Rating: G

Spoilers: Vague references to season 8.

Summary: Set roughly sometime during DeadAlive. Scully's thoughts on how her life has changed. Implied MSR.

Scully sighed inwardly as she immersed her hands in the warm water. Her back ached, her feet ached, her head ached but ironically this was her favourite part of the day. In fact, she left the dishes unwashed after breakfast and lunch just so that she could spend longer doing them in the evenings. She smiled bitterly to herself. So much had changed. She had only started coming home from the office for lunch since Mulder... well, he would laugh if he could see her now; elbow deep in sudsy water.

A few stray tears dripped into the sink. Scully brushed her cheeks clumsily, getting soapy water on her face. She didn't particularly care... her appearance worried her very little these days. At work she did her best to look respectable; she had bought herself a few maternity clothes in her typical style. At home, however, she just wandered around in sweatpants and string tops, her swollen stomach protruding between the two. Scully had never felt the urge to fuss too much about her appearance but now she cared less than ever. For her, the experience of pregnancy was tainted by Mulder's absence, coupled with her ever present worries about her baby. Their baby. She didn't want to let herself think anything to the contrary.

She had allowed herself to fall into the rhythm of her occupation: wash, rinse, stack. She enjoyed it for its monotony; it allowed her to think properly while keeping her grounded at the same time. Scully was well aware of the rumours that went around at work. She knew that she was the subject of many hushed conversations around the water cooler. Who had finally melted the Ice Queen, they all wondered. She had long given up trying to maintain any sort of dignified front, opting only for hostile silence as she passed them with her head lowered and a carefully blank expression painted on her features as she headed for the basement office, files cradled against her pregnant stomach. How couldn't they know it was Mulder? Goodness, most complete strangers made assumptions about their relationship. She had thought that it was quite clear how they felt about each other, to others at least, even though it had taken them almost seven hears to admit it to themselves.

Scully realised that she had been scrubbing the same spot on the pan for the last several minutes. Pull yourself together Dana. Scully shook her head a little, bringing herself back to earth. She couldn't make this about herself. Heck, most of the time she was on the very verge of drowning in her own misery; the glaring gap that Mulder had left, filled with what seemed like a lifetime worth of tears cried in the space of a few months. Given the choice, Scully would have died the day that they buried him, but she had to think of the baby. Her life was no longer her own, she felt helpless in the grip of it all. But she had to live for this baby, if for no other reason than it was her last tenuous connection to Mulder. At first she couldn't accept it, point blank refusing to go and visit his grave, to read his name on that headstone. It was so wrong... He had never found his truth, his life had been wasted... she never even got the chance to tell him about their child.

More tears welled up behind Scully's eyes as she emptied the water down the drain and picked up the dishcloth to start drying. She still hadn't been back there since the funeral, but some part of her mind was slowly and reluctantly beginning to accept that he wasn't coming back. It was becoming just that little bit easier to walk into the office and not see him there, leaning back in his chair eating sunflower seeds or poring over a new case. Scully cursed herself for accepting it, feeling that she was betraying his memory; forgetting him too soon. She couldn't bear to forget him; wanting his crooked smile, the sound of him cracking sunflower seeds, the feel of his hand on the small of her back to remain as clear and tangible to her as they had always been. God, she loved him still; loved him with all the strength that she could muster from the depths of her battered soul. Her heart told her that she would know if he were dead, that he couldn't possibly be. She felt their connection as strongly as ever; sometimes in her sleep she could hear him screaming her name. His voice sounded as though he was in terrible pain. Her acceptance of his passing could only go so far. She couldn't absolutely convince herself. Of course, the admittance of such to anyone else only earned her sympathetic looks.

That was another thing Scully hated. Being pregnant meant that everyone treated you like an invalid all the time. She was sick to death of being offered the nearest chair when she walked into a room and constantly asked if she was thirsty or needed anything. Only a precious few like Doggett and Skinner had the sense not to hover over her all the time. Doggett would get her something as soon as she asked, but not before, an insight into her character that she appreciated. He was a good man, and he didn't try to replace Mulder but God forgive her, Scully couldn't help comparing the two. She felt guilty when she longed for Mulder's insight on a case or just a flash of his awful sense of humour.

Scully placed the last pan back in the cupboard and poured herself a glass of water to take her iron supplement with. Sitting on the sofa in an apartment that felt as hollow as her heart, she addressed her stomach; "Just you and me."

For now... her heart couldn't help but finish.

Authors Note:

This little ficlet marks my return to fanfiction! This is my first attempt to write about the most sacred show that is Files! I didn't want to try anything too adventurous as you can see... this one came to me when I was washing the dishes, surprise, surprise! Harsh criticism welcome, but don't just flame pointlessly, that doesn't help me to learn! I'm thinking of continuing it as a series right through to season 8, so let me know if you think I should. Feedback is so much appreciated! )