CHAPTER FORTY FIVE:

Beverly Hilton Hotel
Wilshire Boulevard, Beverly Hills,
Los Angeles
August 26, 1986
Tuesday

Mulder's eyes were glued to the TV set, his mouth hanging wide open, and when the ubiquitous form of Magic Johnson jumped up and dunked in that much-needed two-pointer for the Los Angeles Lakers, he let out a whoop that reverberated in his hotel room. He stood up, did a funny dance by shuffling his feet around, until he almost hit the bucket containing his choice selection of ice cold beer. He paused, straightened himself up a little, then proceeded to dance a bit again. On screen, the commentators excitedly babbled on and on about how Magic Johnson just killed that shot and was going to make sure the Lakers were in it for the winning.
He stared at the TV again, hands on his hips, waiting for the commercial break. When a time-out was called, the commentator began to pitch a line to sell the new Ford car, and conveniently so, because Mulder heard the ding-dong of his hotel room's door. With his eyes still on the TV set in case the game suddenly returned without the usual onslaught of mindless commercials, he unlocked the bolts and threw the door wide open.

"Hey, Emily –" Mulder tore his eyes away from the tube and recoiled when it wasn't his daughter who was in front of him. Instead, he was face-to-face with his son-in-law.

Jeffrey stared back at him, too deer-in-the-headlights for Mulder, and shuffled his leather shoes on the thick red carpet. The soldier looked more relaxed in his t-shirt and jeans, but his back was tense and stiff as a board, a habit that was culled from training and practice. It was somewhat disconcerting to Mulder to have him so stiff, even when he was dancing with Emily during his wedding day; though the Director willed himself to get used to it because he promised that he would love whoever Emily loved. However, that afternoon and in between a replay of a basketball game that Mulder had missed last February because of the movie, the last thing he needed was to deal with Jeffrey.

"Where's Emily?" Mulder asked, holding the door open with his bare foot and making no move to invite his son-in-law inside. "She was supposed to come here for lunch."

Jeff nodded, running a conscious hand through his short-cropped hair (standard military requirement, Mulder guessed). "She was supposed to, Dad. But she asked me to come here."

Mulder raised his eyebrows. So they were actually talking to each other? That was good progress. A few weeks ago, Emily had signed the divorce papers and their lawyers were sending feelers to Jeffrey's legal counsel that they wanted him to sign them, too. The talks fell through and Mulder's life also fell through, so he wasn't sure what had happened up to that point. Two weeks later, seeing Jeff in front of him and telling him that he was "sent" by Emily in her place for that afternoon wasn't comforting, but it was encouraging. Again, he didn't feel any special affection for the military man – he kind of viewed him as an acquaintance or a distant cousin, someone he had to see during family holidays or special occasions, but he felt Emily's love for this young man and that was enough to reel him in to tolerate his presence. Plus, it wouldn't hurt that he had promised to give Emily the family life she wanted and deserved all the same. Mulder hoped that maybe, just maybe, Jeff was not going to sign the papers to hold onto that promise.

"Why, why did she send you?" Mulder was distracted. The game had returned from the commercials and the commentators were praising Magic Johnson's previous dunk as if it was God himself who shot that ball.

"Emily needed to stay with Dana," at the mention of the Spunk's name, Mulder stopped listening to the game and gave Jeff his full attention, "and Grandma's there, too. I think they're having lunch this afternoon and then going shopping for baby clothes."

Mulder wanted to wince. He didn't, rather, couldn't. "Oh," he whispered instead, "It's too early to shop for baby clothes."

"That, or maternity wear." Jeffrey crossed his arms in front of his chest, and afterwards dislodged them at his sides. He nodded at the TV screen behind Mulder. "You're watching the finals?"

"Yeah," Mulder softly replied, still hanging onto the piece of information Jeff had revealed, "You want to come in and watch? I have beer."

In response, Jeff shrugged and walked in. Mulder closed the door behind the young man, his face still on the door, and with the thought of Scully out with his daughter and mother, he placed his forehead on the wood, closing his eyes briefly before turning around to usher Jeffrey into the room's living space.
He motioned for Jeff to sit down on the dark brown colored couch. "It isn't much, but this is where I've been living in for the past few days." Sitting down opposite Jeff on a chair that matched the couch's upholstery, Mulder reached over to retrieve two bottles of beer from the bucket. Jeff sat down, crossed his legs so that his ankle was on his knee, and took the beer Mulder offered him. They tore off the cap, clinked their bottles together, then settled to watch the NBA rerun.

A minute passed without them talking. Mulder drank from his bottle, feeling the beer slide through his throat, his eyes on the TV set. Jeff cleared his throat, which made Mulder brace himself for what was to come.

"Emily … Emily and I are working things out."

Mulder heaved a sigh of relief, both for his news and the three-pointer that Kareem Abdul-Jabbar executed. "That's great news, Jeff," he sincerely said, facing his son-in-law, "I'm happy for that. I've always hoped that you wouldn't sign the divorce papers."

"I didn't," Jeff clarified, running his finger through the rim of his beer, "I couldn't. And I have Dana to thank."

The Director choked on his beer. He coughed a couple of times, covering his mouth with his curled up fist and warding off the worried soldier with a wave of his other hand. When he recovered with a glass of water, he directed his full attention to Jeff and implored him to explain what he meant.

Jeff drank and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before beginning, "Emily's spending most of her time with Dana now that you're … umm, you're not around …"

This time, Mulder didn't hide his wince.

"Yeah. So they talk a lot apparently. And Dana was there when your lawyers were having Emily sign the divorce papers. Dana listened in everything; when the lawyers left, she talked to Emily and convinced her to give the marriage another try. Dana said that it wasn't in the Mulder blood to just 'quit.'" Jeff shyly pointed his bottle to Mulder. "You were her number one example."

Mulder couldn't help but roll his eyes. Scully could never get over the fact that he was as relentless as he could be.

"Dana also said that you have dreamt of a family for Emily, a family that she could call her own and one that she could say was truly complete. Even if we lost our son, we still had each other. As long as we had each other, there would be hope. There would be something 'complete.'" Jeff shook his head, a smile breaking on his face. "She's amazing: Dana. Right after that, Emily called me up and told me to not sign the papers. She asked me to invite her over our house and we had dinner. It was great … imagine, we haven't talked in such a long time and suddenly, we were having dinner at our house."

"Dana has that effect on people." Mulder leaned against the backrest of his chair and directed his eyes to the TV set. There was another time-out and he hissed when he saw that the Boston Celtics were gaining ground in the game.

"So, Dad … if Dana has that effect on people, what happened to the two of you?"

Oh. Oh. So that's the reason why Emily sent Jeff. It was a man-to-man talk; more like a fucked up son-in-law to his fucked up father-in-law kind of talk. It was a talk that reeked of hey, we're fixing things out, what about you?

He didn't know what happened, really. After that conversation with Scully in the hospital, he intended to stay in a hotel for only a couple of days – to clear his head and to straighten out what to do next. Unfortunately, the couple of days turned into a couple of weeks (three weeks to be exact) and up until now, he couldn't bring himself to talk to Scully. He called Emily once in a while to check up on her, but when his daughter would offer to hand the phone over to Scully, he would balk and hang up. It was silly, strange: he watched Scully perform on Letterman and it was a huge stab of torture on his part to not be there to cheer her on. Still, Mulder couldn't bring himself to go back home and talk to her. Maybe he was feeling betrayed; maybe he was still trying to figure things out … he loved her, he knew that, but he just couldn't feel that love for sometime since their talk in the hospital.
His mother wasn't happy with what he was doing and she herself had flown to Los Angeles to shove some sense down his throat; however, she was also unsuccessful. Her weekend visit had extended into a weeklong one, with her babying Darling Dana all the way (as was narrated by Emily a few days ago). Mulder wasn't surprised that they were out shopping or doing things girls did, but he was starting to wish that he wasn't such chicken shit. Because while they were out shopping, he could've been at home preparing Scully's favorite pasta primavera and be waiting for her to come home to him.

Remembering Jeff's question, he tried answering the best he could: "I messed up, Jeff." Welcome to the club, son.

Jeff nodded again, a habit that Mulder was beginning to warm up to, and his stiff back relaxed against the luxurious Egyptian thread count covers of the couch. "I messed up too, Dad. So we're even there. But I thought you never quit?"

Ouch, touché.

Mulder placed his bottle on the glass table carefully, then wiped his hands on his jeans. "I haven't quit yet," he resolved, eyes on his jeans and on the wet spot his hands left on his knees

"It seems like you had, honestly."

"Look, Jeff, it's complicated – what Scully and I have between us is something you would never understand."

"I don't need to understand that," Jeff leaned forward, eyes on the TV and Mulder kept his gaze steady on the tube too, "whatever happened between the two of you stays between the two of you. But that girl, Dana, Dad; she's in love with you. She really loves you."

Mulder smirked. "I know that, Jeff. Why do you think did we start a relationship?"

"No, you don't."

Now, his son-in-law got his attention. Mulder locked gazes with the young man, studied what was in there for a moment, and wasn't surprised to see the amazement within his brown eyes.

"You don't know how much that girl loves you, Dad," Jeff continued, his voice lowered and tinged with desperation, "with what's happening to the two of you, that girl could just cry and waste her life away. And I've seen it – when I'm at your Manor, I could see how much she's tempted to lock herself in your bedroom and forget about everything. But no, she doesn't do that. She goes out. She still keeps up with her schedule. Emily sometimes has to pick her up from her interviews or TV spots to make sure that Dana gets her rest. And Dana does! She takes such good care of herself you wouldn't know she was vomiting her breakfast out a couple of minutes ago. No one's the wiser. Don't you understand, Dad?" Jeff reached out and touched Mulder on his forearm. The Director flinched.

"She loves you so much that she'd rather take care of herself than stay depressed and be stuck at home. Dana wants to take care of herself for you … because of your baby. That's how much she loves you." Jeff stopped, his eyes suddenly watering. "She loves you so much she wouldn't quit. Dana said it's what you would've done if you were in her position. And she won't quit on you, too."

It was too much for Mulder. As the game moved to its third quarter, the buzzers and cheers were drowned out by his sobs. The dam he constructed around his emotions with reruns of basketball games, beers, hotel rooms, and trips to the ground floor bar finally broke. It was the first time he cried ever since the situation at the hospital. He had not yet mourned the change in their relationship and the self-imposed exile he had been keeping; he hadn't yet processed what it meant to move forward with the past she had kept from him and the future she was also keeping for him. Scully was his future, the only one he wanted for the rest of his days. What he was doing in the hotel room all those weeks was just delaying the inevitable: he felt in his heart that he would love her, no matter who she was before or what she had gone through, and he had accepted this the moment he accepted that he was in love with her more than a year ago.

Maybe it was this love that was still frightening him; the fact that he had forgiven her the moment he walked out that hospital room that scared him … to be so vulnerable to another person, the way he was with Scully, was a foreign feeling. All his life he had to fight to get to where he was, while singlehandedly raising a young daughter along with him. He did it all alone. Now, he had someone with him and it scared him to give her his burdens, especially when he didn't yet know all of hers.
Maybe it was time to take the plunge – literally. Maybe he needed to let go of his fears and accept what his heart had known all along, that there was never going to be anyone else in Scully's place and that was okay. It was okay to love and trust someone this way.

He felt Jeff's hand on his shoulder, cold from the beer but comforting on his clammy skin. "Dad, it's time to come home." He felt a soft pat near the back of his head.

Mulder lifted his head from his hands and wiped his tears away with his shirt's collar. Christ, what a messed up man he was – crying in front of his son-in-law, of all people. But it was true: it was time to end basketball reruns and beers in the afternoon; it was time to come home and face the future.

"Yeah," he agreed, feeling the weight of three weeks and the tingling excitement at seeing Scully again, "it's time. But I do need to do something and I want you to come with me, Jeff." Mulder once more locked gazes with the young man, silently asking him to comprehend, to agree, to support.

A slow smile tinged Jeff's face and with a mock salute, the smile became a wide grin. "Sir, yes, sir," he answered, and Mulder nodded.

What are you doing the rest of your life?
North and south and east and west of your life?

"I knew it was in your future to eventually tire of Aerosmith."

At the sound of his voice, she lifted her head from the couch's arm and gawked at him. It was as if it was the first time she had ever seen him before in her whole life; as if he had been gone for a decade and he, one day, entered the Manor and shouted, honey, I'm home!

Mulder smiled sheepishly at her disheveled form and tried that last line in his head out in the open: "Honey, I'm home."

Scully blinked once, twice, her eyelids opening up to reveal wet blue orbs that still wouldn't leave his form at the entrance of the Manor's living room. He didn't mean to startle her – it all happened in such a hurry. With Jeff's help, they went to get what he needed to get from the mall and they phoned Emily to tell her to go home with Jeff for that evening (plus, to bring her grandmother with her). When she asked why, Mulder gave the same response: "I'm coming home." It was enough for her to gather her meager belongings, usher her grandmother and Jenny out, and come up with a half-assed explanation to Dana on why they needed to go out in the middle of the night.

So, there she was now in front of him after the longest they've been apart, with her red hair up in a messy bun atop her head, wearing loose violet silk pajamas that Mulder had never seen before and he deduced it must be new, her feet propped up on the empty space beside her, listening to Barbra Streisand of all people, silently staring into a blank space on the wall opposite her, a half-empty glass of milk on the table. She appeared different; Mulder eventually put two and two together and reeked with pride when he realized that it was because of a certain glow she was emanating – a pregnant woman's glow. And she was pregnant with his child.

"Mulder," she breathed, in awe.

Let the reasons and the rhymes of your days.
All begin and end with me.

He chuckled, "Since when do you listen to Streisand?"

Scully, conscious, tucked stray pieces of hair behind her ear. He could see her face clearly: she was wearing no makeup and her freckles have become more visible in their separation, probably another takeaway from the pregnancy. He loved her freckles, loved them even more because seeing them reminded him of the rest of her little light brown dots all over the secret places of her body, because seeing them meant that he was the only one who was allowed to see the rest of her.

"Your mother loves Streisand. I like this song," she explained, trailing her fingertips on the couch's backrest. Her eyes reluctantly left his face and she let them fall to her fingers, shy, "she left the cassette in the player and I decided to listen a little since I was alone."

You're not alone, Scully. You never will be, the tiny voice in Mulder's head protested, but he ignored it. He closed the gap between him and the couch to stand right in front of her. Seeing her body, he let his eyes rake over her form – from her flustered cheeks, the white lilts of her arms, to the small bump of her belly (and there was a bump now!), the tiny pink toes peeking from the hem of the pajamas. Mulder extended a hand towards her and she regarded it with a skeptical eyebrow.

"Dance with me, Scully."

"Mulder …" she warned, looking up to meet his eyes. When he was reacquainted with her wet baby blues, he was floored with just how much his heart could feel in one second: fear, passion, desire, sadness, happiness, excitement, love, always love. Rather than shaking it away, he embraced all the feelings, knowing that there was only one woman who could do that to him. He wasn't letting her go. He couldn't. He wanted to feel this way for the rest of his life.

She motioned to her pajamas. "I'm wearing my pajamas. I can't dance like this," she whispered, then laughed at how silly the mental image of them dancing in the Manor's living room must be. But Mulder was adamant.

"It's just a dance, Scully. That's all I'm asking for." The hand that had been waiting for hers was still there: beckoning, pleading. Scully sighed and took it.

Easily, he maneuvered their bodies so that they were flush against each other. She fit him like he knew she would: her head cradled within the safety of his collarbone and chin, her chest against his abdomen, her slightly rounded abdomen against his pelvis, her knees against his legs. Yin and yang. His right hand found her left and he lifted it in the air, while his left hand went around her waist. She, in reflex, placed her right hand on his chest.

I want to see your face in every kind of light.
In fields of gold and forests of the night.

Scully relaxed in his arms, as if finding the comfort she had missed there; her head rested on his chest and she closed her eyes tight, breathing in his scent.

As the music droned on, Mulder swayed them gently to the song, letting the saxophone bridge take them to the safe haven they both have made for themselves in that very same Manor months ago.

Sensing that she had relaxed in his embrace, Mulder placed a kiss on Scully's ruffled hair. "This is it for me, Scully. I don't want anything else," he soughed, holding her closer to him and feeling her hard tummy against his flesh.

"What do you mean?" she asked, a tear sliding down her cheek.

"This," he also closed his eyes, relishing in the feel of her warmth after so many weeks apart and the music that drifted off in the space between them, "dancing with you. I want to do this for the rest of my life."

"Oh, Mulder," she sniffled against his shirt, "I'm so sorry. I should've told you …"

"We'll get to that, Scully, in your own time," he resolved, lifting his hand up to caress the back of her head, "Let me get this out: I don't care about your past, I only care if it affects your present and future with me. I don't care who you were before, Scully, I really don't. I love you, all of you, and nothing's going to change that."

She nodded, which prompted him to kiss her the crown of her head once more. She smelled heavenly – strawberries and her unique scent. Christ, Mulder missed her so much.

"Nothing makes me happier than going to sleep at night with the thought of our baby, Scully." With that, he reached down and placed a hand at the side of her tummy. Already, it was hard to the touch and slightly protruding from her pronounced hipbones. It was amazing to feel it. She was actually carrying their child in her tiny dancer's body, Mulder mussed. "But what even makes me happier is the thought that you'll be the mother of my children."

"Children?" She lifted her face from his chest and cocked an eyebrow at him. He laughed.

"You heard what I said!" Then, he lowered his face to hers, his lips tracing phantom lines on the tip of her nose. "Is that okay?"

She smiled back. "That's what I want, too."

He opened his mouth to say something, found his voice missing, and grinned back at her instead. Mulder remembered. The object that was in his back pocket burned close to combustion in his remembrance, so he made a move to bring it out. However, before he could retrieve it, Scully stopped him with a hand on his forearm.

In the cassette player, the same song replayed. It was Mulder's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Your mother had Emily make her a mix tape." Scully also raised her eyebrow, daring him to challenge that. Mulder shrugged and let his arm fall to his side, where Scully's fingers quickly found and intertwined with his.

"Let me do this, Mulder," she met his eyes square on; Mulder gulped, finding in her eyes what she intended to do. Scully continued, her accent cutting crisply through Streisand's tone, "Remember, in Paris, when I said I'd marry you when you want and not need to be with me?"

I have only one request of your life.
That you spend it all with me.

He nodded, like a stupid puppet. It was all he could do at that moment.

With her crystal blue eyes seizing his nervous hazel ones, Scully confidently raised her chin to say what she wanted to say: "Marry me, Fox Mulder. Will you dance with me for the rest my life?" Her eyes were still on his when tears appeared at the corners of her irises and started jotting down her face. "You're the only one I want to dance with until I die."

In the world of love you keep in your eyes,
I'll awaken what's asleep in your eyes,
It may take a kiss or two.

Thanks for the prompt, Mulder silently told the song and he leaned down to capture Scully's lips with his own. It was a kiss that signaled his yes: every slip of his tongue against hers spelled his yes out for her, every press of their teeth together was a yes, every slide of their lips on each other's was a yes. It was a yes when he smiled against her mouth and she also did the same, especially when he tasted their mingled tears in the kiss.

When they came up for air, he rested his forehead on hers. "That's a yes, if you haven't gathered." They both chuckled.

Mulder again remembered the object in his back pocket. He grabbed it with one heave and still swaying to the music, pressed it onto Scully's palm. "I came prepared," he admonished, making Scully raise another eyebrow at him and look at what was in her hand.

Taking her wrist, he lifted what she was holding into the light. It was a golden ring with a diamond enclosed in a lily setting – the exact ring he saw months ago when he had Mr. Tennyson repair Scully's necklace, one that he had asked the jeweler to reserve for him since that night in Paris. It was finally time to get it; it was finally time that she had it, because he felt that it was always made specifically for her.

"Oh, Mulder … it's beautiful." She pressed a kiss on his chin, the nearest part of him that she could reach. He then took the ring from her and easily slipped it into her left hand's ring finger.

"It looks even more beautiful on you, Scully." And it did. It seemed to shine brighter now that it was on her glowing skin, and it also matched the shade of her cross necklace. She reached up and hugged him tight; he seized the opportunity to hold her by her bottom so that they swung around for a while, laughing happily at and with each other, kissing every now and then when they stopped, then he swung Scully's small body around again until they collapsed on the couch, still laughing, still kissing.

Mulder opened his arms and Scully settled herself within them, curling her legs up so that she was flush against him and there was practically nothing separating them. His hand found hers and their fingers intertwined against the couch's arm rest, her engagement ring glinting under the dim fluorescent lights, so beautiful he had to bend down to kiss her hand.

"We're really getting married!" she exclaimed, laughing again that marvelous ha-ha-ha that he loved hearing. Mulder eagerly nodded, gazing at her pink face, tucking away a strand of red behind her ear.

"Don't tell mom about this, though. Or else you'd be hunting for a wedding dress come tomorrow!" he warned, waggling his eyebrows. Scully grinned, a dimple peeking at him.

"The wedding dress will come after the pregnancy, Mulder. I want to look good on my wedding day."

He reached over to envelop her into his hug and she melted into him as if they were of one skin.

"You'll look good to me three, six, nine months in." He cradled her face in between his hands and kissed her again. This time, when they parted, his teeth darted to bite into her lower lip. She moaned, making Mulder's groin stiffen. "Scully …" he warned.

"We're alone. It's safe," she assured him.

He moved his lips from her mouth to the flesh underneath her ear. She shivered as he whispered, "I don't want to hurt you."

Tilting her head back, she answered with a sigh, "You never could."

Before he could protest some more, Scully reached her left hand towards his own and intertwined their fingers together. The cool metal of her new ring met his skin, making him smile goofily with pride. She reached out, cupped his cheek with her other hand, and pulled him up to their bedroom. Mulder had no choice but to follow her, mesmerised by the shake of her wider hips and firmer ass.

END OF CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

A/N: Thank you so much for all your reviews! I could feel all the love you have for this story, sixteen years in. Old and new fans alike, thank you and I hope you're ready for the next chapter, because that one will break this story and lead it to its conclusion!

The game Mulder watches is real – I researched it, and man, I suddenly became a basketball person for one night.

This chapter is for my other beta readers: Luna (who is about to get married) and Joon. A huge shout out too to the PinoyXPhiles (PXP) who have been with me since I was thirteen and obsessed with this fandom!

Post Script: The X- Files is BACK! Aaaah!