I knew last night couldn't last but a part of me was
so happy to pretend that maybe it could. I was wrong though. When I woke up in his arms, I still can't
believe that I spent the night in the hospital with him, I felt the tension in
him. He wanted me to leave. I didn't want to go but even know I question
myself for saying that. Lately I've
been thinking about Mulder more then I should. In ways I know I shouldn't. I
don't know why and I hope it stops soon. I keep telling myself we aren't like
that. My foolish brain won't listen
though and I end up lost in some fantasy where Mulder and I are playing house. I'm marking it up to the hormones. If he ever found out I'd never hear the end
of it.
I wish I had my partner back. That sounds strange doesn't it? But it's true non-the less. When I left him this morning I felt his eyes
drilling a hole in my back. I should
have turned around and given him some sign or something but all I wanted to do
was leave him to stew. Some sick
vindictive part of me wanted to hurt him for his coldness. For pulling away
from me.
This whole thing has gotten me more
messed up then I thought possible. Now
I'm standing here in the hall outside of his room thinking mean, vengeful
thoughts when all he did was pull away. He hadn't said anything; he hadn't done anything to warrant anything
bad. The man had just been back from
hell and I was feeling bad for myself over nothing. Great show of compassion Scully.
But that wasn't all, my foolish self
tried to justify. I knew what I had
gotten into when I entered the room but still some little part of me had
entered and had wanted to pretend that things were going to be just like they
used to be. His glances at my stomach
and the anger that flashed through his eyes when he thought I wasn't looking
had brought reality crashing hard and I was still licking my wounds from
it. The anger had turned to a sadness
that seemed to congregate in his liquid eyes putting out the fire and pooling
like cool raw mercury and shooting daggers straight into my heart. And I got
all that from about twenty minutes of talking to him. I didn't want to go through the next twenty hours with him.
I didn't want to tell him about
William.
It would be exceedingly uncomfortable
and he would look at me with those hurt puppy eyes. He would blame himself. He always did. He'd feel guilty
that he couldn't give me a child. He'd
think he failed me. He probably already
did. He wouldn't ask who the father
was. That question would burn a hole in
his mind, picking one applicant or the other depending on which pawn fit the
playing field for that inning. And even
after I set him straight he'd always question it. Not because he didn't believe me but because it was in his nature
to question everything.
This wasn't the way it was supposed to
be. The naïve part of me had believed
that William would bridge the gap but instead he made it bigger.
William kicked me seeming to resent my
thoughts and I smiled repentantly. No
it wasn't his fault it was his d--- father. He hadn't been awake for a total of thirty minutes and he had already
frustrated me almost to exasperation. And I had the audacity to admit that I had missed that when he was gone.
I let my mind wander over my reference
to Mulder as William's father. It felt
right. I didn't know how to broach the
topic with him though. It's not like we
could just let that one slide like so many other things we would let go
unsaid. I'd have to confront him with
that offer too.
Needless to say I was not looking forward to going back in there.