Title: Struggling
Category: X-Files XRA
Author: Singing Violin (Pearl on Ephemeral/Gossamer)
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: The X-Files characters and universe are not mine.
Summary: What happens after the screen goes black in "My Struggle II"?
Archiving: Anywhere, just let me know.
It was dinnertime when they returned, and William had emptied his mother's breasts twice during the time they were out, so Scully was ravenous.
Still, the feast that Margaret laid out seemed exorbitant. "Mom?" Scully asked. "Unless William has suddenly become a teenager," and then she paused, suppressing the twinge rising in her chest at the thought, "there's no way we can finish all this food."
The older Scully smiled warmly. "We're having guests, Dana. They'll be here in a moment."
Dana blinked. Guests? Was she ready for anyone outside her family to see her? Would she be able to make small talk, appear her professional self, even though she'd spent the last few days...weeks?...mostly in bed, fending off bouts of tears between cuddles with her newly-found long-lost children? "Anyone I know, Mom?" she managed to blurt out.
Margaret grinned. "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."
Just then, the doorbell rang, and in walked three very familiar people. Scully's eyes grew wide as each one in turn approached her enveloped her in an enthusiastic embrace. "Byers! Langly! Frohike!" she squeaked as they hugged her.
"But...you're dead!" she finally pointed out, blinking fiercely against the tears collecting in her eyes.
Margaret sighed and spoke to them. "She said the same thing about me. Just...give her a bit of time."
They ignored the older Scully. "We're not dead, I promise," said Byers.
"We can explain," Langly added. "Probably. Maybe."
"If we were dead, could I do this?" Frohike asked, leaning forward and pecking Dana on the cheek, letting his lips linger a moment longer than necessary.
At that, Dana screwed up her face slightly and began to laugh, shaking her head. "I will figure out what's going on."
"We don't expect any less," Byers answered.
"When do we get to eat?" asked Langly. "I'm starved, and that," he continued, eying the spread, "looks amazing."
"Thank you," said Margaret. "Dana was out all afternoon, and I might have gone a little overboard, but I wanted to make sure everyone had enough to eat. Please sit, everyone."
After the meal, mostly consumed in silence with the occasional break for small talk, Dana began to feel a familiar heavy feeling wash over her. She'd hoped to have a heart-to-heart with the Lone Gunmen: if anyone could help her figure out what was going on, they could—but she quickly realized that she was far too tired to carry on a coherent conversation, let alone any sort of investigation.
"Can I help you clean up?" she asked her mother, even as her eyes drooped.
Margaret shook her head. "No need. You look beat...why don't you go up to bed?"
She looked questioningly at the men, who had risen from the table and were helping to clear it. "We've got this," Frohike assured her. "Go get some rest. Mothers always know best."
"I was hoping we could talk," Scully answered.
Now it was Byers' turn to address her, and he leaned down and whispered in her ear conspiratorially. "I don't think it's a good time."
Feeling cornered and too exhausted to fight, Scully nodded, then addressed all three of them. "All right, but promise me you'll come back soon. I really do want to catch up."
"We will," Frohike told her.
"Promise," added Langly.
"Come on, Mommy," said Emily, who had somehow managed to change into her pajamas while the adults finished eating, and was now pulling Dana's arm. "If you're going upstairs too, you can tuck me in."
Scully nodded vaguely. "Yeah. Yes, of course, Sweetie."
After Dana put her daughter to bed, Margaret brought her the baby, who nursed himself to sleep in her arms, then was whisked away before she could even kiss him goodnight.
Dana had no idea whether the Gunmen had left yet when she succumbed to fatigue, drifting into slumber almost before her head hit the pillow.