Secret Mission: Baby Spooky by believeinluck

[believeinluck]

Secret Mission: Baby Spooky
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at https://archiveofourown.org/works/48569344.

Rating: Not Rated
Ship: MSR
Category: F/M
Fandom: The X-Files
Relationship: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Characters: Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, The Lone Gunmen (X-Files), Richard "Ringo" Langly, Margaret Scully
Language: English
Words: 17,598

Chapters: 8/8
Secret Mission: Baby Spooky

by believeinluck
Summary

CW for discussion of pregnancy, cancer, IVF, infertility, and the general barbarism of OBGYN procedures.

This is an IVF story set sometime in seasons 5-7. Basically, it's Mulder and Scully working together to have a baby while they aren't in a relationship (yet) and them growing closer, but also struggling with how difficult IVF is. 

Sort of canon-compliant except in my version of events a) Emily never happened, b) Mulder told Scully about her eggs the second he found them, and c) Fox Mulder is that baby's dad.

This was my first ever fanfic. It's on AO3 still if you want to comment over there. 

Chapter 1

Scully sat rereading the same line over and over, trying to relax. It was some Oprah’s Book Club pick that her mother had dropped off last week in an attempt to get her daughter to think about something other than work. It was not holding her attention, but just the show of normalcy was necessary, for Mulder’s nerves if not for her own.

“Knock knock,” Mulder peaked his head around the door.

“Come in.” She sat the book down on her nightstand.

“Here’s some more water and your hot water bottle.” These joined the book on the nightstand. “Do you need anything else right now?”



“No, I’m alright. I think I just need to sleep.”

“How’s the pain? Sorry— discomfort?” He said, putting quotation marks around the word, and sitting down next to her. “If that man thinks your reaction was discomfort, I’d hate to see what he thinks pain is.”

“I’m fine. It really wasn’t that bad.”

“Yeah, right. Scully, you screamed, and he didn’t even pause.”

“That’s just gynecology for you. I passed out in college when they put my IUD in.”

“Well, an IED— that’s a different story.”

“An IUD. Intrauterine device, not improvised explosive device. But thank you for going back there with me.”

On the drive there he’d asked her if she wanted him to go back with her and she said she would be fine on her own. He was her friend, giving her a sample and a ride. He was not her husband or boyfriend; it would be way too intimate and way too much to ask. His offer was probably out of obligation, and he would be relieved to have it turned down. After all, she was planning on having and raising this child alone, and this was the first of decades of steps that she would undertake alone.

But when she was chugging that giant water bottle to fill her bladder, hands twisting into the thin hospital blanket covering her, with her pants and underwear folded underneath her purse, she had started to regret not asking him to accompany her. She’d asked the nurse to retrieve him from the waiting room. She heard the nurse directing him to her room— “next one down Mr. Scully,” and how he answered to that name with no complaint. He’d greeted her with a pasted-on smile and wide eyes that made her think he’d probably needed a Xanax to get through the afternoon too, were he not the designated driver. After cracking some obligatory jokes, like he did in every possible situation, he’d compliantly bowed his head in silence while she prayed.

“Sure thing. Are you sure you’re ok?” His hand was pressed tightly against his own stomach as he asked. She wondered if he was prone to sympathetic pregnancy. After all, when she had brain cancer, he’d been the one who had the seizures. “Are you bleeding at all? You look a little grey.”

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m spotting—bleeding just a little— but it’s hardly been anything.”

“You really don’t look alright.” He lightly put his hand on hers on the bed spread. “You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about with regards to your reaction if that’s it. If I had half of what you had shoved in you shoved up in me…” He shuddered. “You really are the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

Shed only felt strong in that moment holding his hand, asking him to sing for her the lullaby he had sung every time he’d stayed the night with her after her chemo infusions. Something about a sleeping child. When she was half asleep and high, she’d thought it was a German lullaby, but today shed been more cognizant, holding on to his voice like a life raft while she desperately tried to relax. Either her German was rustier than she thought, or it wasn’t in German after all. Perhaps it was in Danish or Dutch or Yiddish or whatever had been the language of the Mulder clan before they had assimilated. It didn’t matter in the scheme of things, but she had a sudden curiosity about the forces of history that had created Mulder and had consequently shaped the zygote implanted in her now. It was a strange thing to not know about the man who was giving her a child.

“We’ve been in tons of uh… vulnerable medical spots together. I didn’t look or anything.”

“I didn’t think you had.” His face had been in her full view the entire time. He’d gone pale at the sight of the speculum. After some very awkward accidental eye contact as said speculum entered her, he closed his eyes as he held her hand and sang to her. He’d been rocking back and forth, more in prayer than anything else. When she’d screamed and dug her nails into his hand, he’d opened his eyes and ran his fingers through her hair, singing a little louder, brow furrowed.

“So, what is it? Are you just tired?”

“A little melancholy. It’s stupid and makes me feel like a teenage girl but… don’t laugh.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I thought creating a child someday would be sexier.” Out loud that sounded even more ridiculous than in her head. She rolled her eyes at herself. “Not just sexy, but I don’t know. Spontaneous and romantic, something out of a love story.” She crossed her arms and looked away from him. “I’m so grateful for everything you did today. This week, really. I can not thank you enough. But what we just did is not how I pictured this part of my life would go.”

“That’s not a stupid or childish way to feel at all. I know this is not what you wanted. It’s not what I… it’s not what I wanted for you to have someday with the right person. I’m sorry beyond words for what’s been taken from you.” He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders and caught her eye, smiling at her. “But maybe it worked, you know? Maybe Secret Mission Baby Spooky was a success. That’s what matters in the end. I’ll be out on the couch. Just shout if you need me. Light off?”

She nodded. He stood up. “So, uh… Good night.” He waved his hands in circles around the room and over her bed, eyes closed like he was casting a spell. “Think fertile thoughts. Flowers blooming in spring. Bleating baby lambs. Kittens learning to walk. Storks.”

She smiled a little. She stopped herself from reaching out to him. She wanted so badly to ask him to stay but sensed that would cross a line. They’d shared a bed together before, but that was when she’d been deathly ill. When he held her, the warmth of his body would make cancer and chemo go away for a little bit. Back then there were no questions about defining the relationship— she was just a dying woman being held by her friend and her vulnerability was acceptable. It would be too real now to ask him to hold her after an attempted impregnation. Now there would be consequences and the question of a future— a future for three, God willing. More than the questions her request would provoke, she couldn’t bear the thought of him turning her down. And perhaps she couldn’t bear the thought of him obliging her either.

“Good night. And thanks for everything.”

“What are friends for? Byers and I are doing this same thing on Tuesday.” He reached the door and stopped. “Scully?”

“Yes?”

He didn’t turn to look at her. She watched the back of his head framed in her bedroom door. “I know that was the least spontaneous, completely unsexy, supremely unromantic experience possible. And a little traumatizing— for me at least. But there was a lot of love in that room. At least from where I was standing.”

And with that he snapped off her bedroom light and walked down the hall, humming their lullaby.

 

Chapter 2: More Things In Heaven and Earth

Chapter Summary

A sequel to what was originally an IVF one shot. Ch 2 stands on its own if you want to start here.

At odds with Scully after their first failed IVF attempt, Mulder uses his obsessive research skills to cope.

Chapter Notes

CW for discussion of pregnancy, cancer, IVF, infertility, the general barbarism of OBGYN procedures, discussion of sex and mention of a dog death.

In my timeline, Emily didn't happen, Scully found out about her eggs earlier and William is Fox's baby. Screw Christ Carter. :)

“It didn’t take.”

“What? You took the test without me?” He glanced up at the clock in her living room. He was always mixing these sorts of things up. “You said 6, right? It's 5:50 now. Did I get the time wrong?”

“I couldn’t stand waiting. Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t catch you before you left your apartment. I could have saved you the trip.”

“Scully, I’m so sorry.”

“It is what it is, Mulder. I just have to accept it now.” Mulder reached out for her. “Please leave.”

“Scully…”

“Please, Mulder.” She stepped back. “I don’t need you to sit here and hold me while I cry, ok? My idea didn’t work out and I won’t be having my baby. It’s fine. I don’t need your coddling. Just leave my apartment. Please.”

“But what—"

Scully looked up and froze him with her glare, jaw set. The rest of what he was going to say died in his throat. But what if I need you to hold me while I cry?

“Alright,” He put his hands up in defeat. “I’ll leave.”

He sat in his car, engine running, wondering where the hell he should head now. The chocolate bar in his coat pocket, intended to be shared in either celebration or consolation, was melting now. He couldn’t stand the thought of his bachelor pad and a bar seemed even more depressing. Where he wanted to be was with the one person who knew what had happened, what had just been lost, or better yet, what had never been.

But she’d been clear. She could grieve her disappointment about her baby alone. He couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough to start thinking of it as theirs. All she’d asked him for was a cup of jizz, but somewhere in the weeks after their conversation that night he’d thought about having more than that with her.

He thought back to after she’d been diagnosed with cancer when she still hadn’t told him the news. He’d asked her what was wrong, and she’d snapped at him that it wasn’t about him, that it was a matter of her own life. And what he’d try to say that day in the office was that of course it was her life, she was entitled to her own life. But his life and hers were so inextricably interwoven that what affected her affected him. That her life was his in a way, and his was hers, or at least he hoped so. But she was right at the end of the day. It was her life, her cancer, her apartment, her IVF plan, her baby. Hers. He had no claim to her, no real role in any of it.

…

He went to the one place he might find a little comfort and companionship— the Gunmen’s. At least they could play some tabletop RPG or argue about Star Trek or Warhammer or something pointless that could help him swallow without feeling a stab in his chest.

The guys were playing poker which Byers somehow always won. They let him in without question and dealt him into the next round. About an hour passed before Frohike said, “Hey, Mulder, are you ok? You seem really quiet.”

“Yeah it’s— it’s just been a bad day, that’s all.”

“Trouble in paradise? An argument with Mrs. Spooky?” Langley wiggled his eyebrows.

Mulder rolled his eyes. “Can’t you guys just lay off? Everyone harasses us all the time. She’s just my friend—actually, just my coworker.” No matter how much he might want her to be more. “How would you like it if everyone you knew was obsessed with your sex life?”

“Alright sorry! I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No, Langley, I— I’m sorry. I’ve just had a bad day. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“You know you can tell us what’s up right, man?” Frohike said.

“Not a word leaves this room,” added Byers.

They were staring at him now and he was going to have to say something. Not the truth. Scully had sworn him to secrecy. Who would want to advertise about having a kid with him?

“It’s just… my neighbor… her dog died. Its dumb but the dog–– I think he was a terrier–– he was just real sweet. He’d come lick my hand to say hello. And over the last few weeks I started thinking. I mean as a kid and as a younger more hopeful man, I just assumed Id have a dog someday. I lost sight of wanting a… of wanting a dog. I forgot you actually have to take certain steps in order to get a dog. They don’t just pop out of thin air. I started to think I didn’t want one after all, that I just wanted to want one because I was supposed to want one. And maybe I do just want one because I am supposed to want one. But I started thinking of myself as being a guy who could come home to a dog. Who could do dog owner things, like walks, and treats, and playing catch. Fetch. Playing fetch.” He was, to his horror, fighting back tears. “But when that fur ball died today… it’s like I snapped back to reality. I travel too much for a dog. I don’t feed myself half the time. Pretty piss poor d— dog owner. So maybe a life alone is better right? No worries, no responsibilities, no vets. Nothing to attach to and nothing to lose. So, it’s for the better, right? Right?”

“So, you’re having an existential crisis because your neighbor’s dog died?” Langley asked, looking a little incredulously out over the brim of his glasses.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Frohike placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look man, I don’t know about the merits of having a dog or not. But you’ve got time. These aren’t questions we can answer tonight. How about some cocoa?”

…..

After he got home from the Gunmen’s, he slumped down in the chair in front of his desk. There had to be a solution. An answer. He couldn’t just sit here and mope. He thought back to that exam room, a far harder moment than he’d anticipated. The doctor had said it would only be a little uncomfortable. When Scully had screamed and dug her nails into his hand he’d panicked, only to see the nurses and doctor acting as though all was according to plan. It had been a lie, a bald face lie, to both of them. Scully had to have known by dint of her medical training and her body that it would be far worse than uncomfortable. Maybe she hadn’t warned him to protect him. She’d been so resigned after the fact, so insistent to him that that was just how these things went. Scully’s child shouldn’t have to come into the world in such a sterile, cruel way. And her pain had been for naught. He kicked his trash can in rage and put his head in his hands.

But maybe that wasn’t the only option. That exam room was not the end-all-be-all. There were more things in heaven and earth than were dreamt of in its philosophy. Deeper forces of cause and effect than the ones that had brought forth that scream. There was an entire world out there, full of peoples and civilizations and cultures that had had their own understandings of the powers behind how souls entered the world for millennia. Somewhere out there, there was an answer. She’d told him once that if he was dropped in the desert with a shovel and told the truth was out there, he’d start to dig. There was a way to draw forth Scully’s child into the world, and he could find it.

He stood up and began to peruse his bookshelf for anything that might be of use. She had the novenas and the medical journals; his was the domain of the supernatural, the liminal, the magical. Death and life were powerful bargaining chips. These stories never seemed to end well. The Golem always turned on the Jews of Prague. Orpheus always looked back at Eurydice. Divine blessings always grew into tragic heroes and sacrificial lambs, rather than sons and daughters.

But he hadn’t tried to bring forth a soul from wherever they came from. He’d get it right. For Scully.

….

They didn’t talk for about a week. They kept any conversation to a polite hello. She spent most of her days in the lab and he stayed over in the archives looking for promising cases before 1970. Eventually on Thursday, she stopped him from leaving.

“We should talk. I’m so sorry for how I spoke to you. You were nothing but kind and helpful and I lashed out.”

“It’s alright. I know you were in a lot of pain.”

“I just hate… I hate making you feel like you have to take care of me.”

“I wasn’t staying to take care of you. I’m a selfish bastard at the end of the day. You said you didn’t need to be held as you cried. Well, you’re made of stronger stuff than I am. Who was going to hold me, huh? I uh… ended up having cocoa with the Gunmen.” Her eyebrows raised in alarm. “Don’t worry. I didn’t tell them a damn thing. You’ve made your wish for privacy clear, and I will comply under torture. Made up some stupid story about my neighbor’s dog to explain why I was crying.”

“Why would you have been crying?”

All he could do was just stare at her. How else did he need to do to say it, to show it? Was his sticky cloying love that the entire world could see so invisible to her? Shouldn’t the reason for his grief have been obvious? What they lost was half him too. He sighed.

“Scully, I’d love to chat more, but I have basketball practice to get to. Let’s catch up later.” He stepped around her and left the office.

….

Mulder went on the longest run of his life Friday after work. He came home absolutely exhausted, to find none other than Scully sitting on his couch with the coffee table and desk covered in piles and piles of notes, photocopies, and diagrams. He’d been doing as much research as possible over the last few nights. Trying to find a solution for her, a way to secure for her a child.

“I… I can explain.” Scully’s head snapped up from his library copy of What to Expect when She’s Expecting: A Guide for Fathers to Be. She didn’t seem the slightest bit sheepish about having let herself in to his apartment. “Been busy, have we?”

“It’s just– I got to obsessing over this. You know how I can get. And there’s so much intercultural variation in understanding conception. I wondered about what wisdom that could offer if you wanted to try again. With me or without me. I mean most of this stuff can’t hurt.”

“It’s impressive. I mean I don’t think anything would work but it’s really very sweet of you. To think so creatively about how to accomplish this. Some of these notes are quite entertaining.”

The notes were organized A-Z, and Scully had taken care to not disrupt his organizational system. “A—Abrahamic. I wander into the desert and make a deal with God. While the desert does not exist in the Southeastern United States, the Hebrew ‘bamidbar’ literally refers to wilderness. Who is to say the god of Abraham would be any less present in the woods than the desert? Cons. As many descendants as the stars seems taking in terms of budget, living space and Scully’s health. Also, Abraham had to get circumcised. I was circumcised as an infant so I’m not sure what this God would as me to chop off,” Scully chuckled. “Mulder, what the hell? Actually, I think I like this one even more.” She picked up another sheet of notes.

“H— Hades. The ancient Greeks threw phallic shaped honey cakes into caves in honor of Hades and Persephone’s union, the unity of death and renewal. There’s got to be caves around here somewhere. Cons. I can’t bake. Maybe to Scully this is not compatible with the Catholic faith. Must discuss. Oh, but speaking of baking, this one takes the cake!”

“Scully, please don’t read that one. It’s not meant to be what it sounds like.”

Scully picked up another sheet and cleared her throat. He knelt down. “Please spare me this. Leave me my dignity.”

“O— Orgasm. The contraction of the uterus is thought by modern science to help force sperm properly into further into the uterus. However, the proper entrance is being facilitated by a barbaric ass and a terrifying syringe. Setting aside common Western scientific understanding,” Scully starting crying from laughter.

Mulder was groaning facedown into the floor in embarrassment at this point.

“Setting aside common western scientific understanding, cyprine, which is to say vaginal discharge resulting from arousal, is thought to be in ancient and contemporary societies around the world to be as essential an ingredient in the creation of a new life as is sperm in the typical western understanding. Cons. The clinic seems like a supremely inappropriate venue for this option.”

He sat up and watched her read the rest of the page, heart pounding.

“This suggestion may be taken as a proposition, but it would be something Scully could surely complete of her own accord. While…” she trailed off, but he knew she was reading the rest of the page.

While Scully expressed a regret that her experience had not been sexy and romantic, she clearly meant that component to occur with someone other than myself. Mr. Right and not Mr. Spooky. Had she wanted this to be a feature of our mission, she clearly would have stated so over our years together.

She looked up at him, opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again. She sat the notes down in the places she had found them. “Mulder, this was clearly a major effort. And I am flattered by the commitment.”

“You’d do the same for me. You’ve done the same for me. All my quests and goals—you’ve been right there with me, approaching things your way, finding answers your way. I figured it’s my turn.”

She stood up and crossed the room to him, burying her face in his sweaty shirt. “While I cannot overstate how I don’t think any of this would work, I as always, am animated by your passion.” She pulled away and looked up at him, “It’s what caused me to follow you, what’s made me continue to follow you, and what helped me hold on through the worst of it all. I am just really sorry for how I lashed out at you, all while you were doing a gigantic favor for me.”

“Seriously Scully, you don’t have to keep apologizing. You were in pain.” They sat together on the couch. “What have you been doing this week to handle things?”

“Lots of ice cream. Went to mass a few times. I would like a glass of wine or two but I’m being cautious. I have thought about it a little more. And there’s so many factors to successful conception, especially through IVF, that it’s worth another attempt. But I would not blame you after how I’ve been this week if you are not interested in helping me again.”

“Are you kidding? Let’s go for it. Just say the word. Can I interest you in any supplemental ritual?”

“As a matter of fact,” she made eye contact with him, lips parted, as her fingers walked past the Ks and the Ls and the Ms. Then she whipped up a page and held it in front of his face, half sitting in his lap. He looked at the page. “Qi?”

“Wait no! Wrong page! Redo!”

He lightly grabbed her waist and held her back, whistling casually while his sneakered foot slid the O page under her hand. “Mulder!” She squirmed and giggled. He whistled at the ceiling as they both laughed harder and harder. Finally, she broke through with an elbow to the solar plexus and triumphantly grabbed the P page. She sat up and held it in front of him to see his grimace in pain and laughter. The laughter was making it more painful, which was making it funnier. She was giggling too, trying to ask him if he was ok and failing. Finally, she forced out, “Pomegranate juice. Near eastern sign of luck and fertility. Anecdotal evidence of success in IVF forums joined under the name F.M. Luder.”

“Pomegranate juice it is!”

She was still half in his lap, and he figured it was now or never. Ever so slowly he leaned in to plant a kiss on her lips. She cradled his head in her hands and returned his kiss. He wrapped his arm around her waist and began to kiss just under her jaw as she tilted her head back. They were interrupted by a loud stomach growl from Scully. Mulder laughed, the spell of the moment broken. “Wanna stay for dinner? I'll cook.”

“You’ll cook?”

“I’ll reheat frozen pizza rolls. I have celery sticks for an appetizer and some biscotti for dessert.”

“Three courses? So fancy.”

“How about a show afterwards?”

“Oh?”

“Well… Star Trek reruns come on soon. I guess it’s time I fess up and tell you I’m a Trekkie.”

“The kind of information you should really tell a girl before trying to knock her up. You did not record that on any of the genetic questionnaires at the clinic.”

Over pizza rolls, Scully said, “You know, Melissa was a Trekkie. She and her friends used to mail each other these stories they wrote about Kirk and Spock doing… licentious activities let’s say. When mom and dad found the letters, they almost sent her to boarding school.”

“No way!”

“Way!”

“I was the family Trekkie. Samantha loved The Addams Family. Mom hated her watching that. She kept saying Samantha’d get nightmares but Samantha never did. Were you a Trekkie growing up? Or was that just Melissa?”

“Melissa had Star Trek, Bill Jr. had Hogan’s Heroes, and I… I was a Wonder Woman girl.”

Mulder practically swooned.

“Say, Scully,” he made a show of fanning himself. “you wouldn’t happen to have a Lasso of Truth lying around somewhere?”

Scully rolled her eyes. “Mulder, shut up.”

“I am asking strictly in a professional capacity. It would save us time on cases.”

She threw her napkin at him in response, laughing into her lemonade.

….

They were about 10 minutes into Return of the Archons when they switched the TV on. Towards the end of Space Seed, Scully succumbed to her drowsiness, and laid down on a pillow in his lap. He pulled a throw over her and watched Taste of Armageddon, one of the best episodes, over her light snores.

As he thought about it, he realized they were a little like Kirk and Spock. He was brash but quick on his feet, always getting into nonsense and getting out of it again. He wasn’t exactly the lady’s man that Kirk was, not that he particularly wanted to be. And she with her calm rationality and stoicism, grounded him, anchored him, completed him. She even had Nimoy’s quizzical eyebrow down pat. They were nearing the end of the episode now.

“A feeling is not much to go on.”

“Sometimes a feeling, Mr. Spock, is all we humans have to go on.”

“Captain, you almost make me believe in luck.”

The music swelled as he cast a glance over his notes strewn everywhere, over Scully’s sleeping face.

“Why, Mr. Spock. You almost make me believe in miracles.”

By the light of the television, He pulled a little strand of drool-coated red hair out of her mouth and tucked it behind her ear.

And she did. She really did.

…

The stood in the parking lot of the fertility clinic. He poured pomegranate juice into two plastic cups and raised his in a sort of mock sacrament. “This is the lucky pomegranate juice delivered to us from on high by Jason, the guy at the health food store down the street. May they who drink of it be blessed with… uh…”

“May they who drink of it be blessed with a good sonohysterogram,” Scully added. He must have asked her eight times what that meant and what they were looking for exactly, but now was not the time to pester her again.

Mulder bent down slightly. They linked arms and drank. “Amen!” Mulder exclaimed.

“Amen!” And hand in hand, they went in to face round two.

 Chapter 3: Becoming an Us

Chapter Summary

IVF treatment side effects occur, and Scully bristles at Mulder's reaction.

Chapter Notes

AN: The prior AU canon-divergence notes apply here too.

I am yeeting the "Mulder was dying the whole time" thing from S8 into the sun, because that was lazy writing IMO, even by S8 standards.

CW: cancer, infertility

His knuckles had been white on the steering wheel the whole way home.

The faucet was running in the bathroom as she stared at the pain pills in front of her. It would soon join the army of hormones, supplements and suppositories that lived in her bathroom, part of the battle against her body to secure a successful second round. That is, if Mulder in his overprotective, and somewhat juvenile, rage wasn’t flushing everything down the toilet.

The anesthetic would be wearing off soon. She should stay ahead of the pain. It was only Thursday afternoon— she’d call in sick tomorrow and spend the weekend sleeping it off. But she needed to talk to him first, diffuse the situation. She wasn’t scared of him; he’d never hurt her. But his big clumsy heart was breaking.

He stepped out of the bathroom.

“How could you do this to me?”

“Do what?”

“Do what? Do what? Not tell me.”

She’d found a lump in her left breast a week ago. Thinking it was nerves shed had him verify it, awkwardly not looking at him as she lowered one shoulder of her robe. It reminded her of their first case together. How he’d knelt to check her bug bites. But instead of a reassuring smile he’d said he thought he’d felt something as she winced at the pressure of his fingers.

He’d said he’d go with her to the doctor, so she didn’t have to face whatever it was alone. The doctor found the sudden appearance of the lump along with its location concerning for malignancy. He looked at her chart and asked, “Did the specialist you are doing invitro with mention that fertility treatment would possibly cause breast or ovarian cancer, especially given your history?”

“Yes,” Scully said.

“No,” Mulder answered in a small voice.

The doctor raised his eyebrows at that and ordered an immediate biopsy of the lump and the nearby lymph node. They’d been moved to a new room in the hospital for the biopsies, lucky to have a last-minute opening. He’d been stone faced and silent across the side of the room but crossed to kiss her forehead and hold her hand before they started, playing his part through beat by beat.

“Tell you what?” She asked trying to keep her voice even.

“Scully, you’re too smart to play dumb. Tell me what we’ve been doing might give you cancer.”

“I just didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Not relevant? What the fuck was your plan? What if you got ill during the pregnancy and we had to talk about, you know, termination? What if it worked out but you died and left me with the kid alone? Is being a mother that important if you can’t raise it?”

“You’re overreacting.”

“No. No I’m not. Tell me why.”

“I… Would you have said yes if I had told you?”

“Hell no.”

“Exactly and this is my decision and my choice about my body. If I want to risk this, it’s up to me.”

“And what about my choice about my body, Scully? You asked me to be complicit in this without my consent.”

“Oh dear God, stop it! Why do you always act like you own me? Like you can make decisions for me?”

He sighed. “I don’t act– “

“You do. You’re a man and I’m a woman, and so some little piece of you thinks you’re entitled to––“

“Scully— this is not about ownership. I don’t own you and I don’t want to. It’s about friendship and partnership and companionship and…” He trailed off, hands outstretched like he was trying to hand her something. “It’s not unreasonable or possessive or chauvinistic that I’m upset right now. Do you have any idea what you asked me to give you?”

“I asked you for a sample.”

“No.” He chuckled. “No, Scully— you asked me for a child. You asked me for a child. A child.” He squatted down to make eye contact with her, and she looked away. “And now you’re upset that I want you around to raise it? Upset that I might have hurt you again? That I might have given you cancer again?”

“This isn’t about– “

“Me.” He straightened up. “You’re right. It’s about us. Our secret mission. This is us, damnit.”

“What us?” She said through gritted teeth.

He was silent for a moment. “Scully, why did you ask me?”

“Because I want to be a mother.”

“Yes, that has been established.” He ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. “But why’d you ask me? Of all the jizz cups from all the men in all the world you had to sign for mine? This is us. At some point it became us. But you don’t want it to be, do you?”

He was staring at her a little too earnestly and all of a sudden she just couldn’t take his eyes on her. She felt this seething irritation from deep in her stomach boil over and the words poured out before she could stop them. “God, you’re just so––“

“So what, Scully?”

“Clingy!”

“Clingy? Caring is clingy to you? You know how I am. How much I commit? Why would you ask me if you know how I am and if you can’t stand how I am?”

“Mulder.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can’t you leave me alone, for five minutes?”

He was silent for a moment, and she knew she had crossed a line. “Yeah. I can.”

“Mulder, I didn’t mean––“

“Yeah. You did.” He hesitated. “And yeah. I can do that.”

“You have food for a few days, easily prepared stuff. Chores are done. Pain pills at the ready. You can bathe alone, right? If you don’t take the pills beforehand. Not to tell you what to do.” He put his hands up in surrender. “It’s just my personal request that you try to stay alive if it isn’t too much of a hassle.”

She rolled her eyes.

He made for the door and turned back to face her, a little more sharply than was warranted. God, he could really ham it up sometimes. “And were… oh, sorry, you’re getting the test results Monday?

She nodded.

“Fantastic. I’ll see you Monday at work. I’d appreciate if you deign to share the results with me.” He picked up his keys.

“Monday?” It was only Thursday afternoon. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d gone that long without speaking, without seeing each other.

“Monday. Unless there’s an emergency. If there’s an emergency, call me. But otherwise, Monday.”

“Mulder¬––“

“Monday.”

He shut the door behind him. She heard his key lock the deadbolt and then the handle. Even in his anger he wouldn’t make her walk to lock the door behind him.

…

It had been a dreary, depressing few days. Pain shooting through the left side of her chest and not just because of the procedure. Her one-bedroom apartment somehow felt so big and silent without him. She hadn’t realized how much she had grown to expect having him around especially when she was recovering. His completely platonic presence in her bed whenever she asked which had been more and more often of late had become a central sleep aid. She would never admit to him that he’d been right, but maybe despite her best efforts to keep this close to her chest, this big goal had become a joint effort. That they had in a certain way they become an us.

She sat in the lab off to the side of their office, typing up a report. Across the room she heard nothing but his pencil scratching on a notepad with more force than necessary. He must have broken at least five so far today. It was almost noon, and he hadn’t said a word.

Her phone went off and she jumped.

“Dana Scully speaking,” she answered.

She heard his pencil stop abruptly.

“Yes, I have a moment to talk.”

He crossed the room slowly and silently to stand in front of her.

She couldn’t quite catch everything all of a sudden. She got the gist as her vision narrowed to the panic in Mulders eyes.

“Yes. Yes, I understand. No questions.” Her vision swam as she teared up. “Thank you for the call.”

She closed her phone and sat it down on the table, turning back to find him kneeling in front of her.

He had his eyes closed. “Scully what— what did they say? Scully? Scully, answer me.”

“The samples were negative. In the breast and the lymph node. Just a benign lump with no metastasis.” She burst into tears of relief.

Mulder gave a loud sigh and tipped forward to press his forehead into her knees. “So, you're ok?”

“I’m ok.” She smiled down at him and ran her hands through his hair. “We’re ok.”

“We’re okay,” he whispered to her knee cap. “We’re okay.”

Chapter 4: Tilting (At Windmills)

Chapter Summary

A negative biopsy result leads to a night out.

Chapter Notes

CW: boiler plate IVF fic themes. Also some fade-to-black mature, but not explicit, sexual content.

Mulder woke with a start feeling a momentary panic, as he wasn’t sure where he was. And he’d been having the most beautiful dream. The dim light from the bathroom illuminated a hotel room, and a pretty nice one at that. He heard heavy breathing beside him and turned over to find none other than a naked Dana Scully curled up in the crook of his arm. It came back to him in a rush. Apparently, it hadn’t been a dream after all.

He’d managed to convince her to go out with him that night to celebrate her negative biopsy even though it was a Monday night and even though neither of them had gone out in years. He’d gone back to his apartment and found a disturbing lack of going out clothes, settled on a black button down and dark jeans.

He’d picked her up in a red spaghetti strap dress which would have ever guessed she’d wear in a million years. It was practically backless, covering her lower back not too far above the scar that marked the remnants of her back tattoo. They hadn’t thought of many places to go out given that they had no lives and settled for an upscale hotel bar.

Mulder ordered a neat bourbon. Four roses if they had it, and Scully ordered a strawberry Daiquiri with Bacardi. They tucked themselves in off to the side in a booth far from the jazz quartet, and far from prying eyes, swapped drinks.

“I don’t know how you can drink that. It’s basically a slushy,” Scully had said, mouth puckering.

“That’s the point.”

“It makes my teeth hurt.”

“Says the gal drinking gasoline,” he’d teased. “The smell is giving me heart burn.”

Halfway through his Daiquiri, she had rested on his knee said without quite meeting his eyes “I know this place is expensive but–“

“We can get an appetizer if you need.”

“I was thinking of a room.”

“What for? We can snuggle at home.”

Before he could correct his mistake by mentioning their snuggle sessions out-loud and calling her apartment their home she whispered, almost with resignation rather than excitement, “I can’t wait until we get home.”

“Can’t wait for?”

She slid her hand up his leg and things fell into place. “Oh. Oh.”

She’d reddened and shut her eyes, pulling away. “Oh my god. I misread. You don’t think or me like that. I’m just a friend for you.”

“No. No you’re not.”

“No? I’m not your friend?”

“No. I–“

She looked up at the ceiling. “Can we pretend I didn’t ask?”

He leaned in and kissed her, and when they pulled apart, he said, “If you are asking me to go to bed with you my answer is a resounding yes. But just to check, how drunk are you?”

Scully smiled. “My glass is full. I barely had a sip. You’re the one that chugged yours. If anything you might be too drunk.”

“Not at all. Not at all.”

He’d put the room on his card and led her up to a one-bedroom king sized bed on the fourth floor, giggling like teenagers all the way.

It had been over all too quickly, the precious seconds running through his fingers like sand. And when he was inevitably pulled along with the sand, he’d fought against it just long enough to try to pull her close. So that she knew it was exhaustion and only exhaustion. Just biology and that he was not rolling over would never roll over, not from her.

Now he tried to match his breathing to hers, not betray the fact that he had woken up so that he could memorize how she felt against him. Feeling the blood pushing through her body and air pushing in and out of her lungs. The precious machinery that kept her alive. And maybe just under those sounds he was hoping for the barest suggestion of a third heartbeat joining theirs. But somehow, he failed to stay still enough and she stirred against him, turning her face up to him and giving him a shy smile.

“Hello.”

“Hello. Sleep okay?”

“Yes.”

They lay together in silence for a while.

“What are you thinking about, Mulder?”

The truth came out before he could think of something funny.

“Names.”

“Names?”

“Yeah. Yeah. What about Dinah? Dana and Dinah.”

“Oh. Names names. That’s pretty. What made you think of it?”

“It’s just a pretty name and its close to yours.”

No need to mention it had been his grandmother’s.

“Just two little ladies. Dana and Dinah. Well, not that little. She wouldn’t be. I was ten pounds. I told you that right, Scully? Samantha was nine. And you’re what a buck-twenty soaking wet? You were probably a little baby. I didn’t realize how much smaller than me you were until we just got up to what we just got up to, you know. Maybe a shorter man should be helping you.”

“And now that I think about it’s taking an awful lot of work and suffering to get this kid up inside you. And what’s gonna go wrong getting him out? What if you two get sick, like really sick, and I can’t get home from a case and—"

She rolled onto her back and turned her head towards him.

“Mulder, small women have been birthing big men’s babies for hundreds of thousands of years.”

“And you know how bad mortality rates were. This is why you need to be strong. Youve gotta be eating, really eating, not like a bird.”

“Birds actually eat a considerable amount relative to their size.”

“Ok, then you gotta eat like a bird. My point is—"

“Breathe.”

“Okay okay okay. Im sorry I just–“

“I know. It’s just how you are.”

He kissed her temple.

“I have other name ideas. Like Melissa. Melissa for your sister.”

“Bill and Tara have dibs for their girl. They’re doing a whole cutesy M name thing. Matthew and Melissa.”

“Damn it.”

“Thought of boy names? You’ve only listed girls so far.”

“Well…. Daniel? Like Dana. It means gift, I think.

No need to mention it was his grandfather’s.

He swallowed. Time to go for broke. “Or William? For your dad. Or Willa for a girl.”

Her hand traced along his arm up to his shoulder.

“And yours too, right?”

“We can put a footnote on the birth certificate.”

“What now?”

“Yeah. William Asterisk Scully and then the footnote clarifies he’d be named after William Scully Senior and not William Mulder. I mean why would he be named for Uncle Fox’s dad anyway?”

He forced a laugh wondering if she’d thought about what his role was supposed to be at the end of this mission. Dad? Uncle? Would he change diapers and handle soccer pick-ups? Or just pass the kid candy and Scully some cash now and then? A single mother’s budget wouldn’t go far in D.C., but she might be too proud for his help.

Scully tilted her head and opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again. After a moment she said, “Am I to take your thoughts about names as evidence you want to keep trying? Despite how pissed you got?”

“Yes. If you’ll have me. I’m sorry I was such an ass. You’re right that you know the risks more than me.”

“I still should have told you.”

“Maybe. But I cant be afraid of everything forever. So yeah. Yeah. If it’ll make you happy. If it’ll fix what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything. This isn’t your fault.”

“Sure, Scully let’s keep trying to believe that.”

“What’s with the hypochondria by proxy?”

“I didn’t tell you. But when you got sick at the end–– when we thought you wouldn’t make it. I almost killed myself. Loaded gun to my head. My only salvation was the spy interrupting me. I just can’t. I need you to be alive. Not for me or anything. Live the life you want how you want with who you want. There’s so much more you can do than chase leprechauns with me. So this isn’t me owning you I just want— I need. I need you to be alive.”

“Is that what we’re doing? Chasing leprechauns?”

“When we aren’t tilting at windmills. Speaking of hypochondria, I know you’ll think
I’m crazy…”

“What else is new?”

“Have you thought about cutting it out? The lump? Just in case.”

“It’s benign.”

“But that can change right? Just thinking, if they can why not?”

She sighed. “I’m not getting needless surgery on my breast so you can sleep more easily.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to. I wouldn’t. I just was thinking, but if you’ve decided.”

“I have. But thank you for caring.”

She tried to roll towards him, and he shifted just wrong so that her still sore left breast was pinched between them. She winced. He scouted down and kissed the still raised bump from the biopsy as lightly as he could. She smiled.

“You can be so sweet. No one else gets to see how sweet you are. Just trying to kiss it better, huh?”

“Yeah. Always. If I could, I would.”

He laid against her side breathing her in as she played with his hair.

“Well there’s some pleasant news tonight.”

“And what’s that?”

“We aren’t just capable of chase leprechauns and tilting at windmills. You are better than I thought you would be.”

He wasn’t sure how to take that backhanded compliment but tried to be genial. At least he’d exceeded expectations.

“So, you’ve thought of me.”

“Yes. You’ve been a frequent fantasy subject for some time. Did you ever think about me?”

“I… I really tried not to. I want you to know that this tonight in no way lessened or cheapened my respect and affection for you.”

“Nor mine for you. You know, Mulder, no one’s ever made me finish the first night.”

“First night? Am I to take that to mean you’d like more nights?”

“Why not? What’s a little intimate companionship between friends?”

He was glad his face was pressed against her side so she didn’t see it fall.

“Right. We can be mature about this. Just two friends helping each other out. Just stress relief.”

“Exactly. God, you gave me a very nice time tonight. It’s been so long. And the medications have made my libido swing like crazy.”

“Anything to assist you in our cause, my liege. I had an excellent night with you.”

“Well, we should probably go home,” she groaned. “Our respective homes. Its 1 am and we have work tomorrow.”

“I was thinking of going to work right now. On you that is.”

“Does Little Mulder have the capacity for a second round?”

“Little?”

“I said what I said.”

He laughed “Ok, he’s probably out for the night but the rest of me isn’t. And anyway I think some other activities got better reviews.” He nibbled at her side and she giggled.

“I suppose… if we are both awake.”

He scouted down to kiss at her waist, hand resting on her knee.

“Actually, Scully, it would be irresponsible not to.”

“Irresponsible? How so?”

He rolled on top of her, resting on his elbows and playfully ran his nose along the front of her hip bone.

“Financially that is. It’s not like this place rents by the hour. Might as well use it while we’ve got it.”

Scully arched her back, knees falling open. “Can’t argue with that,” she sighed.

Chapter 5: The Calendar

Chapter Summary

Mulder tries to hype Scully up on All Hallows Eve for round two!

Then, they face after effects while on a case.

Chapter Notes

I know this chapter took forever but I think I’ll get the next sections done soon!! Thanks to all folks who leave comments and kudos! 😊

TW: all past TWs apply. Also, brief mention of Catholic molestation scandal and chattel slavery in the Americas. More discussion of Scully’s abduction experience and non consensual experimentation being a form of sexual assault.

November 1st 6:45 clinic check in for round 2, was clearly highlighted in pink on the calendar on her refrigerator.



Color coding was easiest really. Blue was work, pink was baby, brown was family and her minuscule social life. Little green dashes were Mulder. Those were green and unlabeled so they might appear to blend in with the family time. She had a strong suspicion he was colorblind if his choices in clothing were any indication. It would be odd to clarify with him she was mentally sequestering and planning sex, keeping that new development as far from work and the kid as possible. Absolutely no green for two weeks starting tomorrow. It might dislodge the embryo. Mr. Green would be over any minute, staying the night to accommodate their early start tomorrow.



She stepped into her bathroom and pulled up her shirt. She turned to the side and studied her bloated stomach. She felt crummy and self conscious with all these hormones and suppositories, but with any luck it was their last necessary attempt. She heard a knock at the door.



“Trick or treat!”



It was Mulder. He’d adorned a black cape and fake teeth and had a trickle of jam on the corner of his mouth. He was holding out a pillowcase.



She stepped aside to let him in.



“Or?” She teased.



“Well, you know how the rhyme ends,” he winked, lisping slightly through his fake teeth.



“Wouldn’t that be the treat in question, Mulder?”



“Indeed it would.”



He started to riffle through the candy bowl by the door. A skeletal claw, triggered by a little motion sensor, shot up through the candy and grabbed his hand. He jumped and backed away from the bowl.



“You got me!” He hugged her very lightly.



“How are you feeling?”



“Oh, you know. Nervous. Melancholic,” he replied.



“I know. I’m feeling good about tomorrow despite it all. I think this might be what does it,” he rubbed his hands together in excitement.



Her heart ached, tantalized by his hope.



“You dont know this will work out,” she chided.



“No, I don’t. But I want to believe it will. And I will believe for the both of us until I cannot anymore, one way or the other.”



That was no light statement. He had been holding on to Samantha for over twenty years.



He furrowed his brow and looked around in confusion.



“Scully, do you hear that?”



“Hear what?”



“Shh shh shh,” he pressed a finger to his lips. “It’s very faint. Don’t breathe too loudly.”



He knelt at her feet and hugged her pressing his ear to her stomach.



“Yep. Just as I suspected. He is on his way. Or she. It’s going to be a long long walk but the baby has embarked on their journey!”



“What makes you say that?”



“Well think of what tonight signifies!”



“Cheap candy and fake teeth?” asked Scully.



“No. A time of liminality. Think of all traditions the world over this time of year.”



“Harvest feasts, Mulder?”



“Not quite. Not yet. The Catholic All Saints Day where intercessory prayers have a special strength. The Celtic Halloween where the spirits of the netherworld prowl among us,” he lifted his cape and hissed.



“The Mexican Day of the Dead where our deceased loved ones stay for a meal, he continued. “We are shortly after the Jewish High Holidays when the gates of heaven open and one rehearses for ones death.This is a time between worlds. Where we can hear and see beyond this one. And I can hear that this kid is en route. Can’t you?”



She sighed “I don’t—“



He stood up grabbing her hands and pulling them out to her sides in his own. He tipped his head back and breathed in.



“You’ve got to want to hear him. The kids voice is very small, feet are very tiny. You got to listen very hard. Do you hear him?”



She closed her eyes. It had to be the patter of kids in the hallway, the beating of her heart but shed be damned if for the slightest moment there wasn’t the sense of a presence just beyond their perception, waiting to debut. She jumped as she heard a knock at the door. Mulder handed out candy to the kids with vigor. He obviously really connected with kids, maybe because he was a very tall child in a lot of ways. Maybe thats why he'd said yes.



Once the kids had departed they sat down on her couch. He kissed her cheek and then slid his face down to kiss at her throat, gnawing with his fake teeth. His breath tickled and she felt herself relax. But she snapped back to reality and pushed him off.



“Mulder we can’t tonight.”



“I know. I don’t want to. I’m not staying the night tonight for that reason.” He looked down at the ground.



“I want to check that you dont feel like you have to put out for me. Im not expecting or wanting you to pay me somehow. I really like being intimate with you but if you don’t… it won’t change that I want to help you or that you’re my best friend.”



“I know. I dont feel like I have to. It’s helpful. For one, I sleep better after.”



“Well,” Mulder sucked his teeth. “I have been boring women in the sack until they fall asleep since 1981,” he bragged sarcastically.



“Not like that. Wanting and being wanted. Feeling good about my body. So much better than being a slab of uncooperative meat at a doctor’s office.”



There was more she could say. Just what it meant to her. But that was a can of worms best left alone. She was the one who said they were partners and friends first and foremost. Not like there would be a future with him anyway. He wasn’t a white picket fence guy and the thought of marriage, of cohabitation day in and day out made her feel suffocated. But then again, she couldn’t imagine a life without him anymore, although she drew a total blank at what that life could possibly be.



“So this process, it’s making you feel bad about your body?”



“Not bad as much as distant. Like my body isn't me anymore. I remember my father took us once to a farm. He made us watch this cow get inseminated and I feel like that in that room. Like she must have.”



“Scully, I don’t understand why it is that it has to hurt you so badly.”



She held her first two fingers up horizontally in front of both of them. “This is my cervix.”



She held up the index finger of her other hand. “And this tube attached to the syringe.It goes up past my cervix.”



She slid the finger up between her other two and wiggled it.



“Then they find a spot to deposit the zygote. The issue is, basically the cervix is meant to not allow anything to pass.”



“Like Gandalf?”



She sighed. “Sure Mulder. It’s not meant to allow anything other than a few cells in and anything other than menstrual lining or a baby out. So the entire muscle—“ she clenched her hand into a fist around her finger. “All those muscles, fight at the forced intrusion of a tube.”



Mulder was turning green.” But they gave you something last time, right? Didn’t that help?”



“Xanax. Not that it helped.”



“But cant they knock you out or give you something to numb the cervix?” Mulder asked more urgently.



“They won’t. Because cervixes dont have nerve endings”



Mulder hemmed. “Is that true?”



She scoffed. “It certainly feels like it has nerve endings when I’m getting impaled. But what I’m going through is nothing compared to the enslaved women gynecology was pioneered on.”



“That doesn’t make it okay! What happened to you that caused this was also medical—“



She couldn’t bear to hear the word “rape” tonight and cut him off. “Let’s not, Mulder.”



“I’m sorry.” He slumped back in defeat.



“It’s okay. That what nice about when we are together in that way. I get to decide what happens to me.”



“Then your wish is my command.” He kissed her hand. “You don’t need to be strong. If you need to be upset or angry or sad or feel pain it’s okay. I’ve got you. I think a lot of people tell you how strong you are and you are but you’re a lot more than that. You let me show you everything I feel and depend on you. It’s the least I can do to return your favor. I mean, you’ve given me great years with my baby—the x files— and now I can give you your years with your baby.”



Your baby, she noted. “Mulder, maybe we should talk about what this will look like if it works.”



“When,” he corrected.



“If it works,” she repeated.



“What’s there to discuss?”



“It’ll change things. Lets not pretend it wont. I can’t stay in the department and be a mother!”



“Nonsense. We’ll get Skinner to let us buy an RV and the three of us can hit the road. We can do home school— well, van school— and get a little bullet proof vest. Clip on tie for a boy. Or a girl for that matter! Granted, this is a very unorthodox way to expand the department and the kid would be a little under qualified…”



She went cold in horror.



He smiled and rubbed her back. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. I’m not that crazy. I know. I know you’ll put in for a transfer for something that will let you be a mother instead of running around with me. And I’ll trudge on in the basement.”



“It would change our relationship.”



“That’s okay. I’ll be here for you still. Well still see each other, right?”



“Of course. But we should decide— what role do you want to have?”



“What role do you want me to have?”



“I asked you first, Mulder. At least, tell me one thing thats for sure off the table or on it.”



“Okay.” He thought for a moment. “I want to cover school for the kid. Tuition, books, and so on. My father left me too much money and a kid needs a good start.”



“I can’t let you do that. You’re already helping me pay for treatments.”



“Yes. And school for the kid matters. Your turn.”



“I want him baptized.”



“Yes ma’am. I dont want to be a part of that. I’ll go to the baptism or communion or that lifecycle stuff but no services. That’s your world and not mine. But I want to do a background check on the priest.”



“Mulder…”



“One hears stories. Its not everyone— I would never say it’s everyone. But I used to investigate predators. Please?”



“Alright. But I want the kid to have my last name.”



“Done.”



“Done? You’re the last Mulder.”



“Eh. I don’t care much about my family name living on. He’ll be a Scully.”



“Alright. Thank you. But Mulder What will we tell…” she trailed off



People? The kid?



He read her mind. “The kid should probably know some day. So whoever I am is at least biologically apparent when they start needing to know. As to everyone else… they’ll see what they want to see. They always have. You can decide how much people know.”



“Is our current situation going to continue?”



“Our adult sleepovers? I’d like that. I guess if it confuses or stresses the kid out, to have mom’s friend overall the time it would be a no. Or when you meet someone, someday.”



“And when you meet someone?”



He just shook his head. “That’s not going to happen.”



“But if—“



“It won’t . Lets get you some sleep, okay?



He stood up and yawned undoing his cape. “Pillows and blankets are in the closet?”



“Don’t be silly. Just sleep in my bed with me.”



“That is a relief for my lower back to hear. I’m getting old. What did the doc call me? Geriatric?”



“He was just talking about your sperm, Mulder.”



“Oh that’s better!” he snarked.



“Well you know where the bathroom is to put in your vampire dentures.”



“Nice one.” He chuckled.



…..



She heard a knock at the door and her heart sank. She couldn’t stand the thought of talking to anyone else today. Trying to work a case with cramps that put her on the verge of tears was draining enough.



Mulder had to stand in front of her and shield her, holding her up. Sparing her her dignity so no one saw what must have been her heaviest cycle ever, marking the loss of yet another shot. Her useless uterus contracting, pushing out a flood of wasted accrued lining from all the pills and suppositories and prayers and elephant statues (according to Mulder’s superstitious at least).



But of course it was him. He was at her door with a full pillowcase and that kicked puppy look. So of course she stood aside and let him by.



“Mulder, this goes against the rules!”



“We are probably way past male and female agents being alone in a motel room alone at this point.” He began to unload his makeshift bag. Water bottles. Oreos. Overnight pads. A heating pad.



“That not the rule I’m talking about. I mean our rules. No baby talk at work. Cases mean we are working. Your eyes say baby talk!”



“Well, we don’t have to talk about it. But I at least brought you something for the pain.” He waived the heating pad. “It’s not like you can leave your uterus back in D.C., Scully. Your body doesn’t follow our color coded calendar. The pink and the blue and the brown and the green all overlap more than you want.”



“So you aren’t color blind?”



“No. I don’t know why everyone assumes this. And I know what green is.”



She shifted a little, feeling trapped in her obvious need to sequester and plan out what was for most spontaneous and natural. She settled on deflecting.



“You have a point there about my uterus not adhering to the schedule.”



“Is it as bad as it was earlier today?”



“Just a very heavy cycle essentially. An upset stomach and anxiety from the hormone withdrawal. But I’m ok. Really.”



He nodded. “Good. I don’t want to impose. We don’t have to talk about it. And I’ll leave if you ask. I respect you need space sometimes. But I could use some company.”



“Alright.” She was grateful for the excuse. Admitting she needed him was hard, but if he was the one who needed her she might as well oblige him.



She sat on her bed. He plugged in her heating pad and sat next to her with Oreos in his lap.



“No cookies,” she chided. “You’ll get crumbs on the bed.”



“Okay,” he grumbled tossing them on to the bedside table.



An awkward silence hung in the air.



“Lets watch some TV,” he prompted.



She found some old Doris Day and Rock Hudson movie, nothing especially interesting but at least it was a distraction.



On the first commercial break she put her arm around his shoulders. He scooted down to let her reach more comfortably, resting his head on her shoulder. After a few minutes she could feel him shaking a little as he tried to covertly cry. She felt an ache in her chest at how vulnerable and childlike he could be when he let out his emotions. And more than a little jealousy at how easily he could let them out.



She started humming the lullaby he normally sang for her when she wasn’t well, rubbing his back.



“You’re doing it wrong,” he muttered.



“Oh? Show me how it goes, Maria von Trapp.”



He sat up and wiped his face off with his sleeve.



“It goes down up down up down. You’re doing down up up up down.” He whistled the right interval, representing the notes by moving his hand up and down.



She hummed it back until she got it right, and he nodded smugly.



“Teach me the words.”



He went phrase by phrase and she repeated. The vowels were tripping her up, and he was getting a little exasperated. But he was also grinning, enjoying teaching her and getting to correct her.



“Scully, it’s not an uh! Its an ey. It’s back in your throat more!”



She put her hands on his jaw and throat to feel how to get the sound right until he nodded his approval.



They stumbled along until he paused after one phrase, his jaw quivering a little.



“What does that part mean, Mulder?”



“One day, you will know why your mother weeps.”



Chapter 6: The Repro Man

Chapter Summary

Being Scully’s central support and confidante starts to get to Mulder.

Chapter Notes

Thanks so much to y’all. Just a few more chapters left.

Right now I am only writing on my phone, so I apologize if there are more typos in this chapter.

CWs: all past ones apply. Also nightmare sequences involving death in childbirth and infant death.

The chatter of all the doctors and nurses was drowned out by the sound of Scully’s screaming.



He hardly had any room to move and couldn’t cover his nose against the stench of blood. He had one hand in Scully’s and the other was dabbing her forehead. Pulling away at all would be a great betrayal.



Scully was panting and shining with sweat. Her screams were getting worse now, more feral and he couldn’t bring himself to turn his head towards the clown car of medical professionals at her feet.



She slumped back and at last Mulder heard a thin little infant cry. Scully smiled and despite the crowd and all the blood Mulder relaxed.



It’s a boy exclaimed the doctor.



“A boy,” she whispered.



“Yeah!” He smiled at her. “Isn’t that great?”



She nodded and then her eyes fixed on a point past his shoulders and, just like that, the light behind them went out.



He touched her shoulder. “Scully! Scully!”



Her head lolled from side to side from his shaking but she made no movement, drew no breath.



The nurses and doctor were impervious to his yells for help.



“Congratulations,” said the doctor, pushing a squirming bundle into his arms.



He looked away from Scully’s lifeless face and felt his stomach drop.



The baby was very small, maybe only three or four pounds. But the baby’s head was twice the size of that of a normal baby, his eyes jet black slanted ovals that took up most of his face. His skin was reptilian mottled green scales with two tiny flat holes for nostrils where a nose should be. Curled next to his face were little fists, each finger ending in a black talon.



Mulder started shaking his head trying to call for help trying to get someone to undo this awful awful mistake. This was all some terrible confusion. His eyes peered up into Mulder’s, all too alert. The baby reached a four-fingered taloned hand up from the gore spattered blankets groping for Mulder’s face.



The Grey opened the thin lipless slit that served for its mouth and cried out “Dada!”



Mulder sat up gasping for air.



His heart was pounding out of his chest. Scully stirred beside him.



“Are you okay?” She mumbled half into her pillow.



He sighed. “Just a bad dream. A really, really bad dream. I’m sorry I woke you.”



“‘Sokay.”



He lay back down next to her and propped himself up on one elbow.



“Did you sleep alright?”



“Not really, no. I kept having to pee and then every time I came back to bed you were tossing and turning.”



“I’m sorry. And while I am at it—“



“Don’t apologize again about last night. It happens to everyone.”



“Great. It can happen to all of them. Just not me.”



“Mulder, you’re too proud. We were evidently both tired, given that we are just now waking up at 10. And in any case I think I am getting sick.”



Mulder put his hand to her forehead and then reached to feel her throat.



“What are you doing?”



“You feel my throat when I am sick. So I am feeling yours.”



“And do you know what you are trying to feel for?”



“…No. No, I don’t.”



Scully gave him a big smile. He loved her smiles. They were all too rare, but unlike most rare commodities, they wouldn’t depreciate in value were they to become more common. They were so much better than when she was sad or angry or withdrawn in to her own mind with little interest in including him.



Or screaming. The screams and grimaces of pain were the worst of all.



But it was what they had to do to get Scully her deepest wish. All of this was for her smiles and laughter. Even if it was just the resolved and reluctantly hopeful half grin of a new treatment plan.



He wanted to sink back down, pulled in to the orbit of Scully’s half asleep grin, but something was nagging at him.



“Did you say it was almost 10?”



“Yes.



He jumped up, searching for his clothes.



“Where are you off to, Mulder? It’s Saturday. We don’t have to work today.”



“I have some uh— errands. Errands to run. I’ll be back soon.”



“That was cryptic. Your shirt is on inside out.”



“Thank you, Scully.”



He kissed her cheek and dashed for the door.



…



Of course the elevator was taking forever so he ran down the apartment building stairs to the parking lot. The coffee shop was 15 minutes away and 10:15 was just when he was supposed to be meeting Margaret. If he could move fast enough he would only be a few minutes late. He’d have to take a few side streets to make it in time.



The gas gauge in his car was literally on E, so he’d have to fill up after. Of course, he was running out of more than just gas. He was running out of steam to keep up with Scully on her mission. He was count, losing track of the attempts and tests and rounds of treatments. At this point, he just showed up when and where she told him to and did what she told him to.



It wasn’t that he didn’t care about Scully becoming a mother. On the contrary, he felt himself growing more desperate for success with each conversation, attempt, and bout of research into the scientific and the paranormal alike. But he had to admit this was getting to him.



It was harder with each day to paste a grin on his face for her. To whip out a cup with a fresh sample, another three or sometimes four digit cheque. And as selfish as it was, and it certainly was selfish, he wished he had someone he could talk to about what they were going through. He couldn’t keep piling on to Scully’s pain so he just was supposed to turn it all inside himself. But he couldn’t begrudge her her need for privacy. He just wished she knew how it was weighing on him. Not that he knew what he would say if he did have someone who he could confide in.



The cycle of grieving something that never was, then finding a slim chance of a better answer, only to once again grieve what never was. And at the center of each attempt was Scully experiencing the worst, the most invasive treatments he could have possibly imagined.



And he had to watch her writhe and scream and bleed and withdraw into herself. The worst visits and the worst cheques were for those times nurses had to hold her legs open as he tried to soothe her. Those scenes were more and more all he could conjure up in those little back rooms filled with porn. At least last time she’d snuck back with him and gave him a helping hand, in a pale imitation of the intimacy she deserved.



He was dreading the day he would have to look her in the eyes and say he couldn’t help her anymore. Either the money or his spirit would give out sooner or later. He envied her strength, but he had never been as tenacious as her. Healthy happy marriages often failed after unsuccessful IVF. Their relationship, if it could even be called that, stood no chance once they gave up on this.



So he’d keep at it for as long as he could. Get her meds, get her dinner, get her off.



They’d attempted that last one the night before for an awkward and ultimately inconclusive 45 minutes before Scully put him out of his misery and told him she had a headache.



Sex was a part of how he needed to help her. She said that having sex helped her sleep, and she needed to sleep to be strong when the baby came. If he couldn’t get her off, she wouldn’t sleep, so she wouldn’t be strong and if she wasn’t strong in time then…



The truck behind him blared its horn and he snapped out of it, jutting forward under the green light and barely making the turn into the coffee shop parking lot.



He parked and tried to take a deep breath, stretching his jaw open and shut until he could hear the joints creak, rubbing his jowls. Trying to lubricate his face up enough to fake a smile.



…



She was sitting at a table in the back corner of the coffee shop when he walked in.



“I’m sorry I’m late, Mrs. Scully.”



“No worries! Call me Margaret, Fox.”



He gave her the grin he’d prepared. “Only if you call me Mulder, Margaret.”



She’d already retrieved his black coffee and he relished the taste, but found it was doing nothing to wake him up. It was just causing his heart to pound faster.



They shot the shit for a little while, filling each other in on the petty minutiae that made up friendships.



“Look Fox— Mulder. I didn’t invite you here just to chat. I’m worried about our girl.”



As he’d figured. “Why for the anxiety?”



“Well, I noticed some bills on her kitchen table. And quite a few medicine bottles in the fridge and her cabinet. I didn’t look of course. But I know she’s been a little withdrawn, sleeping a lot, not eating much. Is she ok? Its not back is it?”



He remembered sitting in this coffee shop with her, what seemed like yesterday and a thousand years ago. A nightmare as they compared notes on what she’d told them about her cancer and tried to gauge just how fast she was dying.



Margaret’s eyes were full of fear. He was going to have to thread this needle carefully. He couldn’t lie to Margaret, but neither could he tell her the truth



“No, I have no reason to believe that. I think she’s just still recovering overall. It was all so hard on her. So she’s just recuperating. She said something about iron tablets because of some hormone thing, or something like that. Or hormones for her iron. It didn’t seem super serious. I try not to pry. I’m sure shell tell us if something happens.”



Margaret rolled her eyes.



“Ok ok. If it gets serious enough, she’ll tell me and I’ll tell you. Right now she might just be a little overworked. I’ll see if that jerk coworker of hers will lay off a bit.” He added a wink to lighten her mood.



“Well, how are you?”



“Hanging in there.” Of course he wasn’t, not really, but he hadn’t been since 1974. Some people, he supposed, were just supposed to live lives like that, and he was one of them.



“And your mother, Mulder?”



“We still aren’t speaking. Last I knew she was alright from her stroke. I am next of kin so I’m guessing I would have heard about anything major.”



“Thats too bad. I’m sure whatever it can be patched up.”



“She lied about some very significant things to me, and I called her out on it in a way that wasn’t the most mature. Not like there was much of a relationship to ruin. But hey… I have other people in my life I care about and in that I am very lucky.”



“Wow. I couldn’t bear my children thinking like that.”



“Well, you and Dana have a better relationship than my mom and I ever did. Hell, you and I have a better relationship than I do with my mother!”



“Well, I hope you’re right that Scully’s going to be okay. Being a parent. It does something to your heart. Have you ever thought about being a father, Mulder?”



This morning’s nightmare flashed through his mind. Scully dead, their little Grey crying out for his father after murdering her.



He cleared his throat. “I don’t know. A little.”



“There’s something people say about being a parent that you don’t really know until you live it. That a parent does anything for their kid. I would give anything, absolutely anything, to trade my life for hers.”



“I don’t think it’s come to anything like that, Margaret. You have my word I will let you know if she tells me she’s sick again.”



His phone rang. He shifted a little. He didn’t want to be rude, but if it was Scully…



“I’m sorry, but this might be important.”



She nodded and waived at him to answer.



“This is Mulder.”



“Mulder, it’s me. My progesterone shots are in at the pharmacy. Can you pick them up? They close at 12 and are closed tomorrow. Missing a dose would be inopportune.”



“I’ll be there in plenty of time. Don’t worry about it one second.”



He hung up.



“Who was that?” Margaret smiled “A special someone?”



“Just a friend.”



“Of course. A good Catholic girl?”



“She is. Not that I am.”



“You should bring her around. It’s good to have someone in your life. Maybe for Easter in a few weeks.”



“Maybe. I don’t know if we’re at ah… introductions yet. And she’s probably already seeing her family. Good Catholic girl that she is.”



“Does Dana know her?”



“They’re acquainted.”



“Well, she’s always been territorial about her friends. Just know if you like this woman, I already do. Although I must admit I did have the hope that someday you and Dana… but no matter.”



“Thanks for your support, Margaret. I really appreciate you. But I should run to the pharmacy before they close. Talk soon?”



“Sure thing, son.”



He hugged her goodbye, enjoying that word more than he could admit.



…



He got into his car, pinching the bridge of his nose. His eyes were just so heavy. The pharmacy was about 15 minutes away and it was already after 11. He was about halfway there when his car sputtered and gave out. He barely had time to pull off into a little strip mall and park at an obnoxious angle.



“Fuck fuck fuck!”



He flipped through his phone and landed on one name that was probably reliable enough to help.



“Langley, it’s me. I need a really big favor. I broke down at the corner of uhhh— you know that strip mall with the Warhammer shop and the Pleasures store and the hair salon?”



“You bet I do, man.”



“Anyway can you pick me up and give me a ride? I gotta get to the pharmacy right now. It’s kinda an emergency.”



…



Langley picked him up after about 10 minutes.



“Which pharmacy are we going to?”



“The one just down the road on the right. You don’t need to come in with me. It will just take a minute.”



“Actually. I think Frohike needs his heart pills and he gets them from there. I’ll just pick his up too.”



Great, Mulder thought. Hopefully Langley had failed high school biology and wouldn’t catch on to what the meds were for.



They parked at about 11:45 and wove their way through the drug store to the pharmacy. The line was long and Mulder was getting testy at the wait. At long last, it was his turn.



The young woman working on the right side of the counter called him up. She looked so young. Like she should be looking for a junior prom dress and not handling people’s medications. Another sure sign of his aging was that everyone younger than him was starting to look 16.



She looked up Scully’s name and date of birth and said to him, “One moment sir. I need to get the pharmacist.”



A harried grey haired woman made her way to the counter.



“Has your wife done progesterone shots before?”



Shots? He thought. Shots?



“I don’t think so. And she’s not my wife.”



“My apologies, sir.”



The pharmacist pulled out a disembodied love handle and a needle and started miming how he needed to do this.



“Optimal subcutaneous tissue is probably on your wife’s backside.”



“Not my wife!”



“I’m sorry, sir.”



“Anyway, it’s important that the needle—“



He had to look away. He hated needles. But he was going to have to get over it for her.



“You know, she can tell me what to do. My wi— my friend whose medication I am getting, is a doctor.”



The pharmacist shrugged, nodded to the technician and walked away.



The girl rung up the pills and blanched at the cost.



“Are you aware of the cost of your medication today?”



“Is her insurance not—“



“No sir. This is considered elective so—“



“But it’s been paid for before. Why would today be any different?”



“Yes, sir. But nevertheless today…”



He pulled out his cheque book and clicked the pen chained to the counter.



“How much?”



She wrote the amount on a sticky note and slid it towards him apologetically.



“You sure it’s all those zeroes?”



“Yes sir, it is,” she said apologetically. “You can always appeal the insurance decision but that will take 3-5 business days.”



“Well she needs this now so…. She really cant miss a dose.”



He filled out the cheque and tore it out at the wrong angle so it ripped in half. He shook a little in frustration as he filled out a second one and slid it towards her.



“Do you need anything else today, sir?”



“Stack of $50s and a lobotomy?”



She stared blankly at him.



He sighed. “Nothing else. Thank you.”



He turned to find Langley arguing with the next technician over, a young man who also looked like he should be in high school.



He slid over to join them. “What’s seems to be the problem, gentleman?”



“They’re saying I gotta pay money to get Frohike’s medications.”



“That’s kinda how a pharmacy works, Langley. How much are they charging?”



The man mumbled the cost. Mulder whistled in appreciation. “Damn. Having a heart isn’t as cheap as it used to be, huh?” he quipped.



The tech stared at him, clearly just waiting for someone to pay him something



“Tell you what, Langley. How much do you have on you. I’ll cover the difference.”



Langley shifted from foot to foot.



“Langley.”



“Come on, Mulder. You know I don’t believe in money.”



Mulder scribbled out another cheque and handed it over.



“Luckily for you and Mel, I do believe in money.”



The pharmacy tech looked at both of them and muttered something under his breath.



“Look, kid. Don’t you have a D&D campaign to write?” Mulder snapped.



“Whats wrong with D&D?” asked Langley. He pushed the medications into Langleys arms, and turned him around by his shoulders, steering him towards the door.



Nothing at all, Langley, my love. Now let’s just get in the van before the cheques bounce and they send the Repro Man after us.



“The Repro Man? Do you mean the Repo Man?”



“Thats what I said, Langley.”



“No. You said ‘Repro Man.’”



“No, man, you said ‘Repro.’ I said ‘Repo.’”



The van had soaked up the spring sunshine and was hot. He took off his jacket. His arms were heavy in the bright sun of the car.



“Langley, can you just drop me off at Scully’s? You know her address?”



“What about your car?”



“Just—- Scully. I’ll handle the car later.”



…



The glow of the sunshine faded into the warm light of Scully’s apartment. He walked down the hall in his socked feet, anxious to not disturb. He pushed her bedroom door open to find her standing next to a crib. She was beaming over the bundle in her arms.



“She’s so beautiful. Do you want to see her?”



“Of course!” She passed him the bundle but he kept his eyes locked on Scully suddenly unable to move his head.



“Look at her!” ordered Scully with a saccharine smile.



“Scully, I—“



“You don’t want to look at our daughter?”



“Of course I do, Scully.”



“So look. She’s just beautiful.”



Dread filling his heart, he looked down.



She really was gorgeous. Precious. On her head was the soft red down of a baby robin. The had her mother’s porcelain skin, the swoop of her nose, the heart shaped pout of her lips.



Heaven sent. The only issue is that she was dead. Her eyes were closed so she might have been sleeping, but there was no flush to her cheeks or rising and falling to her chest.



“Isn’t she perfect?”



“Scully she…” He couldn’t get the words out. “She’s very still. Are you sure she’s okay?”



“Why wouldn’t she be? I’m a doctor, silly. Don’t you think I would know if something was wrong with our baby?”



He felt something wet touch his toes and looked down to see that Scully was bleeding. Blood was trickling down her thighs between her feet at a frightening pace and the pool had spread to touch his own feet.



He stumbled back and fell hard against her bedroom wall keeping his arms around the baby girl. He knew he couldn’t drop a baby— every idiot knew that was the worst of the worst. He was supposed to support her neck, keep her from hitting her little head. As though on some biological autopilot, he began to rock her back and forth and shush her, even though he knew dimly she would never cry.



He wasn’t sure how Scully was upright given the pool of blood. She walked towards them, unbothered by the waterfall between her legs. He gripped the girl to his chest more tightly, suddenly afraid of Scully taking her away.



He closed his eyes trying to ignore all the blood, all the death and the pounding of his heart. He felt her hand on his forehead.



“You’re clammy. Mulder, wake up. You need to wake up, Mulder.”



He snapped to life in the sun drenched passenger seat of Langley’s van. Scully was leaning over him, wrapped in her robe, next to Langley. He was clutching the vials to his chest so tightly he was surprised he had not broken them.



“He wanted me to take him to you and not his car. And then he fell asleep so—“



“You did the right thing. He’s probably come down with something. I’ll figure out where his car is later. Mulder?”



“I’m awake. I’m awake,” he mumbled, wiping the drool off the side of his mouth.



He stumbled out of the car. The thin paper bag snagged on the latch of the van door and ripped.



Before Scully or Mulder could move Langley dove and caught the progesterone vials that spilled out.



Mulder clutched the remaining vials and syringes to his chest with a hand over the hole in the bag.



Langley stared at the vials for a second and then looked up at Scully and then at Mulder. Scully picked the vials out of Langleys hands one by one and put them in her robe pockets, moving as fast as she could without looking at Langley.



“Thanks for your help today, Langley,” she said as flatly as she could muster.



Scully turned away and Mulder scampered after her towards her apartment building.



“Guys.”



They made eye contact and hesitated, but turned as one to face him.



“I dont know a lot about medicine and I know even less about lady doctor stuff but… I hope you’re okay, Scully. And if you’re sick again or if something is wrong…. Just let the guys and I know if we can help at all. ‘Cuz you’re our friend too.”



“That’s very sweet of you, Langley, but I think we have the situation under control,” replied Scully.



“Uh huh.” He looked unconvinced. “Mulder, give me your keys and Byers and I can bring your car by.”



“We’ve got it man.”



“Let me do something for you two, please.”



Scully rolled her eyes. “Give him the keys.”



Mulder grumbled but fished out his keys and tossed them to Langley.



…



In the safety of her apartment, Scully unloaded her pockets into the fridge.



“So Langley knows,” she huffed.



“Scully, I doubt he will really put together what we are doing just by seeing some vials. Hopefully.”



“Oh, I am sure he will assume is amenorrhea!” she snapped.



“Although I don’t really get what’s so wrong about what we’re doing. Why is it a bad thing if people know?”



“It’s not wrong. Just private. Our business and no one else’s!”



“Fine. Fine. So I gotta give you shots now? You didn’t tell me.”



She looked at him blankly.



“Damn it! You did, didn’t you? And I forgot?”



“On the phone today, among five or six other times.”



“I’m sorry, Scully. I was just so distracted. I was with your mother so—“



“You told my mother!”



“No. No of course not. She asked me to coffee because she is worried about you. She thinks her little girl is dying again. So I was busy pasting on a smile and concocting a cover story so I didn’t totally listen and that’s my fault. And then I ran out of gas and Langley… and then I had to buy Frohike’s medicine because Langley doesn’t believe in money and then I fell asleep in the van. And the baby wasn’t breathing and you were bleeding so much, and then—“



“Oh, you’re tired, huh?”



“Very. That’s why I couldn’t have sex last night. It wasn’t you.”



“How about you take a nap? You look like you are getting sick.”



“Okay. But I have something I was going to give you last night.”



He fumbled in his duffel bag in the living room and pulled out a green handwoven blanket.



“My friend Colleen makes these with her partner. They say prayers or affirmations or mantras or whatever for healing. And green is for fertility so maybe if you sleep with it…”



She rolled her eyes.



“Scully,” he sighed in exasperation. “I know you think I’m an idiot.”



“I don’t!”



“You do. But it’s soft and she put some lavender spray shit on it when I said it was for a very dear friend of mine. So please just use the god damn blanket.”



She took the blanket from him.



“It is soft. And it does smell nice. And you are sweet.” She pinched his cheek. “So for those reasons and no metaphysical claims I will use it.”



“Thank you.”



“Wanna break it in for me? Or is it a single-use fertility blanket situation?”



“I don’t know,” he said helplessly, feeling even more like an incompetent failure. “I didn’t ask. Maybe?”



Scully tilted her head. “Did you check the warranty?”



“I was supposed to get a warranty?” He put his head in hands. “Colleen is in India; I’ll call Carol on Monday and ask how long it’s supposed to work.”



“Take a breath. I’m teasing you, Mulder.” Scully took the blanket, wrapping it around her like a cape. “I’m sure you got the finest in the land for me. Let’s go lie down. You need a nap.”



They were on her couch. She was glowing, literally. They were eating pizza to the golden light given off by her skin. Her stomach was big enough that she could put her plate on it while she ate. The baby kicked and jostled the plate. She pressed his hand against her stomach so he could feel the kid. Everything was so right for that instant that he forgot to ask her why it was again they’d gotten lavender on their pizza.

Chapter 7: Letting Go

Chapter Summary

Post “Sein und Zeit” and “Closure,” Scully and Mulder reach a turning point.

Chapter Notes

Past TWs apply.

We are nearing the end. Thank you to the kudos and comments as I have embarked on my first fanfic journey. :)

Writing on a borrowed iPad so please ignore typos or formatting issues.

“What about this one?” asked Mulder, holding up a light pink cardigan.

Scully sat on the couch between piles of Teena’s clothing which Mulder was insisting they pick through to find anything that might suit her own mother.

“I don’t know. Your mother was quite a bit heavier than mine is. I don’t know if anything will even fit her.”

“It’s this or consignment, Scully. I need to get her house cleaned out.”

Scully jumped as the egg timer on the coffee table went off. At least Mulder’s clothes sorting mission had served as a welcome distraction, which very well might have been his plan all along.

“She stood up and squared her shoulders making for the bathroom door, but stopped with her hand on the doorknob.

She could picture the little piece of plastic that would give the verdict after the last few weeks of torment. But she couldn’t bring herself to turn the doorknob.

“Do you want me to go look, Scully?”

“Would you?”

“Of course.”

She stepped aside and he grabbed her hand in his right hand opening the door with his left. He walked into the bathroom leaving one hand outside with her like a spelunker with a tether to the land of the living. She held her breath and muttered a prayer.

Mulder stepped backwards out of the bathroom and she knew without him even saying anything what the test had said. He looked far away and not as much sad as scared, like a cornered wild animal.

He dropped her hand and started pacing frantically arms crossed over his chest.

“Scully, I got to say this and it’s going to change things and you will probably be mad at me and I’m so so sorry— But I am out. I can’t do it again. I know you think I am full of myself but it’s every attempt. Every time I give you the most intimate thing I could ever give anyone and it doesn’t take I feel my soul get washed away with all that blood.

“I can’t take the cycle anymore, The waiting, the hop, the pain. Your pain.” He was clutching his stomach now. “And with Mom and Samantha. I can’t lose anyone else. If this means I lose you… I am very sorry to have failed you but I will not blame you.”

“Mulder…”

“That’s not all. Dana, Mom was in so much debt. That’s why I have to sell the house. I’m— I’m out of cash. I can’t pay anymore. I can’t do it”

“I understand.”

“But I’ll…” he looked around frantically. “I’ll help you find a donor. Or I can help you get a loan. I wanted so badly to give you a child. And I am here for you but I can’t do that part anymore. I can’t be so tied up in the pain. I’m just not as strong as you are.”

“You’re right to put your foot down. This has to end somewhere. I don’t think I can do it anymore either.”

“You can adopt. There’s a lot of kids out there that need a mother like you.”

“Single women rarely get approved to adopt, Mulder.”

“So we’ll get married. We faked getting married before. Just until it all got finalized and then we can split.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t want a child in the way I used to. Before I wanted to be a mother in some vague way and maybe that might have been a desire answered by adoption but not now. Because now I want your kid. Maybe I always did. You asked me once why I asked you to be the father.”

“And you didn’t answer me.”

“I did. That night at the hotel— our first time— I tried my best,” she protested.

“And then you said that was friends releasing stress.”

“I was scared. You say I’m strong but I… there’s something in me that can’t let people in. I just wish I had told you sooner. I’d wish I’d known sooner, Mulder.”

“When did you know?”

“Somewhere between the Arctic Circle and Antarctica,” she said with a chuckle.

“I knew. The second I knelt at your feet.”

“You in that vampire costume,” she smiled.

“Not that night. The very first night. Not our first time. In Oregon when I had to check your bug bites. I looked up at you and lost any chance I had of getting out of this unscathed. And for that reason I am so sorry my body failed yours. That I failed you.”

“You didn’t. IVF is rarely successful. I shouldn’t have dragged you along and hurt you, Mulder.”

“Don’t apologize, Scully. Please.”

“Alright. So where does that leave us?”

“So we won’t be parents together. I’m still your partner. I will always be here for you. In that way, the more things change the more they stay the same.”

“I will always be here for you too. You are my best friend and my companion and I have grown to depend on you and adore you. But you’re right. We won’t be parents. It’s time to let go.”

He held out his arms to her and she went to him. And buried in his chest she at long last she began to weep. But they were not tears of sadness.

They were tears of relief.

She and Mulder had been playing tug of war with some monster that lurked in the fog, and at long last they’d decided to let go. Now she felt the ache in her arms and the sting of fresh air on her blisters.

But mostly, relief, as she sat down this heavy and bittersweet dream and walked away with Mulder.

Chapter 8: Epilogue

Chapter Summary

Mulder and Scully get ready for work the morning of “Requiem.”

Chapter Notes

We have at long last reached the end of this fic journey. Thanks to everyone who left kudos and encouragement along the way. :)

Mulder plucked up his toothbrush from its spot in the cup by Scully's sink. He liked the sight of their toothbrushes together more than he cared to admit, the simple symbol of their cohabitation. He should have known better than to doubt her. Their relationship had survived him giving up after all.

As he brushed his teeth, the door to the bathroom opened without a knock. Scully made straight for the toilet, kneeling to vomit.

Mulder scrunched up his mouth to hold the toothbrush in place and knelt next to her to tuck her hair behind her ears and rub her back.

There was really no point at feigning embarrassment or disgust. They’d both been through far worse together. Vomit was just one of the small pieces of their domestic life together. There’d been no exchange of rings or silly talk about moving in together. It was pretty clear to him without her saying anything that that level of cohabitation was not for her. They just spent more nights together than not now. He figured they’d made love on every surface of both of their apartments, ceilings aside. Some nights were chaste movie nights. And some nights were like last night, sitting in silence side by side. Him with an abduction interview playing in his Walkman, her with a medical journal, oblivious to each other until she dozed off and he carried her to her bed.

She stood up and rinsed out her mouth as he finished brushing his teeth.

“Mulder, are you feeling nauseous at all?”

“No, I’m totally fine.”

“That’s strange. It must be something I ate that you didn’t…”

“Are you sure it’s food poisoning? This is what… the fourth morning in a row? Maybe you should go to a doctor.”

She bristled. “Don’t tell me—“

“Okay, okay.” Mulder put his hands up in surrender.

Scully put her headband on to wash her face. “What do you want for your birthday, Mulder?”

He sighed. There was nothing he wanted to think about less than his birthday next week, with its inevitable marking of the passage of time.

“Shopping for an old folks home?”

“Mulder, 39 isn’t old.”

“Agree to disagree.”

Scully’s stomach gurgled and she groaned.

“Let’s play hooky today,” he teased, hugging her from behind.

She winced and pushed his arms off, cradling her breast where his arm had crushed it.

“Sorry!” he apologized.

“No, it’s alright. You didn’t even hug me that hard. I am just sore for some reason. We can’t play hooky. We’re getting audited today, Mulder.”

“But it seems like you are coming down with something. How about I go in and you stay and rest?” he offered.

“What would it look like if I didn’t come in? You know as well as I do that we cannot give them an excuse to cut our budget.”

“Alright, alright. Let me get some breakfast going then.” He kissed her forehead. “Eggs?”

Scully turned green.

“No eggs. Got it.”

In the kitchen he fought with her coffee maker and toaster. She joined him a few minutes later and reached up to caress his face, gesturing for him to bend over so she could touch his face more easily. They made eye contact while she traced his lips, eyebrows, cheek bones and jaw with her fingers. Finally her finger tips made an agonizingly slow meal of his nose, which he tried to crinkle in an effort to speed her along.

She finally let her hands fall and turned to pour their coffee mugs, saying in a whisper, “I wanted our kid to look like you.”

“Now what did the kid ever do to you that you would wish them that fate?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious.”

“I know.”

She never brought up the kid. The one whose code name had been Baby Spooky. A name he found less charming now that the kid was haunting them.

It hung between them some nights like a sheet, so that no matter what they did, they couldn’t manage to really see or really touch each other. The kid was there in her silent rage at her period, in the disembodied cries that would wake him in the middle of the night, leave him feeling around in the darkness for the crib.

But they hadn’t spoken of the baby since they went to LA for that movie premiere, since he signed over his royalty check (and Scully had signed over hers) to some fertility doctor to the stars. When she got her period a week and a half later, they’d just shrugged and chucked out the last unused pregnancy test. They both knew it would be negative deep down. It had just been one last attempt for the road.

He turned back to butter the toast but caught sight of her in the golden light of the kitchen as the steam from their coffee mugs spiraled around her face. He felt a surge of affection for her that gave way without warning into a feeling of dread.

He had no words for it, but something just seemed wrong. Maybe it was that Scully was obviously coming down with something and that he might be getting sick too. Maybe it was the audit today, the gnawing sense that maybe everyone was right that this was all for naught. Something about today was different in a way that was almost certainly not for the better. Something was telling him to drag her back to bed, to pull the covers up over their heads and refuse to leave, department audits be damned.

She looked up at him and he felt a chill go up his back. He was unable to suppress a shudder.

“What’s wrong?”

“I guess someone just walked over my grave, Scully.”

She gave him a quizzical look.

“Don’t you ever just feel a suffocating and paralyzing sense of dread out of the blue?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. “No. I don’t have those moments.”

“You don’t feel it, Scully? Something is different this morning. Something is wrong.”

She held out one of the coffee mugs to him.

“I’m sure whatever is stressing you out is really nothing. Aside from my stomach I feel completely fine.”

He knew her too well to believe that, but he accepted the coffee mug along with her lie.

“Right,” he replied.

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