KEEPING SECRETS

Interlude between Familiar and Nothing Lasts Forever

Why Scully keeps the pregnancy from Mulder.

SCULLY

"You're not in the beginning stages of menopause Dana. You're pregnant."

To say that I'm still in a state of shock would be a vast understatement. I've gone through the motions of completing all that I've taken off work to do, but my mind is elsewhere. As I replay the conversation Crystal and I had in her office earlier today, I can't help but be overwhelmed by the impossibility of it all.

"Dana, I know this isn't something that either of you was likely expecting, but you're extraordinarily fit and healthy. I have a very good friend and colleague who specializes in high-risk pregnancies …"

She wasn't wrong. My vitals, blood work, and physical exam all point to this being nothing other than a typical pregnancy — only it isn't. I'm 54 years old and barren. What's occurring inside of my body right now wasn't supposed to be possible 20 years ago, much less now.

As my friend and physician, Crystal knows more about me than most. There is, however, still a tremendous amount that she doesn't know. Because the truth surrounding my alleged infertility is complicated, which is why it comes down to the more intimate details, I've always been more of a closed book.

She knows very little about the true nature of my work with the FBI.

She doesn't know about William.

Once, early in her residency, she asked me if I ever regretted not settling down and having a family. Although it wasn't an unreasonable or overly offensive question, especially for a young student who was trying to find a balance between ambition and family, it still stung. Questions along those lines have always made me uncomfortable. I've never known how to respond.

Mulder and I not being married could never negate what we share, and William not being with us has never made him less.

For years, I secretly longed to have another child, but that desire was always overshadowed by guilt. We were given our miracle, and I gave him away.

I've always viewed the years that followed as my penance.

Although we never discussed having another child, we never made an honest attempt to avoid having another one. It was a silent handshake of sorts … neither of us having the heart to vocalize a desire for something that we could not give the other, which makes the situation I currently find myself in all that much more difficult to process.

I'm not sure how I feel. I want to be elated, but I'm not. I'm absolutely terrified. The impossibility of it brings all sorts of troubling questions to the forefront, and the risks and complications associated with pregnancy at my age are overwhelming.

As a physician, I'm well aware of the odds. After 40, the likelihood of miscarriage, congenital disabilities, and complications climbs significantly. After 50, it rises astronomically.

I want more than anything to tell Mulder, but I can't. Not yet.

The past few months have been … amazing. For the first time in our 25 year partnership, we are talking. Not running, not avoiding, not assuming — actually talking. Which is why, as I sit in my SUV avoiding paint fumes and the cool February air, I find myself at a loss as I flip through the paperwork I collected this morning from my attorney and the bank. Any moment's peace we've ever had has been short-lived. We find our feet, only to have them taken out from underneath us.

Why now? Why not 10 or 15 years ago?

I've failed miserably in protecting the first child I brought into this world, so how can I possibly fathom bringing another one into it? How am I supposed to choose between the child currently growing inside of me and a young man I barely know and me? With this happening on the cusp of what we've been told is going to be the end of the world as we know it, is it even possible for me to choose?

Doing my best to distract myself from the dark clouds looming over me, I read through and sign off on the paperwork in front of me, leaving the car only briefly to lock up the house and set the alarm.

When I return, my phone is ringing.

Fearing it's Mulder, I tense. I've avoided calling him because I don't yet trust my voice not to give myself away.

Relief floods through me when I see that it's Crystal.

"Hey."

"Hey, Dana. I managed to catch Valerie. She's willing to see you at 7:30 unless you'd rather wait and schedule something later in the week?"

"No, 7:30 will work," I say, taking a deep breath.

"Dana, are you sure you're alright? I'm worried about you."

"Crystal," I say with an uneasy laugh, "I'm not sure of much of anything right now. This … It's a lot."

"Are you by yourself? Is Mulder with you?"

"No. I haven't … He doesn't know. He's likely still at the office. I had some errands to run … I'm … still processing."

"Do you want me to pick you up," she asks quietly.

I start to insist that I will be fine, but stop short of uttering the words because the truth is that as much as I would like to be alone … I don't need to be.

I also feel as if I owe Crystal an explanation. While I've never outright lied about my medical history, I've certainly not been forthcoming. She's aware of my infertility diagnosis, but only the Cliff Notes version.

"Yes. I'd like that. And Crystal … There's something I need to talk to you about. Something that I haven't told you that you should know before we go, because I'm going to need a favor … a favor that requires a bit of explanation."

"Ok," she says cautiously. "Well, I am about to head out. Do you want me to meet you at your house?"

"No. It's a mess at the moment. I'm running from paint fumes and sawdust. House fire — long story.

"Ok …"

"How about Mitchell's on 51st? It's normally not overly crowded this time of day."

She readily agrees and says that she can be there in 20 to 30 minutes.

Hanging up, I sigh, resting my head against the headrest and closing my eyes.

It's a little after 5:00 when I pull out of my driveway, hold down the command key, and speak Mulder's name.

He picks up on the second ring.

"Hey, Mulder. It's me."

"Hey. I was just about to call you. What are you thinking for dinner? I'm about done here."

"That's actually why I'm calling. I'm on my way to meet Crystal for dinner."

"Oh … Ok. Is everything alright?"

Wincing a bit, I fight to keep my voice level, fearing that he's picked up on something lingering in my voice.

"Yes. Everything's fine. Just catching up."

I'm immediately thankful that he can't see me. He'd know that I was lying if he could.

"Ok. Well, tell her I said hello," he says hesitantly.

"I will."

"So … Should I wait for you or …"

"No. Go ahead and head home."

There's a slight, awkward pause that immediately makes me uncomfortable.

"Are you going to … come out or stay in the city?"

Relief and guilt immediately flow through me as I realize that the apprehension in his voice has nothing to do with anything he's heard in my voice. He's apprehensive because he doesn't know where I intend to spend the night, and feels awkward asking me about it.

He's been hesitant to call our home — home. I told him soon, and he has respected that, waiting patiently for me to make the final move. It was never my intention for waiting to equate to a game of cat and mouse, and I immediately feel guilty that it has. There's no reason for him to question if we are sharing a bed on any given night.

"It's not quite ready for habitation. It's getting there, but there's still a lot of dust and paint fumes. I'll text you when I'm on my way home. I shouldn't be too late," I tell him.

The brief silence that follows tells me that he hasn't missed the emphasis I placed on the word home.

With everything else that is currently grey, we cannot afford for our sleeping arraignments to remain one of them.

"Scully—"

"Order some take-out, watch the Knicks, and enjoy the fact that I won't be there to complain that the TV is too loud," I say in an attempt to lighten the conversation and to distract away from the tension I feel building up inside of me.

"Why Scully … have you been going through my scheduled recordings again," he asks in mock horror.

"No. Once was enough," I say with a chuckle. "I know they are playing because I'm listening even when you think I'm not."

"Good to know."

"Well. I'm getting to a point in traffic where I need to really focus and scrap for parking. I'll text you when I head out."

"Try not to shoot anyone."

"Funny."

"Scully—"

"Mulder … I love you, and I'll see you when I get home."

I hang up without giving him a chance to respond, fearing that if I do, I'll lose my resolve and he'll know something is wrong.

I'm a block away from Mitchell's when my phone dings.

"I love you too," the text reads.

—

"I was about to call and check on you," Crystal says as I approach the isolated table in the back that she's selected.

As predicted, there are very few people inside.

"I was on the phone with Mulder and parking was terrible."

"It usually is this time of day."

"I'm sorry about earlier …"

When I left her office earlier today, I was in a trance. Although I accepted her offer to phone her friend and colleague, I said very little else following the pregnancy revelation.

"It was a lot to take in," she says giving a nod of purpose to the waitress, which I translate to mean that she's already taken the liberty of ordering for us.

Giving her soft smile of appreciation, I take a deep breath in preparation for gathering myself for the conversation we need to have.

"Before we go tonight. There are a few things you should know. Things that I haven't told you — or anyone. Aside from Mulder."

"Ok," she says cautiously.

"When I told you years ago about my infertility … I mislead you. I've always let you assume that my cancer diagnosis is what lead to my infertility, but that's not true. I was infertile before I ever received chemo or radiation."

"Dana—"

"Please. Just … listen. When we go to see your friend tonight, I'm going to make some very specific requests, and I need you to understand why. I'm going to need to you back me up."

"Dana, I can assure you that Valerie is the best, I wouldn't have recommended her otherwise. You don't owe me any explanation or need my—"

"This isn't my first pregnancy. I had a baby in 2001. A boy."

Of all the things she likely expected to come out of my mouth, this was clearly not one of them. Crystal's ability to conceal her emotions and remained poised even in the most intensely stressful situations has always been something that I've appreciated about her, but now, as sits in front of me, her jaw is slack.

"Dana … I don't—"

"I never talk about the work I've done outside of medicine … About what I did and continue to do for the FBI. Not candidly. When people ask, I always give them the company line. I tell them that Mulder and I worked and continue to work very unusual and highly complex cases … cases that other departments and agencies struggle to solve. What I never tell anyone is how dangerous it is or how much it has cost us. I don't tell them that we exposed people, organizations, and truths so sensitive that people were sent to silence us. I don't tell them that my sister was murdered by someone who was sent to kill me."

"Oh my God … Dana—"

"I don't tell them about the terrifying things that I've seen … things that fall well outside of the realms of known science … things that had I have not seen for myself, I would have never have believed."

She stills, her face serious and intense, but this time she doesn't try to speak.

I hesitate before I continue, gauging her expression and readiness for what will come next, all the while knowing that there is little I can do soften the words as they tumble out of my mouth.

"I was abducted in 1994. What was done to me during that period is what lead to my infertility, not cancer."

"Dear God —"

"I don't remember much from that time frame, but shortly after I was found it became clear that things had been done to me. Experiments. Experiments that left me barren. While there is still a great deal that we don't know, what we do know is that there was a genetic basis for the testing that was performed."

"Jesus. I don't … I don't know what say. I'm so sorry."

I nod my head to dismiss the sentiment. There's no reason for her to be sorry.

"As I've told you before, Mulder and I were partners for a little over six years before we became romantically involved. What I never told you is that we tried in vitro — multiple times — to no avail. I had all but given up on becoming a mother when I found out that I was pregnant with William," I say with a sad smile. "William was our miracle."

"I'm so … so terribly sorry. I had no idea."

"He's not dead Crystal," I say quietly.

Her face registers surprise and then confusion. She starts to speak, but before she can form words, I'm speaking again.

"William was born at a time when things were very … complicated … for both of us."

Pulling out my wallet, I hand her a picture of me holding William.

"I couldn't change what our lives had become, but I could do right by him. He deserved a life that we couldn't give him. Not at that time."

"He's beautiful," she says quietly, tears forming in her eyes as she looks closely at the picture.

"You're probably wondering what this has to do with anything," I say, laughing lightly and shifting uncomfortably.

To this, Crystal says nothing. Handing the picture back to me, she waits patiently for me to continue.

"The genetic testing they performed … It manipulated my genetics and changed me in ways that I still don't fully understand. What they did to me extends beyond the realm of known science — even today's science. The traits I now possess … I passed down to William, which in turn, made him of interest."

"To the people who took you?"

"Yes."

"Did you not report this? Dana, I don't—"

"Those responsible weren't civilians."

"Are you saying that the gov—"

"I know things that it's better you don't. I gave William up for adoption because he was innocent. He didn't deserve to be raised in an environment surrounded by threats and fear. I couldn't protect him. The only way to protect him was to let him go — to hide him."

"Dana, I still don't know that I—"

"Tonight I'm going to request an amniocentesis procedure as opposed to a standard, less invasive method, and I'm going to request that a portion of that sample be released directly to me for additional testing." Before she can speak, I raise my palm lightly to silence her. "I know that my risk for miscarriage is already astronomically high given my age. Less invasive methods of testing would be much safer, but none of the others will provide me with a pure enough sample to answer the questions that I have."

She's silent for a moment before she responds.

"Can you tell me what are you looking for?"

"An anomaly. There were extenuating circumstances surrounding William's conception. Mulder and I have never … We've never used any form of contraception. There has never been any reason for us to believe that conceiving a child was possible, not even after William. This pregnancy is medically impossible Crystal, which is why it's essential that I have it done this way. I have to know if this a miracle from God or if it's something else entirely. Because if it's something else entirely, it's going to be William all over again, and I don't think either one of us can survive that twice. Once nearly killed us — it tore us apart."

"Dana … I really have no idea what to say. I'm sure you can understand how—"

"Insane this all sounds. Yes. Yes, I do. Which is why I've always just let you and everyone else who is somewhat familiar with my medical history assume that my cancer is what caused my infertility."

To this, she sighs.

"I wasn't going to use the word insane."

"Crazy? Ludicrous?"

"No. Not those either. Does Mulder know about tonight?"

"No."

"Does he know about them … about the genetics?" she asks cautiously, choosing her words carefully as the waitress brings out two small sandwiches and two cups of hot tea.

Crystal gives her nod of appreciation but quickly turns attention back to me.

"He knows. He knows everything."

"Then why—"

"I've already taken one child from him," I say quietly.

A heavy silence fills the table as I fight to hold back the tears forming in my eyes.

"When William was born we gave him my last name. Mulder wasn't … safe. Instead of being the father he so desperately wanted be … he went into hiding … he ran. He wasn't there when I signed our rights away. It was a life-defining moment for both of us, but only one of us was present. That moment bound us forever. It also tore us apart. That's why he's not here. If this child isn't a miracle from God … if it's not healthy and doesn't stand a chance, I won't put him through that. Not again. He's lost enough. We both have. I can't tell him until I'm absolutely sure."

"Dana—"

"I know it's a lot to ask … to process. I know because at one point I was sitting where you are … talking to women with similar stories to mine. It's insanity. It's crazy. It's ludicrous. And that's how they've gotten away with it. It's so improbably ludicrous that it serves to protect itself. But you know me. You've known me for years. I'm asking you to trust me … I'm asking you to help me. This has to be done my way, and it has to be done quietly. Lives depend on it."

After a moment's silence, she reaches across the table, grabs my hand, and squeezes.

"Ok," she says simply.

—

When I get home, I find Mulder on the couch the drinking a beer and watching the Knicks. They're up 2 with 2:32 remaining after being down 15 at the beginning of the 3rd quarter. Even with the heaviness of today's events, I can't help but smile at his excitement.

I don't know a tremendous amount about basketball, but I can tell by how happy he is that this is not a game the Knicks were picked to win. His smile and rushed explanation of what happened in the 3rd quarter are a breath of fresh air, and I'm immediately grateful to whatever planets aligned to make it happen.

Kissing him lightly on the lips, I excuse myself to shower and change clothes.

At the clinic, my resolve wavered as soon as I heard the heartbeat.

It was William all over again.

It was impossible.

It was wonderful.

And it was terrifying.

Stripping down, I turn on the water on as high and as hot as I can stand it, attempting the wash away the sorrow and guilt I feel pooling inside of me.

Had I made a mistake in demanding an amniocentesis?

Everything looked perfect. Nothing at all to indicate any abnormalities. Age aside, it's absolutely perfect.

I'm 54 years old and 11 weeks pregnant.

Crystal and I opted to give Valerie the Cliff Notes version of my medical history when she expressed caution in performing the testing I requested, especially given that I'm only at 11 weeks. Amniocentesis is typically not completed until the second trimester, and even then there are generally abnormal findings that drive that line of testing.

Amniocentesis is, however, a fairly common practice with concern for genetic defects, and William did present with genetic abnormalities. What we told Valerie was misleading, but not an outright lie. Alien DNA is not something that is caught unless you know what you are looking for. It requires a mapping of the entire genome.

The labs Valerie uses will likely tell me the same thing I was told 17 years ago — that everything is perfect. But I didn't know then what I know now, which is why I requested that two samples be taken. One of which, I will analyze myself.

The mere thought of finding what I fear I will find makes me sick to my stomach. Tears prickle in my eyes as I consider the implications. If it is William all over again, can I do it? Can I ask Mulder to do it? Deep in my heart, I already know the answer. As soon as I heard the heartbeat I was in love, but that doesn't make me any less terrified.

A sob escapes me before I can stop it.

"Scully?"

Shit.

I try to rein it in, but before I can make a move to swallow my cries and speak to reassure him, he's behind me, wrapping his arms around me.

"Scully, what's wrong? What happened?"

At this point, I can't tell him that I'm ok. Not when it's quite clear that I'm anything but.

"I … I told Crystal about William."

It's not a lie, and it's as close to the truth as I'm willing to go.

"Oh."

"It's just too much Mulder," I say as I continue to cry, no longer attempting to swallow my sobs. "How did we get to point in our lives where we can't even tell our closest friends that we have a child because telling them requires an explanation that defies all logic and sounds completely insane?"

"I'm sorry Scully. I'm so sorry."

Turning to face him, I press myself against him and lay my head against his chest, unable to look at him.

"It's not your fault. It's not either of our faults. It's them. It's always been them. And they are still out there, scot-free … doing it to someone else … ruining someone else's life because we quit … because like you said — we let them win."

"Scully—"

"That's on me. I begged you stop. I demanded that you stop because I thought that just living would be enough. But this .… this isn't living. Waiting for the next shoe to drop isn't living. You got that. You got that from the very beginning."

To this he says nothing.

We stand under the warm water in silence for several minutes before I speak again.

"We have to stop them Mulder, and not just for William," I say as I brave looking up into his eyes.

Nodding, he reaches for my body wash and lathers my pouf. I move to help him, but he stops me, reverently running his hands over my body as he washes me. When he moves on to my hair, he pulls me out from underneath the cascade of water and turns me to face away from him so that he can massage my scalp and then my neck before rinsing me.

"Dry off and go lay down on the bed, I'll join you in a minute," he says softly

"Mulder—"

"The oil is under the sink."

"Mulder you don't have to—"

But before I can tell him that I just want to go to sleep his lips are on mine. He doesn't deepen the kiss or run his hands across my body as a prelude to sex. He hands and lips touch me as if I'm made of glass, lightly ghosting over my skin.

"Dry off and go lay down," he says, his lips mere inches from mine.

This time I don't argue.

Giving him a nod I exit the shower, leaving him to finish alone.

I do as he requests, not bothering to dress or cover myself.

Within a few minutes, the bed dips and I can hear him rubbing the massage oil onto his hands. He starts at my neck and shoulders and works his way down, digging into my tense and aching muscles.

I immediately relax, surrendering my body to his hands. At some point, I manage to fall asleep because when I come to, he's gently urging me to move so that he can pull the comforter and sheets down.

Turning off the bedside lamps he joins me, pulling the covers up over us and wrapping his arms around me from behind.

"Thank you."

Removing a strand of hair from my face and placing it behind my ear, he kisses my cheek and rests his head alongside mine.

"You're welcome."

Silence fills the room as we snuggle into each other's embrace.

"I miss my mom," I whisper into the dark. "I wish so badly that I could talk to her."

"I miss her too."

No more words are spoken as we drift off to sleep.

AN: Sorry that it has taken me several weeks to update! Finals were brutal this semester. A special thanks to ATTHS_TWICE for giving this an early read and providing feedback :)