Scully awoke in a way that made her question whether or not the last month, in which she found out that her attempt to get pregnant with Mulder had failed and she would probably never be a mother, had happened at all. And if that were true, then she had already jumped a considerable amount of time into the future. Because there was a tow-headed little girl and a mousy-haired little boy with Mulder mouths snuggled intently into her embrace. And she felt the weight of another being near her on the couch as well.
But then she remembered. And it broke her heart in more ways than one.
"Mulder," she whispered. Nothing. He and couches were a volatile combination sometimes.
"Mulder," she tried again, this time jabbing him in the side with her foot. That did it.
"Hmmm?" he asked, rubbing his face. Scully was sure he did not have the same reaction to waking up in the presence of two little children that she had had, but that was beside the point.
"Good morning." Scully didn't know what else to say. They had been so exhausted the night before that they did not discuss what the next day, the one they were waking up to now, would bring for them. She severely wished they had.
"Want me to take one of them?" he asked. Okay, no "good morning" back. His family skills would have to be worked on.
"No. I'm fine."
"Alright. Umm… I know it comes as no surprise to you, Agent Scully, but I actually have no idea what to do now."
"Well that makes two of us."
"Do you think they're hungry?"
"Yes."
"And baths, do you think they'll need baths?"
"Megan got a bath last night, but Zach could probably use one."
"And uh… will they just watch TV or do we—"
"Mulder, I'm not too concerned with the little stuff that makes up everyday life right now. It's Monday. We have to call in to Skinner and explain the situation to him. Megan and Zach can probably stay with my mom while we assist in the investigation. We need to get over there and help Mulder, we have to find your cousin."
Reaching over to check his phone to make sure Stacie hadn't tried to call in the wee hours of the morning proved futile—there had still been no word from her.
Mulder sighed. He knew they would have to have many more conversations like this. But, oddly, he was content to talk about the "everyday stuff" that Scully knew better than anyone was just a ploy to keep from thinking about the awful situation his cousin had caused and could have been put in herself.
"Alright, Scully. But it's," Mulder checked his watch, "6:42 in the morning and I just want to worry about getting them fed for now, okay?"
"Okay. They'll be fine on the couch while you wash up and I make breakfast. We should let them sleep as long as they can."
"What're you saying, that I can't cook or that I smell?" Mulder feigned offense.
"Both. Now help me move them."
Mulder gently lifted each child off of Scully and set them on opposite ends of the couch. Neither one stirred, showing just how much-needed their rest was.
He could never have imagined himself in this scenario this time the day before, he thought to himself as he watched Scully lift her arms above her head and stretch. It was almost like having a family with her, something he had thought about more than once but, especially after the past month, had never dared to hope for, at least in a conventional sense. Not that the situation they were in now was anything resembling conventional. Take a woman with which you have a borderline unhealthy level of dependency on, two severely emotionally damaged children, add water and presto, didn't seem to be the best formula for a family. But until further notice, it was his.
"Scrambled eggs?" Scully asked mid-yawn.
"Are you sure you don't just want to jump in the shower with me? I know how you are about saving water," he decided to joke around.
"Thank you for reminding me how much you love burnt toast, Mulder. I'll be sure to put your orange juice in the microwave too."
"Kidding, kidding," he smiled, but pushed his luck by ruffling her hair, which earned him a punch in the arm. Despite what other people may perceive about his partner, Mulder knew that nobody could keep up with his humor like she could. It was one of his Scully-secrets.
She was successfully whisking six eggs and the recommended amount of milk in a bowl with a fork without waking Megan and Zach when she heard Mulder call, "hey," from her bathroom. That could mean so many things.
Seconds later, he was in her kitchen sans clothes. In fact, the only thing keeping Scully from seeing her partner in his full, un-injured, glory was one of her fluffy bath towels tied around his waist. Not only was her shock lost on him, though, it was replaced with his own as he held up a tiny, insignificant piece of everyday life.
"You kept my toothbrush?" he asked, bewildered.
In the month that they had spent trying to forget that they had made an attempt to make a baby, Mulder had spent the night at Scully's exactly eleven times. All consecutive, all of them immediately after they received the bad news. Mulder had resigned himself to the fact that Scully needed it. She had spent almost three years knowing that she would not be a mom, and when the tiniest glimmer of hope presented itself, her beloved biology had to take that away as well. And on top of the ones she had lived through since, she had for four additional years kept her emotions so in check, so distant from him, that when the floodgates opened, everything poured out. And it left her tired, angry, and in a way, weak. It had been a hard eleven days of empty suicidal thoughts, hostility, used tissues, and guilt. The last one was mostly for him. He owed it to Scully to spend time at her house dealing with the aftermath of her biggest dream being crushed because he knew that if it were not for him, she wouldn't have to go through the heartache at all. And in that time, he had acquired a toothbrush.
Scully blushed. She remembered those nights. She remembered, mostly, telling Mulder how she wished she were dead and how that same night he had taken her gun and hidden it from her. Scully still didn't know whether or not she had been serious then. Yes, childless people were every bit as valuable as those with fully functioning reproductive organs. But, dammit, she had watched her sister and her daughter die and she had been abducted and she had fought Their cancer and all she had wanted was to bring life into the world and at that moment, she had felt so empty.
She remembered, mostly, the way he tasted and the way his lips felt against her skin when, on that first night, they had emotional, angry, shameful sex. It had been her fault. He hadn't wanted to "take advantage" of her, but Scully had wordlessly pressed on to a point where their partnership could never be the same again. She made him come in her, wanting to feel something, some type of potential. But all they accomplished was post-climax regret and never talked again about what they did. But every night they spent in her bed afterward, it was there between them, like someone had snapped a picture of them at their lowest, using their very real feelings for each other to hurt them.
Then, eleven days were up and she had convinced herself that she didn't need his scent at night to know that tomorrow was going to come just as it always did. But that didn't mean that she didn't miss it. Truth was, she had thought about throwing away his toothbrush. Before those days, he hadn't had a history of spending the night at her house for long stretches of time. She hadn't, though. She just hadn't.
"I forgot about it," she and he both knew she lied. They would, could, never forget those eleven days.
"Well, I guess it worked out for the best, because I left mine in Indiana."
"I guess it did."
Mulder smiled sadly and made his way back into the bathroom, leaving his partner struggling to forget those eleven days where her life was turned upside down.
Then, she heard a small whimper coming from the couch and turned her head to see Megan's face contort in a dream. And she realized that it had once again.
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