Scully was singing. It was the same song, over and over and over again.
Jeramiah was a bullfrog…
She didn't know what else to do to reach Mulder, curled up on the floor and trapped in hideous memories he didn't know he was carrying for all his life.
The song wasn't reaching him, not for a long time. But Scully was able to move closer without scaring him. Slowly, inch by inch.
"Mulder," she called, carefully, hoping it wouldn't alarm him. "It's Scully. Dana Scully. We need to get out of here. Please."
"No," he cried, trying to curl into himself even more. "Don't let them take me."
At least he was talking again. It was a start.
"There's nobody here," Scully tried to assure him. "You're safe. I promise. But you need to come with me."
Finally, Mulder dared to raise his head and look around, stopping at Scully's face. "Scully?" his voice was shaky and pleading for help.
"It's me," she dared to touch his arm, and to her relief it didn't freak him out. "We need to go. Come on."
She helped him get up and led him to the door. He wasn't letting go of her hand, squeezing her so hard that it hurt. It was the longest and hardest walk to the car she ever took.
The nausea she felt was worse than chemo and morning sickness combined.
Way worse.
She let go of Mulder in front of the car, to open the door for him and toss the file with pictures on the back seat. She wanted to burn it all, but it was evidence. Perhaps worthless evidence, but if there was any chance that some piece of the justice could still be served, she would do anything to make it happen.
Right now, though, Mulder was her priority. He was refusing to get in the car, looking at the floor and everywhere except her. Scully guessed that he was embarrassed about being wet, but she really, really, really couldn't have cared less about that.
Really.
Not knowing what else to do to ease his mind, she took off her coat and tossed it on the passenger seat. She was feeling hot anyway, while Mulder was shivering.
"Sit on that. You can pay for the dry cleaning," she offered, wanting to give him the feeling of being in control over something.
Reluctantly and without a word, he obeyed. Scully got into the driver's seat and waited for Mulder to fasten his seatbelt, leaning to do it for him when he showed no intention of doing it himself.
"How could I have forgotten?" he asked weakly, staring through the window into nowhere. "How do you possibly forget something like that?"
Scully sighed sadly, sparing him the explanation about a coping mechanism, which he knew all about.
"How much do you remember now?" she asked instead.
Mulder raised his hands a little and looked at them as if he was seeing them for the first time. He felt weird in his own body, as if he didn't really belong in there.
"Not much," he said. "But I hope no one ever has to profile me and get inside this hell of my mind."
Scully gently squeezed his hand and pulled it back down onto his lap, then she turned her attention to the road. If she didn't start driving right away, she felt she would never be able to.
"We'll get through this," she said firmly while starting the car.
The ride passed in silence, ending in front of Scully's apartment building.
"You forgot to take me home," Mulder said, trying to be witty as usual, but he didn't recognize his own voice. Nothing was, he realized at that moment, or ever would be, as usual again. His world fell apart. His whole life had been a lie, built on a horrible but hidden truth that he wasn't ready, nor, he thought, would ever be ready to face.
It was too much.
"I'm not leaving you alone," Scully said firmly. "You're in shock and you need help."
"I'm…" he tried to say fine but the word got stuck in his throat. He wasn't fine. He wasn't anywhere near fine. In fact, he couldn't remember ever feeling fine. It was as alien concept to him as the black oil. If she left him alone, he would pull a gun on himself. Maybe he should. Maybe it would make everything go away. The memories, the pain… Scully… The baby…
The baby. More than anything, he wanted to meet the baby, but what good would he be in the life of an innocent child? It will have Scully, it didn't need him.
"I can't be a burden to you," he heard himself talking. "You're pregnant."
"Thanks to you," Scully closed her eyes with a sigh. Her mother always complained about her wanting to be the strong one, but what choice did she have? This world was a cruel place and only strong people had a chance in it. Her sister didn't…
Mulder's scream brought her back to the present moment. He opened the door, but couldn't unlock the seatbelt and it was causing him panic.
"…can't…" he gasped. "..breathe…"
Scully quickly did it for him, then she cupped his head between his hands and pressed her forehead onto his, grounding him as best as she could.
"Slow down," she said, not letting go. "Count with me. One. Two. Slowly. Breathe with me. I've got you."
"Three," the child in him picked up. "Four."
"That's it," Scully encouraged him. "Five."
"Six," his arms searched for the comfort of her body, pulling her close.
"Seven," he buried his head in her hair and started to shake, followed by desperate sobs on her shoulders.
"Don't leave me," he begged, falling apart into billion pieces that she was already picking up, not letting any part of him go to waste or oblivion.
"I'm here," she said, crying with him but holding them both together. Three of them, to be precise. "I'm here."
"Eight," he continued to count when he managed to calm down enough to do so. "Nine."
"Ten," Scully kissed him in the head. "Are you ready to go upstairs now? The baby is sitting on my bladder."
"Sorry," he chuckled with embarrassment, reluctantly letting go of her. "There's no point in both of us getting pissed."
She smiled and stroked his cheek, looking into his eyes until she was sure that he was ready to go.
"I'll be done in a second and then you can take a shower," she told him when they entered the apartment.
She rushed to the bathroom, leaving him alone for the first time since they found the files. He could hear her pee, but he couldn't see her and it caused another panic attack.
Scully found him sitting on the floor hugging his legs to his chest, counting and swinging back and forth.
"I'm here," she said, placing a hand on his head. She was too tired and too pregnant to crouch down again, even standing was hard enough. "Let's get you into shower."
He didn't react.
"Please," she whispered, thinking about getting help. But who could she call? Lone Gunmen? "Do you want me to call someone?"
"The Smoking Man," Mulder offered. "Or Kryczek. Whoever wants me dead the most."
"I need you alive."
"You said you were leaving," he finally stood up. "Before I showed you the... You said you were leaving."
"I said I was leaving the X-files. Not you."
"I am the X-files, Scully."
"Not to me."
She offered a hand and he let her take him to the bathroom, but he didn't let her leave him alone there. As ashamed as he was of letting the pregnant woman take off his clothes for him, he wasn't able to do it himself. His hands were shaking, refusing to be controlled.
"You shouldn't be doing this," Mulder said weakly.
"It's ok," Scully assured him. "I'm a doctor."
She didn't feel like a doctor. This wasn't a grown man standing naked in front of her, this was a scared little boy trapped in the adult body. Just a child who needed help. That's how she saw him in that moment, for the first time. It woke maternal instincts in her. She was still sad and worried about him, but at the same time she was at peace, knowing that he was safe with her, that she was able to protect him.
"You're my partner," he argued. "This is inappropriate."
Scully almost laughed at that. Inappropriate? Said the man who she asked to masturbate in a cup so that she could be impregnated.
"Mulder, look at me," she demanded, cupping his face when he refused. She turned his head towards hers, forcing him to meet her eyes. "You are in shock and you need help. There's no shame in that. Just like you shouldn't be ashamed of anything that was done to you. The people who hurt you… Mulder, the shame is on them, not on you."
He closed his eyes to avoid her piercing gaze, but Scully wasn't having it.
"Mulder," she said firmly, not letting go of his head. He started to shake harder.
"Mulder!" she called again, louder this time.
He said something that she couldn't understand.
"Get in the tub," she ordered gently and firmly at the same time. Mulder obeyed and let her wash him. It wasn't easy, since he was so much bigger than her and wasn't able to help.
His mind was elsewhere.
It felt like it was yesterday.
Men. Bad men. Their hands in places that no one else touched him. Some of them naked. Pictures. Lots and lots of pictures that he didn't want to take. They told him the project needed the money and he had to do his part. Otherwise, they would take his sister. He didn't want that, did he?
The taste in his mouth after being "a good boy".
The taste in his mouth…
The taste of…
"Mulder!" he felt Scully's hand on his forehead. "Are you ok?"
He realized he was kneeling in the tub, covered in vomit.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"Shhh," Scully resumed washing him. "Let me help you."
It was a tedious job that took forever, but she finally had her partner in her bed, clean though frightened, still shaking from sobs and coldness. She gave him something to help him sleep, something that would also prevent dreams.
"Don't leave me," he begged, not letting her go sleep on the couch, even when she promised to leave the door open. She was going to wait for him to fall asleep, but she didn't have the strength to sit by the bed. The bigger she was, the quicker she was getting exhausted, and today she'd already reached her limit.
She propped herself on the pillows on the empty side of the bed, to at least raise her feet and Mulder quickly cuddled to her, needing her warmth.
"Don't let them take me," he pleaded.
"I'll die first," Scully promised.
"You can't," Mulder said while finally drifting to sleep. "You're pregnant."
And there it was again. He acknowledged her pregnancy for the second time today, after not mentioning it for a couple of months, ever since their unexpected custody fight that almost tore them apart.