Spoilers: Alludes to facts later learned in Season 8.

Chapter 4

At 10:05 on a Thursday morning, Mulder found himself throwing pencils at the ceiling. He had just gotten back from his last case in Martha Stewart's suburbia late last night but didn't want to skip out on a chance to see Scully. Ellen Adderly's comment about significant others got under his skin. He needed to somehow reconnect with his partner and get some assurance that her murderous thoughts of him were said jokingly, although he hasn't really done much lately to warrant her mercy.

They hadn't spoken a word about their dalliance since that fateful Friday he gave her a bogus X-file. He had hinted at it at a previous case involving some kind of Appalachian voodoo just to let her know that he was still sort of thinking about that. But all things considered, it was surprisingly easy to get their grove back. Truly, as if nothing happened. Except the time he acted like a jealous boyfriend when she ran off with the cigarette smoking SOB. He could not help but panic at the thought of losing her. But since then, he had consciously avoided calling her after hours and laid off on the physical contact, just in case she took it differently. He was even a little too eager to get out from the cramped quarters he was sharing with Scully during their latest stake-out. It was all too tempting. One false move and his game could be over.

10:08. She wasn't showing up. He picked up the Rubik's Cube that was lying on his desk and studied it. This was just like their relationship. It's all jumbled up. For all intents and purposes Scully was his significant other. The sum of all their moments and feelings for each other would constitute that. But each moment shared, each feeling returned or otherwise, seemed to be compartmentalized in each of those colored squares. All the components of significant 'othership' were there: deep love, friendship, devotion and respect, sexual attraction, first and last call of the day, a run for parenthood, and now even sex. He just needed to get all the colors lined up. But where should he even begin?

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"What did you get me?" She said as she answered the door. There were no formalities with them. No "Hi, "hello", "can I come in" exchanges.

"Kleenex with aloe and chicken noodle soup. Hein put in some spring rolls especially for you." He followed her to the kitchen. After spending the whole morning thinking and the whole afternoon playing (he left work early to play a round of hoops with co-eds at GW), Mulder gave Scully a call to tell her he was in the neighborhood. Sounding a little under the weather, he thought some TLC would do her good.

"You were at the Froggy Bottom? What did you get for yourself?"

"A Cajun ribeye and a crab cake dinner." He looked so proud of himself.

"Unfair." She grabbed a fork and stabbed at the crab cake for a bite.

"Hey, you're spreading your germs!"

"Mulder, do you think I care? Look at me. I spent three days glued to a telescope eating nothing but cold yet moldy pizza in an oversized freezer looking at prostitutes do the funky." The woman had a point. Scully was in warm flannel pajamas instead of her usual silk ones, slipper socks, and eye glasses. Her hair was disheveled and, as she wasn't wearing any make-up, he got the full view of her freckles and tissue-beaten nose. She was frumpy by most standards but for him, she looked as pretty as can be.

They had dinner over companionable conversation, almost as if the lightness of the topics was deliberate: the weather forecast predicting temperatures in the high 70's in late March ("Sorry Scully, looks like spring will be here early and you'll need to show up at work"), the crazy guy who likes to bike shirtless, Maggie Scully's new obsession with quilts. Scully had relented to eat on the comfortable couch in front of a silenced TV as long as he didn't wipe his hands on her throw pillows. She was glad she splurged on the couch. Times like these, the support it provided made the price worth it. Her back was killing her.

"Crouched too long holding the telescope, eh Scully?" Scully looked at him with a raised eyebrow and gave him an accusing look as if he personally caused her this affliction. He did bail out on her. "Ok, ok. Here, let me unknot you."

Mulder cracked his knuckles and proceeded to knead the affected areas on her back. She moaned dangerously in approval. He had a talent for using his hands.

"You're being awfully nice tonight, Mulder. Did you wreck the rental? Miss a report?"

"What, this? No, no. This is for just in case you want to kill me again, because I'm pretty darn sure that will happen sooner or later. When that happens, I'd like you to think of the one good thing I did and maybe that will spare my life…or end my agony."

"Aww, Mulder. You're not that bad."

"Really? Ellen Adderly made roast beef on a Tuesday for her cheating husband. I just seem to give you trouble, or illness. Or both. The least I can give you is a backrub." He heard Scully give out a big sigh. Uh-oh, he thought.

"I'm bad about showing my appreciation for everything you've done for me," she said softly. The air was beginning to change from playful to solemn.

"Yeah?" he challenged her. "Like what?"

"Like when you didn't pull the plug on me when I was returned…or when you wouldn't give up on finding a cure for my cancer…or when you went to Antarctica to save my ass."

"I just didn't want to be left to do all the paperwork." He was always self-deprecating.

"Or when you agreed to help me... get pregnant, no questions asked. I didn't even thank you for that. So, 'Thank You.'" She patted the hand that was rubbing her left shoulder. "You would have been a great father."

He was glad she had her back to him because at that instant he was overwhelmed by his own suppressed sadness. He wanted to give some witty remark but didn't trust himself to speak. He was as invested in that procedure as she was. He wanted her to be pregnant. He wanted her to have his child. Heck, he didn't need Maxim or FHM at the doctor's office to fill a cup. He didn't even get off on the image of a naked Scully. He jerked off to the thought of Scully pregnant, of smelling the sleeping head of their baby boy (he imagined a baby girl first but his memory of Emily pained him), of them taking their son to his first Yankees-Red Sox game, of camping in the Shenandoah, a Sunday hike at Great Falls, a road trip to the Baseball Hall of Fame, and coming home to hold Scully's hand. He wished his little swimmers off and prayed that his little half-Mulders would make their mommy very happy.

The day Scully found out she wasn't pregnant was also the day he was told that his days were definitely numbered. They both needed a miracle.

Remembering how cruel the world was made Mulder want to wrap himself around her to protect her from it. Instead he drew her closer, smelled her hair and kissed the tip of her ear. He wanted to tell her he was sorry he couldn't deliver, that she should have chosen someone else because his boys were probably dying too, and that his one big regret in life was that he will miss seeing her happy.

Scully turned to see Mulder with his eyes downcast.

"Hey," she said with a sad smile. He couldn't even manage to lift up his head to meet hers. He felt like an utter failure. She cupped his face and very gently kissed his eyes and wiped the tears that finally found its way out. She hugged him tightly and kissed his neck, his cheek and his lips.

That night they made love for the future they couldn't have. It was tentative yet tender, sincere but unsure. Mulder seemed to ask permission for every new caress he took. Scully was giving it all.

After their lovemaking, she didn't ask him to leave. Instead she clung to him with her head on his chest and her arm around his waist. If that wasn't love making, then what is? He thought. And then it dawned on him. He was totally unprepared for this. Now what?

***

Froggy Bottom Pub really exists near the Foggy Bottom metro station. It was a longtime sponsor of my ol' softball team. What's next? I'm really not sure so help me out!