Part III: Haven/Nesting

I knew there was a reason I fell in love with this man.

Despite the sudden and bizarre way we'd had to run from my apartment Mulder was unfazed and calm and competent, clearly trying to think of everything we needed and how best to handle my safety. I knew damn well that if I went into labor before we found a way to get me to a hospital all that would change and fast, but in the meantime I was impressed and touched.

After we left the store I dozed off in the car and while I was sleeping he found a very remote, cheap but not sleazy motel in a town called Gingham, West Virginia, not far from Beckley. Gingham appeared to have a population of perhaps three hundred, tops, but also had a 24-hour gas station/mini-mart and, to my surprise, no police station. We later agreed that they were likely serviced by the state bears or Beckley city police, which actually fit our parameters nicely.

The motel was the Gingham Court Lodges and what made it perfect was that it was a series of small two-room cabins—main room and bath—scattered in a small forest not far from the main road. When Mulder enquired it was no problem to get the furthest and most remote cabin which was a good five hundred yards or more from the closest one. It had a decent-sized bathroom with an old-fashioned claw tub as well as a shower stall, and a kitchenette with an under-the-counter refrigerator, tabletop stove and microwave, though no oven. Still, it was far better than I had expected us to get in the middle of Appalachia.

We had come over five hours from D.C. and that was about as long as I felt comfortable sitting in the car this far along in my pregnancy as I told Mulder after we left the Wal-Mart; it was a lot longer than I would normally allow but I knew I had to risk it to keep us safe. Gingham looked to be remote enough that we felt somewhat safe, though both of us were still on alert for anything suspicious.

I fell asleep somewhere on I-64 and woke to a fait accompli. The motel office wasn't open 24 hours but did open at six a.m. and Mulder actually carried me into our cabin after he got us checked in. I didn't ask, but suspected that we were Mr. & Mrs. George Hale—if he used the Petrie alias I would likely kill him and worry about who'd deliver my baby afterward so I was better off ignorant of the fact. He got me into the room and I was barely awake enough to hit the bed like a ton of bricks. I woke around ten o'clock to use the bathroom and Mulder was curled around me, both of us still mostly dressed in the clothes we'd worn on the race from my apartment though minus our shoes. I took off my stretch pants and blouse, leaving on my white t-shirt and ugly maternity underwear. Ah well, I wasn't exactly centerfold material at this point and Mulder had certainly seen me looking worse over the years. I cringed every time I remembered what I'd looked like after he'd rescued me in Antarctica and even with a giant belly out front I knew I looked nowhere near that bad now.

When I went to crawl back in with him I saw that while I was in the bathroom Mulder had gotten up long enough to remove his sweater and t-shirt and jeans, now wearing only his familiar heather-grey boxer-briefs. He was sprawled in the middle of the bed on his back, the covers kicked down to his knees, dozing, as I returned from the bathroom. I hadn't seen him this undressed in nearly a year and I was surprised at the strong feeling of sexual arousal that surged through me. It might just have been pregnancy hormones and the timing was horrible, but as I got back into the bed I was damned tempted to start something with him. Even if I couldn't have intercourse there was plenty of other things we could do, but as soon as I laid down he curled around me again and I went right back to sleep, having only a moment to enjoy the feeling of his long, lean body against mine before I was out like a light again.

I awoke for the day near one o'clock, aghast that I'd slept so long, with a sore back from not having all my pillows to prop my belly on and a bladder so full that I was afraid to move. Luckily Mulder wasn't in the room so I risked it, barely making it onto the toilet before I let go. I also had mild diarrhea which concerned me briefly but after only one incidence and no cramps I forgot about it.

When I came out of the bathroom I found a scrawled note on a scrap of paper bag saying that Mulder had gone to contact the Gunmen about ID for me, not to worry and he'd be back with food and more supplies soon.

After showering, and thank goodness for the shower stall because I was well beyond the challenge of the tub, I changed into one of the maternity outfits I'd gotten at that disgusting Wal-Mart—I was never going in one of those places again!—and sorted through the stuff we'd bought. I wasn't very hungry though I thought I should be starving, and my back was really hurting no matter what I did be it sit, stand or recline. Mulder had brought the case of water in from the trunk of his car and put most of it in the little dorm-room-type fridge and I drank several bottles during the afternoon. It also held a few cups of yogurt, a prepackaged gas station turkey and Swiss on white sandwich, and two empty ice cube trays which I filled and set in the tiny freezer.

I thought about calling him on his cell then decided that I didn't need to bother him and fussed around the room instead. I put all the towels in one large bag, the blankets and baby outfits in another, and set them neatly at the foot of the bed where they were out of our way but within close reach should we need them. I went through Mulder's travel bag and put both of our clothes in the long, low, circa-1970s dresser which, despite its age, worked fine and was unmarked by water rings or cigarette burns.

As I unpacked I found Mulder's old grey Knicks t-shirt, which I had often worn around his apartment after we'd made love and didn't want to get dressed. I lifted it to my face and inhaled—he must have worn this to run or play hoops in before tossing it into his overnight bag and it smelled strongly of his clean honest sweat, which reminded me of the times we'd made love. My body went on red alert again but the pain in my back countered it; regardless, I set it aside so I could wear it tonight. Even as huge as I was I knew it would hang loosely down to my knees.

Just as I was restlessly looking for something else to do, I heard a car door slam outside and peered carefully out the window beside the door. Mulder, looking so damn handsome and masculine that I wanted to leap on him bodily, was walking the short distance from the car to the cabin carrying a bag. I opened the door, smiling at him, but was rather dismayed to see his expression. "What's wrong?" I said, stepping back as he walked in. "Is there—"

"Nothing serious, it's just that the Gunmen can't get you ID; the contact they use for the forging isn't available and they don't have another right now," he said heavily, setting a large paper sack on the counter next to the stove. "Without it a green rookie could spot the ID as fake. Frohike thinks we should try to take you to a hospital with no ID. I asked him to try and make something anyway but he's not sure what they can do. I'm afraid, Scully, we may have to deliver your baby ourselves right here in this room. It looks to be the only safe thing to do, otherwise those goddamn Super Soldiers or replicants or whatever the fuck Billy Miles is now will find you."

Oh, shit.

I sat down heavily on the bed and stared up at him. "Mulder… there are so many things that could go wrong I don't now where to start… and I'm pretty sure that if I'm in the throes of labor I'm not going to be able to tell you what to do."

"That's why I got those books," he said, pointing at a stack on the nightstand on "his" side. "There is a clinic with an ambulance service in Beckley, and that's only ten minutes away. If you don't want to risk it, Scully, I'll take you there but I think we should try it ourselves. I won't hesitate to call for help if we need it."

I thought it over as he put away the contents of the bag, not really noticing what he'd gotten, chewing on my lower lip. Finally I raised my eyes to him, heaving a sigh. "I'm afraid you're right, and I do mean I'm afraid," I said honestly. "This is insane and incredibly stupid bordering on dangerous for both the baby and myself, but I don't know what else to do."

He came over and sat down next to me on the bed, putting an arm around my shoulders and pulling me gently against his side. His other hand reached over and caressed my stomach over the brown maternity blouse, and he smiled down at it. "Hey—we can do this, Scully. You've delivered babies before, right?"

"As the primary just the one in Florida," I admitted, letting myself sag against him. His gentle touch and caring was exactly what I needed right now. "You'd better get to reading, Mulder, because I'm serious, I doubt I'll be able to help you while I'm actually in labor. And I could have this baby any time, or not for a couple weeks."

"All right, all right." He dropped an absent kiss on top of my head and got up, pausing to unlace and take off his hiking boots before going around to the other side of the bed. As he sat down and picked up a book I went to see what he'd gotten, and as I opened the fridge I had a sudden vision of a pint of ice cream. In particular, Ben & Jerry's "everything but the…" which is chocolate and vanilla with Heath bar and white chocolate chunks, peanut butter cups and almonds and maybe more I couldn't remember. I damn near drooled down the front of my shirt thinking about it, and I suddenly had to have some.

"Mulder… I need some ice cream."

"What, now? I just…"

I slammed the little fridge door and turned to glare at him. "You have missed most of this pregnancy, but I have not. For once, just once, you get to do the expectant father thing and GO GET ME SOME GODDAMN ICE CREAM—NOW!"

Twenty minutes later he returned with five different pints of Ben & Jerry's ice cream; he hadn't been able to find the one I was craving, but he did find Vanilla Heath Bar Crunch, Chunky Monkey, Vanilla Caramel Fudge, Peanut Butter Cup, and Butter Pecan and brought all of them back for me. I laughed so hard I was afraid I'd put myself into labor as he unloaded them onto the counter, and we ended up sitting on the bed reading the books together and eating almost all of that ice cream.

But as we got ready for bed and I pulled on his Knicks t-shirt I warned him that if he tried to get me to do or even so much as mention the Lamaze breathing one more time I was going to bean him with the book about it. And if he didn't believe me he would soon find out how serious I was. I was worried and nervous enough about this whole thing that I didn't need to think about my goddamn breathing!