Author's Note:
If you're wondering what the agents have been up to between Chapter Two and Chapter Three, feel free to check out "In the Graveyard of the Undead"--a post-ep fic I've posted set during/after "Hollywood AD" 7x18. It is mostly lighthearted, and I don't think we get to see enough of that.
Chapter Three is set post-"Requiem" 7x22 with flashbacks to that episode. Angst and MSR. Mulder is abducted and Scully must deal with some surprising news on her own. This is the point where this fic will begin to diverge from canon.
Chapter Three
At first, the news was so amazing that the fact that Mulder was gone didn't completely dampen her hopes, as it eventually would. She could easily recount every time they had made love, and she reflected on each of these encounters repeatedly to herself. They had not been together that many times. When the doctors suggested that she might be pregnant, she had almost laughed in their faces. Numerous doctors had told her that she couldn't have children: she had no ova as the result of her abduction.
She hadn't always wanted children: she used to think that she wasn't cut out to be a mother. She was a professional and she had professional goals. She was more comfortable performing an autopsy than with a room full of children. But that had changed when the choice was taken from her. She knew she wanted children. That she couldn't have one was a constant source of pain for her, and Mulder was well aware of that fact; maybe it was what he had felt worst about, but she couldn't be sure. He'd been with her when she mourned Emily. In-vitro had been a failure, and he'd seen her pain again. Then she'd noticed him looking at her when she was holding that woman's baby in Oregon. What she didn't know was that Mulder had made a decision at that moment: no longer would he let her fight his fight. He wanted her to have a 'normal' life, if she possibly could, and maybe she would let him be a part of that, but maybe that too was impossible.
...
She had been feeling dizzy, light-headed, and sick to her stomach, but she could think of no reason why she would be suffering from those symptoms. The first time the feeling of sickness became too much for her, she left her motel room to be with Mulder. When she'd arrived at his room a look of concern came over his face.
"What's wrong, Scully? You look sick."
"I don't know what's wrong." She walked into the room and tried to describe how she was feeling. "I, um…I was starting to get ready for bed and I started to feel really dizzy—vertigo or something—and then I just…I started to get chills."
"You want me to call a doctor?"
"No, I just…I just want to get warm."
Mulder ushered Scully over to his bed and tucked her in before lying down behind her and embracing her.
"Thank you."
The moment he put his arms around her she felt immediately safe. His arms had a soothing effect, and she figured if something did go wrong, he would know what to do. For once, she was surrendering responsibility to someone else and it was a monumental relief.
"It's not worth it, Scully," he whispered into her ear.
"What?"
"I want you to go home."
"Oh, Mulder, I'm going to be fine."
"No, I've been thinking about it. Looking at you tonight, holding that baby…knowing everything that's been taken away from you. A chance for motherhood and your health and that baby. I think that…I don't know, maybe they're right."
"Who's right?"
"The FBI. Maybe what they say is true, though for all the wrong reasons. It's the personal costs that are too high. There's so much more you need to do with your life. There's so much more than this. There has to be an end, Scully." He kissed her cheek.
He couldn't know what was ailing her; he would have never expected such an event, even though they hadn't used birth control—there was no reason for it, after all. The vial of Scully's ova that he once had in his possession was proof positive of the unusual cause of her infertility. Yet, even without knowledge of her condition, he was aware of one thing: he wasn't going to let Scully place herself in danger anymore. In the past he had been selfish and tried to keep her by his side at all cost, but lately he had come to realize that he couldn't afford to be selfish when it came to Scully anymore. She'd told him a few weeks ago that she was pretty happy. She didn't say it was because of him, but he felt the implication hanging there in the air and he was certain that's what she meant. It made him smile ear to ear. Coming from Scully that was an enormous compliment; she'd never said anything remotely like that before and he wanted to make sure she stayed that way.
She hadn't gotten better as the case progressed. She kept feeling as if she was going to faint, and when they'd gotten back to D.C., Mulder wanted Scully to stay put. He was afraid for her; she could sense the fear coming off of him like heat rising off the pavement. His fear was clouding his judgment: this perhaps is why the Bureau looked down on romantic relations between agents. His misunderstanding of a potentially dangerous situation led them to be separated. Mulder wanted to return to Oregon, but he refused to take Scully with him.
He'd reiterated that it had to stop somewhere: "I want you to forget about it, Scully."
"Forget about it?"
"You're not going back out there. I'm not going to let you go back out there."
"What are you talking about?"
Yes, she hadn't been feeling well, but she wasn't a delicate flower. She could handle herself. They were partners. Equals. If she felt up to going, there was no place else she should be than by his side. Surely Mulder knew that. Surely he hadn't become so intensely protective that a little bout of sickness was going to make him demand that she stay home.
"It has to end sometime. That time is now." 'I've done enough damage for a lifetime,' he added silently.
"Mulder…"
Mulder knew that Scully wouldn't be entirely comfortable with this situation. They were partners and she wouldn't want to be left behind leaving her partner to carry the burden of investigation—never mind that she would certainly bridle against being told what she could and couldn't do. Mulder knew she wouldn't like it, but he had to make her grasp what he had discerned.
"Scully, you have to understand that they're taking abductees. You're an abductee. I'm not going to risk…" he paused looking at her sadly and his voice breaking, "losing you."
It was a decision made solely on emotion. They were partners, but Scully was so much more to him than just his partner. Once he knew the danger she was in, he couldn't stand the thought of letting her accompany him back to Oregon. He wanted to stress to her the facts: they're taking abductees. But he couldn't help but express his fear as well--his fear of the personal cost.
She stepped into his embrace, and he held her tight. If he could just keep her safe, then everything would be alright.
The realization came too late. One of them was in definite danger of abduction, but it wasn't Scully: it was Mulder. He was the one that they wanted; he was the one that they needed. She'd insisted that Skinner go with him to Oregon, but when Scully finally recognized that she had been rejected by the space ship, but Mulder would not be, she knew sending Skinner along with Mulder would not be enough to protect him. The realization had hit her with such force that she had passed out while meeting with the Lone Gunmen. Mulder had been suffering from electro-encephalitic trauma—anomalous brain activity—just like all the other abductees.
Frohike verbalized it first: "it's Mulder who's in danger."
Once again Scully felt dizzy and disoriented as if she didn't know where she was, and then she collapsed, caught by Frohike. She collapsed just as her world was collapsing around her.
The Lone Gunmen rushed her to the hospital. Another hospital room. But no Mulder, no Mother, no one but those three awkward men sitting in the waiting room. Lying in her hospital bed in her flimsy blue paper gown, she waited on the results of some tests, one of which would determine whether or not she was pregnant. She had tried to convince the nurses bustling around her that there was no need, but after stating it twice, she gave in—she didn't have the energy to hash out her story of infertility. Sitting there made her feel small and helpless. She cursed whatever it was that put her in that bed instead of at Mulder's side. Skinner, the man she had sent in her place, carried the news to her that Mulder had been abducted—news that came on the heels of the doctor's affirmation that yes: she was pregnant.
...
Alternately her thoughts drifted from the miraculous life inside of her to Mulder's disappearance. She spent hours staring out of the windows of her apartment, thinking that somehow she must find him, and Scully, always confident in her abilities, believed that she would indeed find him. She was having Mulder's child, and he had to be there with her—he had to know, he would want to know.
It wasn't so long ago that Scully felt certain that she could raise a child on her own, given the chance. She had wanted to adopt Emily, and she hadn't felt as if she needed anyone's help to do that—not her mother's and certainly not her self-absorbed partner's help. And when she considered the possibility of in-vitro, she had asked Mulder to be the donor, but she had been confident that she didn't need his help to raise the child. But now she doubted that she would be able to do it without Mulder. He'd so completely become a part of her that she couldn't imagine doing anything without him. She didn't want to have to do it alone. So, she simply had to find him. After three months, she had come back; so, why wouldn't he?
Scully steeled herself for her first appointment with the ob-gyn upon her return to Washington. Sitting in the waiting room filling out forms, she looked around to see other women sitting with their husbands or boyfriends, but she had no one. She hadn't even told her mother yet, because she had some lingering worries about the health of her baby: she wanted to spare her mother from any possible unpleasantness, shielding her as she had done numerous times since she began her work on the X-files. She'd even foisted the job of telling her mother that she had cancer off on Mulder, but she wasn't going to be able to do that this time—at some point she would have to tell her.
She wanted to have DNA tests run on the fetus to determine if everything was normal, especially considering her abduction and the death of her test tube daughter, Emily. If something was wrong, if this child was going to be sick and die, she didn't know what she would do. She wanted Mulder by her side at this appointment; he could be a soothing presence, when she let him perform that role, but this time he wouldn't be given that chance. He wouldn't be there to hold her hand or help her with any important decisions—decisions in which she heartily believed he deserved to be a part.
A nurse called her name, "Dana Scully?"
She stood up and made her way to the door, feeling as if the other couples were watching her, maybe even pitying her. Rationally she knew it was her own overly active imagination—she wasn't the first single mother in the world, after all. Hell, these people didn't even know she was truly alone: the father could be one of those workaholics that you have difficulty keeping on task regarding life outside of work. Scully corrected herself: the father was one of those workaholics.
The nurse led her down a white hallway to an empty room. "I just need to go over some questions with you, and then you can visit with Dr. Hill. Could I have those forms?" she asked cheerfully.
Scully handed the neat looking lady the stack of papers and sat down on the cold blue plastic seat. The nurse slipped on a pair of half glasses that hung around her neck to read Scully's small black writing.
"Will Mr. Mulder be attending the rest of your appointments with you, Ms. Scully?" she asked running her finger underneath the line that had asked for the father's name.
"I…" Scully paused, unsure what to say. "He's away and isn't sure when he'll be able to get back," she hedged.
The nurse nodded her head in a maddening way to Scully's way of thinking.
'No, you don't understand,' she thought bitterly. 'I haven't been abandoned in that way.'
"And how many weeks do you believe yourself to be along now?"
"Eight to nine."
Not so long ago. It was already beginning to feel like a lifetime.
"Oh yes, I see you've written an estimated conception date here…that's good." The nurse flipped through the papers. "All right. Everything seems to be in order here. I'll call in Dr. Hill, if you'll be so good as to put on this dressing gown, Ms. Scully."
The nurse closed the door behind her, and Scully was left in the badly decorated room to change into the light pink open backed hospital gown. Left alone again with her thoughts. She had been given ample space for thought lately. Too much time. She'd gone back to work immediately, trying to fill her days, but it hadn't been much use. At the Bureau people danced around her like wary butterflies. The Lone Gunmen called and left cryptic messages on her message machine at home while she was at work: she could only assume they did so in an attempt to both intentionally miss her and in a pathetic attempt to comfort her. And Skinner. Skinner was the worst. He wasn't being a good soldier. His self-flagellating blame was written all over his face every time she walked into his office. And she still hadn't told her mother that Mulder was gone. She couldn't bear the thought of formulating the words.
The doctor entered just in time, since Scully was beginning to fear she would break down there in the room alone. If Mulder had been there with her, he could have lightened the mood with a crack about stirrups.
"Good morning Dana," she said offering her hand.
"Morning," Scully said mechanically.
"I've quickly looked over this information you've given us, and it seems as if you've been doing everything right since you found out you were pregnant, but that was only ten days ago. Is that correct?"
"Yes, I had been told that I was infertile. I didn't recognize the signs."
"What a surprise then," the doctor said perkily.
Scully smiled, lowering her head. She was already beginning to feel conflicted in the tens days that had passed: she was deeply moved by the idea that she would have a child, but she was having some difficulty celebrating that fact.
"Now, I just want to let you know that I'm sure nothing is wrong with the child. A few glasses of wine aren't the cause for a lot of concern: I know that worries a lot of expectant mothers, and I see you requested a DNA test, which is probably unnecessary."
"I understand that—I'm a doctor, but I want to be very careful. My daughter died at a young age, and…"
"I'm sorry Dana, it says here that this is your first pregnancy?"
"Well…I've never carried a child. This was a…" Scully tried to think of a way to term Emily's conception: alien experiment…government conspiracy?
"Surrogate?" the doctor supplied.
Scully nodded slowly. She suddenly felt as if she had lost the power of speech and she hoped she wouldn't be required to answer very many more questions.
"Well, if that's what you want, of course I would be glad to arrange for the procedure, although it is rather unusual."
Scully folded her hands in her lap.
"For now why don't we do an exam and an ultrasound?"
Scully nodded, and Dr. Hill stood up and walked over to the exam table.
At two months, the fetus does not clearly resemble a baby, and Scully had imagined that seeing it would not have a great affect on her for that reason. Scully recalled details from her obstetrics class from medical school as the doctor's medical diagnostic sonographer entered the room and set up. While you can't feel a fetus move between the eighth and ninth week of pregnancy, movement has begun and the fetus can grasp things in its hands. That sort of detail was usually too small to see at this stage, however, especially using a trans-abdominal sonogram.
The sonographer ran the cold tool over her as of yet still flat stomach and pronounced, "everything looks fine, Dana, which is good news. Would you like to see the screen?"
Scully nodded 'yes', and Dr. Hill turned the monitor so that Scully could see it for herself. It wasn't much more than a visible heartbeat in a kidney shaped being—only a little over an inch long from head to bottom, with the head being about half the total length—but for the first time she knew there really was something there, and Scully began to feel tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, which she hastily wiped away.
"Amazing isn't it?" the doctor mused.
"Mmm…certainly."
Scully left the building clutching her black purse to her body, as the only thing she had to hold on to. The doctor had given her a picture of the baby, which was carefully folded and put away inside of the zip compartment of her purse. She had seen other women show these images proudly; she had no one she could share this with. Not yet. Not when she still wasn't sure whether everything was truly alright. The appointment for her procedure was a week away at St. Ann's hospital, and again she would have no one with her. At this point, she just wanted the results so that she would know where she stood. She unlocked her black sleek car with a press of her remote entry button and threw herself down on the gray leather seats with a sigh.
