Okay, so I had some questions about the whole CSM thing in the last chapter. Honestly, I debated for awhile whether or not to put that in. I finally decided to go ahead and do it because I wanted a way to ensure that they could still be on the X files together even if they had kids. Maybe it wasn't the best way to do it, but it was the only thing I could think of that would work.

So, on with the story.

Chapter 15 (Scully)

Somehow, we both managed to convey so much with those three simple words. Admittedly, we had always had a knack with nonverbal communication, but when Mulder told me that he loved me, I knew that it was different than when anyone else told me. I was never entirely sure what the difference was; perhaps it was the tone which he used when he said it, perhaps it was the way he always looked me directly in the eye as if he cared about nothing in the world but me, or perhaps it was something else entirely, something I could not quite put my finger on. Whatever it was, however, it was what made our relationship unique.

And as he continued to kiss me languidly, I marveled at how well he understood me. He always seemed to know exactly what to do in any situation. He was the only person who ever truly understood me, who knew what I needed at any given time. His searching fingers found the most sensitive points on my skin, and he took full advantage of them as he skillfully built up my desire. I felt his fingers dance over my stomach, moving upwards to my breasts. His kisses remained slow and deep as if he believed we had all the time in the world. And as we continued to kiss, I almost began to believe this, too. At least, I wanted to believe.

We had just gotten dressed again when I heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. Sending up a silent prayer that we had not finished a minute later, I shooed Mulder from my room, and he grudgingly left. Following him, I flipped off the lights, and we met my parents and Charlie in the entranceway. Charlie immediately glued himself to Mulder's side, exclaiming over a basketball game he had seen recently, and Mulder listened intently, making the occasional comment. I glanced at my mother who was smiling fondly at the two. "Bill and Missy still out?" she questioned as they crossed out of sight into the living room.

"Yes," I answered.

"You two have fun?" My mother looked back to me, her probing eyes searching my face. I tried to keep my face impassive as I answered, hoping that she would not be able to tell what we had been doing.

"We did," I confirmed.

"Good." I could tell by her expression that she knew exactly what had happened, but she said nothing, instead choosing to follow Charlie and Mulder into the living room.

The goodbye the following morning was not easy for either of us. Over the years, we had both grown accustomed to not showing emotions, and there were no tears shed as we embraced. When he pulled back, however, I could clearly see the sadness in his dark eyes, and I knew the same unhappiness was mirrored in my own eyes. He looked at me for a moment before leaning forward, and our lips met in a kiss full of longing and passion. I recognized the feeling well; it was the same way I had felt when we were kissing goodbye before he had left to go into hiding so many years before. But this time was different. This time, I knew when we would see one another again. This time, I was more assured of what the future held for both of us. I just had to keep reminding myself of this fact.

Eventually, he pulled away and rested his forehead against mine. "I'll see you in a few weeks," he promised quietly. Once again, he realized exactly what I needed to hear. With that simple statement, he was assuring me that this time was indeed different, promising that he was not ever going to leave for such an uncertain period of time again. No matter what, we were sticking together now.

The taxi he had earlier called honked, and he gave me a final kiss before shouldering his bag and heading for the car. After throwing his bag in the back seat, he turned back to me and raised his hand in goodbye. I returned the gesture and stood watching as he climbed into the car and the car drove off. Even after it had disappeared around the corner, I continued to watch the fumes from the exhaust drift away in the wind. My hand involuntarily sought out my stomach. Since I was just three months along, I could not feel any movement, but I still knew that the baby was there, a piece of Mulder that would always be with me.

January seemed to pass interminably slow. Mulder and I still wrote each other frequently, but it was not the same as seeing each other every day. I would give him updates on the pregnancy, and he would usually tell me about basketball or his latest conspiracy theory. I looked forward to reading his letters every night, for they always made me smile. Missy thought I was crazy, claiming that he was "just a guy." No matter how many times I tried to explain that he was much more than "just a guy," she still would not listen, so I eventually gave up trying. I honestly think she may have been a little bit jealous.

By February, I was beginning to show. I wore baggy clothes and usually tried to carry my books in front of my body or sit in such a way that my desk blocked my stomach, two tactics which seemed to work fairly well. At least, no one asked any questions except for Kristen whom I was planning on telling anyway. She was unhappy at first, exclaiming over how it was going to ruin my plans for medical school, but she let up somewhat when she realized I was happy.

One day in late February, I was staying after school for a science club meeting. One of the other guys in the club had offered to walk me to my locker, and I had accepted, being too nice to refuse. As I gathered my stuff from my locker, he stood awkwardly beside me, not saying anything. I tried to make small talk by asking about a project he had been working on for biology lab, but I quickly realized his attention was not focused on what I was saying. Looking over at him, I noticed that he was staring at my stomach which, with the coat I typically wore off and my books now in my locker, was fairly obviously rounded.

"You're pregnant?" he questioned incredulously.

"Yes," I said honestly, slightly irritated now by the fact that he was acting as if he had never seen a pregnant woman before. "Why?"

He seemed to sense my irritation, for he quickly averted his eyes. "Nothing. I just. . . didn't know. I didn't think you were the type. . . "

"The type to what? Get herself knocked up?" By this time, I was extremely peeved. The pregnancy hormones certainly didn't help matters. "Well, my mistake. I was unaware that only a certain type of people could reproduce."

"It's not that. It's just. . . I didn't know you had a boyfriend," he finished lamely.

"Well, I do. A fiancé, actually." I held up my left hand, showing the small diamond which glistened on its ring finger. Most people did not notice the jewelry or, if they did, likely simply assumed it was just there as an accessory. The ring was small and rather unobtrusive, so I could see why people made the assumption, especially since it was highly unlikely for a fifteen-year-old to be wearing an engagement ring. It gave no indication of the commitment that Mulder and I had made to each other so long before or the true depth of our feelings for one another.

"Oh, well." He looked suddenly nervous, glancing around the hallway for a means of escape. "I guess I'll see you around then."

"Yeah, I'll see you. And Zak? I'd appreciate it if you'd keep what I told you to yourself. I'm not really interested in being bothered about it by the whole school."

"Sure." And with that, he left.

It did not take me long to discover that he had not kept his promise. When I walked into school the next day, I noticed immediately that I seemed to be garnering more attention than usual. A couple of my classmates were blatantly staring at me. Evidently, news travels fast in a high school.

Ignoring the looks as best as I could, I made my way to my locker where I met Kristen who greeted me with an eyebrow raise. "They know," she said simply.

"I gathered that," I muttered irritably.

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing. I'll just keep going on like nothing's changed. Because nothing has changed. I knew people would find out eventually."

Kristen looked at me skeptically. "Good luck."

Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, things did change. I had two or three people ask me when I was due and another girl ask if she could feel my stomach (a request I summarily denied). A couple people asked me what it was like to be pregnant, and the identity of the father was inquired about more times than I could count. By the end of the day, I was ready to shoot someone, likely Zak since I suspected he had initiated the madness. He was lucky I did not have my gun.

Of course, the questions were not the worst of it. What I hated the most were the looks and whispers which followed me wherever I went. I had never really known many people before, having preferred to keep to myself and only make a few close friends. Now, however, everyone seemed to know who I was and be involved in my personal business. And because no one knew me very well, they all made assumptions. Since I was pregnant out of wedlock, I must have been a slut, never mind the fact that I had not actually slept with any guy other than Mulder in years (not that I could tell them this). And obviously, I was going to make a horrible mother, and the baby would grow up in a broken household with no love. No one ever thought that maybe, just maybe, this baby was already loved more than most children born. That the baby was being born to two people who loved each other so completely that the entire existence of one person depended on the other. Or that the existence of the baby was not a mistake but a miracle. No, all anyone ever saw was just another pregnant teen who had screwed up big time.

That night, I poured out all my anger and frustration into a note to Mulder. I knew that he would realize quickly that none of the words were directed at him, and I also knew that he would be the only person who would know exactly what to say to calm me down. Of course, I would not receive his response for a couple weeks. I was being unreasonable; I knew this. It was high school. I had been through it once, and my reputation did not matter that time, and I was sure it would not matter now. But I still had to spend the next three months there, and the pointed looks and whispered gossip were not helping matters at all.

Luckily, the initial gossip dissipated after awhile. By the time Mulder responded to my letter, most people had stopped focusing on my pregnancy and moved on to other recent stories they had heard. In some ways, I was glad that the truth was out, for it made my life much easier since I did not have to worry about how to explain my situation to any of my classmates. Life was slowly returning to normal, or at least as normal as it could be for a pregnant woman whose mind was forty-seven but whose body had only recently turned sixteen.

February slowly turned to March, and a feeling of dread seemed to permanently settle into the pit of my stomach. College acceptance letters would be out soon. And though I had gotten into college the first time around, there was no guarantee I would be offered admission this time. What if I hadn't written my essays as well this time or what if my teachers' recommendations weren't as good? If I didn't get into University of Maryland, what would that mean for my future? Would I still get into medical school? Would I still be recruited for the FBI?

Thousands of questions flooded my mind as I awaited the arrival of the letters anxiously. By the middle of the month, I had been accepted into both USC and UCLA, my safeties, along with Berkley. But the most important letter had yet to come.

During the last week of March, I stayed after finishing up a project for one of my classes, so Melissa picked me up. As soon as I walked in the door, my mother nodded to the kitchen table. "Something came for you today," she told me.

I felt as if my heart momentarily stopped beating. Slowly, I turned my head, bringing my eyes to rest on the envelope sitting casually in front of me. I immediately noticed that it was thick. Surely that was a good sign. Only a sadist would send a rejection letter that was twenty pages long.

Despite my reasoning, however, my hands were still shaking as I picked up the envelope and slid my fingers under the flap, carefully unsealing it. A thick stack of papers slid out into my waiting hands, and the first word on the first sheet immediately caught my eyes. "Congratulations," it said. I let out a breath that I was unaware I was holding. Congratulations. That meant I was in. They would not congratulate me on being rejected.

Now more at ease, I looked up and smiled at my mother. "I'm in," I told her.

"That's great, honey," she enthused. "I always knew you'd get in."

I nodded eagerly before retreating to my room with the envelope, intending to read through all the papers. First, however, I penned a quick letter to Mulder, telling him the good news. As soon as the envelope was sealed, I collapsed onto my bed, the stack of papers in my hands. It was odd; I had already gone through the entire process of being accepted to college once, but it somehow felt new and exciting anyhow, like I was doing it for the first time. I had the same jittery feeling in my stomach, the same eager, ready-to-jump-out-of-my-skin feeling as I poured over the papers, hanging onto every word. I was going to college. I was leaving my parents house, stepping out on my own. Of course, I had been out on my own for thirty years, but as I sat reading the letter, I did not feel that way. I was slowly becoming accustomed to my new identity as a teenager. And while there were still countless times when my forty-seven-year-old brain surfaced, immersing myself in the world of a sixteen-year-old had caused me to think much more like one.