomach, I can't tell if they are butterflies of excitement or nerves. Just as I think this a shuffling noise distracts me, and I turn to see the elderly money coming towards me. Step, drag, step, drag. He drags one of his feet behind him as he walks, the doctors in me wants to diagnose him, but I stop my mind from going through the list of possibilities as a strange mixture of old sweat & coffee assault my nostrils and I resist the urge to cover my nose, and frown as the queasiness that had finally abated came back full force.
"Hello," he says to me, and drops into the seat across from me. I accidentally raise my hand to cover my nose and mouth without thinking, but cover by coughing into my hand and then bringing it down to rest in my lap along with my other hand.
"Hi," I squirm in my seat, how to get away from him without being rude?
"She is going to be very intelligent." I just stare at him. Great, he's crazy. Just what I wanted, I was finally feeling a little more stable and a crazy man comes and talks to me. I try to come up with an excuse, and open my mouth to blurt out whatever comes to my mind first, but before I can he speaks again... "Your baby, I mean." He finally looks up, and looks me in the eyes.
"I..." I begin, and then look down from his murky brown/green eyes, to my stomach. How could he possibly know? I shake my head. He's just crazy.
"You need to go home now though." He nods his head as he says this, as if agreeing with himself. "Not everyone wants her to be born Dana." He knows my name he's a stalker. I think irrationally, not wondering why an elderly man would stalk me, or how he would know I'm pregnant, or how he knows what sex my baby is when I don't even know yet. I stand abruptly.
"I don't know who you are, leave me alone." I say angrily. How dare he? I consider calling the police, but instead I pay the cashier, and storm back to the motel.
Lakeview Motel
Tuesday 9.30am
I glance around my barely used room, and begin gathering my few belongings. That man at the cafe may have been crazy and more than likely harmless. But I am leaving. Not because of what he said, even though it had sent shivers down my spine. No, I just didn't want to be in the same place as a crazy person while pregnant and alone. 'Vulnerable.' The word comes to mind unwittingly, and everything clicks into place. My problem. The reason I have run away, the reason I can't handle Mulder being the way he is. I feel vulnerable knowing I'm pregnant; it's not just me I have to worry about anymore. I smile for the second time today, finally I understand. My feet felt lighter on the ground as I head towards the car, I dial Mulder's number as I reach my car. It only rings twice before he answers.
"Mulder," he answers gruffly.
"Mulder it's me."
"Are you okay?" He asks, his voice softening in concern.
"Yeah, I'm coming home." I want to ask if he will come see me. I want to know if he is mad with me. I want to know if he will forgive me. But no words come out.
"That's good." Silence. Awkward silence is not something I'm used to with Mulder, and I want to fill it, instead I feel my stomach tighten in concern.
"Mulder," I start, and then take a few breaths to calm myself. "Will you come over? When I'm home I mean?" I can't believe how hard it is to ask that.
"Of course Scully," I smile; his voice seems to lose some of the tension it had been filled with at the beginning of the conversation. "I'll see you when you're home." I can feel him smiling through the phone, so I don't bother saying goodbye, just close my cell phone, and start the car.
Things are going to be fine. I will learn to live with the fact that I am more vulnerable from here on out. Mulder had forgiven me for my weakness, for running when I should have stayed. A crazy man somehow made me figure things out, how fitting.
Xx
The End.
A/n: I might do a sequel... not too sure. Hope you don't mind my ending. I planned to have one more chapter of Scully getting home, and talking with Mulder. But I think this chapter pretty much sums things up. Let me know what you think. :)
Again, if anyone wants to beta this, feel free! You can email me: .com
