Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 1 ***** "...and the emptiness, pointlessness of each passing moment consumes me. Even the mundane has become insurmountable tasks of biblical proportions...everything is biblical these days..." -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, June 23, 2000 Hidden City, somewhere in the former Liechtenstein January 10, 2000 The halls of the underground city were empty. Night a mile below the surface of the Earth was much like day, except for the recessed lights that lined the rock floor which were dimmed and cast deep shadows along the rough bedrock walls. And the lack of pedestrian traffic. Scully preferred the night. It gave her time to think, time to breathe. The twelve foot by ten foot man-made cave she now called home was barely big enough for the bed, portable shower and sink, and a battered set of drawers that were meant to make up for the lack of closet space. It was little more than a cell, and with the addition of two people it became claustrophobic. Really, her nightly prowl wasn't about cramped living conditions, and it wasn't about the taxing emotional distance that remained even weeks after Scully had forced her husband to remove the computer chip from the base of her neck. It wasn't even about the newness of being married to someone she'd spent so much time and effort trying not to be in love with. Although, to be honest, being married to him didn't seem much different, other than the strange new fact that he didn't seem to mind peeing in front of her. They still fought about trivial things, they still spoke more with a glance than with words, and what small comfort she found in that was laced with the knowledge that her secret wasn't safe behind locked lips. That was something new that came with their marriage: secrets. Before, whatever they didn't tell each other had simply been her business, or his. Now, there was the added guilt of not disclosing all. He suddenly and magically had a right to know. And he did know, to a certain extent; he knew she was hiding something from him, even though he had yet to ask. It was just a matter of time before he would, though Scully hoped to resolve some of the cool tension between them before she confessed. Scully rounded a corner and glanced inside the deserted dining hall. It was a cavernous room half carved from the heart of the mountain, half natural chamber with jagged stalactites and stalagmites clinging to the ceiling and floor like stretched tar. Not surprising, it was empty save for the three cooks - probably displaced family of one of the higher-ups - who were already baking breads for the morning meal. "Scully?" The familiar whirl of tingles began at the base of her belly when she heard his voice, just as it always did. Mulder stood at the end of the short hall with his hair messed, and a sweater quickly thrown over the tee-shirt and sweat pants he slept in. His beautiful hazel eyes were still heavy with sleep, his lean face full of a guarded concern. "Are you hungry?" he asked. His intelligent eyes darted to the cavern behind her. She shook her head. "I just ended up here." "Renee said you were tired all day today. You should come back to bed." He tried to swallow a yawn of his own. He was referring to the French doctor who had befriended her and Mulder on their recent trek through the Alps. Scully tried not to be bothered by the amount of weight he placed in what Renee said. She was a good person, and Scully refused to be threatened by her just because she was a tall, intelligent, leggy, brunette with an ample bust line and a personality that oozed sexuality. "When did you see Renee?" "When I woke up and you weren't there I stopped by Renee's apartment. She always seems to know what's going on." Then he added almost as an afterthought: "She also said you're not putting on the weight you lost on the trip. We've been here almost a month." "Dag's having trouble, too," she snapped more defensively than she intended. "Dag's situation is different." Mulder was right, of course, but his dismissive tone irritated her. Dag's dramatic weight loss had been because of a radical change in diet, and therefore his recovery was a slow, painstaking process of modified diet and regimented exercise meant to condition his metabolism to the foods now available. Scully's loss had been the result of a bad case of pneumonia. Stress and guilt were now keeping it off. She crossed her arms and inhaled sharply. Tired, cold, and feeling frayed at the edges, Scully didn't especially need Mulder's scrutinizing attention. Even from the corner of her eye she could read his body language: distant, angry, weary. He was sizing her up; the boots she hadn't bothered to lace, the thick blue socks that stuck out under her rolled-up jeans, the sweater layered over a long-sleeved tee-shirt and long underwear, the unkept state of her hair. She knew she looked like a vagabond in the scavenged clothes, and she combed a self-conscious hand through her over-grown locks hoping to casually add a little order. "How did Renee know I was here?" she asked. He glanced down at his own scuffed, unlaced boots and shrugged. "She said that you wander the halls every night. Is that true?" He looked up and into her eyes with an intensity that both thrilled and scared her. He was searching for something in her he knew she wouldn't give willingly. Scully turned away. "I've been having trouble sleeping. I didn't want to disturb you." She tried not to let it show that it bothered her that Renee and Mulder talked about more than just her nocturnal walks. In matters of health Scully was her patient, and therefore should be protected under doctor/patient confidentiality. He nodded, but his gaze clung to hers, soaking up every nuance of her expression. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her like that, how much her face gave away. "Maybe Renee could prescribe something for you. To help you sleep," he suggested "I'm fine, Mulder. Really." She turned from him, exasperated. "Then why aren't you sleeping? I've known you a long time, Scully, and I can't remember you with insomnia." "Mulder, trust me. A few sleepless nights isn't a big deal." He shifted his feet, and then stuffed his fists into his jeans pockets. "Fine," he said with no real finality. "I'm going back to bed. You know where I am if you need me." She offered him a small smile, but he walked away without returning it. Maybe it was foolish to wait for things to get better between them, but fear of things getting horribly worse kept her secret locked away. The nosebleeds hadn't come on this night, but they could have, and as well as Scully knew her husband, it terrified her that she had no idea how he would react to blood on her pillow. ***** The flourescent lights that reflected off the lab's white floor and walls were starting to give Scully a headache. She pressed a couple of fingers against the pressure building at her temple and closed her eyes for a moment. Locked inside the mountain, faced with only close views put a lot of strain on ocular muscles. Her reading glasses were, of course, back in DC, which was, as Mulder had casually informed her a few days before, drowned under some thirty feet of ocean and ice. The satellite photos and reconnaissance missions had painted a grim picture of the rest of their world. Dr. Bohr was across the room carefully preparing minute specimens on thin slides. He was an odd man, and Scully wasn't sure what to think of him. Physically he looked to be in his mid-thirties, sandy blond hair that hung straight and overgrown. His complexion was pale to the point of being pasty; he looked as if he hadn't seen the sun in a years. Not that he was particularly unattractive in an intelligent, British sort of way. Bohr wore a white lab jacket over the standard issue grey jumpsuit that most people in the City opted for, and tattered loafers with the back of the heels scuffed all the way to the dull leather. He was a brilliant man, but it was difficult to appreciate his intellect knowing it helped to create part of the technology that led to her abduction. Bohr himself wasn't responsible for what had been done to her - the tests and sterility. No, those men were long gone, killed to cover up the deceit of a shadow government. But he was there because he was part of the original group that engineered the vaccine in one of its many incarnations. He had been one of the people she and Mulder had fought all those years to expose, and now Scully wasn't sure if Bohr had switched sides, or if she had. Circular logic on more than forty hours without sleep only served to intensify her headache. "Dana?" Renee came up behind her with a concerned hand to her shoulder. Even after a full day staring at monitors and genetic schematics the brunette still looked fresh. "I'm fine," Scully muttered, pushing her arm away. "I just need an aspirin." "Why do you tell me things I know are not true?" Renee's thick French accent softened the recrimination. "Aspirin will not help you to sleep. Again, your husband came to see me. Do you ever sleep?" "I know, I know," Scully said quickly, hoping to stop the lecture. "But even without him telling me, it is easy to see you don't." Renee ran a finger tip over Scully's cheek. "Did you eat?" "I ate," Scully snapped as she jerked her head away. The pounding intensified. "I'm fine." She stepped away and took refuge in the only other person in the room. Scully didn't like to be touched by anyone who wasn't Mulder, something Renee had yet to pick up on. Bohr had obviously heard their exchange, the room wasn't very big, but he looked up at her and smiled when she came up beside him as if pleasantly surprised by her presence. He smelled, as always, of coffee and cigarettes. "Dana." His British accent made even her name sound foreign to her ear. "How are the slides coming?" "Look," she said on an exhale. "I don't belong here. I don't know enough about genetics to be of any real help." "Don't be silly. You help in a very real way by just being here." "My being here isn't going to pull a biological weapon from the junk DNA in my cells. If it was ever even there to start with." "Yes," he agreed, the smile slipping from his thin lips. "It's difficult to see how they would encode it, and then expect us to get it out again. And yet, I'm still convinced that the intelligence is correct. Too many people paid dearly for this not to be the answer. Including you." "Even if it is, I'm not going to be the one to figure it out. My specialty is forensic pathology. Dr. Bohr, I really don't see the point -" His face soured. "Oh, dear. We're back to Dr. Bohr again, are we?" He gave a discouraged shake of his head and straightened the white lab coat he wore over a brown plaid shirt and corduroy pants. "That won't do at all." "Pip," she said to placate him. "My point is that I'm slowing you down." "You jest, surely." "Hardly. You have to take time and explain every step to me, not all of which I completely understand. Renee is learning faster because of her research background and her familiarity with the alien technology." She motioned to the super magnified microscope that looked more like a microwave oven than a piece of delicate scientific equipment. She motion with her right arm and Bohr caught a glimpse of the clear, lightweight, not-quite-plastic cast molded around her wrist and thumb. The material looked like something akin to cling wrap, but it breathed like linen and was firm enough to keep her broken bones set. "Speaking of alien technology," he asked, "how is it healing?" The puncture wounds left by the bobcat's fangs were little more than pink scar tissue six weeks after the attack on a remote mountain side somewhere in the Alps. "It's fine," she said, and tucked her arm behind her. She didn't want to let him change the subject quite so quickly. "I'll probably get it off soon." Bohr leaned closer to her, his pale blue eyes grew serious. "Dana. You are very important to this research team. Not just because of the secrets we think are locked inside you, but also for what you represent. You are one of the few people in this world who has come face to face with the Colonists and survived. Possibly the only person. We need to know that our foes are beatable. We need the inspiration that you conjure just by being here." Scully glanced at the hand full of technicians cataloguing and cleaning up work stations for the night. She doubted they even knew her name. "Thanks for the pep talk, but -" "Dana," he said solemnly. "You help in ways you can't even fathom." His expression was so intensely sincere that Scully, so personal that she didn't know how to respond. And uneasy feeling filtered through her. "Aspirin." Renee appeared beside her with two white pills and a glass of cool water. Scully took the opportunity to step away from Bohr, medicine in hand, and a half-hearted thank you over her shoulder. "Dana, why don't you go home now. Try to sleep." Renee's suggestion gave her the escape she craved. "I'll do that," she told her, without turning around. And since Mulder probably wouldn't be back at the apartment for a couple more hours, she might just be able to breathe for a while. ***** Mulder woke her when he slipped into bed, though she could tell by his slow, careful movements that he wanted her to sleep. He didn't touch her, but the coldness of their apartment followed him under the layers of blankets. The constant 58 degrees in the Hidden City had seemed like a sauna after weeks spent in the rough winds of the blizzard that still raged in the outside world. But as the days passed into weeks Scully found she was never able to get rid of that last chill in her bones, and that seemed even more true when she lay in bed alone. Her toes were icy in the thick wool socks when Mulder's legs found hers. She rolled into him, hoping for body heat, and knowing that no matter how tense things were between them he wouldn't refuse her. That was a comfort, at least. She found his side, and his arms curled around her middle, his face burrowed into her hair. His legs weren't any warmer than hers through the long underwear she wore, but having their solid form pressed up against the back of hers both gave her solace, and made her body sing. Scully breathed through the jump in her belly, wishing the warmth there would spread down her limbs. He smelled good, familiar. "Renee said you weren't feeling well," he whispered against the back of her head. "Have you been sleeping all day?" "Off and on," she mumbled. "Just tired." The headache was lost to the cloud of sleep that still lingered in her head. She reached down and drew his limp hand from her waist and pulled it tighter around her middle. He adjusted to the embrace, pulling her closer still. "Then sleep," he urged. His legs pressed against the back of hers, and she couldn't help but think he was trying to envelope her completely. Had she really become so fragile to him that he needed to protect her so completely? No, she told herself. He was seeking the same comfort that she was, the same reassurances that the darkness wasn't quite as absolute as it seemed in their tiny cocoon. That he wasn't alone. Mulder sighed deeply, and the heat of his breath bathed her neck and cheek. She found a peace in this simple touch, and in the strength of his arms around her. There once was a time when he would tell her that everything would be all right, and though she rarely believed him she wished now that he'd say the words. ***** She watched him stumble through his morning ritual, sleep still clouding his puffy eyes. Stretch, stumble to the toilet, hit the light switch, ignore the lack of a door, pee. He looked like a little boy who didn't want to go to school shuffling about on a cold morning. The idea of getting out of bed herself left Scully weary. Mulder flushed and ambled over to the tin of biscuits on the dresser. He pulled two packets and held them up for Scully with a question on his face. She nodded, and he tossed one to her before taking their glasses to the sink. He brought the water to her in bed, sat with a little bounce, and tore into the cellophane wrapper. The muscles of his arms and upper body retained the definition they'd developed on their arduous journey to their new home. It had taken months of rafting and hiking to get to the remote mountain in what was formerly the tiny country of Liechtenstein, and in that time Mulder had grown lean as his body had been forced to make up for what hers couldn't handle. His skin tone had evened out so that his white, pale jaw that for months hid beneath a thick beard, and the red, chapped skin on his cheeks were less pronounced. He was still a handsome man who didn't seem to remember he was pushing forty. "Something wrong?" It wasn't often she was caught staring. "No," she assured him before ripping her breakfast open. "You seem...pensive." "I'm fine," she told him, but he was already back to the breakfast biscuit. He ate it quickly and downed the water. His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Shower?" he asked, scooping up her trash with his. He dumped it in the non-perishables bin on his way to their small, self-contained stall. The shower stood against the wall opposite the bed, between the squat toilet and the pedestal sink. Their world had shrunk from two apartments with the breadth of Washington, D.C. between them to a twelve by ten underground chamber literally carved directly from the bedrock of the mountain. Drill marks still scared the bare stone walls. Only rooms with delicate equipment like the lab were lined with stark white plastic ceilings, walls, and floors. He dropped his pajama bottoms and stepped out of his underwear, and switched on the water. Mulder naked was something Scully would never grow tired of looking at. The round slope of his shoulders, the dip at his lower back that flowed into a smooth, round rear that dimpled when he shifted his weight, the heavy dangle of his penis, the ripple of muscles in his stomach as he turned to her, the breadth of his chest - all of the innumerable parts that he'd hidden for so many years and now he didn't even consider revealing. "Scully?" he asked, indicating the stall, already billowing with steam in their chilly room. A shiver ran up her spine, her nipples tightened. He asked because the hot ran out after five minutes, and sharing was the only way they'd both get a shower. She knew this, and yet there was something incredibly sexy about the way he stood there, nude and sleepy, asking her to come to him, to share a private moment. That, and the confident way he held out his hand, knowing that she'd leave the warmth and comfort of the bed to join him. Scully yawned as she climbed out of bed, the cold air raising gooseflesh on her arms and legs. Mulder watched as she stripped off her long johns, her panties and socks. It had been weeks since he touched her with anything more than comfort, or looked at her with a lover's eyes. There was no reason for her to believe that this morning would be any different, but she had hope - with Mulder, it seemed, there was always some hope. "Let's be late to work," he said. Her heart jumped and her belly quivered as his eyes traveled the length of her body. "Late." She readily agreed. No one would miss them for an hour or two. Two, she silently implored, let it be two. "We should have a real breakfast," he added as she stepped into the steam and heat of the shower. "Something that will stick to your ribs." "Breakfast? We ate already." He stepped in behind her and went straight for the shampoo. "Don't you want sausage or bacon or pancakes with a gallon of syrup?" He caught her hand and squirted a dab of the thick green gel in her palm. "Sausage?" Hadn't he noticed what he'd been eating for the past month? Breakfast was most likely some sort of gruel. But more importantly: "Have you even met me?" Scully couldn't remember the last time she'd willingly eaten sausage. The look of surprise on his face told her how bitterly her words had unintentionally come out. "I always thought you ate salads and yogurt and that tofu stuff because you, like all beautiful women in American, thought you needed to lose weight." Scully turned her back to him and began to lather her hair. She wasn't interested in defending her eating habits to a man who ate double Whoppers by the sackful. *Used* to east double Whoppers by the sackful. "Scully, you're a doctor, so I know I don't have to explain the health risks of being underweight." "I'm not underweight, Mulder." "Do you even know how much you weigh? Have you looked in a mirror lately? Scully, I can count your ribs in your back, for Christsake." Suddenly she felt vulnerable and violated. Her arms crossed reflexively over her chest as the water sprayed on her shoulder and neck. She couldn't think of a single reason why she'd thought things might've been different that morning, why it surprised her that his thoughts were anything but romantic. Part of her was starting to doubt that they'd ever made love; like it was some elaborate fantasy she'd dreamed one night. "I-I shouldn't have said anything," Mulder mumbled, berating himself before she had a chance to. "I'm just worried. Renee said there could be a risk of heart problems, seizures -" "Stop. Right now. Don't want to hear her name come out of your mouth." "What?" "Renee. I don't want to hear it." Scully turned and met his confused gaze with a piercing glare. "When did you start trusting her opinion above mine?" "When did I what?" "Renee doesn't have all the answers, Mulder." "I don't trust her opinion above yours -" "You run to her every chance you get, you hang on her every word!" "Because *you* won't talk to me!" "So this is *my* fault?" Forget the shower. Scully didn't need it that badly. She pushed the door open, but he grabbed her upper arm before she could escape. "Scully, what are we talking about?" "Are you in love with her?" The words shocked her as much as they seemed to Mulder, because they held a real question behind them. Along with the instant regret for the accusation, there was a sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach that threatened to upset her biscuit breakfast. She couldn't look at him, towering above her so close that the spray that ricocheted off his shoulders splashed her cheek. She expected him to storm out, to slap her, to sadly admit her jealousies were founded in truth, anything but gently taking her elbow and positioning her where the water pressure was the strongest and then slowly, methodically running his long fingers through her hair to work out the detergent. He was beyond gentle, as if her head might shatter like a hollowed out eggshell. Just as the water turned he whispered, "All done." She stepped out into the cold air and found the towels he'd placed at the sink. The water shut off and he stepped out after her. It took him no time at all to dress, but he didn't rush out. Instead, he sat calmly on the bed and waited as she pulled the layers of her clothes on, brushed her damp hair and her teeth, and laced up her boots. When she couldn't avoid him any longer, Scully sat beside him on the unmade bed and sighed. "I'm sorry -" she began but he cut her off. "Just talk to me." "What do you want me to say?" He looked at her profile, sizing her up while she picked at her thumbnail. "Tell me why can't you sleep. And why you feel the need to hide everything from me. Am I really that unapproachable that you feel you can't confide in me? Have things really changed that much between us?" "Some days I think very little has changed at all," she told him with a cutting honesty. "What does that mean? What are you saying?" "Nothing. I'm not saying anything, because there's nothing to say." He looked at her then, long and hard. He could see the lie, she knew, when his face grew long and sad. Slowly, he nodded and stood. "There's nothing I can say now," she amended. She closed her eyes to his scrutiny. "Mulder, I...I'm not ready..." When she didn't finish her sentence he knelt in front of her, his large hands ran up and over her knees. "I'm not mad anymore - about the chip - if that's what all this is about. I know I was really angry, and I took it out on you, but...I'm not mad anymore." The tenderness in his voice pulled at her heart. She leaned into him, touched her forehead to his. "Is that what this is about?" "Mulder," she said his name on an exhale. "Let's be late this morning." He pulled away just far enough to check her serious expression. Her heart leapt when he nodded solemnly, and then brushed a faint kiss across her mouth. She returned several times over, running her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. The tip of her tongue slipped between his open lips; his hands smoothed up her thighs and gripped her rear. They pulled each other closer until the only thing that separated them was their clothing. Mulder was slow, careful with his passion, but Scully couldn't find the same control. She pressed herself against the bulge that was firm against her crotch and gasped at the pleasure of his small, testing thrust. How could they not do this every minute of every hour of every day when it felt so wonderful to kiss his stubbled cheek, to run her finger tips through his hair and feel his breath on her neck? When she kissed him it was like everything else went away, and the world shrank to just the two of them. Being with him brought out a yearning in her that no other man had been able to unleash, and she found that she craved it like a fire craves wood. She was barely cognizant of the layers of clothes being peeled away. Together their mouths played, fed off each kiss quickly driving them to the only solution. They fell back on the unmade bed, his hips already nestled between her thighs. Jagged breaths punctuated the urgency they shared. Scully reached between them and stroked him until he whimpered against her neck, and his fingers curled possessively over her left breast. Once Mulder was positioned, he took the lead. In a single thrust he slid home, and Scully gasped at the exquisite pleasure of it; so perfect, so wonderful. She loved him so much, so completely, and when he was fully inside her, the heat of him, the pressure was almost enough to burst her heart. How had she lived her whole life without making love to this man? It was unfathomable to her now. It took Mulder no time at all to find the rhythm that had worked so well for them before. He reached back and ran his hand down her thigh, over the bend at her knee, and then under the swell of her calf. While he kissed her shoulder he slipped her leg up to his waist and then pushed in even deeper. Mulder was amazing to watch as he found his pleasure in her body. He fondled her nipples, licked the valley between her breasts as his hips working their steady cadence. He moved with determination, just as Scully did as she explored the muscles of his working thighs and rear, the dip of his lower back, the hard roundness of his shoulders. When his mouth came back to hers, she cradled his head and kissed him with all the tenderness her soul held for him. For a moment they both got lost in that kiss. "Wow," he muttered between breaths when they finally came up for air. He didn't complain she was too thin now. "Don't stop," she urged, licked her lips. He stared down at her, mesmerized by her mouth. "Mulder." His hips resumed their steady pace, but his eyes didn't leave hers. On her back, body open wide to him, there was no place to hide from his intelligent, probing eyes. He searched her soul as he moved within her, blending mind and body to seek out her secret. She knew him so well, and understood his need to connect with her; she shared it. But Scully closed her eyes. It was too soon. She needed this time with him. The cancer would simply have to wait its turn. ***** End of chapter 1 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 2 ***** "Just breathe. What's gone is gone. Don't think of the past, or hope for the future. Don't think. Don't hope. Just breathe." -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, July 4, 2000 Hidden City, somewhere in the former Liechtenstein January 11, 2000 Like plants, humans need sunlight. Prolonged deprivation can hamper the body's ability to create and process certain vital vitamins. The specially designed bright white lights of the garden became a synthetic sun to a people quickly growing weary of life underground, while at the same time made the food plants grow. The cavern was the size of several football fields, and was able to support enough crops to supply all the food consumed by the Hidden City that wasn't pre-packaged, freeze-dried, or pickled. Most people enjoyed the smell of vegetation and the feel of soft dirt and grasses between their bare feet. Scully liked this cavern the best because it was warm: a constant 88F. She stood near one of the rough walls, donning the standard issue blue protective goggles and matching modest blue tube top and briefs that passed for a bikini. Luckily, no one seemed to notice her; not the small group of children running and laughing at some made-up game near the apple trees, nor the handful of women pulling potatoes up from a deep planter in one of the many rows of growing vegetables. Everyone worked in the City, regardless of who they were related to (which got them there in the first place) and Scully knew that if she hadn't been assigned to the lab she would probably be on food labor detail. Many of the wives were, and she wouldn't have been an exception. Doctors were a dime a dozen in their population. And, funny as it was, there didn't seem to be one hair stylist, tailor, or decent cook among them. It grew less humorous with each passing day. The main group of bathers usually chose to sit in the fifteen lounging chairs between the rice ponds where the humidity was higher. Only eight were taken, but Scully awkward in her self- consciousness, hung back. Mulder's comment in the shower the day before left her self conscious enough to spend half an hour in front of the mirror that morning, staring into the eyes of a woman barely recognized. It was amazing what three and a half months could do to a person. When the Colonists finally attacked, Scully had been a head- strong, logical professional, a scientist, a Catholic. Now she reflected a small, terribly thin woman with hair that had out-grown its intended cut and dark circles around her pale, unmade eyes. A woman who worked in a lab that outdated all of her extensive scientific background, and wanted nothing more than to blend into the wall so the group of sunbathers wouldn't notice her. Scully couldn't remember the last time she prayed. "Well, well. If it isn't Mrs. Mulder." The Australian accent held a leer that could only have been Logan's. "Of course, you kept your maiden name, didn't you?" The goggles made his small eyes look beady, and his straight, angular nose seem too large for his lean, toned face. Scully had managed to avoid him for several weeks, but like fungus he kept creeping up. "Logan." It was all she could say and still be civil. "Well now. You're just a little thing, aren't you?" he said. His eyes grazed up and down her body, his lips circled in a grin that was part snarl. "Good-bye, Logan." She turned to leave. The next wave of bathers began to filter in behind him, signaling the merciful end of Scully's allotted half hour. "Another time, then," he said lightly. "But don't bother running off to meet that husband of yours for lunch. He's already eaten." The way he said it caught her ear, and Scully turned to see Logan's self-satisfied grin. She didn't want to leave him with the last word. "I wasn't meeting him for lunch." "Oh, right. Okay, then. It all makes sense now." Scully didn't want to take the bait that he so obviously and deliberately laid for her, but she couldn't help herself. "What are you talking about?" she asked, irritated at herself almost as much as she was at him. He gave a causal shrug. "Him and her, huddled close over a table in the dinning hall. It must've been an intimate discussion for them to exclude you." Him and her had to mean Mulder and Renee. Did Logan really know about her irrational accusation, or was he just fishing? She could feel the color warming her cheeks. "Oh, please. Do you really expect me to be jealous?" Seething at his audacity Scully sharply raised a questioning brow while she tried to remember if Mulder had mentioned lunch with Renee. Even if he hadn't, it didn't bother her in the least. Not one damn bit. He could eat with whoever the hell he wanted to. Logan was scum. "No, you're right," Logan insincerely conceded. "Surely your husband would leave you before he began an affair. He's much too honorable." "Mulder would never leave me." "Of course not," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You're his fragile little China doll." "And you're an asshole!" He feigned shock. "Such language. I must've touched a nerve." The bastard didn't bother to hide his smug grin. Scully turned before she gave him another opportunity to push one of her buttons. He called after her: "Really, Dana, we must do this again." Logan was a cretin. Scully knew this, but she found herself wondering what Mulder and Renee had talked about at lunch. Why wouldn't he have mentioned it? Did they often have lunch together? Renee usually left the lab while Scully more often than not picked from whatever cold sandwiches the food service brought around on their little plastic carts. The two of them could have lunch every day. It made her crazy that she cared at all. Of course nothing was going on. It was Mulder, for crying out loud. He loved her. He'd said so himself. Four times. Four separate and distinct times. Scully wasn't, by nature, a jealous person. At least she never used to be. Did she? A flood of images whizzed through her head: the blond bombshell Detective White straddling her well-kissed partner; someone named Bambi who came complete with doe eyes; Krycek back when his name was Alex and he was nothing more than a wide-eyed rookie eager for her job; the tall, brunette, British Pheobe who knew Mulder and all his hidden triggers... Scully closed her eyes and forced her mind blank. She focused on the beginnings of the headache at her temple and tried not to think while she slowly dressed in the crisp air of the changing room. She needed to get back to the lab and back to the mundane cataloguing task Bohr had given her. It was stupid to let Logan effect her, especially when she knew he was doing it. When she was finished she turned to the mirror to comb her fingers quickly through her hair and froze at the sight of bright red just above her upper lip. She'd been so focused on her inner demons that she hadn't noticed the smell of blood that filled her nostrils, or the warm wet slowly tracking from her nose. Scully yanked a wad of toilet paper from one of the stalls and applied pressure. Eight days had passed since her last nosebleed. They were getting closer together. A wave of nausea rippled through her, and Scully doubled over the toilet. She gagged, but nothing came up. Two drops of blood dripped into the basin and slowly swirled as they disbursed in the water. Breathe, she told herself. Breathe. When it was safe to move, Scully sat on the toilet seat with a fresh handful of tissues and waited a couple of minutes for the bleeding to stop. It wasn't too bad, though the nausea stayed with her. She washed her face, straightened her clothes, and made sure all traces of the incident were flushed completely away before she took a deep breath and headed for the lab. Just a couple more hours and she would be able to call it a night without raising suspicions. Suddenly Scully was exhausted. ***** Renee wasn't in the lab when Scully arrived, but Bohr was. He stood when she walked in the room and waved his hands in the air in frustration. "Dana! My muse! Bestow some inspiration on my simple brain!" He whipped off his glasses and tossed them on the tabletop. He said with a wry grin: "I feel as thought I'm trying to derive the meaning of life with a rock and a set of chopsticks." Scully pulled out a stool and sat beside him, elbows on the table and head in her hands. The strange fatigue turned into a lightheaded, giddy feeling during her walk from the garden. "Did the modifications that what's-his-name was going to try work out?" "Chester?" Bohr shook his head. "He's still fiddling with it. It could take some time." He leaned closer, and placed a warm hand between her shoulder blades. "Say, Dana, are you sick?" "Tired," she quickly corrected. "Still not sleeping? Well, that won't do. Renee can get you something -" "No, no. I'm fine." She pulled away from his touch and turned to her work station. "There's just so much to do. I'm just overwhelmed is all." She needed to lay down, but her head was foggy and she couldn't think up a reasonable excuse. "You don't look at all well," Bohr insisted. "I'm fine." She sifted through the papers in front of her without really seeing them. "You looked through this? What did you make of the breaks in the junk DNA? It looks like garbage to me." "And to me," he said as he came up behind her. Over her shoulder dropped some another color enhanced virtual radio image. "It would make sense if the ends were split or damaged in some way, but they're not." He reached around her and jabbed the photo with his forefinger. "See here where they just end, haphazardly and without warning. If they were pulled apart I'd expect to see some damage here and here. But these look like clean cuts." "Clean, random, haphazard cuts? Cutting would suggest a deliberate act, wouldn't it?" She couldn't even begin to guess how someone might cut a single band from a genetic strand, but the clear cast on her right arm reminded her that there were sciences beyond her realm of understanding. "Unless we were talking about a bacteria of some sort. And a repetitive base sequence. We should rule that out, I guess, just to cover every possibility. What I find fascinating is that the fragments are all different lengths. Presumably specific material has been isolated. But why? These ribbons don't do anything anymore. If they ever did." Scully closed her eyes. She didn't find any of this the least bit fascinating. The familiar pain at her temples was beginning to throb in time with her heartbeats. "I haven't a clue." "It's a puzzle," he muttered under his breath. "Do you think it's possible that they're supposed to fit themselves? Loop around somehow?" Scully knew she was grasping at straws, but at this point, it was all she was good for. Bohr didn't seem to mind. He looked at her with his pale blue eyes, and twitched his lips in that way he did when he wanted to offer her a smile instead of his frustration. "Bacteria have rings of DNA, my dear, not humans." Oh. Right. Biology. She knew that. Scully ran her fingers through her hair, and tried to will her stomach still. She needed to get out of there before she lost her lunch all over their data. "I can't think anymore. I need to sleep." Bohr's thin lips became little more than a line on his heart-shaped, face. He turned back to the picture and considered it with a heavy gaze. "You go. Get some sleep. Feel better. Bring me coffee in the morning." "You need sleep, too," Scully urged. "Come on, take a break. We've been working on this for weeks without a night off. You said it yourself, the broken strands don't make sense. Staring at them won't change that. Maybe with a fresh perspective -" "We need this to work." "We need it to work," Scully agreed. "But in order to get it to work, you need to be awake and alert. You need sleep, Pip. Distraction. And so do I. We've been putting in too much time on this. Distance might help." For a moment, Dr. Bohr's blazing blue eyes studied Scully's face, the corners of his mouth drooped. "Yes, yes." He pushed a corner of the paper around on the table top. "It's just difficult to leave the puzzle so terribly incomplete. My brain will keep twittering about all night, seeing little DNA strands wanting completion...longing for the right fit to make them whole." "Maybe that's the way these genetic strands are supposed to be. Maybe they are happy just the way they are. It is possible our science is wrong. Or your information is wrong. That the answers are somewhere else, in the enzyme coding or the protein links." "Possible," Bohr said as he turned to meet Scully's gaze. "Or maybe the science is sound, and the fragments just need to find a mate that can fit all their eccentricities." There was a not-so subtle intensity in his stare that released a shiver up Scully's spine. Suddenly, she was aware of the seriousness on his face, and the stillness in the room. Where had the lab technicians gone? "A mate to complete what they were meant to be," Bohr continued. "Perhaps all this time they've been forced together with the wrong mates, and it was just a bad fit. And when we find their true mates, we'll all be able to sleep." As passes go, this was certainly the most cerebral that had every been tossed her way, and it was incredibly flattering if she didn't stop to consider the complete lack of other women in the City that a single man might turn his attention to, and the fact that Bohr knew she was married and still thought he might have a chance. And still she couldn't quite keep the smile from the corners of her mouth. She told herself it was the giddiness and the exhaustion. "I'm going home, Pip," she said, and then added a pointed, "To my husband." Bohr took the hint gracefully, and tendered her an embarrassed grin. Then, he sat back in his chair and looked at her appraisingly. "Tell me, Dana, are you and he a good fit?" They used to be. Scully hoped they might be again. "We compliment each other." "Ah, I see." His lips curled into a mischievous grin. "So if you're the brains and beauty, what does that make him?" "The man I have loved since the day I met him." "Ah." Bohr's grin became wistful. "I see." "Good night, Pip." "Good night, Dana." She barely made it home before the vomiting started. For ten solid minutes she lost everything she'd put in her body that day, and once her stomach was completely empty the nausea faded and the throbbing in her skull subsided, and Scully was left feeling hollow. The fatigue intensified. Lacking the strength to do anything more than rinse her mouth out, Scully fell into bed and pulled the blankets over her. The symptoms were becoming harder and harder to ignore. At least there had been no blood this time. Maybe this was just a stomach flu, or a bad piece of mystery meat from lunch making itself known. At that moment, she didn't care much. Nothing hurt, nothing bled, and sleep became too alluring to resist. ***** She woke in pitch blackness. There was no telling how many hours she'd been asleep. Enough to make her stomach rumble. Scully forced herself out of bed, flipped on the light, emptied her bladder and washed her face. The mirror above the sink was unkind in its honesty. For the hundredth time Scully longed for her make-up bag lost in the plane crash somewhere in the French Alps. It was hard to believe that was only three months ago. It felt like a lifetime away. She quickly brushed her hair and teeth and then headed for the dining hall. It was late enough for the corridor lights to be dimmed, Scully noted, which was odd because Mulder normally made it home by then. He'd gotten the day shift from a guy called Jude and usually managed to beat Scully home from the lab. Something must be up in Central Control. And image Logan planted in her mind of Mulder and Renee sharing a table flashed quickly in her head. Tears left pin-pricks behind her eye lids, not because she doubted Mulder, but because she couldn't control her irrational fear. She'd lost so much, so very, very much, and it seemed her emotional stability was slowly leaving her, too. In the dining cavern there were still a few stragglers finishing up their meals, which turned out to be some sort of meatless stew and crusty bread. The cheese was all gone, but it usually ran out quickly. Scully helped herself to a bowl and a slice, and ran her rations card through the slot at the checkout stand. It beeped happily. As she turned to find a clean table, her heart jumped as Mulder strode purposefully in the room. She'd forgotten he'd put on a grey utilitarian jumpsuit that morning. It looked odd on him, more blue collar and less Oxford-educated. He seemed the part of a disgruntled auto mechanic complete with furrowed brows a scowl that would make small children run. When he caught sight of her he gave her a nod. "You okay?" Scully asked as he approached. He looked pissed as hell. "Logan's an ass," he grumbled. "What's for dinner?" He looked over her tray and frowned. "Nothing you're going to be happy about," Scully told him. "What did Logan say?" He peered past her at the food line. Scully could see the hope that there might be steak or pizza that she'd missed. "I don't want to talk about it," he said, clearly dismissing the subject. I'm going to get something." Scully found a nearby table and waited while Mulder picked his way through the vegetables he spooned into his bowl. Scully had never known just how picky an eater Mulder could be until they got to the City. He didn't like green beans in any type of soup or casserole, or tomatoes once they were cooked unless they resembled ketchup, and carrots in any shape or form. He ended up with a plate full of bread. "Is this seat taken?" Mulder plopped his own tray down and took the chair next to her. "I take it from your long face that there were no significant breakthroughs on your end of the Front." "Just more questions," Scully confirmed. "How about you guys?" He began flaking the crust off a hunk of bread and stuffed a wad of the soft middle in his mouth. He chewed slowly. "We established contact with two more pocket communities, 40 people between them. One is out of food stocks and facing starvation. We're going to try to get some supplies to them by the end of the week." "End of the week?" The phrase hit her funny. She's stopped thinking in terms of weeks and months without a sun and moon to break up her days. Time for Scully spanned between meals and sleep. "What day is today?" "Tuesday," he mumbled. "The twelfth." "Tomorrow's my brother's birthday." "Bill?" "No. Charlie." Charlie, her sweet-faced younger brother who had breezed into town on unexpected shore leave one night last October. The same night Mulder appeared on her doorstep with a vial in hand and information on a warehouse holding viable alien embryos. Only, the aliens were fully gestated and born when they arrived, and the vaccine given to Mulder didn't work. Charlie watched his own intestines spill on to the floor before he died, a sight Scully continued to relive in her nightmares. "He would have been thirty," she said. Her baby brother Charlie. The stew was cold, and the bread stale. Scully pushed her tray away. Mulder didn't mentioned the mostly untouched food on her plate, but his face betrayed his worry. "I'll see you back at home," she said. "Where are you going?" "No where. I just need to walk." "Will you be late? I'll wait up." She gave him a wistful smile. How silly had she been to think this beautiful man beside her, who looked at her with such compassion, such concern, could possibly betray the years they'd suffered and succeeded together. She must've been completely out of her mind to have entertained such a ludicrous fantasy. His eyes, his voice, his very posture screamed to the world that he was as devoted to her as she was to him. And oh, how she loved him. "Wait up," she told him with a nod. "I won't be long. There are some things we should talk about." Secrets needed to be shared. His brows lifted, and he gifted her with a small smile of his own. It twisted her heart to know that all too soon it would fade. She didn't know when she might see it again. ***** End of chapter 2 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 3 ***** "My life is like a knitted blanket, unraveling line by line, and I can't quite remember what the design is supposed to be." -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, June 23, 2000 Hidden City, somewhere in the former Liechtenstein February 3, 2000 "Mulder, I know I should've told you a long time ago, and I tried so many times to tell you this but I just didn't know how, and I still don't, really, and that shouldn't come as a surprise because you know that words don't always come easily to either of us - even the words we need to hear - so I'm just going to say it and get it out there. I have ca..." She couldn't say it. For a month she'd tried to force the damn word out of her mouth. In her head it echoed like a scream in some b-movie horror scene, aloud it got caught in her throat. Renee knocked on the small private rest room door. "Dana? Are you still in there?" "Yes. Sorry. I'll be right out." The lab w.c. was the only place where Scully could lock the door and be alone with a mirror. She had to work through the whole c-word block if she ever had hopes of eating or sleeping like a normal human being again. The stress and exhaustion of keeping her secret was burning a hole in her stomach, and the not-keeping-food-down thing was really getting old. But more than that, Mulder needed to know. He deserved the truth from her own mouth. He deserved so much better than she gave him, or capable of giving him she was starting to think. It was a thought that only added to the sleepless nights. She just needed to tell him. And then, logically, she needed to talk to someone about a possible treatment. Or series of treatments. She closed her eyes and leaned on the pedestal sink. The chemo had been bad the first time. It sapped every ounce of energy, every slip of dignity from her. It made her far sicker than the cancer ever had. The thought of going through that again, knowing that it wouldn't do any good - she just didn't have the strength. Not just of body, but of spirit. The fight was too overwhelming. Her odds were so completely remote without the tiny, magic chip. And she could only fight one hopeless war at a time. Mulder had been right that night on the side of a frozen mountain, and she had been horribly wrong. It was her fault, not his. She had insisted he remove the chip, insisted it was leading the Colonists to their group. Mulder had tried to get her to stop and think, to consider, but she didn't. She couldn't. And now she was terrified it would prove a fatal mistake. "Dana?" Renee again. "There's something we want you to see." "I'll be right out." Scully flushed the toilet, and checked her reflection one more time. No blood. Renee stood outside the door, hair pulled back from her face, huge smile brightening her dark eyes. "It's beyond belief. Beyond luck!" "What is?" Renee grabbed Scully's wrist and excitedly pulled her to the main sub-cellular microscope where Bohr was busy adjusting a few dials. "Show her," Renee urged. Her zeal piqued Scully's interest. "Tell her what you found." "We found," Bohr corrected. His expression was lighter, more boyish than Scully had ever seen. "It was most definitely a group effort." "What was?" Scully stepped up to the viewer and peered through. Genetic DNA strands. Broken or cut. But different than the strands she'd stared at for more than a month. "Whose are these?" Bohr's grin grew. "Mine." He watched her intently, as if waiting for her to share his delight. "Yours? I don't understand. I thought it was just women who were taken for this." "Yes, yes," he readily agreed. "But there was an experiment done, on Siberian convicts and other unfortunates who found themselves at odds with the wrong people. I didn't know what it was for, but I assumed the black oil was alien origin. Perhaps I was wrong." "Siberia? In a gulag?" Mulder had only told a handful of details from his experience in Tunguska with the black oil. It had been a bad time. "You were there?" "Briefly, yes. Shackled. Starved." The joy drained from his face as a flash of memory clouded his eyes. But he continued with the same energy. "The point is, if I show these same traits in the junk DNA I carry, perhaps you are only half of the whole picture." Bohr continued. "It was chance that I even looked, really. I was thinking about that chat we had, about finding mates..." As he hesitated, Scully realized he hadn't moved when she stepped up to the viewer, and now he was far too close, his gaze heavy and unnerving. "And I wondered if the mates were, perhaps, more literal than the proposed metaphor." "My strands show normal," Renee said. "And the rest of the lab staff, too." Bohr turned to a terminal close by and pulled up one of the database files. "I'm fairly certain there are several men here, including myself, who spent at least some time in Siberia that Spring. But, as you know, you are all that remains of the women." He referred to the Allentown women, and yes, she was painfully aware that she was the sole survivor. Scully's head began to swim. "Hang on. So, you're telling me this is the key that we've been looking for? We join the strands somehow and poof, instant vaccine?" "Poof?" Renee seemed confused. "What is poof?" "There is no poof in science, my dear Dana, as you well know. And the strands don't just join together. They have to be bonded somehow. Electrical jolt, maybe." His mind was already hard at work. Bohr turned back to the terminal and began typing away. "No poof." It felt odd to be disappointed at the first solid breakthrough they'd had, but Scully had hoped that figuring out the mystery of the broken strands would lead to more than just more questions. Time was running out, she could feel it. Scully sighed. "At least we have a direction to work in." ***** The next morning Scully stepped out of the shower and into a towel Mulder handed her. She wrapped it around her middle and turned to watch her husband pump the last inch of water from the stall. Her husband. His arms bulged as he worked the manual wench, and his thighs clenched. He took her breath away, he was so beautiful, so incredibly sexy. And that was a subject that didn't come up often enough. For a man with triple X bills that ran into four digits some months, it was disappointing to realize how little it actually took to quench that particular thirst for him. Scully always seemed to be parched. "Mulder," she said in that low voice that so easily caught his attention. He turned to glance up at her over his shoulder, and she let her towel fall to the floor. His mouth O-ed and his expression dropped, but there was no lust in his eyes. "Scully." His face crumpled. "Jesus. You're bleeding." Her hand flew to her nose and came away bright red. Mulder snatched the towel up and cupped the back of her head as he pressed it to her nose. "It's okay," he said over and over, panic having taken over his speech. Scully wasn't sure who he was trying to reassure, her or himself. He backed her slowly to the bed, and she sat with her head tilted back trying to figure out what she was going to say. Her secret was out, coward that she was. Her heart drummed inside her chest. She shivered from her wet skin in the cool, still air, and Mulder pulled the blankets up and around her shoulders. Then he left her to hold the towel while he quickly dressed. "I'll get Renee," he said as he tugged on his left boot. "Mulder, no." "This could be something, Scully. You can't just ignore it. I'll get Renee to come -" "Mulder, no." "What? Why? And don't tell me it's the altitude this time -." "It's not the altitude. It's what you think it is." Mulder froze, and time seemed to freeze with him. An eternity passed before he even hinted a reaction. "It is?" The words cracked. Scully nodded. The bleeding stopped. She wiped her face with an unspoiled corner of the terry cloth and then went to the mirror to wash the rest of the evidence away. Even her lips looked pale. "You're...God, Scully. You're sure?" His voice wavered on the verge of tears, which made her own eyes water. She tried to swallow them down, but they were too quick and numerous to control. She nodded, because really there was nothing else to say. Except, "I'm sorry," which didn't trip off her tongue as easily as it had when she'd practiced in the mirror. Sorrow was such a two- dimensional expression for the turmoil that boiled inside her, because it wasn't just her life that hung in the balance of their new reality. His wife and partner were at stake, too; never mind that she was all of them. "How do you...feel?" he asked. The words seemed dead in his mouth. "I'm fine," she told him, but knew that wasn't what he wanted to hear. "Tired." "How long have you...?" "Ever since I took the chip out -" "*I* took the damn chip out!" His outburst of anger was followed with a gut wrenching sob that surprised them both. He backed away, toward the door, shaking his head. "I've gotta go," he said a couple of times. "I can't stay." Scully understood. She's spent the better part of two months hiding from him, from the truth, which she had yet to speak out loud. She watched him retreat out the door knowing that he couldn't go too far, and hoping he didn't really want to. ***** "Dana! Look at this. Tell us what you see." "A Rorschach test with a migraine." She was in no mood to feign interest in fuzzy blotches. The only reason she actually showed up at the lab was that she didn't know what else to do. It would be hours before Mulder would find his way home again. He needed time to process. She of all people could understand that. She just hoped it wouldn't take him as long as it was taking her. Bohr leaned closer to her and quietly asked, "What's wrong?" She took a step back and crossed her arms. "Nothing." The lab had been a bad idea. She could see that now. There were so many bad decisions in her life, in the last six months, even. "Something has happened." Once again, Bohr wasn't catching her carefully sent antisocial signals. "What is this?" she asked, taping the plastic schematic hoping to derail him. "Wait a moment, Dana." He placed his hands on her shoulders. The gesture was too intimate, too personal. "No," she said as she stepped away from him, shrugged away from the contact. "I don't want to be touched." "My mistake, I'm sure," he said to placate her, his hands raised in resignation. "I didn't meant to upset you. You're obviously in some distress, and I'm concerned." "I don't want your concern." Truly, at the moment all she wanted was the queasiness to ease some. Her stomach was in knots, and the dry biscuit she forced down for breakfast felt like a rock inside her. "Then how about friendship?" he asked softly, compassionately. Scully shook her head, but he didn't let that deter him. "Dana, I know it's difficult for you to open up to people. You're a woman of privacy, of discretion. One might even say mystery. I respect that. I applaud it, even. But what if we talked hypothetically?" "Pip, I have no intention of continuing this conversation," she said with a glare. He relented. "Right, then. Let me go over what Renee and I spent most of the night theorizing on. We won't know for sure if the science will work until we try, but we've posed the puzzle to the entire staff and no one has yet to poke a hole in it." Scully exhaled as she scanned the room. "Where is Renee?" "Sleeping, I presume, as I hope to be shortly. I wanted to stay and wait for you, though. To get your input, and put you to task." He pulled three of the huge binders that catalogued a majority of the data and began arranging them in front of her. "All right, then. Bring it on." ***** It was late when Scully finally left the lab that night. Too tired to bother with foraging for dinner, she shuffled home fully expecting to find Mulder fast asleep. Instead she walked in to an empty apartment. The bed was still in the same disarray that she left it in that morning, the bloody towel still balled up at the bottom of the non-perishables bin. It was all her fault. She should've told him before he saw it for himself. He should've been warned months before, when the nosebleeds were still infrequent. Then, he would've had more time to get used to the idea, more time to prepare. She should've been stronger, for both of them. Maybe it wasn't too late to help him through it. Maybe they could help each other. Mulder wasn't in any of his usual haunts, and Central Control recorded his shift had ended six hours earlier. Scully leaned against the stone wall, hands on her hips, and tried to figure out where he might have gone. There were a finite number of hiding places in the City, and when she'd exhausted them all she went to the last place she wanted to look. Scully pressed a fist to her knotted gut and ignored the clamoring heart as she gave a stiff rap on the thick plastic door. Renee answered the door in nothing but a t-shirt, panties, and a pair of black-striped tube socks. Her thick, dark hair was a mass of waves around her square shoulders. "Dana?" she asked sleepily and stretched one arm behind her head. No bra. "You are okay? Are you sick?" "I..." Scully regretted waking her. "I know it's late, but Mulder... Have you seen him?" "Fox?" Renee's brow shot up as she asked, "You're looking for your husband here?" "I need to find him. Just tell me, Renee. Do you know where he is?" "Ask Dag. Your husband spends much of his time with Dag." "He does?" Renee seemed fascinated by Scully's surprise. "This you did not know?" "Uh, no. Much of his time? I didn't realize they were such good friends." Dag? Weird that Mulder never mentioned that. Renee nodded and pursed her lips. Her intelligent brown eyes said something that Scully couldn't quite read. Aloud, Renee advised her: "Talk with your husband, Dana." Then she stepped back inside her apartment and the door swung shut. ***** Scully knocked three times on Dag's door before the groggy, towering man answered. His pale, baby soft, shoulder length hair was a mussed halo around his round, ruddy face. Scully came up to the bottom of his chest, but the clear blue of his curious eyes always managed to meet hers with equality and respect. He stood before her now, naked from the waist up and smelling of liquor. "Dana," he said with sleep still in his gravely bass voice. "Dag, is my husband here?" The tall man nodded and glanced over his lean, muscular shoulder to a figure on the bed. Mulder lay unconscious on his back, jumpsuit unzipped to his navel, arms and legs spread eagle, and taking up the whole of the mattress. A pallet of blankets and pillows on the stone floor beside the bed told Scully where Dag had ended up. "Drink too much," Dag explained, leaning heavily against the door frame. It was obvious he referred to both of them. "Mulder sleep hard." "Yeah," she said with a sigh, "I can see that." "Cry hard," he added, almost a whisper. He looked from a prone Mulder to Scully with distress in his tired eyes. "Very sad." "Yes." Dag's limited English seemed to sum it up nicely. "Mulder sleep now. Needs to sleep. Let him sleep." Yes, she thought. He had needed to be away from her. She would let him be. "We should at least put him on the floor. There's no reason for you to give up your bed." "Mulder sleep," Dag insisted through a yawn. "Let sleep." She was keeping him up, too. "I'm sorry I woke you, Dag. Thank you for taking care of Mulder." He nodded a little, but didn't say anything more. ***** The apartment that night felt twice as cold, even with the rattling space heater turned up to HIGH. At least it kept the quiet at bay. As exhausted as Scully was, sleep never came. When the alarm sounded morning, she forced herself out of bed. It felt weird to shower alone. She was late to the lab. "You didn't tell him we need a sample?" Bohr seemed more shocked than upset. Scully crossed her arms. She was in no mood for an interrogation. "I didn't *ask* him, no." "You understand how important this is?" "Of course I do!" Bohr ignored her indignation. "How incredibly vital it is that we have as broad of a base as possible to draw from before we proceed? We only have a couple dozen ova with which to work -" "Twenty-seven." Across the lab Renee looked up from the microscope. "The three harvested early this morning aren't viable." "What?" Panic erupted on Bohr's face. "It's not enough. Not enough! Isn't there somewhere else we can draw from?" The lack of women in the Hidden City was never so painfully alarming as when they scouted for possible ova donors. "We're doing the best we can," Renee said, with more than a little irritation in her voice. "Ova extraction is a painful process. No every woman of childbearing years is eager to go through it." "We all must do our parts," Bohr said. "We all are," Renee snapped. She had personally donated seven. The tension in the room was thick, and on top of the anxiety Scully already carried, it settled like a weight in her lungs. She needed to sit down. With each breath the room began to dance a little more, the edges of her vision began to darken. Scully stumbled a few steps into one of the stools. She used it to stabilize her balance on the way to the rest room. "Dana? Are you okay?" She didn't know who had asked. It didn't matter. "Fine," she said over her shoulder. The lock on the w.c. wouldn't keep anyone out that really wanted in, but she threw it anyway . Seconds later she vomited her breakfast into the toilet. Breathe, breathe, breathe, she coached her self through it. Anxiety attack, she diagnosed. It's all in your head, pull yourself together. Scully wasn't sure she believed herself, but she tried to follow her own advice. Breathe in, breathe out. Her sides ached from weeks of retching, her throat was sore, her head throbbed.. Pull yourself together, and breathe. Breathe. She could hear them talking in hushed voices just outside the door. They wondered if she was okay. They argued whether to ask or not. Scully chose not to give them time to decide. Still queasy, she quickly cleaned herself up, check for blood in the mirror, and opened the door. "I'm fine." No one bought it, especially not Bohr. He stepped into her personal space, and with a slender finger he reached out to gently stroke her cheek. "Oh, my dear Dana." "*My* dear Dana." Mulder's voice, little more than a grumble, made Scully's heart skip a beat. She jumped away from Bohr and turned to find her husband by the door. He looked like hell; same rumbled jumpsuit he slept in, no shower or shave. Hangover. Not even a comb touched his head. Scully wondered if he'd just woken up. "Am I interrupting something?" "Of course not. I was just coming to find you, actually. Dr. Bohr's had a breakthrough." "Our breakthrough," Bohr insisted. There was something proprietorial in the glance that the Brit tossed at Scully. She tried not to acknowledge it. Renee snorted her opinion. "So modest, Pip," she said dryly. Mulder's expression remained a schooled neutral, but his tone carried the sharp edge of his sarcasm. "You must be the man of the hour." Then, his face soured, and Scully thought he might be sick, too. He turned and walked away. Scully followed him out into the hall. "Mulder? Are you all right?" "Fine," he said, walking away from her. "Mulder, wait." He slowed and then stopped. "I think we should talk." He nodded, miserable. "I think we should, too." His eyes darted to her nose, and then away again. His jaw flexed anxiously. "How are you...feeling?" "I've had better days," she said honestly. "But I've had worse, too." "Same here." He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, and ended up stuffing them into pockets. "What did Renee say?" "About what?" "You...you haven't discussed it with her?!" "There's nothing to discuss. You and I both know that there's only one cure-" "We don't know that. There's all this damn alien technology!" He leaned in closer, forcing himself calm again. "What are your chances of survival without a treatment?" he asked. They both knew the answer without Scully having to say a word. No treatment was a certain death sentence. Mulder nodded, understanding her silence. "I won't accept that. And I can't believe you would, either." Scully inhaled deeply. "There are other things to consider just now." "Nothing matters except your health, Scully." "The vaccine matters, Mulder. And Pip seems to think we have a way of making it work." "Damn the vaccine! They don't need you to make it. Let them figure it out on their own." "They may need me more than any of us thought, Mulder. It's not just what's inside my cells that's valuable." "What the hell are you talking about?" She took a deep breath. "In cloning, one removes the genetic material from a healthy ova and inserts new strands. Bohr's idea runs along the same lines, except my broken DNA will be injected along with another set with similar irregularities. The idea being that the two sets of incomplete code will create a new double helix. Which, in a way, is how an ova would naturally be fertilized." "Wait. Are you telling me this is going to result in...offspring?" "No. Most likely not. The odds of the procedure working at all are very slim. It's better if the host is also one of the genetic donors, but even then the best realistic case scenario is a miscarriage at the end of the first trimester with enough genetic material to synthesize a vaccine." "Better if the host is also..." Mulder was horrified. He even took a few steps back. "It's like I don't even know you." "Mulder, you're not being fair. I realize there are moral issues, but at this point there aren't a lot of options. Every day the world dies a little more. We need a weapon, a biological weapon that will stop the Colonists." He shook his head. "You're sick, Scully. Gravely so. You can't allow them to experiment on you. We need to talk to Renee, find a treatment to make you better -" "I want you to donate some cells, Mulder. We're collecting samples from men who were at the gulag in Tunguska at the same time you were. There are only a few, and the broader base we have to work with -" "Scully, please, think about this." "I have thought about it, Mulder. I've done little else. The only way I can insure you stay alive is to make this vaccine work." "Oh, no. Don't do this for me! If you want to do something for me, fight the cancer!" He said it. He said the word aloud. It was as if Scully stopped for a moment, but time continued for the rest of the world. Mulder continued his angry rant, his face grew more red, more disturbed, but Scully couldn't hear him. That one word kept playing over and over in her head. And somewhere in the pit of her stomach she felt the nausea rise. Not here, not here. It was a useless chant. Her stomach was turning, and there was nothing to stop it. "Fine!" she heard through cotton ears. "Tonight, then. But we are having it out, Scully. I won't back down on this." She bolted for the lab w.c., and even managed to make it to the toilet before she was sick again. But when the retching ended, Scully stood and the world went black around the edges before she alternately went hot, then cold. The room swayed. Her knees gave way. She caught the side of the sink on her way down. Scully passed out. ***** End of chapter 3 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 4 ***** "Job had nothing on me." -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, February 17, 2000 Hidden City, somewhere in the former Liechtenstein February 5, 2000 Scully came to on the cold, hard stone floor, head pounding, shivering. A small pool of blood had begun to congeal where her nose had been. There was no telling how long she'd been out, but the door was still shut and Scully didn't remember locking it. Chances were the others thought she was just seeking some privacy after the rather vocal argument with Mulder out in the hall. She pressed a hand to her head. God. How much had they heard? Sitting up was a slow, arduous process. Her neck and back were stiff and slow to respond, and her arms felt weak, shaky. Oh hell. Mulder was right. She did need to start some sort of therapy. The symptoms were enough to cause their own problems, even if she wasn't ready for the overwhelming reality of chemotherapy. And it was overwhelming. Damn it! Mulder was always right. Why couldn't he, just this once, have been completely off base? Scully closed her eyes and pressed a massaging finger into her eye to blunt the headache for a moment. She needed to think, to come up with a plan of action. No, no. She needed to sleep. To clean up the bathroom, take a handful of aspirin, go home, and sleep. Everything else she would deal with when she woke. Mulder didn't come home that night, and Scully didn't go out looking for him. When he didn't come home the next night she told herself that it was just as well, because she couldn't give him the answers he needed to hear. The night after that she got angry. ***** February 8, 2000 When Renee answered the door it was obvious that she hadn't been sleeping. The blanket pulled around her torso, her messed hair and loosely swollen lips told Scully that the view Renee purposely blocked contained something other than an empty bed. "Dana?" "I-" It hadn't even occurred to her that Renee might not be alone. "What do you need, Dana?" "Nothing. I'm sorry to bother you." Scully turned to make a getaway, but Renee stopped her with a hand. "You really must keep better track of your husband," Renee said with a smirk. "You are looking for him, yes?" Scully shrugged. "I thought - because you seem to know where he is most of the time -" "Dana." Renee pulled the blanket up higher on her chest. "You must learn to talk to him." Damn her. Scully didn't need couples therapy, she needed to know where Mulder was hiding. "Do you know where he is, or not?" "I do." No further answer was forthcoming. Scully raised her brows, surprised Renee would play this game. Or was she? Maybe Renee did know where Mulder was because he was in the same place he'd been all week. Maybe her earlier jealousy was well-founded. Why would Mulder come home to a sick, deceiving wife when he could fuck the brains out of a woman who epitomized every carnal relationship he'd ever had in his life? Fury burned up the center of her chest and she felt the heat climb her neck and cheeks. Scully would not play the fool to their tawdry affair. If this was how things were going to be, he would have to tell her to her face. She would force him to look at her, to know the pain he caused her. And then she'd beat the crap out of him. Out of them both. Scully pushed passed Renee, the grief of a wronged woman fueling her indignation and froze when she found Logan leaning on one elbow on the bed, a sheet up to his waist, and a glare on his angular face. "Hello, sweetheart." His lips curled into a grin. "What's a matter? Think I was Hubby?" His laughter was tinged with a bitter bite. Mortified, Scully turned away from Logan and came face to face with Renee. In a flash she realized the scope of the mistake she'd just made, the unspoken accusations of the man she loved and a woman she wanted to consider a friend. Where had the intense jealousy come from? "Get out," the French woman said. "I will not be insulted in my home!" "I - God, Renee, I wasn't thinking -" "Get out!" Scully fled. How could she be so stupid? So completely out of control? The emotions she normally kept in check were running rampant through her, dictating behavior that even she found foreign. Her raw feelings for Mulder were shaking everything else loose, making her crazy. She had to find a way to cope, find some kind of resolution with him before she alienated the whole City. ***** Dag answered the door after just one knock. The lights were out, but he didn't look as if he'd been asleep, despite the standard issue, grey pajamas he wore. "Is my husband here?" He shook his head. "Mulder not here. He works." "He's working? This late?" "Double shift." "Why would he pull a double?" Hers was a stupid question. He was using work as an excuse to avoid her. Dag shrugged. "Don't know." His eyes dropped to the floor. It was the first time he'd ever lied to her. Something inside her crumbled just a little, and Scully sighed. What could Mulder possibly be up to that Dag would lie to conceal from her? And did she really want an answer to that question? ***** The lights in the Control Room, like the rest of the City, were dimmed, and the panels and work stations seemed to twinkle like a thousand neatly organized stars. The down shift was mostly maintenance, there to monitor and crunch numbers for the following day. The room was fairly quiet. Real coffee steeped somewhere close by. It had been months since Scully had smelled that particular aroma, and her mouth watered. In the back, staring at a map of Siberia graphed out on a transparent panel, Mulder chewed the tip of a pen. He arms and ankles were crossed as he perched on a stool. His face was serious, shadowed. Had he slept at all since she saw him last? Her anger melted into a hard pit in the back of her throat. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and stroke his hair. He looked like he could use a hug. His eyes lifted and met hers as if sensing her very presence. There was a weariness in his expression, a coldness that worried her. "You okay?" he asked, almost as if by compulsion. "I was just about to ask you the same thing." Scully stepped closer. Mulder stood and met her half way. "You shouldn't be here," he said. "You know this room is off limits." Scully raised a brow. "I've been worried about you. About us. It's been days, Mulder. You promised me a talk." "Yeah." He glanced around the room, but no one was interest in the two of them. Mulder sighed, shook his head, and shoved his fists into his jeans pockets. "I know. Stuff came up." "Stuff?" He shrugged. "We've lost contact with two groups of survivors. Thirty seven people. We sent two men in a Mirage two days ago, and lost contact with them as soon as they were out of radar range. We were hoping it was just that we lost another satellite feed, but..." He nodded to an oversized monitor on one of the wall units. Nothing but static. "You know," he added quietly. "Stuff." "Come home," she gently urged. "You can't avoid me forever." "I can't." His gaze didn't meet hers, and she knew it wasn't just the work keeping him away. A frightening thought hit her, something she hadn't considered before. "Is this something I should get used to? Us living apart?" He didn't answer right away. Instead he watched her thumb as it played with the ring on her left hand. "Are you going to go through with that man's experiment?" he asked. "You mean implanting the ova? We're going to try, yes." It wasn't the answer he wanted. "Why? How can you let them do that to you? Wasn't it bad enough that they kidnaped you the first time and submitted you unwillingly to tests that nearly killed you?" "This is different, Mulder." "It's not! It's exactly the same!" he harshly said, his anger instantly rising to the surface. The veins on his neck stood out. "This is something I have to do, Mulder. Please try and understand that. If there's some way I can aid in defeating the Colonists, you know I have to try." "Scully, you're sick -" "All the more reason to do this now, while I still can." "While you still...do you even hear yourself? It's like you've already given up." "I haven't given up, Mulder, but think about it. There's nothing pro-active that I can do right now about my condition." "You can fight! There must be some sort of treatment that Renee -" Scully placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't pull away, and she took that as a positive sign. Slowly she stepped into him, wove her arms under his and hugged his waist. He smelled of coffee, too. "There is only one treatment, Mulder," she said, her cheek pressed to his chest. "You and I both know that. Anything else will just make me sicker. Right now, I need to know that you'll be okay. That somehow humanity will survive this. Bohr's science seems sound, and while it's not at all ideal, it's the best we've got." She looked up and met his weary eyes. "I need to do this." "I guess then, you do what you have to do, and I'll do what I have to do." He finally squeezed her back, but it didn't help the anxiety that began to well inside her. Did his ominous truce hark back to her original question about them living apart? Was that something he needed to do to protect himself? She was too afraid to ask. Mulder cleared his throat and pulled away. His expression was stony, hard to read. "So, when is the...experiment going to happen?" "Tomorrow. If the ova survive the night. Three of them blinked black and died almost immediately." He was already throwing up walls between them, closing her out. Scully couldn't stand it. "Mulder, I love you." He nodded a little. "You only tell me you love me when we fight." Scully didn't know what to say. It wasn't true, was it? Maybe it was. "Never mind. It doesn't matter." He turned back to the transparent panel. "I have work to do." "Fine," she said, echoing his words from a month before. "I'm going back to bed. You know where I am if you need me." Mulder didn't turn around. ***** It was late when she heard the door open and shut. A moment of silence told her he was listening for some sign that she was awake. Scully laid still, while her tummy briefly tingled. Then, she heard the muffled rustle of fabric and the whir of a zipper as he undressed. He crawled into bed and brought the cold in with him, but Scully didn't move. He settled beside her and sighed. The space heater hummed. Mulder inhaled as if to speak, but must've changed his mind. A hand snaked out and touched her arm through the sleeve of her thermal top, ran down the length to her wrist, and then to her belly. His fingers were like ice against her bare skin as he dragged the hem of her top slowly up. Her nipples tightened from more than just the cold, and she shivered when he brushed the underside of her breast. Without a word he rolled on to her, adjusted the covers over his head as he slid down her body. His face was cold against her breast bone, but she didn't complain because his mouth was hot and wet and wonderful, and he kissed her chest with a savage ferocity. Over and over again his teeth grazed her nipples as he suckled and rolled them over his tongue. A ball of ache opened between her legs, right where the weight of his torso fell. She bent her knees, raised them high against his sides, and dug her heels into the mattress. She was desperate for friction, more than his stomach offered. His mouth didn't stop, but his hands found the waist of her thermal underwear. He shoved them down over her hips and thighs, and she kicked them down the rest of the way. Then she pulled his head up, above the blankets to her own. She kissed him deeply. He tasted like whiskey. His tongue was demanding. "Guide me in," he muttered against her lips. Leaning on one elbow, he hooked the other hand behind her left knee and pressed her leg up and open. Scully reached down. His erection was hot and hard and silky in her hand. He hissed when she positioned him, and then groaned when she pulled his hips down. With one long stab, Mulder pushed his way inside, and her body was happy to accommodate. The weight of him on her, the girth of him in her gave a sense of completion she never believed in before she knew him. Love making before Mulder had been a past time, something to do with a boyfriend that didn't involve football or fishing. Now, as he began to slowly move within her, it became a chance for her to tell him all the things she couldn't voice. The rocking of his hips said she was equal to the task; his partner in everything. Her caressing hands over the working muscles of his back were to reassure him that she was there, and to encourage him. Her lips against his told of her love with each kiss. His hand left her leg and smoothed tenderly over her hair and the side of her face, and his mouth relinquished hers while his rhythmic impaling found a consistent cadence. On the side of her neck his labored breath was hot and wet, wonderful, as he thrust, thrust, thrust inside her. She gripped his ass, wanting more contact. Harder. Stronger. Faster. She kissed his ear, a silent whispered apology for the accusations and assumptions of betrayal. She needed his forgiveness, as much as she needed her own, but she couldn't bring herself to ask. His body felt so good on hers, warming her, filling her. And the sounds he made, somewhere between pain and ecstacy, they reminded her of the goal of this particular journey. She wanted to reach it with him. It wouldn't take much, a stroke or two, so she snaked a hand between their bodies, down to where they joined. Mulder raised up for her, not losing the stride he'd reached, but a little of the depth. Slick and hot and hard as a bead, Scully touched that one perfect place between her legs, and instantly her toes curled and her body tensed as the pressure in her tummy began to rise. It was a better high than any drug could manufacture: Mulder inside her, panting and thrusting and running long fingers from the side of her sensitive breast down to her thigh and back up again, mixed with her own rapid dextral manipulation at just the right pressure and angle. Her pulse soared, her head buzzed, the base of her belly tightened as her crescendo approached like a freight train. So good, so good, and oh my God she was coming... Mulder stopped to ride the wave with her, but she pulled him down hard and muttered, "Fuck," through clenched teeth. Hard and fast, and so good. God, so good. She pulled her legs up, but he kept getting caught as her body reflexively clenched around him. Not that either of them minded. Her muscled turned to jelly, as her climax receded. Mulder's thrusts became more sporadic, more chaotic. Scully ran her hands over his muscular ass, smoothing and caressing the muscles quaking from exertion. She held him when he froze, mid-thrust, and sighed as he went limp in her arms. It took a short while for his breathing to slow, and she took the opportunity to play with the hair growing long at the nape of his neck. "I love you," she whispered, running a light caress over his slack back. They weren't fighting now. He kissed her shoulder in response. ***** When Scully woke the next morning, Mulder was already gone. Again, she showered alone. Breakfast didn't seem a good idea because of the general Renee would administer for the procedure, so Scully skipped that part of her morning ritual. It had been too much to hope that Mulder might be there for the procedure. Truth be told, she didn't really blame him. If the circumstances were different, less dire, she probably would've sided with him. The moral grey ground of creating something that should by all rights be a child, knowing that it would never be - No. She couldn't afford to talk herself out of it. It wasn't a child, it was what someone had done to her. The genetic bonding was too unstable to support any true life. It was a cure for a plague; like penicillin, nothing more. She told herself that all the way to the lab. Renee and Bohr were setting up when she arrived. "We're still doing this, right?" Scully asked. "Did the ova make it?" "Three," Renee told her. She wore a jumpsuit with a sweater over it, and no trace of resentment from the night before. "How are you feeling, Dana?" Bohr asked. "Let's just get this over with," she told him. She glanced at Bohr, but he remained mute in his brown corduroy pants and lab smock. In the restroom, Scully changed into a paper smock. The mirror reflected a woman who looked much more calm than she felt. Last night had been good for her, for them both. She hoped today wouldn't set that back. The examination room was actually one of the offices cleared of everything but a bed, a series of monitors, and a portable sink. Bohr helped Scully get comfortable on the narrow bed, and hooked her up to the machinery. Everything was recorded: heart, respiration, blood pressure. Scully looked again at the monitor. No, that couldn't be right. "Mon Dieu!" Renee was as surprised by the readout as Scully was. "You're blood pressure, Dana. Do you see this?" "It must be a malfunction. I don't have a problem with my blood pressure." Renee shook her head. "Glucose level is dangerously low - when did you last eat?" Scully had to think for a moment, but Renee kept reviewing her vitals. "You're electrolights are completely out of balance. Dana, what have you been doing to yourself?" From a standing tray Renee picked up something that resembled a hockey puck. "I want to listen to your heart." She placed a small earpiece on the back of her ear and began waving the black device over the center of Scully's chest. "Breathe," she said. Breathe, Scully told herself. Renee's eyes bugged out of her head, and her expression startled Scully. "Dana." Her name was little more than a gasp. "Why did you not tell me? How could you not?" "Tell you what? What do you hear?" It couldn't be her illness, Scully tried to reassure herself. That was a silent killer. Renee pulled the earpiece off and handed it to Scully. Then she lowered the device to Scully's abdomen. A soft, rapid swish became more pronounced. "I hear a fetal heartbeat, Dana. What do you hear?" Scully's breath got caught in the painful lump in her throat as the steady whoosh filled her whole consciousness. It was impossible that the sound that she heard was what Renee assumed it would be. Completely impossible. Barren women do not conceive. This was not a heartbeat. It was not. "It's broken," Scully muttered. Her mouth felt oddly numb. The machines beside her went crazy. "Pip!" Renee screamed at the top of her lungs. The slender man came running. "Hurry! She's going to stroke out!" "I'm fine,"Scully tried to tell her, but the room went blindingly bright around the edges and she had to close her eyes. It was hard to say just what happened next. Scully felt like she was caught in slow motion while the rest of the world whizzed by. Renee was there, and then she was gone. Prick. Something was injected, but by the time she turned to look, the syringe and it's wielder had disappeared. The sounds around her distorted into a symphony of noise. And then slowly, painfully slowly, everything began to settle in its place. "Feeling better?" Renee asked. "Much." "Dana." She pulled a chair up to the bed. "You knew you were pregnant, yes?" "I'm not pregnant," Scully insisted. "You know that's impossible." She pushed Renee's hand aside. She needed to get out of there, needed to find Mulder. "Middle of your first trimester. Eight weeks." "No. You've got it wrong." "Dana -" "Stop saying my name like that!" Tears prickled her eyes, and Scully couldn't hold them back. Renee knew she was sterile. The vindictive bitch was getting her back for the night before. "Get away from me!" "No, Dana, stop. You must remain calm. Your pressure is extremely elevated. We were able to get it down a little, but it's crucial that you not excite yourself until we can stabilize your vitals." Scully struggled to sit up. "I need to get Mulder -" Renee gently pushed her shoulders back down to the bed. "You need to rest, Dana. Pip!" He came flying in the room, wide-eyed and anxious. "Good God, she's awake. Weren't you going to sedate her?" "Damn it, Renee, let go of me!" Scully tried to slip under her arm, but Bohr grabbed her other shoulder and the two of them effectively pinned her to the bed. "Stop it!" "She's going to pass out again," Bohr gripped, his eyes glued to the rapidly flashing lights on one of the monitors. "Good," Renee snapped. "Then she won't hurt herself." "Why are you doing this?!" "Dana, stop struggling!" Bohr said between clenched teeth. It was futile to fight them like that. She had to distract them if she was going to make an escape. She went limp. "Fine. Fine." The moment they relaxed their grip Scully scrambled from the table and dodged their attempts to recapture her. The lab assistants were no threat, and Scully darted out into the hall and down the corridor with both Bohr and Renee hot on her tail. They shouted after her, but Scully didn't listen. She wasn't at all sure why the morning had turned into a chase, but she was upset, and needed Mulder. That was the only thought in her head. She passed several people on her way to the Control Room. All stopped to gape as she sped past. The paper gown flapped behind her, and her bare feet smacked hard on the stone floor. Her heart raced, and her lungs ached from the unaccustomed exertion. When Scully burst into Central Control, all eyes fell on her. The room instantly grew quiet, save the mechanical buzz. Mulder was no where in sight. But Logan was. "Well, hello, sweetheart. Come to give us a show?" "Where's Mulder?!" she demanded. Renee caught up, and stopped within arm's length. Bohr wasn't far behind. Logan's thin brows raised. "You mean right now? Probably somewhere over the Black Sea." He pointed to one of the monitors where a green dot blipped. The back of her throat began to burn. "Tell me where he is, Logan, or so help me God, I'll pull your heart out through your throat!" Logan grinned like a devil. "Surely, he told you he was leaving. Oh, no that's right. Mulder would *never* leave you. Here. Without family, or a friend in the world." Scully's gaze went from Logan to the green dot, and back to Logan again. Lies. They were all liars! From the corner of her eye she cause site of Dag. He sat at a console watching her with apprehension. "Where's Mulder, Dag? Did he go to the Garden?" The large man sadly shook his head. His clear, blue eyes fell on the green dot. "Mulder is gone," he said. "Shut up!" It wasn't true. It couldn't be. This was all a horrible nightmare where everyone had turned against her. She had to wake up. Dag talked into his mouth piece, and then pointed back at the monitor. Mulder's face appeared, wearing a white helmet. "Where is she?" the fuzzy image on the screen asked. Standing, Dag held out his ear piece for Scully to take. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. As if in slow motion, Scully made her way to Dag's console. He set her down in his seat and adjusted the mini camera so it captured her face. She slid the earpiece on. "Mulder? Is it true? Why did you leave me?" Tears rolled down her face faster than she could wipe them away. "You're doing what you had to do, and so am I. I know I should've told you, Scully. I wanted to tell you last night, but I knew you'd try to talk me out of it, and I didn't want to say good- bye that way." "Good-bye?" Her voice cracked. "Why?" "You need the chip. I've got to find it for you. I will find it." "I don't need it, Mulder. I need you. Come back. Please." "Scully, listen to me. There isn't much time. I know you're not going to like this, but I've asked Dag to watch after you. He knows a little of what's going on. I don't know how long I'll be away. But if I'm not back by the end of the week -" The screen went to static, and then blacked out all together. The green dot faded. "MULDER!" Scully gripped the desk. "What happened? Where did he go?" "Yeah. We lost contact." Logan pressed a couple of buttons. "Hell. Another Mirage gone. That was valuable plane, too. Rayson, Conroe, you guys got anything?" Negative head shakes answered. "Hell." Scully ripped the earpiece from her head and threw it across the room. Then she collapsed into the chair and covered her face with her hands. Wake up, she urged herself. This isn't real. Just wake up. The next morning proved just how real it had been. Dag could give her little information except to say that Mulder was with a top-notch pilot, and they were supposed to be headed to somewhere in Siberia. When Scully asked when he thought they might hear from Mulder again, Dag shrugged and shook his head. The last plane to fall off their radar had yet to reappear and the two pilots aboard that plane were presumed dead. When a week passed with no word from Mulder, Scully fell into a dark depression that not even the tiny, miracle of light growing within her could penetrate. There had been no cancer. ***** End of chapter 4 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 5 ***** "They took my home, my job, my family, my way of life and my god. They took the dreams I once dared to dream, and the ability to dream them. I don't hate the Colonists anymore. They took that, too. And yet, I laughed today. I laughed. It felt...foreign." -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, August 1, 2000 Hidden City, somewhere in the former Liechtenstein February 19, 2000 "Any more nosebleeds?" Renee asked. Her professional voice was much colder than the one Scully was used. She jotted down notes on a chart even when Scully didn't answer. "What about headaches? You feel fine, yes?" She looked over the folder and analyzed Scully's face, and then scribbled something more. "You haven't been eating." "I've been eating," Scully said quietly. She just hadn't been able to keep anything down. Including the nausea pills. "You're dehydrated, and your blood work is a mess." Renee tossed the paperwork aside and once again invaded Scully's personal space with her hands; she probed the top of her throat for lymph nodes. "More sleep, more food, more water. Dana, you must take better care of yourself." "I feel fine." "Of course you do," Renee dryly said. She pulled an ear piece from the pocket of her lab smock. "Lay down. I want to listen." Scully did as she was told. The exam table was thinly padded, and cold. With her arms crossed above her head, Scully closed her eyes while Renee waved the disk over her torso and stomach. She didn't want to know. It hurt too much. "Have you had any swelling in your feet?" Where was he? Scully imagined him out in the blizzard, freezing to death while she was locked inside a mountain and was poked, prodded, and told she was self-destructing. She dreamed he whispered her name even as unconsciousness took him, and woke screaming for him until her throat was raw. Sometimes Dag was there when she woke, and he held her until she asked him to leave. He was a quiet man, a gentle man, and slowly was becoming a much needed friend. The world had become an infinitely lonely place. She never should have let Dag stop her from going after him that first day. At the time it seemed to make sense to see if he might make it back on his own. After all, they didn't know where he was headed, or where he was once he dropped off the radar. The possibilities that Logan and Dag bombarded her with ranged from a simple mechanical malfunction of the satellite they got the relay from to the total vaporization of Mulder's ship. Either way, Dag had argued, there was nothing that she could do. He also said the magic words, words Mulder must've coached him to use. Dag told her to trust in Mulder. To trust that Mulder knew what he was doing, that he would make it home safely. It wasn't a fair play. There was nothing Scully could counter with. Since then, every day, twice a day Scully went to Central Control hoping that Mulder might have been able to make contact, or made it to one of the four pocket colonies they knew existed out in the wild frozen wasteland that now was Russia, where she left multiple desperate messages for him. "Dana?" Renee's voice grounded her back in reality. Tears had made wet trails to her ears without her even realizing. Scully pulled her arms over her face to shield her surrender to the emotions. It was all too much; too much pain, too much emptiness, too much loss. She ached from the inside out, and there weren't enough pills in the universe to numb it all. "Go home, Dana. Try to sleep. I will bring you some dinner tonight." Sleep. Scully doubted she could do it. In the silence of her room her mind worked overtime. But it was an escape from the lab, and the constant reminders of what she possessed inside her, and so she would go. It was insufferable to think that she would bare him a child he might never know exists, and that it was completely her fault. It was possible she not only killed her best friend and ally, her lover, her husband and partner, but she unintentionally murdered the father of the only child she would ever carry. And he would never know. That was the worst part of it all. They were the final truths that would be forever concealed from him. ***** The knock on the door startled Scully. "Dag?" Renee peeked in. "Just me. With food." Scully shielded her eyes with the back of her hand as she flipped on the lights. "Just set it down anywhere." "No. You need to eat, and I will see that you do." Scully scowled. She could smell mystery meat stew from across the room and it woke her queasiness from its peaceful slumber. Renee pushed some of the rumpled covers away and slid the tray onto the flat top of the mattress. "You should eat before it cools. I know it's difficult to believe, but the taste gets worse." "Why do you care?" For a moment Renee just looked at her, studied her. She wore the familiar brown sweater over the regulation jumpsuit, and her hair had worked itself loose from the bun at the base of her neck. It had been a long day for Renee, and she wore every minute of it on her face. With a heavy sigh, she sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs, and her arms above them. "I care because you do not." "I just want to be left alone." "Yes, yes." Renee nodded as she stared out across the room. "That is not a luxury you can afford. You're pregnant, Dana. You're going to have a baby -" "Shut up!" Scully kicked her way to sitting, and Renee managed to rescue the tray before its contents spilled. "Just shut up!" "We've been through this, over and over. You need to find some acceptance." "I need my husband!" And he needed her. Every time he ran off on his own he always got himself in more trouble than he could handle. He counted on her to follow and save his ass. "I've got to find him, Renee. If he's alive..." "We all hope he is, Dana -" "Don't patronize me!" The fury in her wouldn't be controlled, and Scully felt it spill over liked a hot deluge under her skin. "Get out! Get out! I don't buy the concerned looks anymore, Renee. You're no friend of mine! You want this thing inside me because I achieved naturally what you couldn't in the lab. I'm your science experiment. You and Bohr can't wait to get your hands on my baby! But you won't! Do you hear me?! I won't let you touch it! So, why don't you crawl back into bed with that snake, Logan, and fuck his brains out and leave me the HELL ALONE!" Renee didn't move, and Scully took one of the pillows and blind- sided her. The stew went flying and ended up half on Renee's front, half on the bed and floor. With slow, deliberate moves Renee placed what was left of the bowl and its contents flat on the tray and set it on the rock floor. Then she stood. "I am your friend, Dana. And you need friends now. Especially now." "And I suppose you want me to believe Logan is a friend, too? Bullshit!" "Logan has his own demons. I will not defend him to you." "Good! Get out!" Finally Renee gave in and left. The door wasn't even shut behind her before Scully slipped out of bed and yanked a pullover on over her long underwear, and slipped into a pair of jeans that were four sizes too big. Then, she left the empty apartment and wandered the halls until morning. ***** February 28, 2000 The days seemed to melt into each other, and the nights were endless. No further word came from Mulder or his pilot, and after three weeks he was officially counted among the casualties. Eating became easier for Scully when she stopped tasting the food. She forced down entire platefuls because she was starving. She made herself drink water by the glass full because she was thirsty. As she laid in bed, Scully willed her mind blank and slept, but she always woke exhausted. And there were no dreams to remember. Life became a series of rituals that became muscle memory. If she didn't think, then it was possible to exist without pain. If she didn't want, then there was no emptiness. She was a reflex, a response to her surreal surroundings. Nothing more. The knock at the door startled her out of her trance. "Dana?" It was Dag. He sounded hesitant. "You home?" "No," she answered. The door opened slowly, and a beam of light from the hall fell across Scully's face. She turned her head away. "You sleep all day? You sick?" "I was up all night," she lied. "Here." He came in and dropped a small package in her hand before retreating to the door. Mercifully, he didn't flip on the lights. "What is it?" Scully asked, not understanding what she was supposed to do with it. No bigger than a bar of soap the small package lay wrapped in a hand towel and twine. "Chocolate," he told her. In silhouette, Scully couldn't make out his expression. "Why?" "Happy Birthday," he whispered, and then closed the door. She untied the string and smelled the rich, sweet aroma that was unmistakably the promised chocolate. A whole bar. Meant just for her. Her stomach rumbled and she ran a hand down over her hardened abdomen. In the dark Scully felt the tears come. Don't think, she coached herself. Just breathe. Don't think. Just breathe. Slowly, deliberately, Scully wound the string around the present again, and then tucked the package under the bed. Best not to think about it. It broke her routine. Clear the mind. Relax the body. And breathe. Just breathe. ***** March 10, 2000 The dirt beneath her was soft and springy, and it had the earthy, musty smell of fertile soil. If she didn't look up it was easy to forget that the sunlight was artificial. The chamber felt like the outdoors. For hours Scully was able to lose herself in that fantasy, and she developed a longing for nature that she never had before. It was good to be in the garden, and not in the lab. Podding peas took little brain power. It was a repetitive, manual task that became almost comforting in its mindlessness. The stool that they gave her was nothing more than a crate turned on its side, but that didn't matter. For the seven hours Scully put in working in the garden she was warm and fed. Every day they let her eat her fill of the fresh vegetables and fruits, which proved a minor miracle because once Scully discovered a food source that hadn't been mutilated by the kitchen crew, her appetite blossomed and quickly outgrew the allotted credits on her meal card. No one bothered her. Scully knew they talked about her, but they did it from afar, and she didn't give it a moment's thought. Logan also seemed to keep his distance, not that she really cared. There was nothing he could say to hurt her now. She was beyond their touch. "Dana?" Scully looked up at the tap on her shoulder to see Bohr standing over her. The bright lights halloed his head. "Oh. Hello. Pip." "Dana, didn't you hear me calling your name?" "I guess I was somewhere else." She pulled a few more pods from the vine and began prying them apart with her thumb nail. "Dana," Bohr said again, "You missed your appointment again. You're supposed to come see us every five days. Remember? Renee sent me to fetch you." Seven perfect peas spilled from the pod into the metal bowl in Scully's lap. She discarded the shell in the bucket at her feet, and then began on the next pod. Bohr placed a hand over Scully's work, and gently turned her chin until she faced him. "Dana, I want you to come with me," he said. "Okay." Scully left her bowls by her crate and followed him back to the lab. Renee was bent over the computer when they arrived, and Bohr crossed quickly to her. "There's something wrong with her. She's taken something." "What?" Renee demanded, as she rushed to Scully's side. "Dana? What did you take?" "She's virtually non-responsive, even to her name. Do you think street drugs made it down here? I'm fairly certain out medical supplied are intact." He began pacing anxiously while Renee checked her pupils. "We never should've allowed the transfer to the garden. She should be here where we can watch her. We can turn the examination room into a bedroom for her and have someone in here twenty-four hours for constant supervision." "Perfect," Renee snapped. "And do we chain her up as well? Dana is not our prisoner, Pip." "She's not capable of taking care of herself. Or that baby. We need that baby. What we could do with the placenta alone - !" Renee led her into the examination room and helped her up onto the table. "How are you feeling?" She hooked a few of the sensors to Scully's body and stood back to watch the data flutter through the machine. "I feel..." She didn't feel anything, not even numb. "Your pressure is down, well within normal. Pulse good. Temperature normal." Renee took a prick of blood from Scully's index finger and fed that to the machine as well. "Looks like you're eating better. Glucose looks good. Hormone levels are consistent with the second trimester." "We lost all the ova, Renee, and without another Dana Scully, that baby is the only hope of completing a vaccine." Bohr leaned against the door, his arms folded and his glasses dangled at the end of his nose. "She needs to be monitored, if not for her own good, then the good of that child, and everyone else on this god-forsaken planet." Renee sighed in frustration. "I can check for toxins, but I don't think she took any drugs." "Then what the devil is wrong with her?" "Grief," Renee said. "I think this is how she mourns." "Is she even coherent?" Bohr asked, skeptically. A tiny flutter at the base of her stomach stole her breath away. She knew that sensation, though it had been more than a month since she'd felt it last. "Mulder." It had to be him. "What did she say?" Scully jumped down and flew past Bohr. He had to be there. And the moment she saw him she would fling her arms around him and never ever let him go. "Mulder?!" "Dana? What's the matter?" Renee scampered after her with her usual persistence. "Nothing! Where's Mulder? Where's he hiding? I know he's here!" "Dana, Mulder's not here." "Of course he is! I got the..." Scully placed a hand over her abdomen. Another tiny flutter, almost undetectable it was so slight, not at all like the jolt that Mulder always sent through her. "Dana?" "I felt..." She did feel Mulder. Scully ran a hand over her abdomen and closed her eyes. Breathe, she told herself. Breathe. But the movement didn't stop, and Scully found that she couldn't focus on anything else. "It's moving," she muttered, more to herself than to anyone in the room. It was real. A fetus. A baby growing within her. Her baby. Hers and Mulder's. "My God," she whispered. "I'm pregnant." The word fell clumsily from her mouth. "And Mulder...he's really gone." How could this be real? ***** Dag was sitting in the hall when she returned home. His head hung forward from broad, thin shoulders, his untamed straight, powder blond hair concealed his face. His knees were drawn up to his chest like a schoolboy waiting outside the principal's office. He looked up when she approached, and his pale eyes were red and swollen from crying, his rounded nose was pink. "Has something happened?" Scully asked, afraid she didn't want to hear the news. "Dag? Is it about Mulder?" He nodded, and Scully's stomach fell as the chill of adrenaline shot through her veins. Panic set in. "Tell me," Scully demanded. Dag shook his head. "I look for him. All day, I look. He is gone." "I know that. Has something new happened? Did you find something new?" Again, Dag shook his head, and then dissolved into a string of sobs that shook his whole person. Scully's pulse doubled. She crouched beside him and took him by the shoulders. "Dag. Look at me." His miserable eyes met hers. "Did you find out anything new at all? Was there some trace of Mulder?" "No. There is nothing. Nothing!" He broke from her grip and rolled away from her to stand. "How is there nothing? How can he be gone?" "I ask myself that every day, Dag." And every night. "I ask him not to go. That night. I tell him to stay. We drink, and I tell him to stay. But he goes." He ran a thick hand over his face, but only succeeded in smearing the wetness, not clearing it. Suddenly it was starting to make sense. The constant attention he showered her with, the birthday gift, the middle of the night visits just to make sure she was okay. Dag was overcompensating for a guilt that was rightfully hers. "It's not your fault, Dag. When Mulder makes up his mind to do something, nothing will talk him out of it." Not even reason and common sense. He had his own logic. "And anyway, Dag, he left because of me, not you," she told him. "It's my fault he's gone, not yours. Not his." Scully felt her own tears begin to form, and she quickly ducked inside her apartment to avoid the waterworks. She'd cried too much, and it took more energy than she had available. It had been an emotional afternoon, and there was nothing left in that reservoir. Dag followed her in. "How your fault? You not know." "I can't talk about this now, Dag." Her voice cracked and she put her hands in her hip and inhaled deeply. Breathe, she told herself. The tears came anyway. "Dammit!" she swore as she wiped them away. Dag's thick, heavy arms wrapped around her shoulders, and he enveloped her in a strong, warm hug. "It be okay," he whispered in the same voice Mulder used to use a million years ago. "Don't cry Dana." The small comfort he offered she readily accepted. With Dag she didn't have to worry about ulterior motives. No wonder Mulder spent so much time with him. It was easy to accept his friendship because it was offered so earnestly, so freely. A tingle in her belly made her jump from his arms. The sensation she always associated with Mulder had a new trigger, one she wasn't used to yet. Misunderstanding her sudden withdraw Dag's face dropped, and he turned to go. Scully stopped him. "No, Dag, wait. It's okay. Here." She took his hand and placed it on her stomach. His fingers stretched the entire width of her body. "Can you feel it, too?" His face transformed from a sullen, rejected expression to one of awe. "Baby?" he asked, almost breathlessly. "So small." Scully nodded. Dag's wonder was priceless, but there was nothing she wouldn't give to have had Mulder there in his stead. ***** End of chapter 5 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 6 ***** "...there's a person with a knife wanting to cut my baby out, telling me over and over that it's inevitable because the ones I love always die. They die and it's my fault. And I can't wake up until I run out into the sun and I face my attacker. And always, in the dream, they wear my mother's face." -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, March 11, 2000 Hidden City, somewhere in the former Liechtenstein April 17, 2000 Scully clipped the lid on the perishables bin, dragged it into the hall, and plopped the tied bag of laundry right next to it. Then, she went back inside and stripped down for a shower. It was early yet, and there were hours before they would expect her in the garden. But she wouldn't return to bed. The nightmare haunted her, even laying in bed awake. She had to keep busy to distract herself from it. The mirror over the sink was too high to see anything below her shoulders, and Scully hadn't worked up the courage to stand on the bed and see how her tummy was filling out. The bird's eye view was all she could handle. Scully ran hand over the side, and then to her bellybutton. It would probably pop in a couple of weeks. She was carrying high, or at least it felt like she was. Her breasts, on the other hand, had already popped. They were twice their usual size, and her nipples had become thick and sensitive. The bra she had was inadequate and often painful, and the kid at the dry goods supply counter laughed when she asked for a maternity bra. Just one more thing the men who planned the City had over-looked. She showered quickly, wanting to escape the silence of her apartment as soon as possible. There wouldn't be many people in the Control Room at this hour of the morning, so there was bound to be an open console. She wasn't supposed to be allowed access to the central computer, but everyone knew who she was, and the possibility of what she carried within her, and they said nothing. It was funny how they treated her, like she was some sort of celebrity. Already her life story was twisting into myth. They called her The Lady, and over the course of a handful of weeks her mysterious pregnancy had somehow turned into miracle pregnancy, and that had mutated into virgin pregnancy, which was laughable - if Scully could remember how to laugh - because they all knew that she was married to Mulder even if they weren't familiar with her sexual history. Dag had been hesitant to tell her about the circulating rumors at first, but once he realized that they didn't bother her, he quickly reported everything that came through the grapevine. In the City, every day seemed to be a slow news day. What was even more odd to Scully was the resurgence of religion in the City. It was difficult to understand how people could find faith in a god that could allow their world to be so mercilessly destroyed. Not that people were handing out copies of the Bible or Koran, but just the day before Scully had seen three man saying grace over gruel, thanking God for the bounty they were about to receive. Somewhere back in the first couple of days Scully had lost her crucifix. It was painfully apparent that her faith had gone with it. ***** Once again Scully skimmed the previous day's communications report looking for anything that could even remotely be connected to Mulder. A diabetic child in one of the pocket communities had gone into a diabetic comma and died. They simply ran out of insulin. Scully closed her eyes and ran a tired hand over her face. To have survived so much only to succumb to something so easily preventable was unconscionable. There was plenty of insulin in the City, but no way to get it where it was needed. Since Mulder's plane vanished, all flights had been grounded. No exceptions. "Dana. You no sleep." She looked up to see Dag towering above her. He work the standard jump suit, and his hair hung wet and limp, and he smelled strongly of soap. "I'm just checking the logs," she told him. He nodded and left her to her work. People were beginning to file in, so she wouldn't be able to stay much longer, but with her last few minutes Scully checked the weather outside. If he was still alive, Mulder was out in that blizzard, whose temperature hovered at about 25 Fahrenheit. The wind chill was listed at 3 degrees. She tried to remember if he'd been wearing his parka when she'd seen him last on the monitor, but couldn't conjure an image past the sad look in his eyes. She took a small amount of comfort that the coat wasn't tucked away under the bed next to hers anymore. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine. Logan's name was at the bottom of the report. And there was a bio icon next to it. Scully glanced around to see if anyone was looking, then she clicked. A small photo of Logan appeared. He was much younger, less lean. His sandy hair was loose and straight, and gently ruffled by whatever wind had been blowing when the shot was taken. Cardon G. Logan, born 1963 in Melbourne. Two University level degrees. Seven years with the Australian armed forces, specializing in wilderness survival, and search and rescue. The file on him went on and on, mostly about achievements and special recognitions. The final two paragraphs were devoted to personal info. Scully's eyes grew wide. There was more to his anger than she had ever realized. ***** "Mother die when I born." Dag took another swig from his flask. He'd shown up as Scully's door that night with an enormous dill pickle and whiskey. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Scully quietly said. She took another chomp out of her treat and savored its salty goodness. Never in her life had a pickle tasted so incredible. Dag shrugged and slipped a little lower against the cold, uneven wall. He sat across the foot of her bed, his calves and feet hung over the side. When it was clear he would be staying a while, Scully crawled under the warmth of her blankets and sat up against the pillows he'd refused. She didn't really mind the unexpected company. His presence dulled the loneliness. "No brother. No sister," he said. His pale blue eyes glazed over as he looked past the shower and the stone wall behind it. They seemed even paler because of his blond lashes and milky complexion. Scully never really took in Dag's features, but now with him sitting so still in front of her, she realized that he looked almost cartoon-ish. His nose was large, to the point of being bulbous, and it turned a dark shade of red when he drank. His face was a rounded square, with a broad jaw and hairline, under which hung thick blond, expressive brows. He wasn't handsome, but there was a comfort in his face, a compassion that was as strong as any physical feature. "You have brother?" he asked, breaking Scully's thoughts. Instantly an image of Charlie came to mind, and it took her a moment to blink it away. She nodded. "I had two brothers. And a sister." "Big family." Dag seemed impressed. "It was." And it was very possible that Scully was all that remained. The Gunmen were supposed to have gotten her mother to safety in Canada, but there remained no contact with that refugee encampment. Information on what was left of North America was sketchy. Some of the Rockies made it through, the Black Hills of the Dakotas. It was hard to tell what was what anymore because the topography had been so badly mutilated. Scully cleared her throat. "My father died in '93. Then, my sister died a couple of years later. She was killed. In my home." Dag didn't say anything. He waited quietly for her to go on, or not. She did. "Charlie, my youngest brother was killed in October. Just before the Colonists attacked. The day before Mulder and I got married. He wasn't even supposed to be there. He just showed up one night and asked if he could stay for a couple of days. I thought maybe he got in some kind of trouble with his captain - he was in the navy like my father - or maybe there was a problem with his wife, but he said no. No problems. He seemed happy, even. "But then, Mulder was at my door, and he was his usual intense self. They'd given him a serum. They called it a vaccine, but it wasn't. It didn't work. When we got to the warehouse to administer it to the alien fetus, it had...hatched." She pushed the images away. They were still to raw, too vivid, even months later. "Anyway, the vaccine didn't effect them at all. One got Charlie. I watched it happen." Her chin quivered and her voice wavered, and swirl of motion unsettled her belly. She inhaled sharply to clam the emotions back down to a tolerable level, and then took another bite of her pickle. The flavor did little to distract her from the guilt and grief. "Very hard," Dag said in sympathy. "Not as hard as telling my mother that another one of her children had died because of me. I must've looked horrible because when she answered the door she knew something had happened. She wouldn't let me in the house. Like she needed to defend herself from me. And after I told her, she slammed the door and turned off the porch light. I sat for an hour outside on the stoop listening to her weep for my brother. Really weep. "That was the last time I ever saw my mother." A tear slid down her right cheek, and Scully quickly brushed it away. She didn't want to cry again. She didn't even know why she'd told him the story. She was talking too much. Dag took another gulp, and made a face as it went down hot. The pickle had lost its appeal. "I'm sorry, Dag. I shouldn't tell you this." "No sorry," he told her. "You and me, friends. You talk, I listen." He squeezed her foot under the blankets, and gave her a loose smile. "You eat, I drink. Perfect friends." Just then the lights blinked out, and with the sudden darkness the mountain around them shut down. The air circulation system, which Scully never heard anymore was startling in its absence. Heartbeats counted the seconds while Scully held her breath, waiting for anything. The drills were infrequent, because every ounce of power in the City had to be switched off including computers, communications, the lab. Everything. They were only hidden if they looked and sounded like the other mountains that surrounded them. Dag's hand found her foot again and gave it a little squeeze. They weren't supposed to talk, to do anything that might create even the slightest vibration. Her belly came to life with twitters and flutters. The little passenger inside responded to her anxiety. She smoothed a careful hand over the left side of her stomach. How could she bring a baby into what was left of the world? What possible future would it have? Even if they defeated the Colonists that moment, what was left for her to offer Mulder's child? Her chest collapsed around the image of him that her mind conjured. She missed him so much it ached just to be. Two months without him, how was it possible?. The all-clear siren sounded and the lights came back to life. Another simulation, it seemed. Tomorrow they would know how successful the were at playing dead, once the computers were back on-line. Scully looked down at her growing abdomen. This was no place to be born into. And maybe that was the point. It never should've happened. She was barren, after all. Maybe she wasn't meant to bring a child into their dying world because what she carried within her wasn't the baby she was destined to have, but the miracle someone else prayed for; the answer to the vaccine. Fear drove her from the bed. She threw back the covers and tossed her pickle in the sink. "Dana?" Dag asked, concerned. There was nothing to say to him. He would try to talk her out of it, and she couldn't, wouldn't allow it. Her head swam a little as she shoved her feet into her boots. She had to find Renee before she changed her mind. ***** Renee wasn't home, but Logan was. He answered the door naked from the waist up. His lean, muscular body was finally beginning to loose its deep tan. "Oh," he grumbled. "It's you." He ran his hand through his straight, darkening sun-bleached hair, and glared down at her over a straight nose. "What do you want?" "Renee." "She's at the lab. She's always at the lab," he bit out. "And my, my, aren't you getting fat." His mouth twisted into a snarl of a grin. "Too bad hubby's a popsicle. I bet he'd really be turned on by that belly." "Why do you hate me so much?" He was momentarily thrown off by her direct question. "I hate everyone, sweetheart. Don't think you're special." "You don't hate Renee." He smirked. "Who told you that? " Scully raised her brows, but Logan balked. "Come, now. You don't think that Renee and I are in love, do you?" He made a sour face. "This is the real world. Out here in the big bad there's no such thing as love." For the first time, Scully felt like she was getting an honest look at the Australian. "If you really believe that, I feel sorry for you." He chuckled, but there was no humor it in. "You feel sorry for me? Why? Because love worked out so well for you?" His eyes dropped to her belly. "Love is a myth that we tell ourselves to make the world seem less lonely." "You loved your son," Scully said quietly, unsure how he'd respond. The information wasn't classified, but she knew he wasn't advertizing. Logan froze. His face went unreadable as his eyes dragged up to meet her gaze. "That was a mistake." His voice was deadly serious. A chill shot through her. "I'm not your enemy, Logan." "You worked for them. You are my enemy." "Them?" "Have you ever acted on information that came from a nameless source? From people who you knew played the other side?" He was talking about Cancerman, about Mr. X. About Mulder's sources that always seemed to melt back into the woodwork at the end of the day. Logan read her expression and nodded. "I know you did. You don't think you're the only one with access to the personal files, do you?" He leaned closer. Anger wafted off him. "You worked for them. Whether you wanted to or not, you always did what they wanted you to do. They controlled you. And you're as guilty as they are." "Logan," she said carefully. "I didn't kill your son." Tristan, age 5, was taken while his family vacationed in the Florida Everglades. The file had said Logan was "recruited" as part of a deal to get his son back, but the child unexpectedly died as the result of one of the tests he'd been subjected to. And, of course, once you were in the game, there was no way out. He lifted a hand as if to strike her, but didn't. She didn't know what stopped him, but she took the opportunity to try to get through to him. "Had I known anything about it, I would've done everything in my power to have prevented it." "Oh, really? And what are you doing to prevent the murder of the bastard you carry inside you now? You knew they were experimenting with human subjects, you knew they abducted people - hell, they did it to you!" He snorted his disgust. "And you know what they're going to do to your own before it ever takes its first breath. You are as guilty as sin, sweetheart." A protective hand went to her middle. "Dana?" Renee appeared at the end of the hall, and as she approached quickly assessed the situation. She looked from Logan to Scully before asking, "What is happening?" He thrust his chin in the air. "Ms. Scully was just looking for you," he said, the hard edge still clipping his words. "Dana? What is it?" Renee studied her face. "You look flush." "I'm...I'm fine." She clutched at the firm bulge at her belly. Cold fear pumped through her veins. No one would hurt her child. No one. "I'm fine." Scully nearly tripped rushing past Renee, but saved herself against the abrasive wall. "Dana, slow down," Renee cautioned, but Scully didn't listen. She had to get away from them, and find some means of protecting her baby. ***** Dag was still there when she got home, and never was she so glad to see him, even if he was slumped across the foot of her bed, his blood-shot eyes saying all that needed to be said about his lack of sobriety. "Where you go?" he demanded through slurred words. The dresser was sturdy, but probably not very heavy. She could move it in front of the door, but would it keep anyone out? Without a lock, it was the best option she had at the moment. "Dag, I need your help. They're going to try to kill my baby." For a moment Dag watched in confusion as she struggled with the tall chest of drawers. "Who? Why?" he asked as he scrambled to his feet. With his shoulder behind the dresser it slipped easily across the stone floor. "For the vaccine. Renee and Bohr." Once the furniture blocked the door, Scully leaned heavily against it and took a moment to catch her breath. One dresser wasn't going to be enough. She didn't know what to do next. "You have to help me, Dag." "They no hurt your baby." "They're going to try. I can't let that happen! I'm all it's got." "No," he told her. "No hurt baby." "Dag, you're not listening to me." "I listen. I hear. Now you hear. They no hurt your baby." He lifted his pant leg and pulled his father's long, heavy knife from the inside of his boot. It gleamed like black ice under the harsh room lighting, all the way from the intricately carved handle down the broad, curved blade. "I stop them. Your baby safe. You safe." He watched and waited for her to accept his protection. There was simply no way she could refuse. "Thank you," she whispered. He nodded, and slipped the knife away. "You sleep now." She woke up hours later, crying into her pillow. The dream evaporated with the sleep, but it left her drenched in a residue of misery and grief. In the darkness, a heavy hand touched her shoulder, and Scully started. "You are safe," Dag whispered. "Sleep now," he told her. She laid back down on her pillow, but couldn't calm her nerves enough to rest. Dag couldn't be with her every moment, and even if he could, he was just one man. Scully knew there was no safety to be had in the Hidden City. She had to escape. ***** It didn't take long to pack. She simply didn't have much in the way of worldly possessions. Just a handful of clothes that she was rapidly outgrowing, some hygiene supplies, and her journal. She wondered if Mulder ever knew how wonderful a gift it was, if he had any idea what it meant to her to have an outlet, a voice. She placed it at the bottom of her backpack, and pulled her parka out from under the bed. The right arm was still ripped through where the bobcat's teeth had clamped down and broken her arm. Her cast was removed months ago. The pink puckered scars were fading, and soon would be unnoticeable. Scully tried to remember Mulder's scars from the wild cat, and couldn't quite draw the rough, jagged lines in her mind. Which side that they been on? How far apart had the claws been? She couldn't remember. Scully closed her eyes and forced images of his cunning hazel eyes, of his over-sized nose, his thick lower lip, and sideburns. She could picture his cheek, both smooth and stubbled, his thin hands and long, graceful fingers and muscular arms. Even the patterns of hair across his chest and stomach, and the oval of his flat nipples were clear and deliberate in her head. The scars that should be there, to one side or the other, were missing from her memory, and a lump formed in her throat when she wondered what else she had already forgotten. She had no photos of him, no remembrances save the beautiful navy rice paper journal he gave her, their marriage licence folded neatly inside, and the gift within her that he never intended to give. Breathe. Just breathe. She had a long day ahead of her and no extra energy to waste. Dag was probably already at his post in the Control Room, so she'd have to wait until his lunch break before she'd be able to use his station to try and figure out the best place for her to seek asylum. There were multiple pocket communities that had survived the attacks. Scully hoped there was one close enough to get to. First thing first. She would need a supply of medication and vitamins to last though her pregnancy. The problem was getting them without raising any suspicions. ***** Bohr was over joyed to see Scully, and the moment she stepped foot in the lab he was on his feet to greet her. "Dana, my dear, you look well today. Positively determined." He beamed a smile at her. "Where's Renee?" There were two techs working, but they were across the lab, absorbed in whatever fact-finding mission they'd been assigned. "Not here," Bohr told her. "She's been coming in late. I don't expect her for hours yet. We're not terribly busy just now, so we're all taking it a bit easy. Can't rush mother nature," he quipped, and motioned to Scully's stomach. "She's got her own timetable." His excitement made her queasy. "Well, don't let me bother you," she said as casually as she could. "I'm just going to refill my vitamins." She headed for the office for the key to the medicine locker. "Are you out?" Bohr asked. "I hadn't realized it was time for a refill." "Not quite," Scully said over her shoulder. The less she explained, the simpler the lie, the better. When she emerged from the office with the key in her hand Bohr hadn't moved. He stood, transfixed, gaping at the figure that hoovered near the door. A man, at first, Scully didn't recognize. His hair was wild, his beard grizzly and matted. His clothes were filthy and covered with rips and tears that spoke of wounds buried beneath the layers. It was his eyes she recognized first. His beautiful, hazel eyes. "Oh, my God." Scully lost all sensation in her body, except the tingle in the very pit of her stomach that sent warmth racing through her veins. The keys clanked dully on the plastic floor, instantly forgotten. He began to rush to her, but slowed and then stopped when he rounded the high counter and her stomach came into view. His mouth fell open and he stared, unblinking at the way her middle strained against the zipper of her jumpsuit. Scully was drawn to him. She felt as if she were floating. Each step towards him took an eternity longer than the one before, every heartbeat seemed to come faster and faster. She couldn't blink, couldn't breathe for fear of breaking the moment and losing him again. She practically crashed into him in her hurry to reach him, and wrapped her arms around his bulk. Scully inhaled the sweat and grime that he carried with him. When his arms closed around her, the tears over ran her. There was no hope of holding them back because a series of gut-wrenching sobs followed. He shushed her, but she hardly heard it, her heart was so loud inside her head. Too many layers separated them, he was still intangible. She quickly looked up, into his eyes to be sure it was really him. She touched his bearded cheek, and his eyes fluttered shut. It was him. "Mulder." Scully looked into his face, past the filth and hair that covered him. She smiled for the first time in months. Nothing could spoil the moment. He was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen in her life. "Never leave me," she said only to him. "Never, never, never again." "I got it." His voice was raw, and he swallowed convulsively. From one of the zipper pockets he pulled a tiny glass vial. "I got the chip." Scully felt her entire person melt. Two months gone for that tiny piece of metal that he held as if it was an offering to his god. She pushed his hand away. "Never leave me again!" His face dropped. "I did this for you -" "I never wanted this! All I have ever wanted was you by my side!" The anger inside felt like a fire burning out of control. It was all she could feel. Mulder was stunned. "I-I risked my life to get this, I crawled over mountains on my hands and knees -" "I don't need it!" "Of course you do!" "I'm not sick, Mulder!" The frustration in his eyes slipped into a new realization. "You're not sick?" A smile lifted the corners of his eyes. He grabbed her and hugged her to him, crushing her against the horrible odor clinging to his coat. "You did the chemo -" "I'm not sick," she said slowly, "because I never was. I thought I was, you have to believe that, Mulder. I really thought I was sick, but I wasn't." He pulled away, unsure. "What do you mean?" "I was pregnant. Am pregnant." She ran a hand down over her belly to emphasize her point. "I was never sick." He shook his head. "That," he motioned with a general hand to her middle, "is an experiment. Are you telling me you did this before I left?" "We did it, Mulder. You and I. It's not an experiment. It's a baby." "No. It's not true." "It is. I know it's hard to accept, believe me, I know. But it's the truth. You know I'd never lie to you, Mulder. Not about something like this." "But...you were..." "I know. I think it was the chip. Once it was removed...the first time after it was removed..." She gave him a moment to process. It was the least she could do. What ever anger she had, and was sure to have again, had ebbed. Mulder was back. She reached out and touched his arm just to be sure he was real. His eyes hid most of what she knew must be whirling through his head. It was upsetting that his eyes would hold secrets from her. She looked down at his hands. His finger nails were lined with black dirt, his hands were bright red from the shock of not being warm. She would have to check him for frostbite, once she got him clean again. "God." The word was little more than a whimper on his lips. "I killed Krycek for this." He dropped the glass vial on the counter, and it tinkled, rolled, and came to a stop against a binder. She took a step to him, desperate to erase some of the distance she already felt, but he pulled away. "You're not sick?" he asked. He was looking for something to cling to, and Scully wanted more than anything to give it to him. "I'm not sick." He nodded. "I need to eat," he said. "OK. I'll get you some food." He turned to go, with his shoulders slumped forward over his weary body. "I'll bring it back to the apartment," she called after him. "You can shower and change in something clean." When he disappeared into the hall, Scully's heart skipped a beat. "Mulder!" she called close to tears. Instantly he was framed in the door. "I'm sorry," she began, but he cut her off. "I love you," he told her. "Oh, Mulder. I love you, too." ***** End of chapter 6 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 7 ***** "...when will I learn? Mulder is always right, and I, by default, am always wrong. I love him, but sometimes...sometimes I miss me." -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, September 1, 2000 Hidden City, somewhere in the former Liechtenstein April 18, 2000 As Scully rushed along the hallways dodging anonymous passers by, she tried to quell the anxious nausea that churned inside her over Mulder abrupt return. He was alive! She didn't know how or why, or what he'd been through - though it was clear he'd been through a lot - but she was so grateful that she had him back in one piece. And so angry. It was the anger she didn't know what to do with. As was normal for the breakfast hour, the dining cavern was a buzz with excited chatter when Scully sailed in. Stew again. She quickly assessed the available options at the buffet. Depending on how little Mulder had found to eat over the past two months, his stomach wasn't going to be able to take anything substantial for a couple of weeks. Food would have to be a gradual reintroduction to his gastrointestinal tract. She bi-passed the served entrees and went to the containers of dry goods stored on a series of racks and shelves next in the zoned off area where all the food preparation took place. It was as close to a pantry as they got. Scully took a large canister of mixed nuts, and one of dried fruit. The woman stirring at the stove watched her closely, but didn't say a word when Scully turned to leave with the stolen food. As she passed the stew pots, Scully scooped a mug full of broth, and added a generous hunk of bread to her scavenges. There weren't enough food credits left on her meal card for what she took, but the girl rang it up anyway, and didn't mention the negative beep her console produced. Scully offered her thanks and hurried back to the apartment, spilling half the broth along the way. Dag was there when she arrived, and helped her with her load. Mulder was already out of the shower, a towel around his waist. He shivered and dripped from his hair and beard, but when he saw the food he stopped dressing and downed the broth in one huge gulp. Scully handed him the crusty bread, and he tore into it like a wild dog into a fresh kill. He was starving. Literally. The flesh on his chest hung to his ribs, and the muscles on his legs and arms were almost chiseled in definition. Scully guessed he had about two percent body fat still clinging to his skeleton. Both she and Dag gaped at the battered man that stood before them wolfing down the last bites of his dinner. His skin was blotchy, and covered in contusions and abrasions; some of them dark and angry with infection. The pink, puckered scars from the bobcat attack all those months ago were carved across his left side, just where Scully now remembered they were. His left side. His left, she memorized. Even after the shower, dirt still lined his nails and blood caked the blisters and welts on his skinny feet. She would clean them up after he had a chance to rest. Mulder was already swaying on his feet. Bread finished, he went for the nuts. Scully stopped him. "Mulder, you need to wait before you eat anything else or you'll just vomit it up." He seemed to accept what she said and handed the canister off to Dag before pulling the towel from his waist and climbing nude into bed. Scully helped him pull the blankets up to his chin. He was already half asleep. The wet strands of his hair clung to his forehead. Scully gently brushed them away, and then gave in to the urge to kiss him there. His brows knit for a moment, and then smoothed as he drifted. God, she loved him so much. She stood and turned with a heavy sigh. Dag had an unreadable expression on his face. "Don't worry," Scully told him quietly, and placed a hand on his arm. "Mulder will be okay. Believe it or not, I've seen him in much worse shape." Dag's countenance didn't change as his gaze shifted to Scully's pack and jacket, both still sat patiently where she left them by the door. "Where?" he asked. "I didn't have time to figure that out." She couldn't tell if he was upset or simply curious, which was odd because Dag usually had such an expressive face. He turned to look back at Mulder, already softly snoring with his mouth slightly open, and Dag's eyes softened. He stood transfixed for a moment, and then seemed to remember Scully was in the room, too. "They see him on radar last night. Think he was bear. I see him on radar, I know he was Mulder. I make them go get him. Mulder was looking for door." Dag smirked. The entrances and exits to the City were well hidden for a reason. It was possible to know exactly where they are and not be able to find them. Mulder could've circled the mountain for weeks looking. "I'm lucky you knew him from a bear," Scully said. "Thank you." "Lucky," Dag said solemnly, and then grinned. With a tilt to his head, he added, "Looks like bear. Sleeping bear." Neither of them could believe he was back, Scully decided. She wanted so badly to touch him again to tend to his wounds, to shave that shaggy beard from his face. Later, she told herself. He needed to rest. And she needed to get the meds she completely forgot about. Then, she needed to figure out an escape. Her baby was still in danger, even with the number of men on her side having doubled in the last hour. Or had it? Mulder didn't exactly jump up and down with joy at the prospect of a baby. In fact, he didn't react to that bit of news much at all. A whole new set of worried blossomed in her mind. ***** The lab was alive with excited chatter as the lab techs tried to relive Mulder's rise from the dead for a thrilled Renee. Bohr was no where to be seen. "Mon Dieu!" Renee exclaimed over and over as they talked and laughed easily. When Scully caught her eye she ran over and embraced her. Scully didn't know how to respond to the hug. This woman had become her mortal enemy, even if she wasn't aware of it yet. "Your Mulder has come home," Renee said with a giggle of joy. "It is a wonderful day!" "It's wonderful," Scully agreed. "But, how is he? Where?" "Sleeping," Scully told her. "He's exhausted. I'm sure he'll sleep through the night." "Did he look well? You must be in heaven -" "No. I'm here." It came out a little edgier than Scully intended. Renee was stunned into silence. "Look," Scully continued, "I'm distracted right now. I need to get my prescriptions refilled and get back to Mulder. He might need something." How was she going to get into the medicine cabinet unsupervised so that she could get the many months worth of pills she would need for the remainder of her pregnancy. Renee seemed to accept Scully's explanation. "Of course. You want to get back to your husband. Of course." Renee turned to the office, excited to help in any way she could. "What do you need?" "Don't worry about it. I'll get it." "It's no trouble," Renee told her over her shoulder. "Why do you do that?" Scully pointedly asked. She needed to stop Renee from feeling so helpful. Renee emerged from the office with the ring of keys. "Do what?" "I'm not an invalid." Scully snatched the keys from her hands. "I'm capable of getting what I need." Renee stopped short. She carefully studied Scully's face. "You are well, yes? Not feeling sick?" "I'm fine. Don't worry." Scully open the cabinet, and the door blocked her quick hands. She went down her mental checklist and then grabbed a small container of antibiotics just incase Mulder needed them for his infections. Each bottle she snatched was tucked in her jumpsuit's deep pockets. "Have your husband come here when he wakes up. We should be sure he is fine as well, yes?" "I'll do that," Scully assured her. Then she closed the cabinet, locked it, and tossed the keys to Renee. "Don't worry," Scully told her, "everything is fine now." Renee nodded, but her expression remained unsure. Scully didn't know why she felt guilty about lying to her. She tried to push it away. There were other things to worry about. ***** Scully dropped her stash off at the apartment, safely tucking the prescriptions inside her pack, and grimaced at the foul stench emanating from the mound of discarded clothing Mulder had left next to the shower. She picked it and carried it at arm's length, and stuffed the pile into the laundry hamper. Then she dragged the whole thing out into the hall. The smell made her queasy, and Scully went back inside and sat at the foot of the bed for a moment to wait it out. The lights didn't seem to bother Mulder - he was out cold, softly snoring through his mouth, curled up on one side. Scully closed her eyes and listened to him breathe. She lightly ran her fingers over his blanketed legs, and once again reassured herself that he was there, with her. Safe. Alive. Her tummy tingled, a Mulder tingle, and it started a chain reaction of flutters that could only be her little passenger. With one hand on her husband, Scully touched the other to her stomach. She wanted to remember this moment, live in this one moment forever; no past and no future. Just now, in its perfect simplicity. Now was so easy. Now was good. Once Mulder was rested, she didn't know what would happen, what to expect from him. There had been tension between them before he left, but they were in completely uncharted territory now. How could she help him to forgive her for being so wrong when she couldn't forgive herself? She was a doctor, for crying out loud. She was *trained* to recognize symptoms! Breathe, she told herself. Don't think about the past, and don't hope for the future. She couldn't change one, and couldn't control the other. She didn't want to hope that Mulder would be thrilled of his impending fatherhood, or that they would find a way back to each other. That would only make her vulnerable the next time he left her. Her eyes pricked with moisture, and Scully inhaled sharply to force the unwanted feelings away. She had so much to do, there was no time to give in to emotions. They would only serve to betray her, anyway. Best not to think about it. She needed to keep moving. Scully doused the lights before she left so Mulder could continue to sleep undisturbed. ***** Scully stared at the map on the console in front of her. She didn't know where to begin. Her hiding place had to be close enough to get to, but remote enough that no one would think to look for her there. Originally, she had considered seeking asylum in one of the pocket communities, but they were all on the far side of large bodies of water or mountain ranges or continents. It was a wonder that Mulder made it back. How had he gotten across so much inhospitable terrain? Scully hadn't heard anything about the plane he left in or the pilot that was with him, if either of them survived. Her attention had been dominated by the man that she loved more than anything standing like a ghost across the lab, and the drop in his face when he saw the bulge of her belly. She couldn't believe she was leaving just as Mulder found his way home. What if he had been a week later? They would've missed each other and she would be out there, somewhere, all alone. Of course, she might still be out there alone. There was no guarantee that Mulder would go with her. She couldn't quite convince herself that he would stay behind, presumably caught up in his anger with her and whatever emotions that stormed through him when he first caught sight of her stomach. No, he loved her. And she knew if she told him that she needed him to leave the City with her, he'd have to follow. Mulder was always there on the few occasions that she truly needed him. Even when he was angry with her. But what would she do if he did refuse to leave the City again? How would she react? Could she go on her own? That had been the original plan, before he suddenly returned. But things were different now. Mulder was here. Was it possible for her to leave him behind? Questions for another time, she counseled herself. She needed to get back to the matter at hand. Her brain could only function tackling one insurmountable problem at a time. ***** At the end of a very long, and frustrating day, Scully went home. Mulder stirred in the bed when she peeked in, and a whole swarm of butterflies twittered in her belly. He sat up in the bed, rubbing at his eyes, as she flipped the lights on. "I brought you some dinner," she said, handing him the bowl of pasta. "There's a little meat at the bottom. But I can't tell you what it came from." He took the food and began shoveling it in before he even looked at it. "The cooking isn't any better," he said around full cheeks. The taste didn't seem to slow him down. Scully dropped down beside him on the bed and sighed. Her back hurt, her feet hurt, and watching Mulder gulp down his dinner was disgusting, and yet she found her stomach rumbling again. She just finished two helpings of dinner. "Mulder, I want to dress your wounds before you go back to sleep." With the back of her hand she stifled a yawn. He waved a dismissing fork. "Naw, they're fine." "They're not fine. They're infected. I may have to lance them to draw the puss out." Mulder made a face. "Do we have to talk about this while I'm eating?" "No," she conceded. There were other things they needed to talk about; more pressing, important things that couldn't wait much longer. Scully didn't know what kind of a time table Renee and Bohr were working on, and she felt that every day she remained in the City became one day closer to the inevitable. "Mulder, we do need to talk, though." He caught the seriousness of her tone, and made eye contact with her over his spoon. Then he dropped it in the bowl and set them aside. Once he finished chewing, Mulder asked, "Is this about the cancer?" His gaze lowered to his left leg folded in front of him, and then to the blister on his big toe. "No," Scully said, unsure why he would think that. Had he truly not believed her when she told him she wasn't sick? "Is it about the chip?" He swallowed, and picked at his toe. "It's about this, Mulder," she told him, and ran a hand over the swell in her abdomen. Mulder shook his head and pushed off the bed. "I can't. I'm not ready to talk about that." His razor remained in the shower, where he left it months ago, and Mulder grabbed it and turned to the small mirror over the sink. Scully watched him lather his face with a bar of soap. "I'm sorry, Mulder. It can't wait. I can't wait." He started on his left cheek, close to his ear. "Mulder, please." His beard was so thick it took several passes of his razor to clear a line down his cheek. He worked slowly, deliberately. And even if he didn't want to talk, Scully decided she would say what she needed to say. "I know the idea of a baby is overwhelming, Mulder. Especially now. Especially here. I've had a couple of months to warm up to the idea. It might take you some time, too. Or, maybe you won't ever..." With his back to her, he dropped the razor in the sink and braced himself on locked arms against the basin. "Don't say that." "They want it, Mulder. They need it for their vaccine." He whirled around. "Bohr?" His expression was a mix of horror and fury. "We did naturally what they couldn't achieve in the lab. You and I successfully combined the DNA of an abductee with the DNA of a Tunguska survivor. The package is a little different than they were expecting, but the result will be the same. They need the tissue to make up a vaccine they can synthesize." "Isn't that what you wanted? To help them make the vaccine?" Scully shook her head. "Not like this." Mulder turned back to the mirror, picked up the razor. "So, you want to keep it." Her heart sank. "I am keeping it. It's our baby, Mulder." He kept shaving. It wasn't real to him, she told herself. Once it was tangible, he'd feel differently. It wasn't because he didn't care, he just wasn't connected to the baby yet. He hadn't felt it move, or heard its little heart pounding away. The queasiness at the back of her throat didn't ease with her reasoning. Scully looked down at her belly. How would she ever do this alone? "Mulder, I can't let them hurt our baby. I won't. I'm leaving the City." She held her breath as he turned to her again, this time with the left side of his face clean shaven. "You can't do that." "There isn't much choice. I can't let them kill our child." "Scully, the world is dead. There's nothing left out there. You won't survive." "You survived," she countered. "I'll...I'll try to understand if you want to stay here. You've been through a lot. I just need you to understand that I have to go." Mulder's mouth dropped open, and the clamped shut. "You can't be serious." "I've never been more serious in my life." "Then what was all that crap back at the lab, about never, never, never leaving you again?! I can't leave you, but it's okay for you to leave me?! Is that how it works?" "You know that's not it. You *know* that I want you with me, Mulder. But I won't ask you to put yourself in any more danger for me. Not after what you've just been through. Especially over something I'm not sure you're okay with." "Something you're not sure I'm okay with?! Are you kidding me?! I thought you were dying, Scully. You *told* me you were dying! I went to Siberia for you, I battled aliens for you, I even killed an unarmed man in cold blood because he wouldn't give me the chip that would save your life. I barely make it back here to discover that my dying wife is doing just fine! And you're worried I'm not okay with *that*?!" He jabbed a finger towards her middle. "You are not the only person who suffered, Mulder. I thought you were dead. They told me you were dead. I thought *I* killed you!" "You very nearly did!" he yelled. His anger stung, but not more than his accusation. She knew it was true, and that made the wound that much deeper. There were no words to rectify what she had done to him. "I'm sorry," came out of her mouth, but it was dull and flat against the magnitude of the offense. She looked around the room, but had trouble finding her thoughts. "You should sleep tonight. I'll let you sleep. Tomorrow I'll need the bed to rest. I'm leaving tomorrow night." "Scully -" His voice was tender now, painfully so. "I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it." "It doesn't matter." The damage was done, Scully thought, long before he ever yelled the truth at her in anger. He shook his head. "Tomorrow night? Do you even know where we're going?" "I'll know tomor-" It took a moment for his question to sink in. "We?" "Do you think we can convince Dag to come with us?" Mulder asked. "We'll need more supplies than I can carry." "Dag?" "We won't survive in the blizzard for long. We'll have to get to one of the surviving settlements." He looked at his reflection in the mirror. "I should've left my beard on. Oh, hell." He felt guilty about what he said, he was trying to make amends. "Mulder, you don't have to do this -" "Of course I have to do this! How can you think for one second that I would let you go out there alone, in *that* condition? Sometimes I wonder if you know me at all." "This isn't about chivalry or ego, Mulder. You don't have any obligations to me." "You mean besides being your husband, and the one who impregnated you?" "What's done is done. You don't owe me anything." "Why are you doing this?" he demanded. "How can you let me off the hook so easily?" "I don't want you to come with me for the wrong reasons." "I know the mountains, Scully, better than you. I know the passes. You need me. What better reason do you want?" "A better reason would be that *you* *need* me*. That you can't stand the thought of going a day without me. That you want to see this baby born, that you want to watch it grow, and teach it, and love it. The best reason would be that as angry as you are at me, as much as you want to hurt me for being wrong about the cancer, you love me more. And you know that it might take some time, but that in the end everything will be all right. You used to tell me that everything would be all right." "I was wrong." His eyes were sad, and his face was long, and the grief he wore twisted Scully's heart with such anguish that she thought her heart would burst. She took the few steps to him and reached up to touch his smooth cheek.. "Oh, Mulder. My love. My life. You are never wrong." His eyes swelled and his chin quivered before he pulled away from her touch. There was nothing more to say. Scully pulled a sweater from the drawer of clothes she was leaving behind, and slipped it on over her jumpsuit, though she doubted it would help the chill that had settled deep inside her. Then, she left Mulder to finish shaving, and to sleep. She tried not to think anymore that night. She focused on her breathing, on the rhythm of her feet on the floor and the irregular cuts on the walls she passed. When Mulder found her, she nearly bumped into him before she knew he was there. A thrill tickled her stomach when his gaze locked with hers. "Come to bed," he said with an out-stretched hand. She couldn't deny him. The apartment was dark when they got back, and he didn't flip on the light. They got undressed in the dark, and then crawled into bed. Under the covers Scully felt him spoon behind her, his legs curling into hers, his arm snaking between her shoulder and neck. His other hand went to her hip. She covered it with her own, and then slowly slid his hand up to the swell in her abdomen. His fingers spread over her new girth, and gently pressed at the solidity of her stomach. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness as his fingers explored up to where her bellybutton would soon poke out, and then down to the underside of her belly. She shivered from his caress, and her skin broke out in goose bumps. The familiar sexual tingle corkscrewed through her lower half, and she reveled in it. His touch was electric, and she'd been deprived for so long. Mulder kissed her shoulder. "I need you, Scully. I can't live without you," he whispered in her ear. His breath was hot and moist, his teeth were freshly brushed. "I want to see this baby born. I want to watch it grow, and teach it, and love it." He left a feather light kiss on the back of her cold ear. "It's going to be all right, Scully. I don't know how, but I'm going to make it all right for me and you, and this baby that we made. I promise." Tears ran down the side of her face and pooled between her ear and cheek, and an emotional flood came with them. Everything that she'd been holding together, her grief and misery, her fear and anxiety, overwhelmed her and she sobbed it out while Mulder's hold on her tightened, and he caressed the hair back from her face. It wasn't until she turned in his arms and kissed his face that she realized he cried, too. With a loving hand she caressed his neck and back, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He wept against her, and she against him until neither of them that the strength to stay awake. Scully had no idea what time it was when the sirens began to wail. She and Mulder startled awake in the darkness of their apartment, disoriented and groggy. "What the hell?" "They're here," Scully breathed. This wasn't a drill. The first explosion rocked the mountain so hard that Scully ended up on the hard rock floor, clutching protective arms around her middle. Mulder screamed for her, and she yelled back, "They're attacking! We have to get out!" Clothes, she needed clothes. The light blinked on, and Mulder was a blur of nakedness and beauty as he scrambled to get jumpsuits and socks out of a drawer for them. They jammed their feet into boots without bothering to tie the laces. Scully grabbed her parka and pack. Dag was at the door, wide eyed and pale, just as Scully and Mulder ran out, and he held Mulder's batter pack and ripped coat in one large fist. A second explosion knocked Scully off balance, and she slammed into Mulder, who hit the floor hard. The lights wavered, unable to decided if they should work or not. Dag pulled Scully up by her arm. "Hurry," he urged. Scully glanced at Mulder, who nodded. They quickly followed Dag down a dozen flights of stairs and a handful of long, winding corridors, deeper into the heart of the mountain. Scully slowed because of a growing stitch in her side, but Mulder wrapped an arm around her and urged her on. When the third blast hit, he curled around her as they lost their balance, and broke her fall. Large chunks of the ceiling and walls crashed to the ground. "Hurry!" Dag yelled through a series of gagging coughs, and Scully watched him stagger to his feet. His head had taken a blow, and blood surged over his left ear and down his neck. She scrambled to help Mulder to his feet, and the three of them were off again The tunnel led to a chamber Scully had never seen before. It was enormous, larger even than the dining hall, and located on platforms in the center were ten transports that Scully recognized from months before when they first left the windmill in the Netherlands. They looked like metallic subway cars without wheels. One quickly lowered into a sub-tunnel, and then disappeared with a whoosh. Logan was already there, throwing boxes of supplies into one of the cars. Dag made a bee-line for him, and began helping. Mulder took Scully's pack from her and tossed their stuff in the car. "Get in and buckle up," he told her. Scully didn't argue. The three men worked until there were no more crates, and Scully watched as one car after another sank and then whooshed away. None of them carried more than a handful of people, and she wondered where all the other people would go. She hadn't known about this escape chamber. She doubted many people did. Dag went to punch the large green button by the door, but Logan caught his arm. "Renee," he harshly reminded. Both looked to the corridor, just as she rounded the curve. A blast shook the cavern, closer than before, and while Scully watched in horror, Renee screamed as she was crushed under a giant slab of granite. Dust and falling rocks showered the entire chamber. Dag smacked the button. They sank into darkness, and then, shot away. The initial jerk of speed slammed Scully against her restraints, and she heard Dag and Logan hit the wall hard. There was nothing she could do to help them while they rocked through the tunnel and continued to accelerate. Mulder was harnessed in beside her. "My God," he said with a gasp. "I did this. The chip...they followed the chip..." ***** End of chapter 7 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 8 ***** "...ice cream...pizza...steak...a baked potato smothered in butter and cheese and bacon...oh, my God. Bacon..." -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, May 3, 2000 Somewhere in the Alps April 19, 2000 Through the darkness, the transport continued to careen down whatever path it was pre-programed to take, and Scully was jerked in her harness like a fish in a net. The movement combined with her inability to focus on anything in the darkness made her more nauseated than she'd been in weeks. Her left hand gripped the strap that cut across the top of her swollen belly, her right covered her mouth in an attempt to hold back the contents of her stomach. There were explosions, but she couldn't tell where or how big they might be. The one that killed Renee had been right on top of them, and they had been at one of the deepest points within the 9,000 foot mountain. Scully feared the entire mountain would be systematically blasted from the face of the Earth. Oh, God. Renee. Her stomach knotted, and Scully gagged, but luckily nothing came up - just the acidic burn of an empty stomach. Breathe. Don't think. Just breathe. It seemed like forever, but eventually the transport hit water, and after the initial jolt and the sluggish repercussion, the ride went smooth and quiet. It was still pitch black, but at least Scully had a chance to relax a little in her harness. She swallowed. The engine was reduced to a dull drone under water, but that didn't worry her. She knew from previous experience that even though the transports looked like big subway cars, they were effective aquatic vehicles. "Scully?" "I'm fine," she told him. "Are you okay, Mulder?" His voice was very small. "Renee's dead." "I know." She reached over and touched his leg. "I'm sorry." And Scully found she truly was, despite her insane jealousy over the French woman months before and her recent fears for her unborn baby. It was a strange juxtaposition of emotion; relief with a tremendous sense of loss. And guilt. Always guilt. "Dag?" Mulder called out, his daze suddenly broken. "Logan?" Neither responded. Scully heard the clicks as Mulder's harness released, and she started to do the same. "Stay there," he told her, with a hand on her shoulder. "Things might get rough again." Scully acquiesced, and buckled herself back in. Neither of them knew what to expect. Her hands shook from the adrenaline. Mulder stumble over the supplies that had broken free from their crates, and she heard him curse to himself. The transport was probably littered with the supplies that they'd hastily packed. "Dag?" There was a groan. "Logan!" The sound of a wooden crate scraping over the metal floor, and then Mulder's anxious: "Logan, are you okay?" "What in bloody hell happened?" Logan sounded himself, if not a little shaken. "Where are we?" "Don't know," Mulder told him. "No lights." "You've been out for a while, Logan," Scully call out. "You've probably got a concussion. Stay laying down, and try to stay awake. Are you bleeding?" "Oh, hell." He sounded irritated. "I'm okay." "Dag's knocked out cold," Mulder said. "Breathing. Pulse. His fingers are cold as ice." "He could be going into shock," Scully thought aloud. "Try to cover him with something. Can you elevate his feet? Hang on." She couldn't be of any use strapped in fifteen feet away. Scully quickly unhooked herself and carefully began feeling her way back to the men. "Scully, stay buckled up!" Mulder demanded. "I need to help Dag. You know I need to help," she told him. "Don't fight me on this, Mulder." "I-I think he's bleeding from his head," Mulder said. "Jesus. It's a lot of blood." "Where?" Scully found Mulder's back and ran her hand up his arm to the back of Dag's head. Hair had already matted over the wound, and the blood felt thick and cool. Quickly, she found his neck and a strong, regular pulse. Dag's chest was still warm, but Mulder was right, his hands were freezing. "Do we have anything to cover him with? Where's my parka?" "I'll find something," Mulder said, already moving in the direction of the scattered supplies. Logan choked, and then Scully heard the wet splash as he was sick. The smell hit her hard, and she covered her nose, but there was no way to get away from the putrid odor. Blood and vomit. The smell was pervasive, and her stomach revolted. Scully gagged. "I found some bedrolls," Mulder called out. "Find something for Logan, too." Scully swallowed convulsively, trying to calm her stomach and pulse. "He's probably got a concussion, and we need to keep him warm before he goes into shock.." "I can't see a damn thing!" Mulder screamed in exasperation. "Where the hell are the lights?" Logan threw up again. She wasn't going to make it. Scully covered her mouth in a useless attempt to keep the nausea down but the foul air overwhelmed her. She managed to turn her head away from Dag before she was sick herself. Which only made the smell worse, because now she could taste it. "OK. Here, Logan," Mulder said in the darkness. "Cover up." The Australian grunted. Scully felt Mulder bump up beside her as he found Dag again, and the two of them worked to cover the unconscious man. "We also need to elevate his legs," she said to herself as much as anyone, desperate for distraction. "The wound's clotting, but we need to keep the blood flowing to his brain." She felt Dag shift as Mulder propped his legs up. "Is he going to be okay?" "I don't know how bad his injury is. But his vitals are strong." There was no sense in trudging through the numerous complications that could arise from a head injury because at the moment there was no possible way to treat him. "Where are we going?" she asked. "Will there be medical facilities?" "I'm not entirely sure," Mulder hesitantly admitted. "There's a rendez-vous point," Logan told the through clenched teeth. "We're going to regroup with the beta colony." The transport made a dramatic lurch before it began to ascend at a steep angle. Scully slid an inch or two before she had a chance to reach out and steady herself. "Scully!" "I'm fine, I'm fine," she assured him, not at all sure she was telling the truth. She needed to get away from the smell, someplace solid before she lost it again. On hands and knees she crawled past Mulder toward the front of the transport, even though she doubted the air would be any better. It was an uphill climb, and her heavy belly kept getting in the way. The metal plates that made up the floor weren't easy to get purchase on, and Scully knew her knees were going to pay for it later. When she couldn't go any farther, she made her way to the side of the transport and leaned against the protruding seat. She didn't have the energy to lift herself up and strap in. Mulder was right beside her. "You need help?" "If you could crack a window, that would be nice," she said with a humorless chuckle. When he didn't respond she thought better of her remark. "I'm okay. I know sarcasm doesn't help." His continued silence left him invisible to her in the dark. "I really can't believe the smell bothers me as much as it does," she tried to explain. "It's pretty bad." But she was a pathologist. She was supposed to made of sterner stuff. Certainly in her years with the X-Files she'd encountered worse smells than simple bodily fluids. "I'll be fine." He grunted as he sat beside her. His thigh was warm pressed against hers. The heavy weight of a cold blanket draped across her out-stretched legs. A warm arm came to rest against her shoulder. "Thanks," she whispered. "I wish I could do more. I hate being helpless." Mulder sighed beside her. "I hate it. That's why I had to find the chip. God!" he swore, and stomped a heel into the floor. "How could I be so stupid? So selfish?" "It's not your fault, Mulder. It's not." "The chip was my fault, Scully. Krycek told me I didn't want it. He told me it wasn't worth it. I called him a liar." He swallowed, thickly. "All those people...Renee...God, I killed Renee. It's all my fault." "If it was the chip, then it's my fault, Mulder, not yours. You never would've gone looking for it if it wasn't for me. Hell, if I had let them harvest the genetic material, we might've had a bio- weapon to fight them by now. And Renee would be..." "Don't say that." Mulder grabbed her fist under the blanket and squeezed it in his own. "Don't even think that." "How can I not? I was supposed to be the key to salvation -" "You *are* my salvation, Scully." His voice was a desperate, hoarse whisper. His hand skimmed up her arm, past her shoulder and neck to cup her cheek. "Oh, Mulder. I truly wish I was." "You are," he insisted with tears in his throat. He pulled her closer and his lips, chapped and warm, covered hers. An urgency nipped in his tiny kisses and Scully ventured to deepen them. She held his head and plunged her tongue into his mouth. He responded instantly, and their lips and teeth took second stage to their dueling tongues. Scully couldn't get close enough, couldn't breathe or think beyond the gymnastics in her belly and the racing pulse that throbbed between her legs. She tilted her head, and kissed him for all the months that she couldn't, and the nights she cried in her bed for this man she loved so much. His hand slipped down to her full breast and her nipples tightened to painful peaks; a momentary distraction from his demanding mouth. And in that second his lips dropped to her throat, and Scully exhaled at the exquisite pleasure of his suckling mouth. Oh, God, she'd missed him, missed feeling this wanted. She held his head as he worked his way down her neck. Until his hand dropped lower and encountered her stomach. The kissing stopped, his loving fingers retreated, and in the dark there was nothing but the low drum of the engine and their rapid breathing. A coldness quickly filled the space between them. She didn't need to ask what was wrong. In the dark she looked however he chose to remember her, but she didn't feel like his memories. His hands were more honest than his mind's eye. "We're not alone," he mumbled by way of excuse. It wasn't clear if he referred to her belly, or Logan and Dag. Either way, Scully wondered if they would ever be alone again. Her body still hummed for his. But she would not force it. Mulder had his own time table to wrestle with, and she wouldn't risk pushing him away in her rush to hold him closer. She tried to shift her focus. "How long until we get to where we're going?" she asked, aware that it wouldn't be too long before the lack of a toilet was going to be an issue. "I don't know," Mulder said. "You should try to rest." It made sense, but Scully knew there was no way she was going to get any sleep while she had the smell and the cold, hard floor to contend with. "Okay," she said anyway, and he wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders, and pulled her head against himself. "Look at us," he said, a frown resonating in his voice. "Look what they've reduced us to. It's hard to believe we're really here. We worked so hard, Scully. We fought when no one else would, we risked so much - lost so much. All those years in the X-Files, and look at us now. Look what they've done to us." He adjusted the blanket over them. "Why should we have to endure this?" "We're alive," she gently reminded him. "And at this moment we're together, and safe." "We deserve better," he continued. "We were the good guys." "Logan doesn't seem to think so," Scully quipped against his chest. "Logan's an ass." Scully snaked an arm around Mulder's middle. It felt so good to hold him. "I don't know," Scully said. "I kinda feel sorry for the guy." "Oh, not you, too," Mulder said, exasperated. "Renee's always telling me...was always telling me...never mind." He grew very quiet, and for a long time they just sat there together, rocking occasionally as the transport altered its course. Mulder smelled good, of soap and man, and Scully turned her face into his sweater, tried to loose herself in him for a while. When he spoke again, the rumble of his voice startled her out of a light doze. "Damn it, Scully, it was all a waste. All those years, and we weren't able to stop them come coming, from destroying our world." "It wasn't a waste, Mulder." She took his hand in hers, and then raised it to her lips. Scully placed a kiss in his palm. "Don't think about the past, Mulder." Slowly, she lowered his hand to the side of her belly. "Don't hope for the future. Just be here now," she told him. "Now is all there is anymore." "I don't know how to do that," he admitted. His voice quivered. "It's hard," Scully said with a sigh. His fingers made slow, careful circles over the firm mound of her stomach; tentative, exploring caresses. "Are you happy about this?" he asked. Happy wasn't the right word. "I feel..." She searched for a label that Mulder might be able to relate to, something that might help him bridge the gap faster than it had taken her. "At first I didn't believe it. Then I was overwhelmed." "And now? Are you happy? You don't seem happy about it." "I want it, if that's what you're asking. I had every intention of leaving the City to keep it safe." "And if you had it to do over again...that night...knowing now what would happen?" "I don't have it to do over again." "But if you did?" he pressed. Scully closed her eyes and sighed. "If I had it to over again, Mulder? I think there are a hundred million things I'd do differently. But that night isn't one of them." He was quiet while he considered her answer. His hand continued to worry over her belly. "Are you happy about it?" Scully asked. "No." He didn't even need to think about it. A lump swelled in the back of her throat, and tears pricked Scully's eyes. She did her best to swallow both of them down. His answer wasn't all together surprising, though the depth of the wound it left in her chest was. She had no idea how badly she had needed to hear an affirmative answer from him. His hand didn't stop moving over her, and she resisted the urge to pull away. After all, his answer had been truthful, and not intentionally cruel. She tried to remind herself that it was a lot for him to get used to. "But I think," he said, measuring his words carefully, "that I can be happy for you." "What does that mean? That you're not happy for you, but you're happy for me? I didn't get a promotion, Mulder. I'm going to have a baby. Our baby!" The sharpness of her retort drove his hand from her body. They sat in silence side by side for a long while, and Scully feared she'd done just what she didn't want to do; that she'd pushed to far too fast. It wasn't fair for her to be so angry with him, she knew. He was still feeling his way through the changes she'd had months to absorb. But it was hard to hear, hard to convince her heart that which her head had so easily rationalized. The transport continued its low rumble, with the occasional dip as the only reminder that they were moving at all. Dag's heavy breathing broke into a quiet snore. Logan had been quiet for a while, and Scully assumed he slept, too. She knew she should probably check on the two of them, but the dark and the chill that had settled over them kept her under the blanket, pressed against Mulder's warm mass. ***** It was impossible to measure time in the transport. But if it was possible to measure the hour by meals, Scully's hunger drove her to scavenge several times among the spilled and scattered supplies. She was leery of eating her fill, though, because no one was sure just how much food had been packed, and how long their journey would last. Mulder made a toilet for her out of an empty wooden crate lined with one of the plastic tarp tents. The horrible smell from the previous blood and vomit compounded, and still, through her constant nausea Scully was able to eat. Dag was in and out of consciousness, and his broken English made it difficult to assess possible cognitive damage. Scully cleaned the cut on his head with cold water reserved for drinking, fairly sure from the heat and swelling of the wound that infection had set in. Scully knew there were antibiotics in her pack - she'd put them there herself - but the bottle was mixed in with her other medication and vitamin stash. Until his fever reached a dangerous level, Scully didn't want to risk giving him the wrong prescription. In those first few days out of the City Mulder didn't talk much beyond casual concern for her comfort. In the constant dark, his expression was hidden from her, but Scully knew he was still sour over their last confrontation. And she wasn't sure she blamed him. But, to apologizing would drudging it all up again, so Scully decided to let him have some time to work it out on his own. After seven years of knowing him, Scully had come up understand that Mulder couldn't be told, he had to figure things out and understand them on his own. It was strange to be on this side of things, though. Normally, she was three steps behind him, floundering to wrap her brain around his altered version of reality, not vice versa. Of course, the issue this time wasn't aliens or mutants or a government conspiracy. It was understandable that Mulder might falter a little, being out of his element. As were they all. The temperature inside the transport began to plummet. The bedrolls Mulder found helped because of the two inches of cushion sewn into the bottom. They were sleeping bag and mattress all in one, and they put some distance between Scully's weary backside and the hard, freezing metal flooring. The transport was not designed for comfort, as the plastic benches and their harnesses proved. And as the days stretched into what could only be a week, Scully began to feel their confinement in every joint, muscle and soft tissue in her body. There was no where to walk, no escape. At one point she dreamed that the transport was stuck under the collapsing mountain, and none of them realized it until their air began to run out. The bad dreams didn't stop there, though. Her horrible reoccurring nightmare managed to follow her. After she woke Mulder up with it, he zipped their bedrolls together, and they spooned. He wrapped his protective arm around her, just below her breasts, and nudged his cold nose against the base of her neck. "Tell me about the dream," he said, his voice once again gravely and hoarse as if his throat bothered him. "It sounded bad." "That's what Dag used to tell me. But it's just a nightmare." She didn't want to bring up their unborn child again, and the fears she had about keeping it safe. It was pleasant laying with him again, and she didn't want that to go away. "Dag?" he asked, his interest piqued. "He was with you when you slept?" Scully shrugged in his embrace. "You told him to take care of me. He took that very seriously." "I bet he did," Mulder said, amusement in his words. "A beautiful woman, distraught and alone, in need of comfort from a trusted friend -" "Mulder, stop that. Dag was good to me. He gave me chocolate on my birthday." "Hm." Mulder sounded less amused. "Better than I ever did. Huh?" She squeezed his arm. "Not quite." And as if she'd planned it, the baby chose that moment to wake and start kicking. Mulder stiffened behind her, inhaled sharply, and she knew he felt it, even through the layers of jumpsuit, under shirt, long underwear and a sweater. There was no way to avoid the subject now. "Active, huh?" She reached down and gently slid his palm over to where he was sure to feel the full impact of a little heel. "I think that trait was inherited from you." Another kick, and Mulder gasped. "My God..." he whispered, his breath full of awe. "I know," she said. "I know. Believe me, I know." "Scully -" His words were lost as the transport made a jerk to one side, and then the other. The engine revved and strained under the sudden movement. And then, hard contact was made. The transport rammed something solid. The deafening whine of giving steel launched Scully's pulse into a race, and she held her breath for the deluge of freezing water that was sure to follow. She clutched at Mulder's arm that held her tightly against him. Were they sinking? How would they get out? If they were overcome by water, they needed to be able to maneuver. She had to get out of the bed roll. Scully struggled to crawl out against Mulder's unrelenting hold. He shushed her. "Be still." Her heart pounded in her chest, and she shook from the adrenaline, but no water washed over her. The engine reversed, and Scully realized that they hadn't crashed head on, they'd crashed up. And they were about to do it again. Mulder's leg curled over her in a protective posture just as the engine roared back to life and the whole transport became an enormous battering ram. This time, though, there was less bending metal, and more give in what ever they were hitting. And light. That was a revelation. There was a faint blue light. Scully blinked, but it was no trick of the eye. The third time the transport broke through the thick layer of ice that capped off the water, and clouds of snow dulled the white light that filtered into the windows. Scully looked back at Mulder, and his eyes showed the same fatigue, the same questions that hers held. Logan was sitting up, assessing their new circumstances. Dag still laid curled on his side, eyes glued to the glowing windows. "End of the line, mates," Logan announced. He made it gingerly to his feet, and then to the console next to the door. He wore one of Mulder's shirts, and the left side of his hair was sticking straight up. His head was still bothering him, but it didn't seem to slow him down much. "This can't be right," Mulder said under his breath. Scully helped him unzip the joined bedrolls. "Logan where are we?" He hurried over to the console. While the two of them argued back and forth, Scully took the opportunity to do a better evaluation of Dag's condition. She knelt beside him, and offered him a little smile. "You don't look like you feel well." His cheeks were hot and rosy from fever, his pale blue eyes red and glassy. A few days of pale beard growth made him seem ragged and wraith-like. Just above his left ear was a knot the size of Scully's fist, and the gash on the underside was angry and seeping. She would have to lance it. "Does anything else hurt besides your head?" Dag blinked up at her, processing her question. "No." She nodded. That was good, at least. Scully struggled to stand, and rubbed her stiff back as she rooted through the strewn supplies and crates for her pack. Now was not the time to be achy. Mulder and Logan continued to argue, but Scully paid them little attention. Her pack was beneath a heap of strewn food packets and coils of heavy rope. When she returned to Dag, she handed him a water packet and four white tablets. "This will help with the fever and the pain," she told him. "When was the last time you ate something?" Dag shook his head. "You can't take those on an empty stomach, so eat this." She held out a silver packet marked BREAD. The crackers inside would be light on his stomach, but heavy enough to help him keep the medication down. "I don't give a rat's ass what you want, Logan!" Mulder blurted out. Scully looked up to see Mulder's fists clenched and his jaw tense. "I won't just leave her here." "Damn it, man," Logan swore under his breath, and pulled Mulder closer to him. He didn't want Scully to hear what he had to say, which made her ears strain all the more to catch every word. "What's going on?" she asked. "Nothing -" Logan began, but Mulder cut him off. "He wants to leave you and Dag here while we go ahead to the rendez-vous point." "We're no where near it," Logan began, quickly adding in the facts before Scully had a chance to retort. "It could be weeks and weeks of trekking through terrain that would be considered treacherous under the best of circumstances. Dag's in no shape to make the trip, and you," he said, almost apologetically. A strange sentiment coming from Logan. And unsettling, considering that at least on Dag's behalf, he was right. "Dag's going to need some time before he'll have the strength to do any lengthy walking," she admitted. "How long?" Mulder asked. "We're not going to be out of a Sunday stroll," Logan snapped out, his old personality shining through. "It's going to be climbing and hiking and camping on snow and ice and rock. Even experienced survivalists would have trouble -" "Can you get him ready to go the day after tomorrow?" Mulder asked, his eyes intense. "Logan is right to want to get to a settlement as soon as possible. The longer we stay in one place the more likely we'll succumb to the cold." Logan shook his head, disgusted, as he opened the console by the door and began cranking the two door panels apart. Mulder reached out to stop him. "What the hell are you doing?" "We can't stay in this tin ship. Once the engine dies it's going to sink like a brick, and I don't intend to be aboard when it does." "We can't go out into the storm," Mulder told him. "We're half a kilometer from the shore. I'm going to scout a place to set up camp. You stay here and help the little woman," he said with a snarl. He turned back to the crank, and the seal on the door broke with a loud pop. Snow blew in on frigid air, and Scully's sharp inhale reminded her of how cold cold could be. In the months she'd been locked away in the City, she'd forgotten the pain of true cold, and how it could sap away every last ounce of energy. ***** End of chapter 8 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 9 ***** "Aliens 5,000,000,000; Humans 0. But Mulder tells me this is only half time, and it's still anybody's game." -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, November 7, 2000 Somewhere in the Alps mid-April 2000 Scully's world went from a comfort-controlled environment to a blizzard. They were still in the mountains, but it was impossible to see them for all the snow. She couldn't even see the transport poking up from the center of an ice field, and it was less than three hundred yards away. The snow blew all around her, the wind so strong that it was difficult to stay upright. Even with her heavy stomach she was still light enough to need Mulder and Dag to keep her grounded. The snow shoes they found in the supplies looked like army surplus: short and utilitarian. They took a little getting used to. The shelter Logan and Mulder built out of frozen evergreen branches woven together was big enough for their over-stuffed packs, and the four of them to sleep around a small central fire fed with boards from the wood crates from the transport. There was a small hole in the roof for the smoke to escape, capped off by an elaborate series of layered twigs. The floor was lined with the remains of the water-proof tents from their provisions, and though the ground below was mostly ice, the small space was warm enough to take off their parkas if not the many other layers of clothing. The air in their tiny sanctuary was sweet with the smell of warming vegetation and wood smoke, and the conservative dinner of canned fish and oranges. Scully craved cheese, but she kept it to herself. That first night out Scully didn't sleep, and neither could her little passenger. It moved and kicked for hours, just as restless as its larger counterpart. Now, though, Scully didn't have the luxury of dimmed halls to wander. But at least she had Mulder where she could see him, safe and relatively healthy for once. For this, she was immeasurably grateful. Mulder slept at her head, his hand tucked under his cheek for a pillow. She missed him at her side. She missed him in her bed. When she looked up at his deep pink lower lip she thought of all the times she'd run her tongue over it, of the way it felt between her teeth. Of the way he groaned when she sucked on it. With a groan of her own Scully rolled on to her back and tried to get Mulder's sensual mouth out of her head. Never mind that it had been months since they'd been intimate. Or that she had a hormone cocktail buzzing through her veins. She patted the right side of her belly where little feet were trying to push their way out. Uncomfortable on her back, Scully rolled to sitting in her bedroll. The fire dwindled, and she placed another broken board across the flame. It popped a couple of times before settling into a calm flicker. The heat was luxurious on her face, on the imperceptible hairs on the backs of her hands. She tried to remember another time in her life when she felt the moment so acutely, when every breath, every heart beat was a universe of sensations and emotions. Every memory that filtered to the surface revolved around Mulder: looking down to see his finger grazing between her breasts, righting her wayward necklace just a little to long; the two of them wet and panting, her heart pounding in her chest, standing in a forest unable to speak the fear and excitement and disbelief and devotion that she was certain they both felt. There were times when their partnership was new, when she first became aware that he stood just a little too close when he talked to her and looked a little too deeply into her eyes, and she found herself taking one step closer and holding his gaze until she was dizzy with the adrenaline he was able to conjure in her. Even back then. Even now. Her throat tickled with want of him, her body buzzed, her head was caught in a whirl of sharp clarity, everything feeling more real, more solid than ever before. And she wanted to share that with Mulder. With her husband. His lashes fluttered a little as some hidden dream unfolded before his closed eyes. The fire cast a gold sheen on his face. He looked older. His hair was still far too long, the beard he shaved a few days ago had already begun to take root again. Fine lines were beginning to show around his eyes, his mouth. His cheeks were raw and chapped from previous exposure to the cold, and his lips were cracked in places. Scully had ointment in her bag, and made a mental note to give him some in the morning. Tomorrow she would also take a look at his other various wounds that she hadn't had a chance to address yet. There was so much healing that needed to take place, and there wasn't time to spare for it. Because as much as she was against forcing Dag forward in his precarious condition, she knew there was no alternative. The had to get to the rendez-vous point, if for no other reason than food and shelter. Unless... Scully reached down and tugged on the foot of Logan's bedroll. "Hey." He jerked awake. "What?" His hand automatically went to the knife he kept by his pillow. "What is it?" "This rendez-vous point," Scully said. "Is it the closest settlement to us?" "What?" he asked, relaxing his guard, and rubbing an eye with the back of his hand. "Mulder used to tell me about pocket colonies. Are there any that are closer to where we are now than the rendez-vous point?" At the sound of his name Mulder propped himself up on one elbow and yawned. Logan blinked, answered with his own yawned, and then laid back down. "You woke me up to play question and answer?" "Just tell me, Logan!" she snapped. With one hand over his eyes, Logan scratched the side of his neck. "I don't know. Off the top of my head. Dag worked more closely with the smaller groups. But it doesn't matter. We need to get to the rendez-vous point. They need that special little something only you can bring to the party." Under the shade of his arm his eyes glared at her middle. Instantly, she shot a protective hand over her stomach. "If that's the case," Mulder asked, his voice sharp and angry, "then why were you so eager to leave her behind?" "Bloody hell!" Logan sat up again. "I already told you. We'll make it in a quarter of the time with out them, and get one of the Hawks to come back and get them. I don't know what your problem is, you weren't so reluctant to leave her behind on your little jaunt to Siberia." Mulder sat up, his body tense. "You're just worried about your own skin," Mulder accused. "I'm worried about all of our survival, yes!" Logan yelled. "You're a coward!" "Like hell I am!" Logan kicked back his bed roll, and Mulder did the same. "No," Scully said, as what Logan had revealed sank in further. The tears that sprang to her eyes were of frustration and anger, but she refused to let them fall. "I won't! I won't let them kill my baby!" Logan and Mulder both froze, each poised on either side of the fire, looking as if them meant to leap over it to pummel the other. Scully's outburst had successfully stopped them in their tracks. Dag, too, sat up, alarm written all over his face. "Kill it?" Logan laughed his surprise and glared at her with a snarl of a grin. "So, I wasn't so crazy to think that. Renee said I was off my gourd." "I'm not going to the rendez-vous point," Scully insisted, finding strength in her refusal. "I won't jeopardize my baby anymore than I have to." "Hey, now" Logan said, hands out-stretched. "Let's not be hasty. We need to meet up with the others from the City -" Scully ignored him. "Dag, were there any pocket communities in this area? Someplace that might be able to sustain a couple more people?" He looked doubtful. "Not very close," he said after a moment's thought. "Where is the closest?" "Rorschach." "Rorschach?" Mulder repeated with a snort. "Like the test. Wasn't that one of the designated civilian depositories?" Dag nodded. "I talk to them yesterday. They take twelve more refugees from Italy. Room for hundred more." "Yeah," Mulder said. "I remember that depot. The first wave of civilian transports never made it out of Western Asia, so there were vacancies. It's closer than the rendez-vous point. Way closer." He got lost in his own thoughts, his shoulders relaxed their attack tension. "Oh, no you don't," Logan said, raising his voice. "We're going to the rendez-vous point." "Like hell I am," Scully said. "They don't want to hurt your baby," Logan insisted, shaking his head. "I thought that, too, but that night you...came to see me..." His eyes flickered to Mulder before he continued. "Renee wanted to know what I'd said to upset you. She said they only needed the - what the hell is it called? - the placennta. That all the tissue they needed would be in the afterbirth." He made a sour face, and shook his head. "She genuinely cared about you...one of her many flaws -" "Shut the hell up, Logan!" Mulder said, threateningly. "You're lying," Scully bit out. "We have to get to the rendez-vous -" "NO!" She wouldn't go there. Ever. Logan was a liar, and as far as Scully was concerned, the biggest threat left to her baby. The civilian depository seemed the most logical alternative, and if it was closer, the best decision for Dag, as well. Mulder seemed to read her mind. "I'm not sure where it is exactly, but between Dag and I, I think we can get us there." "You damn Americans! I told her not to put her faith in you, but Renee wouldn't listen. I told her Americans are self-serving and not to be trusted, and I was right! You're going to kill us all!" Logan snatched up his parka, stuffed his feet into his boots, and pushed his way out of the shelter. The air the whirled in was bitingly cold. He wouldn't be out there long. "You okay?" Mulder asked, his tone gentle once again, and his voice soft. He knelt beside her, lifting her chin to see into her eyes. Scully looked up to see the concern in his face, on his brow. "Fine." He jerked his head toward her stomach, and Scully realized that she was clutching it, as if her hands were the only thing keeping it intact. She forced herself to relax a little, and let out a large sigh. Stress wouldn't help her already elevated pre-natal blood pressure. She needed to calm down before she got another nosebleed and truly freaked Mulder out. "Come here," she told Mulder, and unzipped her bedroll for them both to sit on, and then pulled her pack in to her lap. At the very bottom, next to her journal, she found a fat jar of medicated ointment, and not far from that was the small box of bandages she already used on Dag, who laid back down now that the show was over, and pulled the covers up over his head. "Give me your feet," She requested, once Mulder was sitting cross- legged beside her. He gave her a lopsided, sheepish grin. "Uh, Scully, I don't think you want to do that." "If we're going to be on our feet all day, every day, for an indefinite period of time, I want to fix yours." "You'll change your mind once you get a good whiff of them." "I'm a pathologist, Mulder. You're going to have to do worse than..." Mulder whipped one of his socks off, and Scully nearly gagged. She'd forgotten that they'd all spent several days at least without a shower or a change of clothes. "Damn." "You were saying?" "Smells effect me more than they used to. Oh, God, Mulder, aren't you in pain?" The bottoms of his feet were all old blisters on top of blisters and callouses, and his toes had sores that looked - and smelled -like they'd been infected for a while. She turned her head, took a deep breath. "Hand me the water," she commanded, pointing to the melted snow in their one and only cooking pot. "Scully, really, you don't have to -" "Don't argue with me. You're going to be lame if I don't fix you up, and there's no way I'm carrying you across the Alps." A small smirk drew the corners of his mouth up, as he reached for the requested pot. "You won't carry me across the Alps, Scully?" He placed the water between her and the fire without spilling a drop. "Not even if I was lame?" She arched a brow at him, and for a moment the energy between them felt almost familiar. A smile slowly crept uninvited across her lips, and she bowed her head; a throw-back to a time when she had to hide from him how much he tugged at her heart. She spent a while cleaning and reopening poorly healing wounds and draining the infection until both his feet looked like they might stand half a chance. Then she began to liberally apply a medicated ointment. Mulder leaned against his pack as she worked on him, his hands clasped casually across his stomach, a calm smile in his eyes. And if truth be told, Scully was enjoying pampering her husband nearly as much as he was receiving it. She massaged the medicine over every curve and angle up to his ankle. Running her fingers over his skin, enjoying the contact long after she worked the ointment into his skin. She'd never really touched Mulder's feet before, never noticed how elegant they were; a match set to go with his long, graceful hands. He watched her intently, his expression turning thoughtful, introspective. Until her thumb rounded his purple and green ankle and he flinched. "How did you get that?" she asked. "It's nothing," he tried to assure her. "It's just a bruise. It was never swollen." "That's not what I asked." "I know," he said quietly. Scully didn't look up. If he didn't want to tell her about it, then she wouldn't force it. There were times while he was gone that she'd rather not relive for him, too. She slid her fingers between his toes and flexed them forward to stretch out the ball of his foot. His feet held an incredible amount of tension. Something else that she never knew about him. His feet cooled as she worked with them, so she pulled the bed roll cover over her lap, hands, and patient, and then tossed another broken board on to the flames. "I'm not going to the rendez-vous point," she said, just to be clear, as she poked the fire back to a lively blaze Mulder gave a small nod, and she added: "I'm not going to have our baby there." "You don't believe him." Not a question, just an observation. "I don't trust his motives. He may be telling the truth as he knows it. He may not. It doesn't matter, really. Logan's reason for being with the resistance isn't the same as ours, or same as he professes. I won't risk our child, or us, because of him." "Do you really think Renee wanted to..that she was capable..." Mulder wouldn't say the word; but then, he didn't have to. The both knew what they were talking about. "I believed it. I knew it. It filled my nightmares." "I can't resolve that with what I knew of her." His gaze lowered to Scully's stomach. He cleared his throat, regrouped. "When...when are you going to...have it?" She couldn't tell if he was scared or upset. "October. There's some time. I only just started showing a couple of weeks ago, believe it or not. This one is a fast grower." And it didn't help that she was small, ands still on the thin side. It was probably more information than he wanted because he sat quietly while Scully's thumb traced up a vein that wrapped across the front of his ankle and disappeared into his calf. She pushed his jumpsuit leg up, and slipped her fingers under the cuff of his long underwear. He shivered as her fingers rotated around to graze the tight underside of his bunched muscles there. It was just his leg, but Scully found herself breathing a little faster, distracted from earlier, unpleasant thoughts. "What are you doing?" he asked, almost a whisper. She wanted to touch him so badly, and craved his touch on her body, in her body. Her mouth went dry, her nipples grew hard and painful. She looked into his hazel eyes, and in the raw honesty of the moment unwanted tears swelled against her lower lashes. There were no words to make him understand the depth of her lust and love and gratitude and heartbreak. She felt so needy, and hated herself for it. "Come here," he said with an outstretched hand, his face earnest and caring. Scully crawled into his embrace, settled against his chest and between his legs, his arms roped around her under the bedroll she brought with her. He was warmed from the cover and the fire, and she rested her cheek against the soft flannel of his shirt. With gentle care Mulder smoothed the hair back from her face. "Did you get enough to eat?" he asked, and then pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She nodded yes, even though her stomach rumbled again. He stroked her back. "As soon as Dag is ready we'll head to the civilian depository. But, I honestly don't know what kind if facilities we'll find there. It could be primitive." "Will we have our own room? Our own bed?" His hands stopped, and when she looked up he dipped his head until his lips grazed hers. Slow and gentle. One kiss, and then two, and then she opened her mouth the smallest bit and invited him in. His tongue greeted hers experimentally, almost shyly. There would be no repeat of the kiss that snowballed out of control on the transport. This was just a reassurance, a moment of love exchanged. Scully's need tingled through her, and opened an ache deep between her thighs. But she knew this night would not quench that particular thirst. And so, she reluctantly broke their kiss, and returned to the comfort of his chest. The sat quietly for a while, curled together. He dozed lightly in the dying flicker of the fire, while she silently smoldered. When Logan emerged once again he was coated with ice and snow. His face was expressionless, his eyes avoiding. Scully didn't trust him. There was something about him, about his lack of mourning for Renee that didn't seem natural. And then Scully realized her hypocrisy. She had been afraid of Renee and Bohr and their vaccine, but they were never the bad guys. Renee wasn't some evil scientist who ran around murdering babies. She was a decent woman who was beautiful and intelligent, and who seemed to genuinely care even when Scully pushed her away. Renee was the one who took care of her when Mulder was gone. *You're pregnant, Dana. You're going to have a baby.* "Oh, my God." She jerked upright as Renee's words echoed inside her head: *You're going to have a baby.* Not "you're going to give birth to the vaccine that will wipe out the Colonists in one fowl swoop," but *you're going to have a baby.* *You're going to have a baby.* She'd said it, but Scully hadn't listened. Logan was telling the truth. "Oh, my God!" Tears shot straight down her face. Scully pulled away from Mulder and his repeated questions of concern. How could she tell him how horrible she was? How completely out of control she'd been? And still was, it seemed. He reached out to pull her back, but she crawled away, her knees slipping on the tarp floor. "Don't touch me." "OK," Mulder said, to placate her. "I won't touch you, just tell me what's going on." The tears were hot streaks on her face, and Scully wiped them away with the back of her hand, knowing full well that they were almost immediately replaced. "Logan was right. I remember what she said now." "What did she say?" It didn't matter. Renee was gone. There was no way to apologize, no way to rectify what she'd said and done. "Logan was right," she repeated. We need to go to the rendez-vous point. If they're going to harvest DNA from the placenta, there will be only a small time window that the genetic material will be viable enough to replicate itself. They'll need to be at the birth." Mulder shook his head. "Wait, Scully, let's think about this." "No! She's finally thinking straight!" Logan insisted. "We can't be wandering around these mountains -" "I said wait!" Mulder's voice boomed in their tiny space. Dag sat up, blinking even in the dimming fire light. "The civilian depository is much closer. Much. And we've had contact with them so we know they have communication capabilities." Logan shook his head, frustrated and disgusted, but Mulder persevered. "We go to the depot and call in. If they want Scully, they'll come and get her. It makes sense." It also gave Scully time to change her mind again, or at least take Mulder's advice and think things through. When had she become so impulsive, lead by her emotions like a rope around her waist? She had to fight it. Every decision she'd made in that state had been both damning and damaging. Somehow, Scully needed to regain control of herself. She needed to be strong, not just for Mulder and their unborn child, but for herself. "The depot will be safer and faster," Mulder continued. "The sooner we're out of the weather, the better. And if we can get there before our supplies run out, so much the better." To Scully's surprise Logan looked like he might actually consider it. "Where is this depot supposed to be?" he demanded. "North Switzerland. Bodensee. Lake Constance," Dag told him. Logan grunted. It was as close as they were going to get to agreement from him. ***** End of chapter 9 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 10 ***** "We're fighting for some kind of normalcy and trying not to remember what that means, exactly, so we won't lament how short we fall." -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, November 30, 2000 Somewhere in the Alps early May 2000 Scully shuffled through the trampled snow, wiggling her toes in her boots and snow shoes to keep the blood circulating. Mulder was in front of her leading their pack train, making slow work of the miles and miles of terrain. Dag marched directly behind her, and his head acted like a tent post to the plastic tarp they kept over them as they walked; Mulder holding down the front two corners and Logan the back. It was impossible to fight the driving wind and snow without the make-shift shield. The only drawbacks were for the men as they had to walk hunched over, which was hard on their backs. Well, that, and the limited view they all shared. But then, visibility was down to nearly nothing, so Scully didn't feel she was missing too much. It was impossible for her to understand where they were, but Logan insisted they were right on target. With their average pace at a little over three miles a day, it was guestimated that they would arrive in the depot located in the Swiss village of Rorschach in a little less than three weeks. Only thirteen days to go. Their bodies didn't generate as much heat under the tarp as Scully had expected. Every fourth or fifth step a wind would whip under and steal away what little warmth they created. Scully walked with her arms crossed tightly, constantly drumming her fingers to keep frostbite at bay. She could no longer zip up her jumpsuit past her growing belly, and her breasts were tender all the time now. So she wore layer upon layer of sweaters and shirt, practically her entire wardrobe at one time. And to keep her mind active she worked through what little she remembered of her OB/GYN rotation in med school. It had been her least favorite, and at the time she had been young and idealistic, and swore she would never have kids, and the world was over populated, and when would she find the time to fall in love, anyway? It was like a different lifetime; she had been a different person in a very different world. Now she was an exhausted person, all the time, in a hostile world. No matter how much sleep she got, or how soundly she slept, every morning Scully woke exhausted, and got progressively more weary as the hours crept by. She tried not to think about it, tried to go back to her mantra that she survived by when she thought she would never see Mulder again. Just breathe. It wasn't an insurmountable task put to her, it was just walking, and on fairly even, packed snow. She could do this. She was strong. Don't think about the cramps in the back, don't wish for a warm, soft bed. Just breathe. Scully stumbled, braced herself against Mulder's pack, and Dag grabbed her from behind to steady her. "Scully?" Mulder asked, not turning around. It was difficult to maneuver under the tarp, and letting go of its corners to look at her would let the storm in. "I'm okay," she said, more by rote than anything else. But she added: "Just need to pick up my feet," to reassure him. "Let's stop for a break." It wasn't a suggestion, because Mulder turned the group and began making for the line of trees beside the frozen lake. Logan made vocal argument, but didn't offer any real resistance. "Mulder, I'm fine. We can continue," Scully told him, irritated. He'd been doing that a lot in the past week; over filling his own pack to lessen her load, refusing to allow her to help construct the shelters at night, stopping for breaks when her pace slowed just the smallest bit. "We're stopping." "We need to keep moving if for no other reason than to keep warm. Besides, I may need a break later and I'd rather get as far as possible while I still can." Mulder faltered as he considered her argument. "You'll tell me when you need to stop?" "I'll tell you," she agreed. The valley they were making their way through was wide, and the trees on the distant slope were dwarfed under towering, jagged mountains whose tops disappeared into the clouds long before they peaked. They were like a world cut off, the storm being a great eraser of reality. When they did finally stop to drink and rest their legs and backs, they sat in a circle, facing each other to share in the warmth of their breaths under the tarp. Scully quickly examined Dag, checking his pulse and for fever. She was simply too exhausted to do much else. The cold sucked every last ounce of energy out of her. Her legs felt limp and weak. If only she could close her eyes and nap - "Scully!" Mulder caught her just as she started to slide off her pack. He held a firm grip on her arm. "Hey. You OK?" She nodded. "How many more hours of daylight?" Which translated to how much more walking? Logan answered. "Five." Which meant four more hours of trudging through the snow. And five more hours before the shelter would be built, and the fire started so she could crawl in her bedroll and sleep, sleep, sleep... "We're stopping for today." Mulder's statement startled Scully's eyes open again. "Oh, for Christ - we're never going to get there at this rate," Logan snapped, exasperated. "She's going to pop that kid under a tree -" "We're stopping," Mulder said a little louder, a little sharper. He was beginning to loose his patients with Logan's continuous antagonism. The Australian scowled, but didn't say anything further. "Mulder," Scully said quietly, "four more hours. I can do that." "You're falling asleep sitting up, Scully." "Then I won't sit. We're running out of supplies, we need to keep moving." He leaned closer to her, looking for the illusion of privacy. "Scully," he whispered," we can't push you too hard." "I'm strong -" "I believe that. I also see how much this is costing you." "Mulder, I'm fine." "Good. I want you to stay that way." He turned to Dag. "Let's start collecting branches." The large man nodded and unsheathed his blue-black blade. He handed it to Mulder, but his hand lingered on the hilt. Scully wondered if Dag was having second thoughts about stopping for the day. If he did he never made mention of them. While Scully shivered under the tarp, lamenting her own uselessness, while Logan began trampling down a base for their camp. The guys had hut building down to a science, and after their first day of trekking, it was made clear that her help was not required. As Mulder repeatedly pointed out, she didn't have the upper body strength to cut the branches or the height needed to bind the woven limbs at the top. And, of course, the unvoiced testosterone prevented the pregnant lady from doing any kind of manual "men's" work. Never mind that she had thirty pounds strapped to her back for the better part of the day, and the last time she checked no one was carrying her through the valley. Men were such pigs. And she reminded herself that for the next hour and a half as they built the shelter and fire for her. ***** Scully woke to a sound that she wasn't quite sure she heard. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she gasped for air to settle it so she could listen. Snow had already insulated their shelter, so the blizzard outside was muffled. The fire was little more than embers that cast a reddish glow in their small space. All three men were still sound asleep, not having heard whatever it was she heard, if she heard anything at all. She couldn't quite remember the sound, so she was beginning to think she dreamed it. With a minor struggle, Scully rolled to sitting and threw some of the dried twigs and leaves on to the fire, hoping to pick up some flames again. Without their central blaze the temperature inside the hut dropped quickly. She stirred the ash with a stick and the new kindling caught fire. There was a sharp, weighty crack, like a tree snapping in half, and this time Scully knew she heard it because Logan did as well. His eyes flew open, and the two of them held their breaths, listening. The sound wasn't terribly close, but it carried the weight of size. Another snapping sound, and then another, coming faster and faster. "What is it?" Logan shook his head, raised a hand to silence her. Whatever was making the sound had him alarmed. It was far too large to be an animal of some sort, so the next logical assumption was... "Colonists?" Scully whispered, terrified. "Shh!" Scully reached over and touched Mulder's head. He looked up at her, and his eyes went wide when he heard the sounds, too. "What is it?" Mulder sat up. "It's the ice," Logan explained at last. "It's getting ready to collapse." "Avalanche?" Scully said on an exhale. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or not. "I can't hear where it's coming from, behind us or in front." Logan pulled out his boots. "There's too much distortion." "Get dressed," Mulder said, tossing Scully her parka. "No." Logan said. "We're better off staying put. Just want to see if our path is going to be cut off." Another huge crack, this time followed by a series of crashes. Dag sat up, alarm blaring on his round face. "What if it's coming down right on top of us?" Mulder demanded. "You can't outrun an avalanche, mate. Once that snow and ice get moving they're going to take out anything in their path. Besides, where are you going to run to? It's pitch black out there. You could run right into it." "Then why are you going out?" Scully wanted to know. "To listen," Logan answered. "I want to know if we're going to be cut off." He slipped into his coat, and pushed his way out into the cold night. The banging and crashes continued. And Scully began to feel nauseated. The mixture of exhaustion, an empty stomach and adrenaline left her dizzy and sick. The noises began to run together in a loud orchestral of noise. Scully could feel each crack, each explosion as trees were stripped from the sides of the mountains. The ground began to shake. Scully crawled between Mulder's legs, into his waiting arms. It was like the City all over again, with the clamor and the shaking, the sheer panic. The mountains were screaming with the voices of a hundred thousand splintering trees and the roar of a faceless, remorseless enemy that killed not because it hated, not because it was threatened, but because it simply existed. There was no protection from an enemy like that, and the trees had no where to run. Mulder held her close, and she felt his throat bob against her cheek as he swallowed. He was frightened, too. The roar became deafening, and Scully pressed her palms to her ears. Over their heads the hut began an unsteady jiggle, and hot coals from the fire began bouncing out of the metal bowl that served as their barbeque pit, melting black holes into the floor lining. Dag crawled over beside them, his right shoulder butting up against Mulder's back. It was horrible to be so useless in determining their own destiny, to wait to see if they would be buried under a million tons of snow. Then, all at once, everything was still and silent. Scully continued to shake. Mulder held her even tighter, if it were possible, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He sighed, as they all did, with a grateful relief. Wind whipped into their shelter through the branches that shook loose from their weave, and snow, light and dry, filtered through the boughs. "It was behind us," Logan announced as he pushed back inside. "Close. But it's hard to tell just how close right now." He glanced up at the leaking roof with annoyance. "We should hike out at first light. If this whole valley is unstable, we don't want to be around for the encore." Scully looked down, and instantly a lump swelled at the back of her throat. At some point during the avalanche Mulder's hand had instinctively gone to her stomach, and when he held her, he had held them both. ***** They hiked until Scully couldn't walk any farther the next few days, and Logan used the remaining daylight hours attempting to trap something edible - without success. It seemed as her pregnancy progressed, Scully succumbed faster and faster to an ever-present, pervasive fatigue. And the food that was rationed out between the four of them wasn't enough to keep her stomach from rumbling more than two hours in a row. Not that it really mattered. One they ate Scully was soon asleep, dreaming of home and sex, and people chasing her with knives. Even as she declined, Dag seemed to be doing better and better. He began to build up some of the muscles in his thighs and calves that he lost on their first foray into the Alps all those months ago, and the gash on the side of his head was healing cleanly. It was still tender, almost two weeks later, but that was understandable. Logan's head wound had seemed fairly superficial from the outset, and Scully doubted it would even leave a scar. So, with no one to doctor her, Scully began cataloguing the medical changes happening within her own body. Her belly button was still an inny, but it felt like it might pop at any moment. Her breasts were easily a C cup for the first time in her life, and she gave up on trying to fit them into her only surviving bra. There was back pain now, too, from the weight and the change in her body center. She had a make-shift belt Mulder tied on every morning; the arms of his under shirt wrapped around her waist and down under her belly to hold it a little higher. It was so sweet of him to try to help that she didn't have the heart to tell him it didn't really work. The cold was hard to deal with - not that she allowed herself to complain. Her toes seemed always on the verge of losing sensation, and the last thing Scully wanted to deal with was a case of frost bite. But even worse was the lack of hygiene. She tried to wash various parts with a cloth wetted with melted snow, but with the lack of privacy, warmth, soap, and fresh clothes getting truly clean wasn't an option. She wore her greasy hair back in a rubber band that had held a bundle of tools together. Her hair had grown so much since September when she'd last had it cut. So had Mulder's. She reached out and touched a few of his dark strands. He looked up from his schematic with a questioning glance. "I just realized your beard is a little lighter than the rest of your hair," she said quietly. Despite her fatigue, her hunger and the cold, and the destruction of civilization, Scully felt an overwhelming sense of calm looking into Mulder's tender face. He offered her a smile. "I'm trying to making a fashion statement." Scully nodded, and said with a sigh: "You always did." "Is that a crack about my ties?" he asked playfully. "Maybe the one with the pigs dancing the Hulla." "You loved that tie!" "Love is a very strong word, Mulder," "Yes," he agreed, growing somber. "Yes, it is." He looked back at the plastic map in his hands. "Mulder? What is it?" "You're just so beautiful." ***** Days later, when Mulder stopped in his tracks, Scully bumped into his pack, and was nearly knocked over by a lumbering Dag.. "I think I see it," Mulder said, excited and tired all at once. With the tarp still acting as a blizzard shield, Scully's view was limited to Mulder's pack and trampled snow. "How far?" she asked. "Can't be more than half a mile, or I wouldn't see it. But it's mostly down hill from here." "Then let's get a move on," Logan called up from the rear. As they got closer, Scully ventured peeks. The settlement was no more than a couple of dozen structures, set into the side of snow- covered, rocky mountain. There were skeletal trees peppering the village, but the thing that caught her eye was the well-manicured paths between each of the building, and the stacks of thick, white smoke that rose from tall chimneys. It wasn't the Hidden City, but this depot promised warmth and sustenance. They arrived at the first house on the outskirts of the settlement without seeing a single person. Mulder knocked on the door, and the rest of them stood, shivering, waiting with Christmas-like anticipation. Scully was shocked when Frohike answered the door. "Slap me, spank me, call me Shirley!" The gnomish man broke into a Cheshire grin and threw himself at Mulder. You're alive! We thought - well, never mind what we though. Agent Scully!" He pushed Mulder aside and leapt at her. Scully braced herself for impact, but he only grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her inside. "You must be freezing," he began to babble. "We've got a fire. Sit, sit by the fire. I'll get more wood. And blankets. And food. Are you hungry? You must be famished. Here, take off that coat, and sit by the fire. Let me take your pack. You look wiped out. We've got stew, there's always stew. And a potato thing. You like potatoes, don't you?" The rest of the group filed in, and the door was shut against the storm. A fan of snow that had drifted in with them began to melt on the polished wood floor. Dag and Logan dropped their packs where they stood, sizing up the small cabin. It was made from rough-hewn logs and furnished by...IKEA was Scully's best guess. Obviously the house had been there a couple of hundred years before the Resistance commandeered it. Most everything was utilitarian. No excess decoration. The pots and pans hung in the kitchen for lack of cabinet space, the huge wooden beam that stretched across the room held bundles of drying kindling, bound meat, and laundry. There were a small couch, two cushioned chairs in addition to the rocker that Frohike had pushed her into, and two doors set along the back wall that looked promising. "Bathroom?" Scully asked. Frohike pointed. "All yours. Pump the toilet a couple of times to break up the ice." She didn't know what he meant, and she was a little scared to ask. But what really mattered was she had indoor plumbing again! Scully stood and shed her hat, mittens, scarf and parka, and Frohike sucked in a gasp. His eyes were as wide as saucers, as he stared at her stomach. "It's...it's true? Far out!" "What are you talking about?" Mulder asked the little man, making him self at home on the couch. Scully left them for the allure of modern amenities. Of course, modern was a loose term. She was reminded that modern in Northern Switzerland was completely different from modern in DC. The toilet was once of the old-fashioned models with the tank mounted about six feet up the wall, with a long chain that hung down the side. The tub was just big enough to sit cross- legged in, and had a high back. There was a wash basin, but only one valve, and Scully was fairly sure she wasn't going to get hot water out of it. Never in her life had she been so happy to see a bathroom. Mounted above the sink was a small, smoky mirror, and once she did was she needed to do and was washing up Scully gazed at herself for a moment or two. The illumination in the room came from an oil lamp hanging beside the tub, and in that light her hair looked dull, even brown and dirty, her eyes seemed a pale grey, her skin seemed impossibly white. She didn't remember the hollows of her cheeks and under her eyes being so pronounced. There was no glow of pregnancy that people talk about. No sparkle. In truth, she looked half dead. How could Mulder possibly have looked at her and called her beautiful? What did he see? A knock broke her reverie. "Hey, you OK in there?" Scully opened the door to see her husband smiling down at her. Then she followed his line of sight to an older woman standing by the door. Scully felt faint for the first time in months. "Easy now," Mulder said as he reached out to steady her. But she pushed past him and found her feet, and a heartbeat later she was across the room clutching her mother to her, and being fiercely hugged in return. ***** End of chapter 10 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 11 ***** "The Earth is roughly 25,000 miles in circumference, and seen from the next closest star to our solar system, it's reduced to nothing more than a shadowy blip against our yellow sun. That's all we are to the rest of the universe, a shadow; all of mankind from the beginning of time until now has been born, lived, and died on this imperceptible pin-prick of rock. Is it truly possible that in the vastness of the universe with all of its billions of galaxies containing billions of systems orbiting stars identical to our own that this blip we call Earth was the best game in town? Why did they choose to come here?" -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, October 31, 2000 Somewhere in the Alps late May 2000 The amount of food laid out on the long, wooden table in front of them was more than the whole group had lived off of in the weeks since the City was leveled. All of them filled their plates with roasted meats, potatoes, carrots and stinky cheese. Scully managed a fourth of what she served herself before her stomach began to ache from her binge. Mulder, beside her on the bench, noticed her slow down. "Hey, you OK?" "Stomach shrunk," she said with a shrug. She didn't want to give up the plate, though, she knew she'd be hungry again in an hour or so. "You seem to be doing all right." She motioned to his plate with a nod. "I think this is the best meal I've had in my life. Who knew elk could taste so good?" Scully's mother had disappeared once the group began tearing into the food, saying something about finding the extra beds and blankets. At the time Scully had been more concerned with the thick, dark gravy covering every inch of her plate. But now, with the heat radiating on her back from the fireplace, and a full stomach sluggishly working away, the exhaustion she'd been living with for weeks suddenly became overwhelming. Suddenly it became difficult even to keep her eyes open. Mulder's arm curled around her shoulders, drawing her against him while he continued to shovel food into his mouth. Scully went willingly. Her eyes fluttered shut. It couldn't have been too long before Mulder ran a finger over her cheek to bring her back from a tranquil, light doze. "They're going to let us sleep here tonight," Mulder whispered to her. "The cabin they want to put us in is a couple of doors down, but it's cold and it'll take a day or so for the hearth to warm it up. Frohike's going to bunk in with someone else for the night." "What? No," Scully protested. They couldn't kick Frohike out of his own house. "It's all arranged." He wiped a little sleep from the corner of her eye. "Don't worry. It's just one night." "What about Logan and Dag?" "It's all arranged," he assured her. "You mother is drawing you a bath." "A bath?" It sounded both luxurious and tedious at the same time. "We probably smell horrible to Mom and Frohike." Mulder grinned. "I kinda got that impression." He kissed her forehead. "You smell like roses to me." "Stinky roses?" "All done." Scully's mother stood in the bathroom door, the sleeves on her off-white turtle-neck sweater pushed up to her elbows. "There's a bowl next to the tub that has extra hot water, if you want it a little warmer. And the soap and wash clothes are under the sink." She pointed to the bedroom. "I'll put fresh linens on the bed, and we've brought in some extra blankets. Can you think of anything else you might need?" "We'll be fine," Mulder answered for the both of them. "Thanks." "Well, all right, then." She walked to Scully, and knelt beside her daughter, one hand on the solid belly that held her unborn grandchild. "Have a good sleep, sweetheart. We'll have a good talk when you wake up." Her fingers slipped down to Scully's left hand, and Maggie ran her thumb over the gold band there. "We have a lot of catching up to do." "Mom..." There had been so much grief and regret about how she left things with her mother. But now that she had another chance, how could she say all the things she needed to say? Tomorrow. She would tackle that mountain tomorrow. "Mom, I love you." "I love you, too, baby." Maggie kissed her daughter before she turned to Mulder. "Thank you, Fox, for bringing her back to me. Again." And then she kissed his cheek as well. "Good night, Mrs. Scully." A strange look washed over Maggie's face. "You did marry my daughter, didn't you? That ring is yours?" "Of course." "Of course," Maggie echoed, a faint smile on her face. "Then I believe you've earned the right to call me 'Mom,' Fox." Scully's heart melted at the look on her husband's face as he sat there gazing up into the gentle eyes of his mother-in-law. Adoration, appreciation, and hope all rolled into a smile that Scully knew she would never forget. "Thank you," he choked out, more moved than he wanted to admit. Maggie nodded. "We'll talk once the two of you have rested. If you need anything, my cabin is the fifth on the left as you go towards the church. Number 15." "We'll be fine," Scully said. Her mother looked at her for a moment, looked into her and sighed. "I know you will be." Once she left, Mulder led the way into the small bathroom. The tub had about six inches of steaming water filling the small oval basin, and over the porcelain backrest a brown towel had carefully been placed. It looked more like an uncomfortable chair than a bath, but Scully wasn't complaining. Mulder pulled a bar of white soap and a washcloth from under the sink, and then sat on the closed toilet. In one fluid movement he pulled his sweater, shirt and undershirt off and tossed them aside. Then he started on his belt buckle. "Oh." Scully hadn't realized he was going to take the first bath. There was no reason why he shouldn't. She knew he was just as tired as she was. "I know you've been through a lot with that jumpsuit, Scully, but you're going to have to take it off sooner or later," he said with a smirk. "And I vote for sooner. Because all joking aside, I don't think we'll ever get it clean." He reached for her wrist and pulled her close. "Come here," he coaxed. "Let me help you." His chest was paler than she'd ever seen it, and so thin she could see the ribs around his sternum. There were aging bruises on his right side that offset the pink puckers of the bobcat scars on his left. "Hands up," he ordered, and Scully reluctantly obeyed. With a whoosh he pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it on top of his clothes in a heap. Immediately he turned her around and set to work on the buttons of her two flannel shirts, worn backwards to cover her belly bulge. "Mulder, I don't know if you've had a chance to look at the bath tub, but we're not going to fit into it together." "As lamentable as that is, Scully, I don't see it as a reason not to bathe." He turned her again, and she stood between his legs looking down into his darkened eyes. The golden glow of the oil lamp created deep shadows on his bearded face. Slowly, as if gently easing the wrapping from a delicate gift, Mulder pulled the two shirts from Scully. His eyes grazed the large open V of her jumpsuit, and her belly hanging out of it. The zipper had begun to rub where it cut too close to the sides of her stomach. With a light touch, Mulder ran a finger down the raw flesh, igniting a twirl of butterflies inside her. "It's superficial," she said after a moment. "They'll go away in a couple of days." Mulder nodded, but remained focused on her middle as he ran both his hands under the flaps of her jumpsuit, up to the swollen spheres of her breasts. His touch was electric, sending shock waves through her entire body. Her nipples became impossibly hard, and Scully gasped when his palm brushed their tips. As exhausted as she was, her body began to hum, and the back of her mouth went dry. His fingers continued up to her collar bones, and over her shoulders to slowly ease the jumpsuit down her arms. Once her hands were free it pooled at her feet. Clad in nothing but bikini panties, a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran up her spine and settle into her shoulders. She looked down to see the beginnings of angry, jagged stretch marks on her hips. Mulder saw them, too, and traced them with his thumb. "Do they hurt?" "No." "They look painful. Like a scar," he said. "They are scars. But they'll fade." They both had scars, too numerous to count, inside and out. Scully touched the white pucker at his shoulder, the bullet wound she gave him. She wondered how many invisible scars he carried because of her. "Do they bother you?" she asked. He looked up at her, a giddy realization dawning across his face. "My God, Scully, you're pregnant." "It kinda looks that way." "There's a little person in there." He pressed his ear just above her belly button. "It's hard to believe. I didn't expect you to look so..." "Fat?" "Pregnant. You actually look pregnant. I've picture you a million different ways, and I don't think this was among them." "Is this just hitting you now?" He stared at her belly. "It's never been this real before...this surreal." "And yet you have no trouble wrapping your mind around the yeti, flukemen, or ghosts?" she said with a snort. Mulder shrugged and gazed up at her, a goofy grin on his face. "I didn't father any of them." "Well, that we know of, anyway," Scully said, brows raised. "In to the tub with you!" Mulder helped her in, and once she was settled, he lathered the washcloth. "Uh, Mulder? Tell me you're not going to try to...wash me." "I thought I might." "I'm not an invalid, you know." "I know." He began on her feet, one foot at a time, and then placed her foot flat on his chest and moved up to her ankles, her knees, and thighs. It was awkward, in a vaguely sexy sort of way. Even though it was Mulder, and she knew she had nothing to be self-conscious about, Scully wasn't sure she liked the pampering attention. Mulder seemed unaware of her state of unease. "Ah, the au natural look is in this Spring" he teased, as he scrubbed over the light hair covering her legs. Scully snatched the cloth from him and gave him a glare. "I'm perfectly capable of bathing myself, Mulder." "I see leg hair is a touchy subject with you," he said with a smirk. "Good to know." He turned and pulled the small shampoo bottle from the lip of the sink. "But, for what it's worth, your leg hair doesn't bother me in the least." "Shut up, Mulder." "Your armpits don't bother me, either." "No, really: shut up, Mulder." "And if your eyebrows grow together, I'll still love you." She playfully threw the cloth at him and it landed with a wet smacked his bare shoulder. "Go away." "But I'm bathing you." "I'll bathe myself." "It won't be half as much fun." "But it'll be five times as fast, and I'm tired." He quickly became very serious. "I know you are." Then, he lifted her left ankle to kissed the sudsy arch of her foot. "I'll go get the bed ready for you while you finish up in here, then." "Thanks," she said, and was rewarded with a tender smile. Before he got to the door, Scully stopped him. "Mulder? Would you really love me if my eyebrows grew together?" "With my very soul." With a wistful look on his face, Mulder turned and left her to her task. ***** "She's still asleep?" "Yeah." "You think she's OK?" "She moved about an hour ago, so yeah. But I was thinking of waking her up to eat something." "Let her sleep, Fox. I want to talk to you." All hushed voices, the crackle of a wood fire, the smell of shampoo and wood smoke. Sounds and sensations. Warmth. Bench legs scraping against floor. "I assume this is about Scu - Dana." "Fox. She's obviously with child." "Obviously," he said. "We heard stories. Ludicrous stories about trying to engineer a super killer, a human biological weapon against the Colonists. About how they were using a woman who had been abducted, genetically altered and left barren by them to do it." "Where did you hear that?" "We're in contact with nine other refugee camps, three of them civilian depots like this one. And we all had sparse contact with the Hidden City up until a couple of weeks ago. I feared the worst -" "It was the worst," he cut in. "It was blown off the face of the earth." "Dear, Lord." "We barely made it out." "Fox, I have to know. Is she the sad lady the children are singing songs about? Is she carrying...?" "She's carrying our child." "Not a hybrid? Not an experiment? Dana told me she couldn't have children." "We think her sterility was because of the chip, the one I was given by a nameless man to cure her cancer. Once it was removed -" "Removed?!" Her voice broke through the whisper. "You removed it?" "The cancer didn't come back. She's fine. She's been checked and rechecked." "Fox!" "Please, Mrs. Scully - Mom. She's fine. But pregnant. Very pregnant. And exhausted. And probably hungry. I should wake her..." "When is she due, Fox?" "I'm not sure, exactly. October is what I've been told." "Is it a boy or a -" "I-I don't know. I'm really not the one to ask." A squeal of wood rubbing wood, foot steps on the floor boards. A weight on the side of the cot pulling the blankets taut around her. A warm breath against her ear. "Scully. You slept the whole day away. You need to eat something. Drink something." His voice was so tender, so sweet. "Scully. Come on. It's time to wake up for a little while." His cold hand smoothed over her bare shoulder, under the layers of covers, and on to her back. "Scully." He kissed her brow, and slowly his coaxing managed to pull herself from her peaceful sleep. "There's my girl," he whispered to her, a lopsided grin on his face. His beardless face, pink, raw face. She blinked up at him, and reached out of her warm cocoon to run her fingers over his cheek. "Hey, stranger." He wore a bright red turtle neck under a denim shirt and deep red and blue sweater that practically draped off of him. His hair was still long and bushy, but it had been washed and combed out. "Hey, yourself." He smoothed some stray locks behind her ear. "Frohike brought some clothes for you. We'll try to make them work until he can find something better." He indicated a pile of neatly folded clothes beside the cot. "There's a guy here who used to sew costumes for one of the big movie houses in LA, so we might get luck on the alteration front." "Any luck on the double bed front?" She glanced down, but the pallet of blankets and bedrolls that Mulder slept on the night before had already been cleared away. "Yeah, actually. The cabin they're giving us is about the same layout as this one, but the hearth is a little bigger with a fire already roaring away. So, if you're ready, after we get some sustenance in you -" "And after I use the rest room. That's my first priority." "Sounds like a plan." Peeing, dressing, and eating took all of the energy Scully had managed to store in a night and a day of sleep, and once they got to their new home Scully practically collapsed into the white-washed iron framed bed. With her on it, Mulder pushed it a couple of feet closer to the open hearth, displacing the square wooden table and its matching low stools. The first couple of days Scully slept and slept in their bed by the fire, trying to regain some of her stamina. Mulder was usually there when she woke, and when he wasn't her mother was there, having stopped in to stoke the fire or clean up the dishes. Dag dropped by from time to time, too, bringing supplies and a welcomed smile. He was housed with Logan in a cabin right next to main supply cabin, that doubled as a rec room for the twelve children in the depot. News about their new home trickled in slowly, but through snatches of conversation Scully learned that Frohike was truly a Lone Gunman now. Byers had succumb to a fever before the group even left the North American continent, and Langley was presumed dead, though a body was never found. He went out with a hunting party two months before, looking for elk or deer to supplement the food stocks, and somehow got separated from the group. Search parties looked for him for five days, even though they knew he couldn't possibly have survived even the first on his own. If he had collapse somewhere or hit his head, hypothermia would've killed him within the hour. When Scully mentioned this aloud, Mulder looked at her over his steaming oatmeal liked he'd never seen her before. "What?" she asked. He just shook his head and went back to his breakfast. A couple of days later Scully's mother came in and set a familiar black leather book down on the table. Scully's earliest memories contained that same worn Bible. "You hardly leave that bed," Margaret said, lightly, casually, as she turned to look into the fire. "I thought you might like to read." "Thanks, Mom, but I'm fine." Margaret considered her daughter, rubbed two fingers over the gold lettering on the book. "You know, Dana, we haven't really had that chance to talk." "I know. I've just been so tired." Margaret nodded. "I remember when I was pregnant with Bill I needed two and three naps a day. I never would've made it through the Alps in a blizzard." "We do what we have to," Scully said simply. "Yes," her mother solemnly agreed. "I guess we do." "Hey, Scully," Mulder called as he brought the storm in with him. Scully sat up a little straighter as a flitter of excitement brushed from her abdomen to down between her thighs. Once he shut the door and latched it, he continued. "You're never going to believe this, but there's a goat here that look just like Joan Rivers. Ugly little...oh. Am I interrupting? I can come back." "Don't be ridiculous, Fox. This is your home." "You weren't interrupting, Mulder." "No, you weren't," Margaret agreed. "I just stopped by to leave this for Dana." Scully realized her mother still had her parka on. "Mom, you don't have to go." "I do. You need your rest." "Mrs. - Mom, why don't you stay for dinner?" he asked, stripping off his coat "Oh, no thank you, Fox." She touched his shoulder. "But thank you for asking." When she was out the door Mulder turned to his wife. "Did you two have a fight?" "I don't think so." "You don't think so?" Mulder smirked. He stripped off the green sweater and draped it over one of the stools, and the pulled the first of three under shirts over his head. "I see she brought you a little light reading." "She doesn't know that I've stopped praying," Scully said quietly. Mulder glanced at her over his shoulder. "I didn't know you'd stopped praying." Scully shrugged. Her religious faith had always been private. He crossed their small room and sat beside her on the side of the bed, his hip to her covered thigh. "You're not okay, are you?" "I'm fine," she insisted. "Scully, I know you had to take some psych classes in med school, so I don't have to tell you that excessive sleeping and loss of religious faith are two huge warning signs of depression." "I never said I lost my religious faith," she protested. "Have you?" he asked. She sighed. "Yes." "Oh, Scully." He pulled her into his arms and stroked her head against his shoulder. "Don't give up. Many people find solace in God in times of great crisis. Faith helps get you through." "Not this time. But what gets *you* through, Mulder? What do you take your solace in?" He gazed at her, into her, the fire picking up fleck of gold and bronze in his hazel eyes. "All of my faith is in you, Scully. You get me through the roughest times." His hand slipped down to the side of her stomach. "You are my miracle worker." She melted, just like she always did when he declared his love. Scully leaned into him, and he met her half way with a slow, chaste kiss. Each little caress of their lips lead to another, and then another, until at last her tongue reached out and found his. Spirals of hot energy shot up to her breasts and then back down to a raw need that opened within her, buried so deep inside she groaned. "Touch me," she whispered, her need over-riding the fear that he might not respond. "Scully...?" Even his momentary falter didn't deter her. "Don't talk." With all the need of a woman dying from thirst Scully dove into him, not caring if she should drown. He toppled back wards to the foot of the bed, and Scully went with him, tangling her tongue with his, weaving her fingers through his thick, dark hair. She kissed his mouth, his cheek, his eye, his ear. When she sucked on the fleshy lobe there, a deep moan escaped from the center of his person. In the next instant, he rolled her on to her back, the weight of his knee separated her legs, and his hand cupped and held her head while he kissed her. Teeth, lips and tongue drove the two of them into a fervor. Clothes became obstacles. Scully wrestled his shirts up from the waist of his jeans while he made steady work of thermal underwear she'd turned into pajamas. She fondled his flat nipples, ran her finger tips over the jumping muscles of his stomach, and then reached down to the stretch of hair that began at his navel and disappeared into his pants; short, crisp hairs that seemed to steal his breath away from him as she ran her fingers through them, and then a little lower into the heat that bulged behind his fly. He leaned even closer, pressed his clothed erection into her hand, moaned into the side of her neck. "Jesus," he muttered against her racing pulse. "I forgot what you do to me. How could I forget this?" She reached up and pressed two fingers over his mouth. "Hush," she told him. He nodded against her touch. Then, he slipped down out of reach, and when Scully tried to follow he reached up and gently pressed her shoulder to the mattress. Her bottoms slipped even lower, and then off completely. Goose bumps broke out on her legs, but Mulder's warm hands smoothed up her chilled skin, from her feet to her knees, and then higher and higher, up the inside of her thighs, slowly parting as he went. She couldn't see his expression for the mound of heavy belly that eclipsed his face. His thumbs inched closer and closer, worked slow meticulous circles against the sensitive flesh of her high inner thighs. Scully held her breath when he made contact, and sucked in a gasp as he pressed her open to the cold air. Exquisite heat followed, and then his lapping tongue. Her body screamed. She lurched on the bed. Her thighs flew even wider. "Oh...oh..." Her core swelled painfully tight. Her hips rocked in time to his working mouth, sucking her, licking her, kissing the very center of her sex. Two of his fingers slipped deep inside quenched the burning ache a little, and brought a wonderful pressure that slowly began to build. His fingers and mouth, and her hips created a rhythm together, a cadence that all at once seemed too slow and too fast to keep up with. Scully's head began to swim, her blood was a roar in her ears, her heart raced, her eyes rolled closed, and as the wave overwhelmed her in its crest, Scully cried out at the perfect pleasure that consumed her. His mouth left her, but his hand did not. Scully floated in the moments that followed, listening to his soft voice whisper her name in her ear, feeling his fingers still within her as she convulsed around him. Never had she come so hard, so fast. Never had it ever been so good. When at last she opened her eyes, Mulder's grin was the first thing she saw. "Well, there you are," he said. "Are you sure?" she asked on an exhale. "I feel everywhere at once." "You are the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen." Mulder pressed a kiss to her temple. "Oh, Mulder." Tears sprang to her eyes. Her emotions felt raw and exposed. "Can't we just lay here for a moment without talking?" He pulled one of the folded blankets from a stool near the bed and draped it over the both of them by way of response, and wrapped an arm around her as he snuggled into her side. Scully hugged his arm to her. They laid together for much longer than a moment, neither of them saying a word. ***** End of chapter 11 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 12 ***** "Cold is so much colder when you've no hope of ever being warm again." -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, April 15, 2000 Somewhere in the Alps June 2000 Scully hugged the pillow closer to her and stared into the flickering tendrils of the fire. She would have to put another couple of logs on in a few hours. It was too difficult to get a fire started, so now she always made sure there was one going. The bed creaked, and she moved one arm up to brace the headboard quiet. The warm body of her husband curled around her from behind. He ran his hand from her hip down to her thigh, and spread her legs a little more. The baby kicked a couple of times, a counter rhythm to Mulder's quickening thrusts. Scully closed her eyes on the unwanted tears that pooled. It didn't make sense to her. She was safe and warm and fed and healthy, and with the man she loved most in the world. They were expecting a child. Her mother was alive, living just a few doors down. So much to be thankful for, so much to celebrate. But as Mulder's breath caught, and he pumped into her even faster, all she could focus on was trying not to cry. ***** Months of solitude had turned the depot into a small community, people who worked and played together. They helped each other raise the children and cook the food and do the laundry, all of which had to be done without the luxury of electricity. Because, while there was a generator, it was reserved for emergencies, and for communicating to the other small settlements scattered throughout Europe. Scully preferred not to join in the community mentality. It was easier to sequester herself in the comfort her little cabin afforded. Everything else seemed such a struggle. She hadn't seen Logan since they'd arrived three weeks before. And no mention of journeying on to the rendez-vous point had been made. She was fairly sure the topic hadn't been settled, but when she brought it up over a hot cup of tea, Mulder told her not to worry about it. If only it were that simple. Mulder spent most of his days working at whatever needed to be done around the settlement; carting and chopping wood, shoveling snow, mending roofs, and helping some of the children with their school work. He was wonderful. A god-send. An inspirations. Everyone said so - everyone who didn't have to live with him. "Are you going to get out of bed today?" He sounded more annoyed than inspiring. He sat on one of the stools, tying his boot. He didn't look at her. "You're never going to work through this depression from there." "I'm tired." "You're not tired. You toss and turn all night because you sleep all day. You need some exercise." "Are you saying I'm fat?" "Of course not. I'm asking if you're going to get out of bed today." Scully turned her head and gazed out the window again. What was worth getting out of bed for? "I hadn't thought about it." "Well, do think about it." The bed shifted as he sat beside her. "Hey." He ran a hand up her arm, and she turned to him. "I'm concerned, Scully. This depression is getting worse." She pushed his hand away. "Please stop analyzing me." "I want you to talk to me. I want to help you through this." "I don't need any help. I'm fine." "You're not fine. When was the last time you bathed? Or brushed your hair? You're neglecting yourself, and I'm worried about the baby -" "You think I'm a bad mother?! It's not even born yet, and you've already decided I neglect my child?" "I thought it was our child." Scully closed her eyes. It was the only way to get some distance from him and the unintentional hurt she knew she just inflicted. "I'm not a depressive, Mulder. I've never had a problem with depression." "Things are different now." "Mulder, honestly, I don't know why I sleep all the time. I know I'm not tired, but I don't have the strength to do anything else." She pressed a hand to her eyes, feeling an angry frustration well up and threaten to spill over. It was a terrible thing to have little to no control over her emotions, especially after spending much of her adult life with such a tight reign over them. "You know, this could be something as simple as light deprivation. I'll see if there's a sun lamp we can use - or maybe when Logan contacts the rendez-vous point again we'll ask them for one. The whole depot should have access to one." He sounded so hopeful Scully just nodded and let him kiss her temple. "But I do want you to seriously think about getting out of bed today. Out of the cabin, even." She nodded absently. "Logan's been in contact with the rendez- vous point?" "Well, barely. Communication is down to text messages and contact seems to be intermittent." "So...they don't want me?" Scully wasn't at all sure she was relieved about that. Where was she going to have the baby? Here, in the cabin?" "At the moment I think they're more worried about relocating. The rendez-vous point was only meant as a temporary shelter. There's no lab and no computer core." There was a string of knocks on the door. Scully turned her head to see her mother entering the cabin along with a good deal of snow and cold air. She wore a red coat with a hood, stripped gloves and scarf, and a pair of heavy-duty rubber boots that nearly went up to her knees. "Jesus," Scully said under her breath. "I'm not going out in that." He gave her a look of irritation and then turned to their guest. "Good morning, Mom." "Morning, Fox. I just passed Lester, and he said he was going to met you in the supply cabin. Such a little boy with such a big book." "But very bright," Mulder said with a smile. "The kids are learning about British history, and I told them I'd tell them about what little was crammed down my throat while I was at Oxford. But after that I'll be helping Dag deliver wood, so if you need me, I'll be around." "Good. That will give me and Dana a chance to finally catch up." Scully inwardly groaned. "All right then," Mulder announced, pleased that everything had been decided. He quickly kissed Scully's cheek, slipped into his parka and gloves while Maggie pulled hers off. Once they were alone, Scully's mother pulled one of the low stools closer to the bed and fireplace and sat forward, elbows on knees, smiling. "Is it moving?" she asked, and nod to Scully's middle. Scully looked down to find her left hand patting the rounded side of her stomach - a habit she'd fallen into through countless hours of trying to lull her little passenger to sleep. "Kicking, yeah." Margaret smiled warmly. "You must've been so surprised when you found out." "You've no idea." Scully could read the yearning on her mother's face. "You want to feel?" "Yes." Margaret moved to the bed, perching on the side and reached over to where Scully's pat had been. "No. Here." Scully repositioned her chilly hand. "There. Did you feel that?" Margaret's face lit up. "There it is! My God. Dana. A baby." "I know. It seems hard for everyone to grasp." Scully looked down at the mound of her belly, and the shapeless flannel gown altered to allow for her girth. "I don't know why. It's a little hard to ignore." "Aren't you happy about this, Dana?" "Mulder asked me that when he found out, too." She picked some lint from her nightie. "I guess I don't have that usual mother-to-be glow." "Fox doesn't have the father-to-be look, either. When I was pregnant with Bill Jr. your father strutted around like he was President of the World. No one was prouder than he was." She grinned at the memory. "Mulder's going to be a great father," Scully insisted, more defensive than she intended. "Oh, I'm sure he will be, Dear. You know...he's worried about you. About the baby." "I know," Scully reluctantly admitted. "You know what might make him breathe a little easier, at least in the short term?" Scully didn't like where this was going. "What?" "We could have a Girl's Day, just you and I. A hot bath, a manicure and pedicure, a new hair cut -" "You want to cut my hair?" "I used to cut your hair, once upon a time. It wouldn't be gorgeous, but it might make you feel better...more like yourself." "Mom, a make-over isn't going to make me feel like myself." "We could give it a try. And while you're out of bed I'll change the sheets and then we'll have a nice lunch-" "Mom. This isn't what you meant by catching up, is it? Did Mulder put you up to this? We've never in my life had a Girl's Day." Margaret pulled her hand back to her lap. "No. We haven't." "Let Mulder deal with his own worries, Mom. You've always been honest with me." "Honesty is respect, and I've always respected you, Dana." "I know you want to talk about Charlie-" "No." Margaret stood, and with her arms crossed paced the length of the small room. "No, I don't." Her words were harsher, suddenly angry. And they stung. "You're not going to forgive me for his death, are you?" "I don't blame you, Dana. That isn' t it." "Then, what is it?" She stopped at the window and drew a finger along the frost that collected on the window sill. "Being a mother is a wonderful thing, Dana. Something you can't possibly fathom until it actually happens. The first time you look into your child's eyes and see a tiny spirit there, and know that as long as you live..." She turned, arms crossed once again, and met Scully's gaze. "To lose a child is to lose part of your soul. It's something you never fully recover from." "I lost Charlie, too!" "It's not the same. Charlie was my baby. He was my last." She sighed, leaned against the railing at the foot of the bed. "All of you were planned. Your father had a strict schedule of when he wanted his children born. Charlie was the exception. He wasn't conceived because the calendar said so, but because I truly loved your father. He was my gift, just as you were your father's." Tears sprang to Scully's eyes. "Do you...do you wish it had been me instead of him?" Her voice cracked. Margaret's face dropped. "Oh, Dana, no. No, no, no." She rushed to the side of the bed and crawled in beside her daughter. "Never, never think that. I loved your brother, he was my baby, but he wasn't my favorite. A mother can't ever choose between her children. They're so much a part of her...you're so much a part of me, Dana. I thank God every day that you're still with me. I love you." She pulled Scully's head against her breast and smoothed her tangled hair back from her forehead. "I love you so much." "I'm sorry, Mom," Scully said through tears. "I'm so very sorry." "I know you are, baby. I'm sorry, too." ***** In the shadowy glow of the lantern, Scully looked down at her naked self. Multiplying stretch marks reached from her hips to circle the dark protrusion her belly button had become. Her breasts were less tender than they had been, and her thick nipples had turned an earthy color. The mirror above the sink was, of course, too small and too high to see anything below her shoulders, but Scully saw a fullness in her cheeks that hadn't been there since she first started with the X-Files. She guessed her ass reflected diet and lack of exercise, as well. Scully lifted the bowl of gently steaming water and managed to pour most of it into the shallow seat tub. Her back ached, her legs ached, and as hot as the water was there was no way for her to really soak her muscles into some semblance of relaxation. Her mother's visit that morning had left her so exhausted that she spent the better part of the afternoon trying unsuccessfully to sleep. Finally, she just gave up and decided to bathe and wash her hair, because, as she was told, that's what normal people did on normal days. The baby kicked, and Scully watched the left side of her stomach contort. The movement was subtle, but unmistakable. "Why do I feel like I'm in a dream?" she whispered to no one in particular. Nothing felt clear and sharp anymore. Everything was dulled. Scully stepped into the tub and slowly began to wash away days of filth. It took very little time for the water to turn a dinghy grey. She wet her hair, and then lathered with shampoo. The room was too cold to bathe in. She broke out into gooseflesh. "Dana?" "I'm in here," she called. No one answered. Scully couldn't bring herself to care. If they wanted her, there were only two rooms in the cabin, it wasn't like they'd get lost looking for her. It took a concerted effort to rinse all of the soap out of her hair, but she managed. Once she pulled the plug and the dirty water began to drain, Scully struggled to get out of the tub without slipping on the cold, wet porcelain. She toweled off, pulled her panties on along with clean thermal underwear that covered everything but her belly. Her breasts strained against the unforgiving material. A flannel night gown and a thick pair of cotton socks with fuzzy insides completed her ensemble. No electricity meant no blow dryer, so she just combed through her damp hair that now hung down to her collarbones. Scully wondered how short her mother wanted to cut it. "Dana?" Mulder called from the other room. Only it wasn't quite his voice. And he never called her Dana unless he was scared, or thought she was. Scully stood stone still while her heart became a mallet in her chest. Slowly, she opened the door and peered out, but the main room was still and empty. The floor around the door was dry, which meant it had been at least an hour since it was last opened. Odd. The fire was low so Scully put another couple of log on and the went to the bed, the only comfortable piece of furniture in the house, and wearily sat. The stew on the heart probably needed stirring, but it seemed an impossible distance to travel all of a sudden. She needed to lay down. She needed sleep. "Dana. Don't push him away." Scully bolted up. There was someone in the room. She grabbed the iron poker from the fireplace and brandished it like a baseball bat. "Where are you?" Her voice was high. There was no where that a man could conceal himself, no closets, no oversized pieces of furniture. Under the bed was the only place in the whole room that Scully didn't have an unobstructed view. She edged closer to the door, keeping her eye on the shadow behind the edge of the blanket. "What do you want?" she called out. Behind her the door burst open, and Scully screamed. "What the hell?" Mulder stood amidst the swirling snow and wind, the open door slammed against the wall. "What's going on -?" "Someone's in here," Scully said, cutting him off. She pointed to the bed with the poker. "Under there. A man." He grabbed the poker from her, stepped between her and the bed. "Get your coat on," he ordered, poker outstretched, ready for a fight. She pulled her parka from the post by the door. "I won't leave you," she said as she slipped it on. "Who's there?" Mulder yelled. No one answered. He inched closer, measuring each step, ready to strike at the first threat. Scully held her breath as he hooked the end of the poker on the corner of the blanket and whipped it up. "Scully, there's no one here." Her eyes went wide as she scanned the whole cabin. "There...there is someone here." Mulder checked the bathroom, and then looked under the bed again. For a moment he studied her face, read the honest fear her eyes must have betrayed. He crossed to her, closed the door on the blizzard and then latched it. "Scully, no one's here." "But...I heard him." "What did he say?" "I..." She couldn't quite remember. The words were just beyond her grasp. "Nothing," she said on an exhale. She slipped out of her coat, even though she shivered, and hung it back up. "I'm sorry. Never mind." "Were you sleeping? Did you dream it?" "I must have. Maybe I still am." "Come here." He led her to the bed. "Relax. I'll make some tea. And it smells like the stew is ready." "I'm not hungry." He knelt in front of her, and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand while he scrutinized her face. "You heard a man?" "I guess not." "What did he sound like?" Mulder pressed. He continued to believe her even after she'd deferred to the lack of tangible evidence. "Did he sound like a stranger, or someone you know? Like Dag? Logan?" "It was nothing, Mulder. There's no one here," she said, exhausted despite the chill of adrenaline. "Oh, don't dismiss it so easily. It could be an X-File," he said with a grin. "It's not." He nodded, again believing her even when she couldn't convince herself. "OK." She swallowed. It wasn't OK. "Mulder...It...He sounded like Charlie. I think." Mulder froze, his face instant concern. "Charlie? Scully closed her eyes and sighed. "I think. I must've dreamed it. Mom and I talked about him today. He was on my mind." "That's probably it," Mulder said. This time he didn't meet her gaze. Great, Scully thought. Now, neither of them believed her. ***** End of chapter 12 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 13 ***** "...which must be a real strain on him...I think he always felt comfortable being the crazy one..." -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, August 7, 2000 Rorschach, Switzerland July 2000 "Where are you?!" Scully demanded, her voice hoarse from misuse. She pulled the drawers from the dresser and dropped the contents in a heap on the floor. There had to be some sort of transmitter, some kind of speakers. There had to be... "Dana, listen." "NO!" She pressed her hands over her ears, and squeezed her eyes shut, tears finally rising in her frustration and distress. "I won't," she cried. "I won't!" Her face was hot, flush from exertion. "Dana, you must prepare." "SHUT UP!" "You must prepare." It was her brother's voice that haunted her, that refused to let her rest. "Charlie's dead!" Her voice scratched through her raw throat. She felt hot and cold at one. "Who the hell are you?" "Must prepare," the voice said. It was to her left and right at the same time; all around her, and inside her head. "Stop saying that!" "Saying what? Scully?" Mulder stood in the doorway, arms full of splintered fire wood. "Who are you talking...Jesus, Scully, are you OK?" She hadn't noticed he came in. She turned her back to him and quickly wiped her face with the backs of her hands. "Prepare..." The man whispered. "There!" She whirled around to Mulder. "Did you hear that?" "Hear what?" He dropped his load, slammed the door and threw the latch. "That voice. Why can't you ever hear it?" He winced. "Still your brother?" he asked. "Mulder, I'm not making this up." "Obviously." He went to her, stooped down to her eye level and smoothed his hands down her arms. "Sit and breathe for a moment." He tried to coaxed her to the bed. "No!" She pulled out of his grasp. "This whole place is bugged. It's gotta be. And I'm going to find them. Those bastards think they can mess with me. I'll wring their necks with my bare hands!" "Bugged?" "The joke's over, boys," Scully yelled at any receivers that might have been listening. "I'm on to your little scheme! And Langley, this has your fingerprints all over it. I swear, when I get my hands on you -" Mulder placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Scully." "No!" She flinched away from him. "I'm not going easy on him. Langley's gone too far this time!" "Dana," he said quietly, his gaze intense. "Langley's dead." "Oh." Right. She looked down at the piles of clothes on the floor, the spilled water and the remains of her lunch where it had landed flat against the wall, the bed stripped bare of blankets and sheets as if seeing them for the first time. And, out of no where a cramp seized her middle. Scully cried out as she doubled over the heavy ball of her stomach. "Oh, God." Her knees gave way to the shooting pain, and Mulder caught her before she crumpled to the ground. When the stabbing receded just as instantly as it hit, Scully found herself on her side on the bare mattress. Mulder had wrapped her in blankets and was screaming over his shoulder at the closed door for help. "No, no." Scully reached out and brought his attention back to her. "I'm OK now. The pain is gone." She made some tentative motions just to be sure, and then tried to sit up. "Don't, Scully. Lay down." He brushed the hair back from her forehead. "I don't know what to do, Scully. What do I do?" His eyes were wide, his face pale and panicked. "God, I wish Renee was here." She pulled his hand down to her abdomen so he could feel the little one moving within her. "I think it's OK." His face softened when he felt the light kick, and he bent down to press his cheek against her belly. "It's not OK, Scully. You nearly passed out," he began, but she cut him off. "Mulder, I'm fine now." "You're not fine, Scully. You're not. You're as far from fine as I've ever known you to be." He got one of the case-less pillows from the floor and slipped it under her lifted head. Then he kissed her temple. "Scully...Dana." He closed his eyes for a moment as if gathering strength. When he met her gaze, his face was stony, impossible to read. "You're having auditory hallucinations. And acting erratically. You're showing signs of paranoia and aggression -" "Aggression? Towards who? You?" "If you were younger I might think it was schizophrenia." "What?!" Scully struggled to sit up. "You can't be serious." "I'm not sure that's the answer, though -" She cut him off again. "And they're not hallucinations, Mulder. I do hear him. I hear his voice. It's real." He swallowed. "I know you think you do." "I do! I hear him. I swear." "Hey, I believe you," he said gently. "You don't. Don't lie to placate me. You never used to do that." Mulder sighed. He sat back on his heels. "I want to believe you. I'm trying. But this voice, you can't even remember what it says." "Charlie said I have to prepare." Her admission caught him off guard. He leaned forward, his elbows against the mattress. She could tell he wanted to give her every benefit of the doubt, and it gave her a spark of hope. "Prepare for what?" "I don't know. He's been saying it all week, and it's driving me crazy...bad expression." "But you know it isn't your brother, don't you? Charlie is dead." And just that quickly, the small spark of hope fizzled. "Are you saying now you don't believe in ghosts?" "Are you saying you do?" he countered. "Why is it an X-File when it happens to you, or someone else, but it's insanity when it happens to me?" "Because," he said slowly, deliberately. "I know the difference." "Mulder, I'm not crazy." He didn't say anything, but he picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. When he closed his eyes again, a tear broke free from his lashes and fell to the blanket. He honestly thought she'd lost her mind. And there was no chip to heal her this time. ***** Mid-July 2000 "Scully? What are you doing?" She looked from the sudsy scouring brush in her right hand, to the bowl of soapy water, to her looming husband. He wore a fresh pair of jeans, a clean shirt and pull-over, and raked a towel over his wet head. "Interpretive dance." She went back to the monotonous rhythm of scrubbing the floorboards. For eight days he shadowed her every move, leaving her only for the handful of minutes he spent in the bathroom. Dag brought in all the supplies they needed, but never stayed for more than a minute or two. Her mother visited nearly every day, but never broached more than light conversation, and even that felt forced. Scully wasn't sure what Mulder had said to them, but it was clear by the way they looked at her as if she might foam at the mouth at any moment that he said something. It was strange, suddenly seeing the world through the lens Mulder had worn for so many years, especially now that he was looking at her through the other side. And, of course, that was the most difficult part. That Mulder, for the first time, was on the outside peering in. "So you need some help?" he asked. "No." She wasn't crazy. She knew this. She heard what she heard. Charlie was trying to reach her. Period. "Would you like some help?" She turned to see Mulder squatting beside her. He smelled good, like fresh soap, and his eyes were bright. He gave her a little smile. A wonderful, genuine smile. "Do you know how to scrub a floor?" she asked. "Do I know how to scrub a floor?" he repeated with a chuckle. "I am the guy who taught Mr. Clean all he knows." He took up the scrub brush from her hand and admired it as if it were a precious gem. "Ah, yes. I knew one of these once upon a time." "That must've been long before your last apartment." She gave him a smirk, and he rewarded her with a humored snort. "I'll get some cloths from the bathroom." When he rose, she watched him walk into the next room. Almost normal. He was somehow able to make it almost normal. Almost. Scully looked down at her hands, red and wrinkled from the water, and then to her belly. It was so good of him to try for normal when it was so painfully obvious that they would never know normal again. ***** The snow continued to fall. Large, wet flakes that twirled in the wind and landed on the covered ground with a faint crunch. She stood in front of the window and watched the never changing scene play out before her. White on grey. Frozen. Mulder emerged from the bathroom. "Scully? What are you doing?" Her eyes and throat burned from the cold. "It never changes." The snow burned where it pin-pricked her face. He pulled her back from the window, closed it and yanked the black out curtains shut. Then, he whirled around and grabbed two blankets from their unmade bed, draped them around her shivering shoulders and eased her to sit on the far side of the bed next to the fireplace. "Your lips are blue, Scully," he said as he knelt before her, brushed the ice from her tangled hair. How long were you standing there?" "It's still snowing," she told him. "It's June. There's no summer." "Scully, your feet." He pulled them into his lap and began to vigorously rub first the left, then the right. His hands were like fire, and she flinched from his touch. "They're like blocks of ice. Christ, Scully, what were you trying to do?" He didn't understand. She couldn't delude herself into thinking they were stuck in a particularly bad winter any longer. The Colonists had done something to their planet, something permanent and devastating. The sun was gone, and all that was left was cold and lifeless and useless. Charlie was right. Mulder wasn't going to be able to save them this time. Even though she knew he wanted to so badly. This time it was all up to her. Mulder wrapped her feet in the blanket again, and then jumped up to quickly hang the water kettle to heat over the fire. He looked in several of the tins on the small square table turned kitchen counter. "Where's the damn tea?" They were out. He slammed the empty container on the table. His face went red, and the vein in his forehead bulged. "Damn it, Scully! I can't be with you every minute of the day!" "No, you can't." "What were you thinking, Scully? It'll take the rest of the day for the hearth to heat this place up again. Why would you stand in front of an open window?" She didn't know what to say to get him to stop yelling. So, she shrugged. "Did you see something out there?" he continued to badger. "Did something upset you?" His worn jeans were creased at the bends in his legs, his sweater was too large for his thin, wiry frame. And there was something different about his familiar beauty that Scully couldn't quite place. "What?" He threw his hands in the air. "Are you not speaking now?" "Mulder?" "Scully?" "Who cut your hair?" It was shorter, not quite as shapeless. He ran a self-conscious hand over his head. "Your mother. Three days ago. Right here in this room. You watched the whole thing, Scully, and then she trimmed your hair, too." Scully reached up and felt the blunt cut of her hair at her shoulders. Of course. She remembered. She turned back to the closed window, and the snow that scoured the frozen glass. "The snow never stops. Ever. Dag cleared out the drift from the side of the house, just like he does every four days because the snow never stops." "Scully, tell me, why did you open the window?" "You never stop, either, Mulder." "What does that mean?" "I can't live like this anymore," she told him. "Is that..." He moved closer to her, his face carrying obvious distress. "Is that why you opened the window? Were you trying to hurt yourself? The baby?" She was shocked by his accusation. Hurt. Disappointed. "You know me better than that." "I used to," he admitted, "but not anymore. This is all new to me, Scully. I'm trying to understand, to figure you out -" "No, you're not," she snapped. "How can you say that?" "Because you won't even consider the possibility that my brother is reaching out to me." "I want to help you, Scully." "You can't. Even Charlie said so." Mulder closed his mouth and stared at her for a moment, his eyes narrow, his face unreadable. The kettle on the fire began to squeal, and Mulder grabbed its cloth-covered handle and poured the boiling water into a mug. "I'll have Dag bring some more tea," he muttered, more to himself than her. When he handed it to her he added, "try to drink the whole thing. It'll warm you up." "Mulder, you can't think that I would ever do anything to hurt our child." "Not intentionally, no. But I'm not sure you're in total control of your actions anymore." And, for the first time, Scully saw something resembling pity in his eyes. "That's it! I can't live like this anymore. I can't! I can't take this from you!" His eyes narrowed. "Take what from me? What does that mean?" "I want you to leave," she said. "Or I will." If she'd spouted fire from her mouth, Mulder couldn't have been more surprised. "You...what?" "I mean it, Mulder. I can't take your smothering. I'm not equipt for it, and especially now -" "Especially now you need me! I can't leave you! I won't." "Oh, Mulder. I always need you." "You're not thinking rationally," he said with a shake of his head. "And I can't handle your constant dismissals. I'm used to you not accepting what I say out of hand, but now you don't even listen. I've lost your trust. I've lost your respect." His mouth dropped open. "That's...that's not true." "Mulder, it is." "You can't believe that." "Oh, Mulder. I can." She was so tired. Too tired to try to convince him of something he wasn't ready to see, Scully curled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her middle. She started to shiver. "Will you close the door?" "The door is closed." "Then why is it so cold?" "It's cold because you opened the window, Scully." He came around the bed, and she felt his weight sag the mattress below her. "Will you close the window, then? I can't get warm." He hugged her to him, rubbed his hands up and down her arm. His breath was hot on her cheek. "I'll take care of it, Scully. Don't worry." She reached up and took his warm hand in hers. "You're always warm. Stay with me while I take a nap." "Sleep." He kissed her ear. "I'm not going anywhere." ***** Late July 2000 It was such a shock when Scully looked down at the blood on the cloth. She had forgotten that blood could be so bright, so red. In the mirror above the sink she could see a small smear above her upper lip. The rest of her face was the color of ash. A sudden wave of dizziness swept over her, and Scully managed to seat herself on the toilet, while she clung to the sink basin to stay upright. Mulder was just in the next room. "He can't help you." Scully gasped, recoiled. Charlie sat in the tub, fully clothed in his Marine whites, legs crossed, and a solemn look on his round, ruddy face. Her heart hammered in her throat. "You know he can't," he said. Scully couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Charlie was dead. She saw him die. "Don't let his struggle distract you from what you need to do, Dana." Was he really a ghost? Oh, God. Mulder was right, she thought. She had completely lost her mind. "Don't be afraid," her brother continued. His usual, friendly smile lightened his face. "You're not alone in this. You have the strength you need to do what must be done." Scully shook her head. "You're not here. You're not real." She clenched her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. His fingers were warm as they brushed over the back of her hand. "You haven't been listening," he said gently. "It's imperative that you listen." "Am I crazy, Charlie?" "Dana, they're going to come in the first hour. You must be prepared." His intensity was so like the Charlie she remembered, his eyes were caring and honest. "To do what?" The smile slipped from his face. "To give them what they came for." "What did they come for?" Charlie's gaze dropped to her stomach. No. Not her baby! "But...they've been here longer than...why do they want...? No. NO!" She wouldn't give them her child. Never. "Scully?" The door flew open, and Mulder rushed to kneel in front of her. "Oh, God. Not again." He pulled a towel from the rack of the wall and began wiping the blood from her lip. "It's the only way, Dana," Charlie continued. Neither man seemed to notice the other. "In the first hour they will come." "Scully, calm down. It looks like it's stopped bleeding already. It's not so bad." "Mulder, they're going to take our baby!" She gripped his upper arms. "They're going to come and take our baby!" "Dana, he cannot help you." "Who?" Mulder asked. "No one's going to take the baby." "I won't let it happen! I won't! It's my baby!" "Scully, no one's going to take the baby. Everything's going to be OK." He shushed her and smoothed the hair at the back of her neck, and she became distracted by the compassion in his eyes, by his soothing touch. If she was truly insane he was her only link to reality now. "That's it," Mulder said. "Breathe. Everything's going to be OK." "Mulder, Charlie's in the tub." He slowly met her gaze. "You see him?" Scully nodded. Tears blurred her vision. "I felt him, Mulder. He touched my hand, and I felt him." He turned to look at the tub, and then back at Scully. "You see him right now?" "Dana," Charlie said, "If you fight, you cannot survive. Trust that you are strong enough not to fight. Prepare for the first hour." Scully turned back to her husband and his scrutinizing eyes. She nodded. "He's still talking." "OK," Mulder said on an exhale, and gave her a tiny nod. "Then let's go back to the other room where it's not quite so crowded." ***** End of chapter 13 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 14 ***** "I know Mulder loves me but I'm not sure that's such a blessing anymore. For him, or for me. Sometimes I feel like a dead appendage on someone who refused amputation." -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, July 28, 2000 Rorschach, Switzerland early August 2000 Mulder purposely pushed his foot into his worn, brown leather boot and began to lace it up. He glanced at her watching him, and asked, "Aren't you going to get dressed?" On her side, cheek pressed into the softness of the warm pillow, arms tucked at her chest, Scully watched as he finished with a double tied bow just above his ankle and pulled on the second boot. The fire, freshly stoked, left her face warm, and it was difficult to keep her eyes open. "I think not," she said over a yawn. With a heavy sigh Mulder's shoulders sagged, and he wearily shook his head. In the last week he'd given her more disapproving looks before breakfast than he had their entire partnership. She'd slid down the respect pole from partner to dependent to child. On mornings like this she was glad he couldn't stand to stay cooped up in the house with her, because his disapproval was becoming increasingly difficult to take. And Charlie was becoming harder to ignore. Her brother stood in the corner by the coat pegs, his arms crossed, and a scowl distorting his normally jovial face. His piercing Scully-blue eyes never seemed to blink as he stared into her, as if trying to will her to give in and acknowledge him. Charlie was every bit as stubborn in her imagination as he'd been in life. But he was just a figment of her diseased mind, and Mulder was right to insist she fight it. She had to at least try for him, and for their unborn child. Of course, it was easy for Mulder to demand she ignore her figment. How adamant would he be if it were his sister Samantha that haunted them, and only he could see and hear her? And how successful would he be? For Scully, it was torture to have her brother there, as clear and real as she herself was, and not be able to talk to him, to embrace him, to enjoy his presence even if she couldn't explain it to Mulder's satisfaction.. Scully loved her brother, and still felt the grief and guilt of his loss. More acutely so every time she caught his figure in the corner of her eye. And now, weeks after she first saw him, he never left. He haunted her days and nights. There, between the fireplace and the door, where he had tirelessly leaned for hours into the shadow, he stood as a constant reminder of everything she'd lost. And was continuing to lose. Mulder cleared his throat, irritated. "Are you saying you want to go to the party in your night gown, or that you're not going?" "What party?" "Scully," his tone was hard. "We talked about this. About how the kids have written a little play, about how your mother and a couple of the women put together some baby gifts. Remember? About how you were going to get dressed for the first time in weeks and comb your hair, and we were going to go to the main cabin to eat some chocolate cake and drink apple juice, listen to music, talk to other people - real people - and laugh a little because there's been too damn much crying. What's the point of surviving if every day's a fucking funeral?" He caught himself as his emotions reached a breaking point, and forced himself to take a deep breath. His jaw worked a couple of times as he redirected anger Scully knew was meant for her. "Please. Please get dressed and come with me." His face remained a schooled neutral, but his body language told her he didn't expect an affirmative response. It broke her heart to see him that way. She couldn't say no. "Of course I'll come," she told him. "I just forgot, is all." The half lie had him exhale in relief. She pushed herself up and off the bed and took a moment to steady herself on swollen feet. "NO!" Charlie's sudden outburst made her jump. "LISTEN TO ME!" he screamed. Scully recoiled. "What is it?" Mulder demanded, but Scully couldn't take her eyes off of Charlie. Her brother threw his arms into the air, rant continuing. "LISTEN TO ME, DANA! THEY'RE COMING! YOU HAVE TO BE READY!" He flew by the table and smashed the breakfast glasses and their contents to the ground. They shattered, splattering water over the wall and floor. Mulder stumbled off of the stool, mouth gaping. "YOU CAN'T FIGHT THEM! YOU CAN'T WIN!" Charlie continued. At the window he ripped the curtain from the rod, and the rod from the wall, and hurled all of it across the room to land in a heap at the bathroom door. "LISTEN! IT'S ALL ON YOU, DANA! ALL OF IT!" Terrified, Scully covered her ears and fought the tears. "No," she moaned. "I won't listen!" She refused to give in to the insanity, and crumpled awkwardly to the floor by the bed. "You're not real! Go away!" But he felt so real, and the fear that pumped through her veins told her to run. "LISTEN!" Charlie roared, but it was her father's voice that echoed in the room. Scully's heart pounded inside her chest, ears streamed down her cheeks, her nose began to run. "THERE IS REASON BEHIND MADNESS, PURPOSE BEHIND CRUELTY!" So close she could feel the stiff polyester of his crisp white pants against the back of her hand, Charlie pulled both pillows from behind Scully, and threw them in the fire. A great whoosh of ash and smoke billowed from the hearth as the initial smothering of the flames began to feed them. Feathers popped as they burned. "What the hell?!" Mulder rushed to Scully to pull her off the floor and away from the fire, and then turned his attention on trying to disburse the flames. "DANA!" Her father's words, her brother's furious eyes. "YOU ARE STRONG ENOUGH! YOU CAN SURVIVE! BE PREPARED TO FIND THE TRUTH!" "Go away!" she whimpered. A searing pain shot through her middle and wrapped itself all the way to her spine. Scully cried out and staggered backwards in pain, clutching her belly. She wasn't sure if she was going to throw up or pass out. Mulder was beside her in an instant. He guided her to the bed, lifted her on to it. "Scully! What's happening?" He pushed the entire bed as far from the fire as it would go. The pillows were completely ablaze, and Mulder used the poker and his boots to push and kick the whole pile back as deeply inside the brick cavity as he could before rushing back to her. And when he did, he froze. Blood gushed from her nose like water from a faucet. She tried to staunch the flow with blankets, but choked and coughed and more blood splattered. She went hot and then cold, and the room began to dip around her, and Scully reached out her to husband, but he was already at the door screaming into the blizzard for help, and a biting wind ripped through the room, and the fire seemed to explode. "THEY ARE COMING FOR YOU!" Her last thought before losing consciousness was: Charlie was so very wrong. She wasn't strong enough... ***** Her face burned from the wind, and her body shook with every lurching step Mulder took. She came to in his arms, in the storm, the impossible weight of her stomach like a bowling ball pressing her down, stealing her breath, making her sick. It was impossible to move, so she groaned. "I know, baby," she felt him say, the grumbled of his voice vibrated from his throat to her cheek. "We're almost there." Another cramp rippled through her middle, starting just below her breasts and working its way down. She tensed, needing to curl around the pressure. "Scully?!" Mulder wavered in his panic. "It hurts," she breathed, but her voice was lost to the storm. It didn't matter, there was nothing he could do. Scully closed her eyes and concentrated on the on the pain as it slipped down into her pelvis, and then dissipated. They stepped into warmth, and suddenly there were a dozen people all talking at once, shouting for blankets and water and room to breathe. "Put her on the bed," her mother ordered. "What happened?" Dag demanded. "Is it time?" This from Frohike, who peered at her from across the room. When Mulder lowered her to the cold bed, she rolled to her side and closed her eyes. Blankets were heaped over her, and Mulder was saying something, but Scully couldn't hear him above the newest wave of pain to inch its way down the front of her belly. Not a sharp pain, not horribly unbearable pain, but a pressing, uncomfortable pain that clenched through muscles she hadn't used in months. When it finally sank down into her pelvis, she moaned in relief. "Oh, God! Is it the baby? Isn't it too soon? What do I do?" Mulder's frantic voice kept her from sliding into a doze. "Dag, find a doctor." "Where?" "I don't know. I don't care. Just find one!" Mulder continued bellowing orders, but Scully just curled into a tighter ball. She was so cold. "Dana?" Her mother's tender voice, and the dip of the mattress behind her came just as the next ripple of cramps fizzled away. "Dana, look at me." She managed to turn her head and open her eyes. Mulder was still somewhere behind her mother, shouting at Frohike who just stood staring. "Dana," Margaret said, "tell me what happened." She had a warm, wet cloth in one hand, and began wiping the caked blood from Scully's neck. The heat sent a shiver down Scully's spine. "Tell me what labor feels like," Scully asked. "Labor?" Margaret's eyes grew wide as saucers. "Dana, are you in labor?" "I-I don't know." She reached up and stopped her mother's ministrations and took up the washcloth. The drying blood that had had a chance to pool at her ear was beginning to itch, and she rubbed at it. "Well, you'll know," her mother assured her. "I know that's what they say, but it doesn't help me, Mom," she said through clenched teeth. Her mother straightened the blankets around her shoulders and pulled them up to her chin. "It's worse than any menstrual cramp you've ever had. And with Missy and Charlie there was this stabbing back pain." "Mom, I need you to check to see if there's any bleeding...or anything. Will you do that for me?" "Of course, baby." Scully turned her head while her mother lifted the layers of blankets. They needed a doctor. Or a mid-wife. Someone who knew more about this than Scully did. Someone who could take control of the situation so she wouldn't have to. For the hundredth time Scully regretted the things she'd said to Renee, and wished her there. "Ugh..." Scully winced as the pain began to build again. "We need to time these. Do you have a watch?" Margaret shook her head, but turned immediately to Mulder. "Fox!" she shouted. "Leave that poor man alone and tell me what time it is." "Frohike, do you have a watch?" Scully asked. She was surprised how weak her voice was. "Something with a second hand?" He nodded and pushed his sleeve up. "All digital." "Start timing now," Scully said on an exhale. Her mother disappeared with the wash rag as the waves worked their way down. She closed her eyes, furrowed her brow, tried to remember something about the handful of births she helped deliver in med school to alleviate some of the anxiety, but all she could think of were the tiny little hats and booties, the new fathers crying and laughing at the same time, and the mothers-to-be screaming. Her pain wasn't that bad. She wondered how long it would be before the pain would become unbearable. When her body finally relaxed and she was able to breathe, she whispered, "Time." "Uh...Forty-one seconds," Frohike read. Was that all?! Her eyes snapped open, and Mulder's panicked face was looking down at her. He knelt by the bed like a pilgrim before his goddess, afraid to touch her, unable to stop his fingers from combing through her hair. "Tell me what to do," he begged. She reached out and ran her fingers over his stubbled cheek. "Tell me you love me." "I love you," he said. "More than anything. More than life, itself. More than love. More than..." "The truth?" she supplied with a small smile. "You are my truth, Scully. I love you. I love you." Margaret returned with another cloth, and Mulder began cleaning away the rest of the evidence of her nose bleed, and studied her. "It was Charlie, wasn't it? The pillows? The glasses?" Scully nodded. "I'm not crazy, Mulder." She said it for herself as much as him. She'd gotten so used to the idea of being out of her mind that it actually seemed odd to think "You suddenly developing psychokinetic powers isn't any more unbelievable than you seeing the ghost of your dead brother." "Spirit," she corrected. "Ghosts aren't real." Mulder smirked at her distinction. "But why can you see him when I can't?" "I don't know. Maybe you weren't meant to see him. Or maybe you didn't want to." She met his gaze. "You're not convinced. You still think I'm nuts?" "No," he assured her with a lopsided grin. "Or at least, if you are nuts, at least now we can be nuts together." "Thanks - oh..." She cringed. "Frohike, time!" "It's been...uh...four minutes." "OK," she said on an exhale. Forty-five seconds. She could do that. Scully concentrated on her breathing, on trying not to waste any energy, on staying calm. "OK. Time." "Twenty seconds," Frohike announced. "Should I be boiling water or something?" Mulder asked with a shrug. "I don't think this is it," Scully told him, shaking her head. The room twisted a little, and she realized she was still lightheaded from her blood loss. "It could just be Braxton Hicks." "False labor?" Mulder seemed overly concerned. "It's very natural. I'm well into my third trimester. It's possible I could have these off and on for a couple of weeks." "God, I hope not." Scully gave him a weak smile. "Yeah. Me, too." "Listen." He leaned closer and ran his fingers through her hair. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but you don't look so good, and you scared the hell out of me, and if this is something more... Scully, I don't know what to do." "Do you want to contact the Resistance? Where are they now?" "Some mountain in Tibet," he said distracted, as he glanced over his shoulder. The whole room was still, with Frohike standing near the bathroom door, and Scully's mother sitting at the table. Two of her friends were also standing across the room, and Scully guessed they had been there when they'd arrived at her mother's cabin and decided to stay for the show. They were sisters from Germany, though Scully couldn't remember their names. When he turned back to her Scully could see he was annoyed by the spectators. "Any more...false labor?" "Not yet," she said. "Why don't you try to get some rest, OK? I want to check on the cabin and make sure it's still in one piece. And maybe see if we can -" He was interrupted by the door slamming open and Dag spilled in accompanied by Alajo, the tall and thin LA costumer that Scully had met when he altered some clothes to fit around her stomach. He wore a green sweater over a yellow undershirt, and a fusca parka that was at least three sizes too small for his lean frame. "Where's the momma - oh, there you are. And such a vision of motherhood." He stripped off the coat and rolled up his sleeves and insinuated himself between Mulder and the bed, effectively knocking him out of the way. "And how far apart are the contractions, Dana?" "Uh..." "What the hell?!" Mulder eloquently demanded. "He birth the baby," Dag explained. "You're a midwife?" Scully asked, brows raised.. "Well, no. I breed champion Schnauzers. I've helped twenty seven bitches whelp more than a hundred pups," he said with pride. His brown eyes beamed over his ample nose. "And a birth is a birth." "She's not having puppies," Mulder said with disgust. "Get the hell out of here! Dag!" Dag jumped. "You say find doctor, but there is no doctor. I find him." His face was red and upset. " "Dag, it's fine," Scully assured him, though he didn't seem to believe her. His eyes continued to retreat back to the annoyance on Mulder's face. "And Alajo, thanks for rushing over here, but I don't think I'm in real labor." Alajo cocked his head and shrugged. "All right. You call me when you need me." He left without incident. Another cramp crawled through her middle, lasting only ten seconds, and coming more than seven minutes after the last. Scully wasn't really disappointed they would have to wait. They weren't quite ready for the baby to come. Exhausted, Scully burrowed deep into her mother's pillow and under the layers of blankets Mulder piled on top of her. She would have to spend some serious time getting Mulder ready for the big event. But more so, Scully needed to prepare herself. Maybe Charlie was right after all. Maybe his spirit had purpose in seeking her out. She felt more confident in that now than she ever did, and not just because Mulder now believed. There was a calmness deep inside her chest, a tiny place where she felt solid once again. As she began to drift, Scully focused on that feeling, clung to it life a life preserver. It wasn't much, but it was more than she'd had for a long time, and with that newfound inner peace came the first rays of true hope. ***** End of chapter 14 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 15 ***** "It's so strange to be celebrating something I'm not sure I believe in anymore. Especially when I look at my mother, her fingers sliding over the lines of text as she reads the verses I've heard my whole life...[whose] true meanings I'm just starting to comprehend." -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, December 24, 2000 Rorschach, Switzerland late August 2000 Scully dreamed. She knew it was a dream, even as she fled down the dark, winding corridors of the Hidden City, using both arms to support the massive weight of her pregnant belly. The soles of her feet slapped against the coarse rock floor, cold and unforgiving. They were coming. She could feel them, like a pressure behind her eyes and a taste like bile at the back of her throat. They were coming for her and her baby. Around the next corner she nearly tripped over Mulder. He crouched at a small campfire burning in the middle of the hall. With a look of annoyance he glanced up at her, the sharpened pole in his right hand was black and smoking. "Why are you running?" he asked. "Why do you always run?" "Mulder, they're coming," she told him, and glanced behind her at the empty tunnel. "We have to find someplace to hide!" "There's no place to hide, Scully. You know that." He shook his head and tested the tip of his make-shift spear with his finger. It came away with a bead of blood. He seemed satisfied. "Just stand behind me," he ordered, rising to his full height. "I'll protect you." "With a stick? Mulder, that's crazy!" "Quick, give me the baby, Scully." He looked at her expectantly, and held out a hand. "No, give*me* the baby!" Scully turned to see a shadowed figure running toward her, an arm raised, the gleam of a silver knife trained on her middle. Terror shot through her like bolt of electricity, and Scully grabbed Mulder's arm. "Stop him!" "Stop who?" He looked down at her, concern and pity in his eyes. "Scully, there's no one there." But the man was real, the knife was real, and Scully fled as fast as her legs would carry her farther down the shadowed tunnel. "Mulder, help me!" she screamed. "Help!" And suddenly he was there, in front of her, holding her head and her arm. "Scully, wake up," he said. The edge in his voice ripped through the fabric of the nightmare and she was able to pull herself awake. "It's just a dream," he cooed. He sat beside her on her mother's bed. Anxiety lined his face, pulled at the edges of his eyes and mouth. His hair was a mess, as if he'd been running his fingers through it. Her mother stood over his shoulder, equally concerned. But no knife, and no shadowed man was anywhere to be found. Relieved and exhausted, Scully flopped back on to the pillow. The air was cold against her moist face and neck. She closed her eyes for a moment and held her breath, trying to calm her racing heart. It was a new variation on the same dream she'd been having for months. Mulder was a new element to the familiar scenario, and a disturbing one. "You OK now?" Mulder smoothed the hair plastered to her sweaty cheeks. "It sounded bad." "I'm fine," she said, under her breath. As irrational as it was, even after waking Scully still carried the frustration her dream self had for him. She shoved the heels of her hands into her eyes to rub away the last lingering images of the knife. "Just give me a minute." "OK." She felt him leave her side just as the door slammed open. A blast of frigid sailed through the room until the door was shut hard against the storm. "They're on their way," Frohike reported, his words muffled. He was bundled from head to foot, a colorful scarf tied around his head left a tiny slip for his steamed-up glasses to peek through. He looked like a child dressed by an over-attentive mother to go out and play in the snow. "ETA: about seven hours, give or take. They're not sure about landing in the area. The last thing we want to do is draw attention to ourselves." Scully watched her husband nod as he absorbed the information. "Is a doctor coming? Seven hours is a long flight, she could go into labor before we get there." "They said someone named...Boar." "Bohr?" Mulder corrected, clearly shocked to hear the name. "How the hell did he make it out?" Mulder shot a glance to Scully who propped herself up on an elbow. "Mulder, what's going on?" "We're going to Tibet," he told her, then turned back to his friend. "Frohike, I need you to help Mrs. Scully pack." To her mother he said: "Only take what you need. There won't be a lot of room on the Mirage. It seats four, and there's no storage. With a pilot and Bohr, and the three of us, I'll have to sit in the leg room -" "Mulder," Scully interrupted. "Why are we going to Tibet?" He turned to her, his gaze appraising. "Because I believe you. And I believe your brother -" "Fox?" Margaret asked, shocked. He shook his head at her disbelief. "Mom, you didn't see the things flying through the room. The curtain rod was nailed to the wall, someone had to have ripped it off." Her face was hard to read. "Are you saying my son is a ghost?" "A spirit," Mulder said. His eyes darted to Scully. "Who came to Dana with purpose." "This is insanity!" Her mother exclaimed. "You can't be serious." "They're coming, Mom," Scully told her with absolute certainty. "It's true. But I'm not going anywhere." Mulder blinked. "We're going to Tibet," he corrected. "I can't protect you here." "Mulder, think about it," she said with a sigh. "Look what happened to the Hidden City. You can't protect me anywhere. They've more power than we can imagine. Look out the window. That isn't another storm out there, that's the *same* storm that started when we were in the Netherlands last October. They did that, Mulder. We can't fight them and win." "Scully, I'm not going to argue this with you -" "Good!" she said on an exhale, and rolled on to her back. But her stomach was like a bowling ball, and she couldn't get comfortable. She tried on her side. "I don't want to fight." Mulder turned back to Frohike. "I'm going to pack our things. Come get me if anything happens -" "Mulder!" Her frustration turned to anger. "I told you I'm not going!" "Yes, you are!" Scully watched her mother shrink back a few steps, wearing the same expression Scully remembered from her childhood. Whenever her parents argued, her father inevitably pulled rank and began shouting orders, and her mother always conceded. Every single time. Scully would never have their marriage. "Listen to me, Mulder, because I'm only going to say this once more. *I* *am* *not* *going* *anywhere.* I appreciate your faith in my sanity, and I know that your actions stem from a place of love, but I will not be handled. It's not your decision where I give birth, it's mine." "Now hold on -" She held up a hand to stop his protest. "I'm not finished. In our relationship you have always set the boundaries. Always. You had the desk, the name plate on the office. But our marriage will not work that way. You do not get to make unilateral decisions that effect our whole family. We will discuss, and *we* will decide." "So, you're willing to discuss Tibet?" he asked, with more than a little sarcasm. "No. And I'll give you the same reason I would have if you'd bothered to ask me." "Bothered to ask? For crying out loud, Scully, you practically passed out! You were in no shape -" "Exactly, Mulder. I *am* in no shape to be in a plane for multiple hours. There are reasons why doctors warn women not to fly in their last trimester. And, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm still a little shocky from this morning. But beyond my physical distress, what do you think will happen if we go to Tibet? Do you think they won't come? Of course they will. Do you think we have a chance at blowing them off the face of the Earth? Hell, no. It will be the City all over again." "And if we stay here," Mulder countered. "What happens? They still come, but I have no way of keeping you safe." "I don't think you're meant to," Scully told him. "This time, Mulder, it's not about you." For a moment he just stood there, his chest rising and falling, his fists hanging at his side. She had hurt him, she knew, and that was never her intent. "Charlie told me that I was strong enough to do whatever it was that needed to be done. Alone. And I believe him. And I think, so do you." "Dana," her mother said, taking a step forward. "Stop for a moment. Think about this. It's crazy, Dana. Forgetting everything else for a moment, wouldn't you rather have your baby someplace where there are medical facilities? Where you can have people who know what they're doing help you deliver?" "Mom," Mulder started. Margaret cut him off. "No, Fox. Don't talk. Isn't it enough that you've got her believing in ghosts now? That you've taken my daughter - my beautiful, intelligent, Catholic daughter - and driven her out of her mind?" "She's not out of her mind," Mulder mumbled, though Scully wasn't entirely sure he meant to say it aloud. "Hey, now," Frohike spoke up, and the three of them turned to see him suddenly self-conscious by the door. Apparently they'd all forgotten he was even there, witnessing their family argument. "There's no reason to start pointing fingers. Mulder's not the bad guy -" Scully's moan cut him off. The minor contractions that had been quiet for a few hours bloomed hot and painful once again, sending waves of spasms through her back and down over her belly. Scully curled around it, drew her legs up as far as they would go. Just a couple of seconds she told herself. Less than a minute. It wasn't so bad, really. She'd known worse pain in her life. When the last of it melted away, Scully took a deep breath and opened her eyes to find Mulder once again kneeling beside the bed. "How are you doing?" he asked, nervous and anxious. "I'm OK," she told him. "Honestly, I'll let you know when we get to the bad part." He have her a weak smile. "I wish I could do this for you." "Yeah," she said on an exhale. "Me, too." He just sat there, watching her, his shoulders slumped, his shirt collar rumpled where it peaked out from under his heavy black wool sweater. There had been blood on his other sweater from her nosebleed. He must have changed while she slept. Scully reached a hand out to him, and he quickly took it up; kissed her knuckles. "I love you," she whispered, and he closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again she saw tears. "I always have, Mulder." He smiled again, despite the twin drops that lined his cheeks. "You're not going to Tibet are you?" he whispered back. "No." "Please," he asked pitifully. She shook her head. No. He leaned in close and laid a kiss on her thumb nail. "All right, then. I'll send you a post card when I get there." "What?!" "Kidding," he assured her with a little self-satisfied chuckle. "I'm kidding." He looked over his shoulder at the two spectators, and then turned back to Scully. "You know, your mother thinks I've corrupted you." He seemed more than a little pleased at the idea. "My mother's a smart lady," Scully told him. And then took a deep breath as another twinge in her back began to spread. "Frohike," she heard her husband call. "Find Logan and tell him to get in touch with Tibet. Maybe he can catch them before they leave." "Fox? Are you sure that's such a good idea?" Margaret asked. "Dana's going to need more help than we're prepared to give her." "It's her call," he said simply. "I won't force her to go against her will. I did that once, a long time ago, to save her life. I swore I'd never do it again. I made a promise that she trusts me to keep." "Damn straight," Scully bit out between clenched teeth. Two days handcuffed to the radiator in Mulder's bathroom had most certainly saved her life while costing the lives of a hundred others she would have tried to warn. It had been the first time he'd ever used his physical strength against her, and at that point the only reason she didn't walk out of his life forever was the fact that when Scully had a chance to cool down and objectively look at the situation, she had to admit that under the circumstances she might very well have done the same to him. "Thanks, Honey," he said. "So, if Scully wants to give birth here, in an unsterilized cabin without medically trained help and pain killing medication, then that's what Scully will have." "Mulder?" "Yes?" "Don't call me Honey." "You know, I've been thinking about pet names -" "Mulder, shut up." "Yes, Dear." ***** Back in their own cabin, Scully sat against the iron headboard. Two new pillows propped her up. It hadn't taken Mulder very long to tidy the place up, but they both feared the smell of scorched feathers would loom in the woodwork forever. With a contented grin, she looked down at her bare middle covered in an intricate design of new and old stretch marks. How could she possibly have another month before delivery? She wondered if they were wrong about the date of conception. For the hundredth time Mulder poked experimentally at her dark, protruding belly button. On his knees, in flannel pajama bottoms and thermal underwear, and a grey sweatshirt he slept in, he made another attempt, showing no signs of growing bored with his new game. "Nathan?" "Not Nathan," Scully said through a yawn. "What's wrong with Adam?" "Adam's nice. A little biblical, but nice," Mulder conceded. "But what if he turns out short and bald with a big nose and an unusual aptitude for catching mice?" "Bald?" Scully gave him a look of mock horror. "I'm just saying, what if he looks more like a Jethro or a Otis or a Bevis than an Adam." "Then he's going to need all the help we can give him - all the more reason to name him Adam," she said with a triumphant grin. "Or Jack. All worthy, manly international spies are named Jack." Scully smirked as she studied her husband. It was hard to tell if he was just being difficult to pass the time, or if he had some true objection to her name of choice. "What if it's a girl?" "Oh, that's easy: Eve." Scully rolled her eyes. "OK. You've made your point. You don't like Adam. So, find something nicer. And not Bevis." Mulder shifted, laying down beside her, and propped up on his left elbow he knocked on the side of her stomach. "Hey, in there. Listen, we're trying to come up with a good name for you, so if you could tell us what you're going to look like, it would make our jobs a lot easier." Scully snickered, and then caught herself when Mulder's eyes shot open in surprise. He froze, jaw hanging open. "What?" she asked, and a two fingers whipped to her nose. Their tips came away clean. He broke out in a wide smile that melted the days fatigue from his face. And in that instant he looked younger than he had in nearly a year. He shook his head. "I can't believe I made you laugh," he said, a goofy grin blossoming across his face. "I mean, it wasn't a full-belly ha-ha, but you *laughed.* God, I love it when you laugh." "You're funny," she told him. Had it really been that long? She tried to think back to the last time either of them had laughed about anything, and tears sprang to her eyes. "Hey, hey!" He quickly cuddled up beside her, pulled her closer, pressed her head to his chest. "Hey, now. Don't cry. I'm funny, remember?" "I'm not crying. I just...." She smoothed the warm flannel sleeve against his forearm. "I wonder how different all this would be if...you had been wrong, instead of so damn right." "Yeah. I wonder that, too, sometimes." "Would we have gotten married if their was no alien invasion?" She looked up at him, at his mind working out a new scenario to that particular facet of their story. "Would you ever have kissed me if we didn't?" He feigned indignity. "Are you implying I'm a prude?" "I think I'm implying that you might very well have never made a move on me." "If memory serves, Dana Scully, you weren't exactly throwing yourself at me, either." The wood popped, and Scully turned to see the newest log had finally given in to flames. The room was still chilly from the hours that day the fire had been allowed to burn out. "I'm sure it would've happened eventually," she said, thoughtful. "Although, maybe not this." She gave a pointed glance at her belly. "Oh, admit it, Scully. You've always been hot for my bod." She rolled her eyes at the playful leer he gave her. "I admit nothing." Mulder reached down to run his hand beneath hers on her stomach. The baby was still, but he didn't seem to mind. He caressed the side of her belly the way Scully often did, and pressed a small kiss to her temple. She leaned in to him, reveling in the feel of his body pressed against hers, the weight of their child within her, heat of the fire on her face, and the comfort of having a filling meal and a soft bed at the end of the day. "Scully... Tell me this: when was the first time you thought about sex with me. And be honest, I'll know if you're lying." "I don't know," she hedged. "When was the first time you thought about sex with me?" "Oh, come on. That's easy. I'm a guy, and you're a woman," he said offhandedly "I thought about fucking you the moment we shook hands." She chose to ignore his choice of vulgarity. "You mean, when we met? Are you kidding?" He didn't bother answering. "Now you tell me your first time." "I can't believe you thought about sleeping with me before you even knew me." "Really? Why? I'm sure most men who met you think about sleeping with you before you even open your mouth. You're hot, Scully. And then, when you do talk - smart is sexy." She glanced down at her stomach. She felt far from sexy. "The first time I thought about sleeping with you was the night I fell in love with you." "You remember exactly when that happened?" he asked, incredulous. "Of course. That moment changed my life. I knew then that I would do anything for you, that I would follow you anywhere, even to the end of the world. I was terrified, and inspired." Mulder shook his head, and she could almost feel him searching through a lifetime of remembrances, looking for that one particular match. "What night?" She sighed against the memory, still crisp all these years later. She could recall the smell of her wet hair, of the detergent that wafted off the motel bed spread. The chill in the room. The way his eyes seem to draw her in until he was the only thing she was conscious of; his voice, his mouth. "I know you must remember," she told him. "I was cold, and frightened, though I refused to admit either. You wrapped me in a blanket and I laid down on your motel bed. It was dangerous. I felt so vulnerable that night. That was one of the things that scared me." "You'd think I'd remember something like that." "The power was out because of the storm, and we talked by candle light. You sat on the floor at the foot of the bed so that I wouldn't feel threatened, and you told me for the first time about your sister. You were so beautiful, so passionate, so determined. You took my breath away. No one had ever done that before." "Are you talking about our first case? In Oregon?" She nodded. "That was the fateful night you stole my heart without even meaning to. That night even the air seemed charged. And there was a connection, or maybe it was just chemistry, but I felt it so strongly that I was sure you were going to make a move on me. But you never did." Mulder ruefully smiled. "That's not my style." "Then, after a couple of months of nothing, I thought you were gay," Scully added. "You WHAT?!" "Only for a week or two," she assured him. "Then Phoebe happened, and I realized the problem wasn't that I wasn't the right sex, I just wasn't your type. That was hard." "Intelligent women are my type. You definitely fit that bill." She flashed him a smile as a reward, and he returned it. "That's not what I thought then. It took a long time for me to work through that, you know. A couple of years to really find acceptance that our partnership - our friendship - as wonderful and fulfilling as it was, was the extent of it. I was really hooked on you, even if I refused to admit it." Mulder shook his head, eyes ablaze. "I really had no idea." "I know. That was intentional." She drew a lazy circle around his knee where the cotton of his pajamas strained. "When did you first realize you loved me?" "Uh...I'm not sure." He sounded disappointed. "It wasn't a realization, per se. It just gradually happened." "But when did you know for sure? When was there a conscious thought?" He swallowed, and his eyes fell to her hand, and he ran his fingers over the blue veins that lined her tendons. "Duane Barry. I knew when he took you that I had to find you...that I couldn't live without you in my life. That's when it clicked. But the feelings I had then, they weren't new. They just had a new name." "Really? That long ago?" "You find that surprising?" "Yes. I had no idea." She glanced back at him. And the edges of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "I know. That was intentional." He leaned his head down and brushed his lips against hers. She pressed up and into the kiss, loving the contact as much as she loved the man. The tip of her tongue asked for entrance, and he responded. They explored each other's mouths, neither eager to escalate the pleasure of the kiss beyond this simple exchange of emotion. She loved him, and he her. They always had, it seemed. And even if Scully had never had the chance to meet her, she felt she had his sister to thank. She must have been a remarkable little girl to have such never-ending devotion from a brother. When Scully was taken, neither of her brothers even took shore leave to console their mother, let alone dedicate their lives to finding her. "Uh...Mulder? What about Sam?" Scully asked. "Boy or girl." He seemed surprised by her suggestion, but took a moment to play with her hair at her shoulder while he thought about it. "Let's not do that. Let's give our baby a chance to make its own history." "I like it when you say 'our baby.'" He smiled as he met her gaze, his expression calm and content. "So do I." He cupped her head, then, and kissed her again. This time his mouth was more demanding. Scully willingly gave as good as she got, and in no time was gasping for breath. She reached down and fumbled with his thermals, pushing the layers down past his hips, and then ran her fingers up through the crisp hair that climbed to his belly button. Mulder growled. "How are we going to do this?" he asked between deep kisses. Then he moved down her neck so she could answer. Except words seemed to have abandoned Scully the moment he began sucking on her throat. She began pulling his shirt over his head, wanting more skin to touch, needing more contact. When he pulled away to toss the remaining clothing aside, she whimpered at the loss. And this made him smile. "I didn't think you'd want to do this," he said, his voice rough and husky. "I always want to do this," she breathed. He yanked her pants down her legs, and then off on to the floor, and pushed her top above the swell of her breasts. Her nipples were hard, and tightened painfully in the cold air. She relished this kind of pain. Mulder crawled beside her, and kissed her again as he slowly snaked a hand from her face to her shoulders, to her sensitive breasts. His fingers only lingered there for a moment, before they continued down over her stomach, circled her belly button. Scully gasped in surprise at the erotic buzz he created there. Then, lower. With one hand he pushed her thighs open, and Scully's pulse immediately shot to her core. The air was like ice, and his touch was pure electricity dancing over her delicate skin. Goose bumps tightened the flesh on her legs and arms, but they both knew it had little to do with the temperature in the room. He found her hot and wet and ready, and took his time teasing her with two fingers and a thumb. Guttural moans clawed their way up her throat. She closed her eyes against the wonderful onslaught of his lips and hand. "Do I need to pull out?" he whispered against her mouth through ragged breaths. "No. No, don't..." She knew what she wanted to tell him, but the words were difficult to hold on to long enough to speak them. Her finger tips ran down his chest, and fondled his hard, flat nipple and then skimmed down his muscular side, to his hip bone...a little to the side, through the dense hair to... He was hot, and hard as stone. She ran her hand along the smooth underside. "Scu - Oh, God." His face jerked away, and Scully opened her eyes to see his clenched shut. "Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God." She liked seeing the desperation in his face, the need and lust, the straining vein at his temple trying to hold back the ocean, and so she reached lower and cupped with a not-so-gentle squeeze. His slippery hand shot to her wrist, and her name was on his lips. "Look at me," he pleaded. "Think about this. Do I need to pull out?" "I told you. No. There's an enzyme in semen - I can't remember now what it's called - that will help my cervix dilate when it's time." She pulled him back into a kiss. "Oh. Jesus. Say...enzyme again," he mumbled against her lips. "Enzyme," she breathed for him. He groaned into her mouth. "You are so hot." He pulled away from her and crawled between her legs, lifting first the right, and then the left, placing the flats of her feet against his chest. "Say semen," he demanded, his voice barely above a rumble. "Semen," she repeated. He inched closer, sitting on his heels, and grabbed himself, pushed his erection into place against her. "God, Scully. Say jazzercise." She giggled, and he thrust inside her, and suddenly all humor was lost on her. His thumb found her swollen knot and began a rhythm that his hips picked up. Slow and even, luxuriating in the sensations of their union, his pelvis worked, rocking into her. Scully watched him in the firelight; beautiful and erotic and spiritual all at once. Inside her, the weight of their child shifted. Mulder's tempo picked up, as did her breathing, and Scully felt a familiar tightening in the very core of her being. Her toes tingled. He slid his free hand down her leg and clutched at her ass. She clenched, pulling the pressure closer. The bed began its lamentable creak, and Scully reached above her head to hold the headboard still. Her breasts were full, her stomach was tight, and her body felt stretched to its limit. "Faster," she managed to eke out. He began to ram into her. His chest muscles strained, the veins in his neck roped. All at once Scully was over come by the sight of him, the feel of him, the sound of his climax, and she found her own crest, and rode it down as he bucked a last few purposeful strokes into her. Mulder waited together for their pulses to settle, for her body to quiet before he pulled free. It was over too soon, and Scully wondered if her whole life with him would be that way; a series of fleeting moments she that would pass before she could stop them. He snuggled up beside her with blankets and his heat, never minding the stickiness of their love making, and kissed her slowly, deeply. "We need to do that more often," he murmured as he settled next to her on the pillow. "Agreed." His hand came to rest on her belly, and his thumb skimmed the underside of her breast. "What about Little Ricky? I could take up lounge singing and you could get into all kinds of crazy hair- brained trouble." She closed her eyes, a smile on her face. "We'll talk about it in the morning." "Or Opie. He turned out pretty good. With that directing thing." "Say good night, Mulder." "Good night, Mulder." ***** End of chapter 15 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 16 ***** "Fly my gentle fantasy." -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, November 5, 2000 Rorschach, Switzerland October 3, 2000 The dim haze that constituted full daylight hadn't dawned when the knock woke them. She'd finally found a comfortable position somewhere between her side and back, tipped backward on top of Mulder who held her in his arms and curled protectively around her. Scully burrowed deeper under the covers, loathe to move. "Who is it?" His voice reverberated through his chest and into her back. The door flew open by way of a response, and several bundled-up people rushed in. Scully pulled the blankets over her head. The door slammed shut. Mulder was livid at the intrusion. "What the -?! Bohr! Frohike? Didn't you call them back -?" "He did, but we came anyway. I should've come a long time ago. Dana's pregnancy shouldn't have gone unmonitored." "I'm fine," she said from her tent. Mulder was sitting up, a protective arm over her as if the blankets were in danger of blowing away. It was more likely she would suffocate in the smell of their lovemaking. That thought made her smile. "Scully's fine, and we don't need you," Mulder insisted. "So get back on your plane, and go back to Tibet. "Because you're going to deliver her baby?" Bohr sounded amused at the thought. "I'm going to deliver *our* baby, yes." Mulder's voice was sharp and dangerous. At that point Scully wouldn't have been surprised if the two of them started circling and sniffing each other's asses. "No running water, no electricity. No trained doctors other than the mother-to-be. Are you seriously telling me I'm not needed? You can't possibly want your wife to give birth in a place like this. Without pain killers." "She made the choice, and I'm choosing to support her." "Uh...Mulder?" He hesitated before peeking under the blankets. "Huh?" "Does he really have pain killers?" "Marcaine and methylprednisolone," Bohr called to her, delighted at her interest. "He stays," Scully said with absolute finality. If the Braxton Hicks were this bad, there was no way she wanted to face full blown labor without an epidural. "But, Scully -" Mulder began. She cut him off, and peeked out over the top of the covers. "Frohike, help Dr, Bohr find a warm place to sleep tonight. He may be with us for a while." Frohike nodded, glaring at the man because Mulder did, and trying to size him up. "And we're back to Dr. Bohr again," the Brit said solemnly. His shoulders sagging just a little, but he wore the shavings of a grin on his face. He looked much older. His straight blond hair had been trimmed, and his wire-rimmed glasses had the ear piece taped on. It was probably just as hard to find an optometrist in Tibet as it was in their small mountain-side village. "Yes, we are," she said after a moment. "Thank you for coming all this way for me." "I did it for all of us," he told her. "But...you're welcome." And then he followed Frohike out into the night. ***** The next morning Scully waddled out of the bathroom, hands at either side of her lower back, towel over her wet head, and gown stretched over her stomach. She was huge, and uncomfortable, and restless. The remainder of the night had been a series of attempted tosses and turns until she couldn't lie still anymore, and decided to pace instead. At least that way Mulder was able to get a little sleep. Scully thought she might never sleep again. So, when she saw the rifle lying against the inside of her husband's thigh, she was just tired enough to not know how to respond. She stood and stared, and he glanced at her before turning back to wiping down the wood handle. "I got it from the hunting party. They asked me to join the hunt next week, and I told them I would. Someone's got to bring back another elk or we'll all be doomed to be vegetarians." "You got it because you think it's a firearm, and you want some way to protect your family," she corrected. "Yes, damn it!" he exploded. "I want to protect my family!" She couldn't tell if he was angry at her, or just in general. "If they're coming, then I need to be prepared. Forgive me if I don't cook up some pig-in-the-blankets and invite them in!" She crossed to him, and ran a hand through his spiky bed-head hair. He leaned against her stomach, and wrapped an arm around her. "You know that rifle isn't going to protect us, don't you? Not from a power that can obliterate an entire mountain." "Then what do we do, Scully? Run? Hide?" "No." She lifted his chin until she had his gaze, and she smiled for him. "Just breathe. Don't think about the future. Live for now. Enjoy this moment that we have-" "Scully, stop." He pushed her to arms length and shook his head. "You're scaring me even more. What do you know that you're not telling me?" "Nothing," she whispered, not trusting her voice. Tears had already begun to pool behind her lashes. There was nothing to tell beyond the fears that they both shared. And that Scully was beginning to think that the preparation that Charlie had spoken of was not so much to save their child, but to say good-bye to her soulmate. ***** October 14, 2000 The basinet was built with the hard wood of a fir tree toppled not far from the small village by the sheer weight of ice and snow. Dag must have spent weeks carving the branches and sanding them soft and smooth to create the delicate rails and rockers. It was exquisite in its rustic beauty. And folded inside were several blankets cut down to baby size, with little blue and green fish stitched on them in a crude but adorable way. "Baby's bed," Dag said, tentative and hopeful. He watched Scully's expression carefully, and seemed pleased by her surprise. "It's beautiful," Scully said on an exhale. She didn't know how to thank him properly. To be honest, Scully hadn't given any thought to where her newborn would sleep. And, from the look on his face, neither had Mulder. "This is amazing, Dag. Really." He ran his hand along the pale, unfinished wood and they watched it rock from side to side. It was hard to visualize a tiny person inside it. "We love it. Thank you." Scully nodded. "Thank you." "And see?" Dag gave the basinet a good, hard push. "It not drop the baby." The rocker feet were wider at the end, and had a small knob hammered through them that stopped the bed from toppling. "Safe for baby." "Look at that," Mulder mumbled, clearly captivated. Dag beamed, and his pale blue eyes followed Mulder as he bent down to give the bassinet several good rocks. Mulder gave a light chuckle, and something in Dag's expression shifted and took Scully by surprise. There was more there than simple friendship, something more that she recognized, and made her chest contract. And then, as Scully stood with her hands supporting her lower back, a huge gush swept through her and onto the wood floor. She gasped, as her center of gravity instantly changed, and reached out as the baby dropped heavily into her pelvis. Dag caught her arms and steadied her, his eyes bugging out of his face like a cartoon character. "Show time," Mulder said under his breath, quickly stepping in and taking her arms from Dag. He led her to the bed, but she didn't want to sit down. "I'm going to be sticky," she told him quietly. "Maybe we could clean up a little first?" "Right." He glanced over his shoulder. "Dag, would you find Dr. Bohr, please, and let him know that Scully's water just broke?" "Water broke?" Dag repeated. "Thanks," Mulder said on his way to the bathroom. He wet a towel, and then brought it back to Scully. "I have another gown in the drawer," she said. "And some new socks, please." Dag was rushing to put on his coat, and didn't bother to tie his scarf, but he froze in the open door. "Dag? What is it?" He turned back, a puzzled expression on his face. "No snow." Scully looked past him, and listened. The blizzard had stopped. Her heart rate instantly doubled. Mulder lifted the black-out curtain they used to stop the draft. "Scully, you're not going to believe this: it stopped snowing." The three of them were still, listened to the a quiet they hadn't heard since they left the City. "I guess this is it," Mulder said, a nervous excitement in his voice. The waiting was over. "How are you feeling?" "Good," she told him. And tired, and hungry, and a little chilled. And terrified. Don't forget terrified. ***** Scully's knuckles were white as she bore down at the foot of their iron-frame bed, the metal becoming support and an outlet for the pain. Never, never in her life had there been so much without relief, and with the knowledge that now her water had broken it was quickly going to become even worse. Her contractions were seven minutes apart and lasting upwards of a minute apiece. While they hit she leaned against the bed rail, clenching her teeth and tried to keep her vocals just below a full-blown scream. The screaming upset Mulder to the verge of panic and Scully didn't want to have to send him away. She needed him close. Between contractions she rocked her weight from foot to foot, trying to help the baby down into her pelvis. "Mulder, find something to tie my hair back," she commanded. She was cool but her face felt like it was burning up. "Like what? he asked, glancing around the cabin. "Anything!" she snapped. She watched as he ruffled through their clothes drawers, and then disappeared into the bathroom. "Do we have any dental floss?" "Have you used any since we got here?" she muttered under her breath. "Forget it, Mulder," she called out, with a roll of her eyes. She tried to focus on taking deep breaths, on the baby moving inside her. There had been a significant drop in the amount of kicking from her little passenger in the previous few weeks - something she knew was normal considering the lack of space it had to move around in there. Now there seemed to be ample room for it to punch at her liver and kidneys. Mulder's icy fingers on her neck startled her. She glanced back to see him smiling at her over her shoulder, but he gently turned her head away from him and began pulling her hair back in a pony tail. "You found floss?" "Shoelace," he told her. "Or bootlace. It's not pretty, but it'll do the job. She felt one of his fingers briefly trace the scar at the base of her neck. He inhaled, and then kissed her shoulder. "How you holding up?" "How long have we been doing this?" "About five hours," he said. Frohike had lent him his watch. "Then OK," she decided. "First time labors often last twelve hours. It could be a really long day." "I don't have anywhere else to be," he said lightly. "You take all the time you need." "Another one's coming," she warned, and then leaned forward against the bed for the onslaught. Mulder stood beside her and reminded her to breathe, and when the contraction finally passed he looked at the time, and then jotted it down in her journal on the table. ***** October 15, 2000 Pain, pain, pain, pain. It was all she could think about, the pressure and the pain. There were voices around her, angry and frantic, but Scully couldn't think beyond the unbearable pain. She was freezing and drenched in sweat. She couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. Her head might explode. She heard her name through cotton ears, but another contraction started building, and she took a deep breath and began to bare down. She couldn't tell if it was doing any good. The pain was consuming; it clouded the world, made it thick. A hand on her arm. "No! Don't touch me!" She couldn't handle the added sensation. Everything was pain. She was being ripped in half. "Scully, Bohr wants to give you something to ease the pain," "Yes, yes," she gasped. "It will slow the contractions for a while." "Yes," she pleaded. "Yes." Another hand on her arm, and she screamed. The pain was too much, more than she could handle. She began to shake. Or, had she been shaking all along? "Try to breathe, Scully. Slow, regular breaths." Breathe, breathe, she said in her head. The word was meaningless. "It should feel hot in your veins. Relax into the heat." It was Mulder talking to her, whispering. He was close. She cried. The hot shooting through her system made her shiver even more. They heaped blankets of top of her. Another contraction. So much pain. "She's been pushing for four hours." "The baby's too big. Or, her pelvis is too small." "Cesarian." "Impossible. I don't have the tools or the medication. It might save the baby, but she'd bleed to death." "She's been at this for more than twenty hours. She's exhausted." "She'll be able to rest for a little while, but I'm worried about stressing the baby." "You have to get it out!" "Get it out," Scully echoed. "Please. Get it out of me." Then, everything went quiet and cold, and Scully found some peace in unconsciousness. "Where is Mulder?" Scully opened her eyes to find her mother sitting by her bedside. "I sent him to get us something to eat. He was upset. He needed a moment to himself." Scully ran a hand over the hard mound of her belly. "How long was I out?" "About two hours. Longer than Dr. Bohr expected. He'll be back in half an hour to check on you." "You look tired, Mom." She smiled. "I'm OK." "Mom. I need you to promise me, that if something happens to me, or the baby, that you'll -" "Nothing's going to happen, Dana. It's just taking a little longer that usual, that's all." "Mom, please. I need to know that Mulder's going to be all right. Please promise me that you'll look after him...take care of him. Help him." "Fox will be fine, Dana. And so will you and the baby." "I lost him, Mom. When we were in the Hidden City. He left because he thought I needed something and I thought he...We lost contact with his plane, and we thought he was dead. I thought..." A sob erupted from her chest. "Oh, Mom. I thought I would never see him again." "He's here, Dana," her mother said to calm her. "He's fine." "Promise me he won't be alone. Take care of him. Tell him how much I love him." The tears were hot on her face. She stifled another sob as a major contraction took over already aching muscles. She didn't have the energy. Didn't have the strength. But it came anyway, and she knew the next one would be worse. ***** October 16, 2000 Mulder sat against the headboard, pillow behind him, and Scully leaned back into him. Her head fell against his left shoulder, her fingers dug into his knees. He held her thighs up and back while she pushed because she simply couldn't do it anymore. And he was warm. And he told her how much he loved her until she told him to shut up. The pain was too much, and she wasn't making any headway. It didn't matter if the Colonists came for her, she wasn't going to survive the birth. "Cut it out," she told Bohr. Then, gasped in a couple of breaths before the next onslaught began. Bohr sat on the bed as well, between her legs. "Come on, my dear. The baby is positioned. One big push to get it on its way -" "CUT IT OUT!" It didn't matter if she made it or not. What mattered was her child. "Cesarian. Now!" "Scully," Mulder began, but he didn't get any farther. The next contraction came hard and fast, they were on top of each other, and Scully screamed at the pain, at the injustice, and the grief of knowing she wouldn't get to see her baby learn to walk, or talk, or laugh. She screamed because her heart was so full, and it was breaking like the rest of her, ripping, splitting in two. "Dana." She didn't have to open her eyes to know Charlie was standing by the bed. "You're strong enough," he said. "I'm not!" she cried, angry at him for promising her the impossible. "They're almost here, Dana." She shook her head. She couldn't care about the aliens. There was only so much energy left inside her, and it was all for the baby. "You have to get him out of the cabin. He'll fight them if he's here." The rifle was propped by the door. She knew it was loaded. Another contraction hit, and she cried out. "Tell him, Dana. They'll kill him if you don't." "No," she whimpered, as she bore down. "Dana. It's all up to you now. He can't help you." "I can't do it," she whispered. "Tell him now, Dana! Make him leave! Save him, Dana! THEY'RE ALMOST HERE!" "You can do it," Mulder coaxed in her ear. "NO!" she screamed. "NO!" Scully collapsed against her husband. So much pain. So very much pain. "Scully?" He was terrified. So was she. "My mother," she breathed. "Get my mother." "Scully?" "Now!" "I don't want to leave you-" "NOW! Bohr helped him slip out from under her. "Hurry," she urged. "Mulder, please hurry." He didn't even stop to grab his coat. The next contraction was the strongest yet, and if it was possible, even more painful. She screamed, but her voice broke, and all that came out was air. "You can do this," Charlie told her. "You're strong enough." Scully reached down for Bohr's hands and dug her heels into the bed in front of his knees, and she pushed with everything she had left. There was a snap of bone, a pop, and an enormous gush. She fell back on to the mattress, her head just missing the pillow. She could breathe again, but the pressure in her head expanded tenfold. A weight was laid across her chest. Her hands automatically went around it. Wet and warm. Tiny. She looked down at a little head, and hair, and an arm with a little hand, and fingernails. Real fingernails on real fingers. Four of them, plus a tiny, perfect thumb. She was able to raise her head to kiss her child's crown before the room flashed white, and then disappeared all together. She never even saw the aliens coming. ***** end of chapter 16 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 17 ***** "I look at Renee and see everything that I am not. I know Mulder confides in her, I know he trusts her and it's good that he has a friend in this godforsaken world. Other than me. But part of me remembers a time when he said he trusted only me, and wants that back. And the other part of me says, 'Exactly. Don't you see? Renee would never want that.'" -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, February 10, 2000 Rorschach, Switzerland November 5, 2000 Bright. Bright. Too bright. Even with her eyes squeezed shut. Tiny body curled over her chest. Cold. Aches all over. Just snatches of sensation, everything else was hazy and intangible. The smell of old ashes. A sigh. Then a gasp. "Scul..." Mulder's voice, somewhere close, low and desperate. She cracked her eyes just enough to see his figure shadowed against the blinding yellow light from the window, and then him collapse to the floor with a heavy thud. She tried to reach out for him, to help him but she couldn't move, couldn't keep her eyes open. Too bright. Scully tried to call out, but nothing escaped her lips but air. The baby made a sound. Then, it was quiet in the cabin, and she was so very tired. "Dana?" Her mother's voice, close to tears. "Dana, can you hear me?" "Baby," she tried to say, but her voice was gone. She couldn't remember why. The baby was cold. Cover the baby. Suddenly, there was the weight of cold blankets, of hands moving her arms, her legs. A door slammed open. Foot steps everywhere. People talking at once. "Is the baby...?" It was Bohr. "They're here! And alive...Good, Lord! The umbilical cord is still intact! It's impossible! How can this be?" "Is she real? Scully?" Mulder was closer, and she felt the bed dip beside her. "Come on, baby, talk to me." "Dana, can you hear us?" her mother asked again. Scully forced her eyes open again. Mulder was on her left. His eyes were swollen and red, his hair ragged. The beginnings of a beard covered his face. With a heavy, limp hand she reached out to touch his cheek, and his hand came up to cover hers. She lowered his fingers to their child's head, and he slowly ran his palm over the fine, wet hair. His hand shook as he touched their baby for the first time, and Scully knew she would never forget the awe in his eyes. "How?" he asked, shocked and reverent. "Strong enough," she mouthed, and offered a faint smile. Charlie had been right all along. He leaned in and kissed her temple, a sob escaped his wet lips. She closed her eyes, exhausted and aching. "Eighteen days, Scully. You were gone. Just gone. And the storm and the baby. All gone." He kissed her cheek as he mumbled, his tears left wet kisses wherever his words touched her. "I thought I lost you forever." Scully shook her head, and moved her lips. Mulder leaned down to catch her breath against his ear. When she said the words, he looked into her eyes, searching, frightened. "What did she say, Fox?" her mother asked. He swallowed, his eyes lifting to his mother-in-law, and then back down to Scully. "She said she saw God." There was something in his expression that she couldn't quite read. A hand slipped under hers on the baby's back, and Scully looked up to see Bohr gently shifting her newborn. "I'm going to tie off the cord, Dana." She swallowed and nodded. "You have a beautiful daughter," he told her as he worked. "Daughter?" Mulder's voice cracked. "Daughter. A little girl. Scully, we have a daughter." He kissed her again, but she couldn't respond. Her body relaxed into exhaustion while her mind wound tight around the little girl curled across her breast. "Dana, I'm going to take her for a couple of minutes to do a quick evaluation. I'll bring her right back." She felt the warmth and weight lifted from her body. For the first time in ten months, Scully was alone in her body, and the sensation scared her. She reached out and clutched at Mulder's arm. "Stay with her," she told him, voiceless and imploring. "Don't let her out of your sight." He left her side, and the bed, presumably to follow their baby girl. Scully couldn't open her eyes to check. Mulder would protect her. On her right, her mother took her hand. "Is there something I can get you?" Eyes still closed, Scully shook her head no. Cold wafted over her legs as the blanket was pulled off. "Dana,, dear? Are you still with us?" Why did people insist on demanding responses from her? She needed to sleep. Reluctantly, she managed to nod. "There's a significant amount of blood. I want to get the placenta delivered as soon as possible. Give me a couple of quick pushes." She tried to do as Bohr asked, but the muscles wouldn't respond. She'd been pushed to her limit. Her head was swimming, and starting to sink. "We could try breast feeding. That may stimulate the uterus to expel the placenta on its own," Bohr suggested. "May?" Mulder asked. "Let's try it and find out, shall we? Dana? Can you sit up for us?" Bohr's continued badgering made her want to cry. Wouldn't they just leave her alone? Couldn't they see she was worn out? "No." She didn't have to have a voice for them hear her finality. "Go away." "Dana, honey," her mother cajoled. "We'll help you." "Go away," she mouthed. "Won't the bleeding stop on its own?" Mulder asked. "Not until the placenta is delivered. I'm concerned that her pelvis might be fractured. From the shape and size of the baby's head it's easy to diagnose cephalopelvic disproportion, and I've never heard of a case where the baby was expelled naturally with this condition. It's quite astonishing, actually." "But...the baby's OK. You said so yourself." Mulder sounded scared. He was somewhere behind her mother. Scully cracked her eyes open just enough to see him standing, pensive, their bundled child cradled in his arms. "She looks fine," Bohr assured him. "She has strong vitals, and seems to be intact neurologically. I'm more worried about Dana. Once we get her placenta out I can begin to treat any other injuries she might have." Scully watched as her husband passed the baby to her mother, and then knelt beside the bed. "Hey," he whispered to her. "I know your tired, but I need you to do this. I'll help." How could he possibly help? She wanted to laugh, or cry, or scream. But with him looking at her so earnestly, so intently, Scully knew she had no choice but to do as she asked.. Slowly she closed her eyes and gave him a nod. He helped her sit up, and then, instead of adjusting the pillows behind her, Mulder slipped in, to become a warm chair back. His bent legs were the perfect height for arm rests. She leaned her head back against his shoulder while he unbuttoned the first four buttons of her gown. "How do we do this...?" He eased the flap of her gown open, and her mother laid the baby down at her breast. Scully opened her eyes and saw her daughter's face for the first time. Two swollen eyes, a tiny perfect nose, pink baby doll lips, round cheeks, a cone head that would round out in a day or so. Long light lashes. A clef in her chin like her father, and his long, thin legs. She was beautiful. And completely uninterested in the offered nipple. The baby was as tired as Scully was. "Is there something we're supposed to do?" Mulder asked. "If the baby isn't interested..." Bohr cleared his throat, and his cheeks flushed red. "We may need to resort to other forms of nipple stimulation." "What do you mean *we*?" Mulder's tone was sharp. "You," Bohr quickly amended. "Of course, I meant you." Scully closed her eyes to their petty childishness, and let her head lull against her husband's neck. Her arms were propped up by his knees, so there was no fear of dropping the baby as she let sleep slip over her. She registered Mulder's voice as it vibrated through her, but the words were lost. She felt her gown tugged closed, and then his warm hand slipping inside, cupping and massaging her swollen breast. Scully allowed his tender ministrations ease her to sleep; she surrendered willingly to him. The baby's rhythmic cries jerked Scully back to consciousness with a pounding heart and gasps for air. Mulder's reassuring presence behind her on the bed helped to calm her. She glanced up at him when she realized they were alone in the room, and the blankets over her legs had been returned. She didn't remember delivering the afterbirth, but she knew she must have. "It's been a couple of hours. I think our little girl is finally hungry." Scully glanced down at her disgruntled daughter. Her hair had lightened as it dried, to a soft brown or dark blond - it was hard to tell by firelight. Mulder helped her loosen the swaddling around the baby and open her gown again. Then they lifted their child's head, his hand supporting hers. Immediately the newborn began suckling, and Scully gasped at the intensity of the sensation. "Does it hurt?" Mulder asked, concerned. She shook her head no. Even if she could talk, there were no words to describe it. Physical crashed with emotional as Scully watched her daughter draw nourishment. Her wide eyes fluttered contentedly, her tiny fists opened and closed. This wasn't some abstract idea of having a child with Mulder. They actually created a whole other person, someone with feelings, with needs. The enormity of what they'd done finally hit her. And tears began to stream down her cheeks. She was too drained to stop them. "Hey," Mulder said quietly. "Is it that bad?" She looked up at him, this wonderful man she loved and cherished, the father of her child, and smiled through the tears. If it was possible, she loved him more now than every before. She stretched up and kissed him, and her breast popped out of the baby's mouth. It took a minute of fussing to get her to latch on again. "You know, she doesn't look like an Adam to me," Mulder whispered playfully into Scully's ear. "But I know you're attached to that name." He ran a light finger over their daughter's round cheek. "I'd like to make a couple suggestions, though, on the off chance that you don't want her to hate us when she hits puberty." Scully gave a humored snort. "Instead of Adam, I was thinking of Luke or Paul." Scully tied not to smile at his attempts of humor at her expense. "OK, OK. We'll call her Adam. But don't blame me when the therapy bills get out of control." "Jane?" Scully mouthed to him. "Are you serious? You want to name that beautiful little girl Jane? Why not name her Dull and get it over with." Scully rolled her eyes. Jane was a perfectly good name. And non- Biblical, something Mulder seemed interested in. "What about Alexandra? Or Elizabeth?" he suggested. "Something fit for a queen?" They were such big names for such a small baby. Although, not too small, her body reminded her. She probably got her oversized head from her father. She'd have to remember to mention that when she got her voice back. Scully yawned, and watched as her daughter happily suckled away, a line of moisture gathered between her little rosy lips and Scully's darkened aureole. It was unreal to think that she as the sole source of sustenance for the little person in her arms, and at the same time it seemed the most natural thing in the world. Mulder spoke quietly: "Scully, I want you to think about this before you respond. You asked me once if I had been wrong about the Colonists would we still be here. I know now with complete certainty that the answer is yes. Because looking at her, holding you both..." His voice cracked, and all three of them gently shook as he gave into the tears. "I want to name her Destiny." Leave it to Mulder to want to name their daughter after something she didn't even believe in. And yet, as Scully looked down at the baby cradled against her, she knew it had to be real because she was holding Destiny in her arms. Her Destiny. With a tender touch, Scully laced her fingers through his, and he pressed his face into her hair. It took him a couple of deep breaths to collect himself, and when he did, Scully looked up at him, tears in her own eyes, and smiled. And maybe, she thought, Jane as a middle name. ***** Feedings seemed to be every two hours like clockwork, and Scully was beyond the magic of breast feeding after the third time her daughter woke her wailing. She ached all over, and her hips were killing her, and she was so tired that it was difficult to hold the baby's head up to her breast. After the third feeding, Scully decided a trip to the restroom was necessary, and promptly collapsed against a helpful Mulder not even two steps away from the bed. The pain was excruciating, like jagged glass rammed through her pelvis. She lost control of her bladder, and nearly blacked out, and spent the next fifteen minutes apologizing to her husband who assured her that there was nothing to apologize for as he cleaned both her and the floor. Bohr was forced from his bed at Mulder's insistence, and examined Scully again. The bleeding was now at a normal postpartum flow, and he was certain that the excessive pain and discomfort was from a inconsequential fracture in her pelvis that would most certainly heal in a matter of weeks. He considered it superficial, but then, he couldn't feel it, Scully silently fumed. They all agreed that she would hold off on the pain killers at least until Scully's milk came in - Scully less readily than the men. But she knew that her pain and discomfort were short term issues, and that her daughter was to come first. But as the days stretched in a week, it was difficult to imagine that her body would ever recover, even if her voice had begun its crude attempt at a come back. She still looked pregnant, though her belly wasn't nearly as distended as it had been before she gave birth. Her breasts, on the other hand, were so swollen she thought they might explode. The discomfort and frustration of trying to nurse a sleepy baby combined with her ever-present fatigue left her in tears. "Hey, now." Mulder emerged from the bathroom, a towel around his waist. Water dribbled down his shoulders and chest from his wayward wet hair, left messy after a rough towel dry. "What's wrong?" he asked, and took a seat beside her on the bed. "She won't eat," Scully managed to croak out. She knew she was over-reacting, but couldn't help the onslaught of emotion. "You've been feeding her for twenty minutes. She's probably full." He smiled as he took the baby from her, and rocked her a few times against himself. "Why don't we let her sleep in her own bed for the rest of the night, and let you try to get some sleep." "She'll just be up again in a couple of hours anyway," Scully excused and reached for her daughter. "Give her to me." Mulder didn't surrender her. "Come on, Scully. She's out like a light." He turned and placed her in the wooden basinet and moved it between the bed and the fireplace so Scully could see the baby sleep. "But, Mulder, I need her to fed. I can't rest like this." She coughed as her voice caught in her throat. "Sorry, Sport. She's catching her Zs." He carefully covered the newborn and tucked the blanket around her. "Look at her sleep. She's amazing." Scully looked down at her exposed breast and a new set of tears flooded her vision. If only she had a breast pump. Or a mastectomy. There was no way she'd ever fit back into a bra again. Ever. "Scully? Is it really that bad?" "I don't know why we come equipt with two if most births result in a single child. There's more lactation than she can possibly ingest." "Ooo, Scully. I love it when you speak doctor to me," Mulder said with a playful leer. She rolled her eyes, and closed the flap of her gown. "Never mind." "Now, wait," Mulder said by way of apology. He brushed her hand away and pushed the flannel aside. His eyes were full of her breast. "You're so beautiful," he muttered, and ran a single finger over the underside of her nipple. It tightened at the brief contact. "Mulder, cut it out." "This is just temporary, right? Things are going to go back...down to normal?" "Well...in size, yes. But my breasts will never be what they were." "And they are uncomfortable this size?" "They're full." She sighed heavily and rolled her head back against the pillow propping it up. "Do we really have to talk about this?" Her raspy voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. He leaned in and lifted her head to kiss. And that sweet, gentle kiss quickly opened into something deeper. His tongue searched hers out, parted her lips with a plunging thrust. A thumb brushed a tear from her cheek and then he reached back and cupped her head to him. Scully melted into his kiss, and for a moment forgot to breathe. When she came up for air, her sanity fell back into place, and she knew that they weren't going to go where he was leading for a number of weeks. "Mulder," she said with a heavy gravel, "We can't." "If this makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me to stop. But I want to help," he whispered, seductive. Scully found herself mesmerized by the movement of his lower lip hovering so close to her own. "Let me help, Scully." He kissed her mouth again, and then trailed to her chin. His lips left a line of moist caresses down the side of her neck where he stopped to nibble for a handful of heartbeats. Scully didn't understand how this was going to help, but she couldn't quite bring herself to make him stop yet. Mulder had an effect on her than no other man could compare. Her body responded to him, even as tired and sore as it was. She hated the control he had over her, and worshiped it. Mulder kissed a line across her collar bone, and then down on to the fleshy side of her breast. Each successive kiss took him closer and closer to the sensitive tip of her tight nipple. When he finally brushed his lips over it she gasped, and discovered she'd been holding her breath. With his quick glance up to ask permission to continue Scully finally understood what he intended. Her eyes grew wide, her heart raced, her face flushed Should she let him? Would she stop him? Something in the back of her mind mumbled something about hygiene and keeping the nipple sterile for the baby, but Scully wasn't listening because his hot mouth closed over her breast, and Mulder began to suck. Her hands shot to his head, her fingers wove through his wet hair, her nails tracked his scalp as his tongue toyed with her. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move except to say, "Harder." His eyes fluttered shut, and his mouth opened wider, and he took more of her breast in his mouth as his work intensified. Scully watched his throat bob as he swallowed. The flood of emotions that followed ranged from arousal to relief; from gratitude to something that could only be described as love. Tears again sprang to her eyes, pooling behind the dam of her lashes, filling her vision the way Mulder filled her heart. She looked down at her sleeping child, one fist raised to her open mouth. The pull Scully felt for her was unlike anything she had ever known. Mulder seemed deliriously happy when he held their daughter, and talked to her, like he'd finally found that ever- illusive truth he'd spent his life searching for. This is how she had always imagined he'd be if he were to find his sister. Maybe in Destiny he found something better. No matter what he did Mulder would never be able to erase the mistakes of his father, but to this precious little girl he could be the father he should've had. "Is this what it's like when she's feeding?" he asked, a crooked grin on his face. "Not even close," Scully whispered, and pulled his head up for a kiss. "Thank you," she added. "That thanks is all mine," he assured her with a twinkle in his eye. "And we're only half done." ***** End of chapter 17 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 18 ***** "Logan is a complicated man. And in him I see what I could so easily have become; bitter, angry, withered, alone. But to understand someone doesn't necessarily mean to like them. Is it even possible to like someone you pity?" -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, May 7, 2000 Rorschach, Switzerland November 18, 2000 "I told you I don't want to talk about it." Scully, on her back on the wood floor, brought her knees as far up to her heavy chest as she could, and then inhaled as she eased her bent legs back down. Twenty-seven; a new postpartum record. "Eighteen days, Scully." "For you, not me." She pulled her legs back up into a crunch. The burning in her stomach was a luxury now that the pain in her pelvis was waning. Slowly, her body was returning to some semblance of normal, all except her breasts which had ballooned beyond anything Scully could have anticipated, much to Mulder's continued delight. "For everyone on Earth, Scully. Eighteen days. You were gone. Dessy was gone." "Stop saying that." She returned her shaky legs back to the floor again. "And please don't call her Dessy." Mulder sighed. "I can't. I can't stop thinking about it, Scully. What happened? You said you saw God." "Or something god-like," Scully quickly corrected. "It was over so fast -" "Eighteen days." Scully relaxed into the floor with a sigh. "Mulder you understand that what you're saying is physiologically impossible, don't you? I can't have given birth on the sixteenth of October and still have the umbilical cord attached on November 5th. My body couldn't have survived that long without delivering the placenta. Neither could Destiny." Mulder nodded, serious and fascinated. "And yet..." Scully released her legs back down and took a deep breath. "And yet," she conceded. It was hard to challenge him beyond the statement of scientific fact because that whole stretch of time was becoming increasingly cloudy in her memory. "Happy anniversary, by the way." "Huh?" "October 16th. Our wedding anniversary. How quickly they forget." A slow smile of recognition dawned across his face. "It's been a year." The sun was warm through the window, and the skies above were clear and blue. The snow seemed endless on the landscape, but the days were much warmer, and surely the snow would soon be gone. Outside, Scully heard the laughter of children running and playing. "They say that if a marriage survives its first year, there's a fifty- fifty chance it'll make it," she casually mentioned. "You saw God, Scully." Mulder wasn't about to let her get side- tracked. "What did He say? "You don't even believe in God," she said. "And what makes you think He was a man?" "Tell me what you experienced while you were gone for eighteen days." Scully closed her eyes. The baby fussed a little and Mulder cooed to her until she settled back down. Scully heard the bassinet rock gently. "I know why they were here," Scully said, unsure she wanted to voice what she hadn't had a chance to process yet. She knew this was a topic she and Mulder would debate for the rest of their lives, and it felt like she was jumping in the lake head first without really knowing how deep it was. Or what monsters might be living below the surface. "The Colonists? You mean, besides their blood thirsty desire to Colonize?" "They're not colonists. They never intended to colonize our planet. That's what our governments told us." She peeked at him when he didn't respond, and found that she still had his complete and undivided attention. He lifted his eyebrows, unsure, and Scully tried to reason it out for him. "If they were colonists, where are their colonies? Why would they create a world so completely inhospitable to life?" The bed creaked as Mulder slipped off of it and sat beside her on the floor. He folded his legs and leaned forward. "Why were they here, Scully?" "To save us." And she began to explain. ***** November 24, 2000 The door stood open to the mild warmth of the day, or Mulder would've slammed it open as he entered. He wore his heavy boots and the jeans and long sleeved black shirt he'd left in that morning - all covered with blood. "My God, Mulder!" Scully launched off the bed in her rush to get to him, in her hurry ignoring the sharp twinge in her hips. "Are you OK? What the hell happened?" "Damn it, Scully! We're becoming vegetarians!" He smacked his hunting rifle down on the table top, and it knocked her mother's worn Bible to the floor. Mulder seemed angry, not hurt. Scully scooped the Bible up quickly. "Please lower your voice," she instructed, and laid the book down safely on the bed next to sleeping infant, who was walled in with pillows. "I'd like to keep the baby on her schedule." He glanced guiltily at their child and then relaxed when he saw she hadn't stirred. "It's hot in here," he griped, and glared at the window. "You don't need to keep feeding the fire. It's warm out." "It will get cold when the sun goes down, and the heat is good for Destiny." "I thought your mother was going to take her today." "I know. She didn't." Scully had yet to have the baby out of her sight. She accepted the scrutinizing glare Mulder threw at her as penance for getting her mother's hopes up at spending a whole day alone with her new grand daughter. "I'm just not ready yet." "You know she'd be fine, don't you?" "I know." "OK." He didn't press the issue, but instead pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it through the bathroom door. That entire room was apparently his new clothes hamper. "So, explain to me why we're becoming vegetarians when you have an aversion to most things green. And why you're covered in blood." "That thing is a piece of junk," he said, pointing to the rifle with a jerk of his jaw. "It's impossible to hit anything smaller than a Buick with it." He sat heavily on one of the low stools and kicked his boots off, and then stripped out of his jeans. "Isn't that the rifle that all the guys in the hunting party use?" "What are you saying? That I'm a lousy shot?!" He balled up the bloody jeans and tossed them into the bathroom, too. "Easy, Tiger," Scully said, raising her hands in surrender. "I'm on your side, remember?" Mulder shook his head. "I missed two easy kills, Scully. Clear shots while that damned elk just stood there looking at me." He jumped up from the stool and grabbed the water jug from the hearth, then strode purposefully into the bathroom. "Logan didn't miss." He poured half a basin and then began to scrub his hands and arms. "So, you missed? So what?" "You either kill them, or butcher them. And I didn't kill him." With a sigh, Mulder braced himself against the sink.. "I don't know how you did it, Scully. Cutting into a body like that. With all the blood, and the smell, and ...sawing through bone." "Why didn't you come and get me?" Scully asked, and leaned against the door frame. "And please don't tell me it's because you're the man. I'm not going to play gender roles with you." His reflection in the mirror glanced at her, annoyed. "So I'm supposed to come crying to you? That's the kind of husband you want?" "I don't want a *kind* of a husband, Mulder. I want you. And you aren't comfortable around blood and gore -" "I should've kill it," he snapped. "And maybe next time you will. Mulder, everyone has off days -" "No! I missed on purpose," he said bitterly. He began to scrub again. "I couldn't kill it. Not even to feed my family. For fuck's sake, Scully, I killed Krycek! I murdered him!" There were tears in his eyes, and his face turned red with anger and frustration. "I'm a murderer, and I couldn't shoot a fucking elk!" "Mulder," she reached out to him, but he brushed her hand away. Still in his socks Mulder pushed past her and fled out the door, apparently oblivious to his state of undress. Or maybe not. Maybe he just needed to get away from her that badly. Scully took her time collecting his dirty clothes and dumping them in the tub, and then pulled clean jeans and a shirt from his drawer. Then, she bundled the baby in her blanket and went to her mother's cabin. The door was wide open. "Hello," Scully called inside. "Mom?" "Around back, Dana," her mother yelled. Scully followed the shoveled pathway past the covered stack of fire wood to the clearing behind the cabin. Her mother had a few blankets spread out over the ice, and was sitting in the sun mending clothes. "Hello, Dear," she greeted with a smile. "Come for a visit?" "Can you watch the baby for me?" "Of...course." The request surprised her mother; she'd already made the attempt to babysit her grand daughter once that day. "Is everything all right? You look upset." "I'm OK. Something's up with Mulder. I need to talk with him." Margaret reached up and took her sleeping grandchild. "We'll be fine. Don't worry about us." She smiled down at the sleeping baby. "Take care of your husband." Scully nodded as she held his clothes closer to her body. When she turned to go, her mother stopped her. "Dana," she said. "Some things happened when you were...gone. It was almost three weeks and Fox..." The seriousness of her mother's expression made her chest tighten. Scully knew from first-hand experience how painful it was to think a soul-mate was gone, and Mulder hadn't said a word about what he went through during those eighteen days. "What happened?" she asked, afraid of what she might hear. "The first day he ran around like a mad man. He tried to kill that poor doctor, but Dag and that other man managed to pull him off before he did any serious damage. When he broke loose we didn't know where he was for a while. Frohike found him half out of his mind, running around, one boot untied and flopping, covering himself with snow. He said he was too cold, and the snow was warm. "Dana, he was lost without you. And the baby. He blamed himself for not being there. I mean, we were all grieving. I was beside myself. But Fox... "You asked me to take care of him, but you have no idea how impossible that was. If you had been gone two or three more days, I don't think there was anything any of us could've done." Scully swallowed. "What are you saying?" Her mother looked down at the baby, and gave her a tiny smile. When she lifted her gaze back to Scully there was something unsettling in her eyes. "I found him down by the cliffs. Staring at the frozen lake." The lake that used to be the village, and the 1000 foot vertical drop. "Did he say...?" Scully swallowed the rest of the sentence. "No. He didn't have to." "But you don't know that he was going to jump, Mom." "Dana. I don't think you understand. He was so far gone...I...at that point...I'm not sure that I would've stopped him." Scully couldn't reconcile what her mother was telling her with what she knew of both people. Mulder had an innate sense of self preservation that managed to keep him alive even when he seemed to be self-destructing. And her mother was Catholic - how bad would he have to be to allow her to accept suicide as a possible solution? "I have to find him," she said, as she turned and hurried back down the path. He hadn't returned to their cabin, and Scully scanned the nearby woods. Where would he go if he were upset? The cliffs came to mind, but she told herself it was because her mother had just mentioned them. Scully had never been to the cliffs. She knew they were down the path past the rec room, and that the way would be shoveled because that's where the depot dumped its garbage. The sun was bright, and the reflection off the snow made it difficult to see. There were many people out and about in the depot, carrying and hauling, children running around. It seemed strange that there was all this life, and entire village, that Scully had managed to shield herself from. When the man sweeping the snow from his front step saw her, he froze and stared. The children suddenly became silent and pointed, giggling. Most of them she'd never seen before, and she dismissed their unsettling gawking as simply seeing a new face. Or maybe finally catching a glimpse at the crazy lady who refused to come out of her cabin. She hurried past them, and down the narrow road, more worried about her husband than the reactions of the villagers. Trees hugged the cleared path, and Scully saw her first two birds in more than a year chirping noisily from branches far above her head. The sun didn't filter through the snow-covered vegetation, and the way seemed to get darker as she walked. When she rounded the curve, the path widened into a clearing where the snow was smooth and undisturbed, save for one well- trampled track that lead both to where the mountain ended abruptly, and the wide valley began, as well as to a set of stumps set up on their ends and topped with a wooden plank to make a bench. The snow had been brushed off of it, and Mulder sat at one end, elbows on knees, head in his hands. Scully was surprised to see Dag beside him, watching her husband, saying something that she couldn't quite here. Mulder shook his head, and the muscles in his bare back shifted. He'd gotten very thin over the last year, maybe thirty pounds lighter than she'd ever known him. Dag said something else, to which Mulder didn't seem to respond. The larger man shifted closer, and one arm came up behind him, hesitating before lowering on to Mulder's bare shoulders. Scully's stomach twinged as Dag eased Mulder's head against his shoulder, and began to lightly run a hand over his hair. The motion was intimate, loving. Scully's jaw dropped when Dag looked down at Mulder's crown and pressed a kiss on top of his head. Mulder felt it, because he pulled away from his friend and stumbled a couple of steps away from the bench. Dag was instantly on his feet, too, obviously trying to cover what he had unintentionally let slip. They stood on opposite sides of the bench in a shocked stale-mate as Scully approached, Dag wide-eyed and fearful, and Mulder suddenly self-conscious about his partial nudity. They both saw her at the same time, and turned away from each other. Scully handed her husband the clothes she'd brought him. "Where's the baby?" Mulder asked, trying to cover the tension. "With Mom." Scully watched as the color in Dag's face drained away. He looked as if he might be sick. "You OK?" she asked him. He nodded, but avoided eye contact, and then turned to leave. They watched him go, and disappear behind a snow-crusted evergreen. When Mulder finished pulling on his shirt, he began up the path as well, but Scully stopped him. "It's quiet here," she said. "And you and I haven't truly been alone together - just you and me - for a long time." His voice was tight, his words clipped. "I don't want to talk," he told her as he stood in profile against he forest backdrop, the depot marked behind him only by the columns of smoke that rose to the sky. "I think we should. A little." Scully looked out over the white span of valley, and the clear blue late afternoon sky. "Mom told me a little of what happened while I was gone." His glance was guarded, and he quickly turned back to the neutral white trees and shook his head. "No. I can't....I can't talk about it, Scully." "And I can't not. You scared me when you ran off like that, Mulder. You're not a murderer. Whether Krycek was armed or not, he was still the evil bastard he'd always been, working with his own agenda, and not to be trusted. You did what you had to do with the knowledge you had and the circumstances you were in. You and I both know the kind of psychology it takes to create a true killer. We've faced them head on more times than I'd care to count. You're a good man, Mulder. A good father." Her words let the air out of his chest, and he slouched forward, eyes closed, arms hanging limply. "Scully, please." She sighed, feeling worse for having pushed. "OK," she said under her breath. He wasn't ready to hear the words yet. He needed more time to process. She would just have to give him time. "OK." She headed back up the path. Her mother probably wouldn't be ready to give up her grand daughter yet, but Scully felt uneasy being without her. She should've just brought her. "Scully, wait." He reached out as she passed him, and tugged her arm, pulled her close and into an easy embrace. "I didn't mean to scare you," he said into her hair. "There's just so much...I feel so much that...it scares me a little, too." She tightened her arms around his middle and laid her cheek against his chest. "It may take a little while, but we're going to be OK, Mulder. Everything is going to be OK." "Promise?" he asked in a small, uncertain voice. "Promise." She looked unto his face, and saw the barest trace of a smile. On tip toes, she reached up to kiss him. His lips were cold and dry, but opened easily to the light sweep of her tongue. He moaned at the contact, and his mouth came alive. Scully gasped when he grabbed her ass and roughly pulled her to him, surprised by the thrill that shot deep inside her and created a sexual ache. Mulder's body responded, too, and he pressed himself against her abdomen as he repeatedly thrust his tongue inside her mouth to duel with hers. Over and over again their mouths and tongues met, and the more he kissed her, the more she craved. She couldn't get close enough to him, couldn't reach enough of his flesh. Her hands worked their way under his shirt, but she needed more. A moment of sanity reminded her that they would have to wait for more. He grunted his displeasure when she pulled away from him, her chest heaving. "Not here," she managed to get out. "Here and now." He practically growled. He dove at her, his mouth and hands attacking, claiming her as his. And she love it, love him, kissed him with everything she was worth. She'd never known him so urgent, so demanding. It was exhilarating. It was terrifying. It was erotic. "Someone will see us," she managed to get out. He unfastened her jeans and roughly pushed them down her thighs. "Let them watch," he growled, and his hands slipped inside her panties to squeeze her ass, pull her against him. The ache between her legs magnified. It was all she could do to clutch his biceps as he pulled their clothing away and steered them back to the bench. His erection was hard and red, hot in her hand. He pulled her down on to his lap, one of her legs still caught in her jeans, and she pressed the entire length of him against her abdomen, stroking as he groaned his encouragement. Her hips gave a twinge of protest, as they always did when she sat straight up, but the pain in her swollen core was louder, and all she could listen to. It had been too long since they last made love, and he seemed to need her even more than she needed him. Mulder was impossible to deny. Especially when he sucked on that magic spot on her neck, just above her pulse, while this thumb found her other magic spot and began to stroke her with a rhythm of its own. Scully's eyes rolled back and fluttered closed. It was amazing how he knew how to touch her. Their first year of marriage hadn't produced abundant opportunities for love making, and yet, right from the start, his mouth and hands and body were able to rapidly send her into varying degrees of ecstasy. He pulled back, and Scully opened her eyes to see him staring at her, a hungry intensity on his face. His body practically vibrated with his desire. "I don't want to hurt you," he said through clenched teeth, his voice restrained and tight. "Then don't," she said simply and leaned in to claim his mouth for another deep, wet kiss. "Be gentle." His pupils dilated, even in the direct reddish light of the setting sun, and wicked smile spread across his face. "You are so hot." Scully laughed. "You're about to find me a whole lot hotter," she told him in her best seductive voice, half-embarrassed that she had the nerve to say it, and half-shocked at the effect it had on her husband. His face crumbled in pain, and he looked down at her hand working him, and the drops of fluid that trickled out under her thumb. "God, Scully. If you don't climb aboard the horse, I'm going to lose the reigns." She giggled again at his choice of metaphor, or maybe at the wonderful way she felt. When she lowered herself on top of him, though, and he sank all the way inside, she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. Too soon, she screamed in her head. Too soon, too soon. His head bowed, and his forehead dropped into the crook of her neck. "So good," he whispered. "So good." He reached down to their joining and began to stroke her again, his fingers slick and wonderful exactly where she needed them to be. Her body warred with the pain and the pleasure, with the need to find a climax, and the knowledge that she should stop him and tell him to wait. "Faster," she said instead. "Make me hum." As his hand worked, she leaned away from him, her palms curling over his knees, throwing some of her weight off her pelvis. When she rocked, a hot tingle formed in her belly, and it swirled to join the throbbing pleasure Mulder fingered. He let her do the moving, let her set the pace, watched her through lidded eyes. She forgot that it had been a while for him, too, and that he hadn't suffered from any physical set-backs that might've alleviated the sexual impulse on his part. And how beautiful he was when he looked at her with lust in his eyes. He was aroused by her, by her arousal of him. One of his hands rested on her bare hip, helped to guide her back down each time, so that she could rise up, and sink home again. And again. And again. And then a little faster. Her arms shook under the strain. Her chest heaved. The pleasure soared through her. There was no pain anymore, just building and pressure, and a crest that was within reach. "Close?" she gasped. He nodded, not able to answer. Scully closed her eyes and her climax came, hard and fast, and with a small cry of sudden pain. She'd leaned forward on to him without realizing it, her face in the crook of his neck, and it shifted her weight back over her pelvis, and drove him even farther inside her convulsing body. It took him longer, but it was hard for Scully to care. She floated down from her orgasm slowly, relishing in their union, in her ability to drape herself over him once again, and the way he breathed her name into her ear like a mantra as he gently pumped up into her. It was too bad that they weren't back in the privacy of their home, in bed, so they could lay in their post-coital bliss. Suddenly self- conscious, Scully opened her eyes and scanned the clearing and wasn't completely shocked to find Dag standing beside one of the evergreens that lined the path back to the depot. He was still as he watched Mulder bucking below her finally find his release. "Scully, Scully, Scully," Mulder whimpered through clenched teeth, as the last of his thrusts melted into spasms. He reached up and pulled her face down for a deep, languid kiss. When Scully came back up for air, their audience had disappeared. ***** End of chapter 18 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Chapter 19 ***** "...to protect one at the cost of so many. A year ago I would've said it was horrible, barbaric, alien; but, now that I see the world through a mother's eyes, I find it very human." -Dana Katherine Scully journal entry, December 31, 2000 Rorschach, Switzerland December 24, 2000 "Don't you think you should tell her?" Mulder sat by the open window, his daughter balanced on one arm, her head cradled in the palm of his hand while her arms and legs sporadically flailed. Every time he spoke she stilled a little, seemingly mesmerized by him. Scully knew the feeling. His sharp hazel eyes, full lower lip, and dazzling wit had her transfixed right from the beginning. Mulder was dinner and a movie all rolled into one. But she turned back to the blouse she held in her hands. There was no way in hell that it was going to fit without some sort of minimizing bra. And that wasn't a possibility. It was so strange that something she'd spent a good twenty years of her life envying in other women had become the bane of her daily existence. With a roll of her eyes she opted for the sweater, even though the day was warm and balmy. And, anyway, once the sun went down she'd be happy for the extra thickness. "Scully, she's going to notice sooner or later that Dessy isn't baptized. You really should talk to her about it. You've had a life-changing experience. She'll understand. She wants to be a part of our lives." "She won't understand." The topic was getting old, and giving her indigestion. Scully pushed a fist into her stomach to stifle the hint of nausea. "My mother will most definitely not understand." "But why not? You said yourself that your faith is stronger now than it ever was, that you feel more grounded because of it. Isn't that what every mother wants?" "As someone raised Catholic, I can honestly tell you, no it isn't. She doesn't want me happy and healthy, she wants to save my mortal soul." The sweater buttoned down the front, and gave a little where she needed it to, and it matched the green skirt she got from Alejo. He managed to make her three nursing bras, and promised something a little less utilitarian when she didn't need them anymore. It was truly amazing what that man could do with needle and thread. "Scully, you know that's not true. She wants you healthy, too. And besides, God is God -" "No, Mulder. God is not God. My mother's God is a literal translation from the Bible as set down from the Heavenly Father in Rome. That is the God she worships. That is the God she expects us to celebrate tonight. And I will not ruin that for her by explaining that not only is her only surviving grandchild the missing link for the next stage in human evolution, but she will also be raised a heathen because I have a faint memory that grows more and more obscure everyday of something that might or might not have been God, who explained human history and the purpose for all life on Earth!" Mulder didn't move a muscle, but waited and watched. He was concerned, but also a little wistful; always an annoying combination when directed at her. Scully took a deep breath to calm herself, and then shook her head. "Never mind. I don't want to talk about this now. This is supposed to be a happy night." "Yes, it is," he said slowly. From the corner of her eye, Scully watched him gently lay their daughter in her bassinet while she neatly folded the blouse back up for the day she could wear it again. He came up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her, breathed in her hair. "I think you're sad because Christmas has always been an important part of your heritage," he told her. "And this isn't going to be like all the other Christmases you've celebrated in your life. Because even though your spiritual beliefs are stronger than ever, they've shifted from the Christian doctrine you've been comfortable with and you don't know how you're going to be honest with your mother and honest with yourself, and keep some semblance of a Christmas tradition alive for your daughter to inherit." She couldn't help a faint chuckle. Leave it to Mulder to come up with an answer that scared her more than the question ever could. "Actually, I was wondering how I was going to fake my way through the evening, but I like your assessment better." She knew he was smiling over her shoulder. "You'd never make it, Scully. You're a lousy liar." He kissed her cheek, her temple. "But you're oh, so good in bed." He reached lower on her body, and her stomach felt like it dropped out from under her. Scully broke out of his embrace. "Cut it out!" He was constantly touching her, wanting more, and they hadn't even talked about birth control yet. "What?" he asked with a light chuckle. "I'm just trying to help you relax." "You think I'm tense because I need sex? Like eight hours is too much time between fucks?" His face dropped. "Where did *that* come from?" Bile burned at the back of her throat, and she felt the heat of a blush run up her neck and into her face. "You touch me too much. We've had more sex in the last four weeks than we did our entire first year of marriage." "That's a bad thing?" "I think I'm pregnant." She watched Mulder's confusion fuse into shock. "Again," she weakly added. His shock evaporated in the span of a breath, and a bright smile bloomed across his face. He rushed too her laughing, grabbed her around the waist and lifted her as he whirled her around. "That's wonderful! Another baby!" Her stomach rebelled, and she swallowed down the late lunch that threatened to come up. With a grunt she pulled away from him, needing space and air away from him. She should've known he'd be overjoyed at the prospects of becoming a father again. It made her sick that she didn't share the sentiment. The door and window in their small cabin were open, and the fireplace was dark for the second day in a row. The weather was simply too warm for it. Scully felt like she was suffocating. Tears threatened, but she held them at bay. "I've got to get some air," she mumbled as she headed for the door. The sun was bright, as it always seemed to be now, and the trees were alive with birds and bugs. There was a cool breeze that lifted her hair from her shoulders and pressed her skirt against her legs as she walked into the wooded area next to their home. The ground was uneven, icy and slick. Snow melted during the warm days and then froze again every night. Small creeks formed everywhere as the run-off from the trees made its way down the mountainside. Scully stepped over one and headed for the felled trunk, still frozen and wet, protected from the day by dense shade. It was one of the places Mulder liked to sit when he woke from a nightmare, a common occurrence now. While the sun was up he was able to suppress his demons, juggle fatherhood and the various jobs he'd collected from the village, and he put on a valiant show of normality. At night, when the stars blanketed the sky and the Milky Way seemed to glow, he was like a child afraid of the bogey monster, only the monster was himself. There were mornings when he didn't crawl back into bed until the sky lightened and the sun threatened to rise. "It's a good spot." Scully turned to see her husband picking his way through the fallen branches and clumps of ice, their daughter over his shoulder. He held her against himself like it was the most natural thing in the world. "The Washington Monument always had too many people walking around. This place is better." He leaned against the fallen tree beside her and shifted the baby to his far shoulder. Her little socked feet kicked while she tried to stuff her whole fist in her mouth. "And," he added, "all the fresh air you could possibly want." She didn't blame him for trying, really. There were dozens of nights that she shadowed him out to that very spot and tried to get him to open up to her. She loved him, and she wanted him to stop hurting. She knew he wanted the same. "Scully?" His voice was soft and quiet, and he looked back at their cabin through the copse. "Aren't you happy with Dessy?" She didn't like what he was implying. "You know I love her. Doesn't that go without saying?" "No, it doesn't," he said simply. "But that's not what I asked. I asked if you were happy with her." And a long time ago he asked a similar question, and her answer was just as complicated now as it was then. "I think there's something wrong with me," she said after a moment. "I see you with her, and there's this bond, this...intangible thing connecting you to her. You talk to her, you sing to her, and half the time I expect her to join in on the chorus." "I love her," he said with a little shrug, as if his fathering instincts were no big deal. "I love her too, Mulder. And I carried her inside me for almost ten months. I'd do anything for her, but I don't feel that bond." "What do you feel?" "Anxiety. Is she safe? Is she dry? Is she hungry? Is she too warm, too cold, too big, too happy? Do you notice that she never really cries? I mean a full-blown wail? Is that normal?" "She's happy, Scully. You and I are brilliant parents," he said with a smile. "So she's the most content baby in the history of the world. Is that really something to worry about?" He held her out with both hands for Scully to see, and Destiny squirmed, her large blue eyes tracked a branch overhead that moved in the breeze. "She's perfect, Scully. Ten fingers and ten toes. She's the best thing we've ever done together. And she's ours. Yours and mine. The bond is there, you're just not allowing yourself to enjoy it yet." Scully collected the baby in her arms and pulled her close. Her hair had that soft baby smell mixed with the soap they washed her with that morning. "You can't tell me that you don't feel maternal, Scully. I see it in your smile when you look at her. You didn't even know you were smiling, did you?" Scully glanced at him, and then back down at their daughter. Her little fingers opened and closed reflexively on the neckline of Scully's sweater. "Mulder, I can't go through that again." "Of course you can," he said confidently. "You'll be great." "No, I won't. I barely survived the first one. And I'm not just talking about the birth. My pregnancy was far from typical. I'm in my mid-thirties, Mulder. My body needs time to recuperate. I'm not a vending machine. I can't just pop them out one after another." "Wait a minute. Are you saying that another pregnancy could be dangerous?" "Yes. Very. Especially considering the difficulties I had with my first pregnancy and birth." He swallowed while he considered her news. "Are you...sure you're pregnant again?" "Seventy-five percent." Mulder cleared his throat and stared out past their cabin, a deep frown lowering his brow. "There's a significant margin of doubt there." "Not significant enough," Scully muttered under her breath. "Look, Scully, you have every reason to be scared. I wasn't there for you through a large chunk of your pregnancy, and Dessy's birth was traumatic for me so I can only imagine what it must've been like for you. But what if I said that this time will be different. You won't have to do any of it alone." "Isn't one perfect child enough? Do we really need another so soon?" "But if you're already..." He shook his head against the argument he was about to make. He leaned against the fallen log beside her, tears pooling in his eyes. He blinked them quickly away and inhaled sharply. His jaw clenched. "Logan told me about a place in South America," he said. "A new city that's being built. The first wave of occupants is scheduled to take residence in July. He said that eventually it will be big enough to hold everyone left, and that it will have running water and electricity and central heat and wall-to-wall carpeting and telephones and computers. And a state-of-the-art hospital with the best doctors and the best equipment to do what ever you need done. It will be like it was before the aliens came." "Oh, Mulder. It will never be like it was before." "Not exactly, no. But it'll have all the modern amenities. All the pain killers you could ever want." "Giving birth isn't the only risk involved, Mulder. It's just the most obvious." They were quiet for a moment while they watched a pair of brown birds chasing each other through the low, newly blooming branches of a nearby tree. The world was slowly coming back to life around them. "How long have you suspected you were pregnant?" "A couple of days." "I can't believe you waited this long to tell me." His eyes dropped to his boots. "You really don't want another one, do you? I mean, we never talked about how many - or if any at all. It's just that now that Dessy is here, I can't imagine living my whole life without her in it. I can't wait for her to start walking and talking and exploring the world. I can't wait to share everything I know with her. And I can't help but wonder..." He didn't finish. He didn't need to. The baby's eyes began to flutter closed, and she gave a cute little yawn as her grip on Scully's top relaxed. Scully couldn't help but kiss her daughter's forehead. "Mulder, please stop calling her Dessy. Soon she'll start answering to it." He kicked a clump of snow and it splattered angrily against a nearby tree truck. "Maybe we should be sure you're pregnant before we talk about this. I can contact Tibet the day after tomorrow and ask them to send someone with the next shipment of supplies." Minutes before he was as happy as she'd ever seen him. Guilt swelled through her, bringing a lump to the back of her throat. "How many do you want?" she asked, hoping to keep him from throwing up too many emotional barriers between them on Christmas. "Two? Three?" His eyes met hers, and he searched her with scrutiny. "You said it could be dangerous for you. I don't want to risk losing you, Scully. We need you." "Now who's evading the question?" she lightly teased. "Just tell me, hypothetically, how many children do you want to raise?" "I...don't know. I'm already up from how many I always thought I'd have. I'd probably want to stop before fourteen or thirteen. We'd need nine for a baseball team." "What?!" Mulder gave a hint of a grin. "Relax, Scully. There isn't a number for me. One is enough, if that's all we can do." Scully snorted. "Well, it's a little late for that thought, my friend." "But...you said it was dangerous for you. You said you couldn't go through it again," he said, cautious and hopeful. "And you said you'd be there the whole time, and that there would be medical facilities in my future." "There will be!" Once again overjoyed and laughing, he threw his arms around her and the baby. Destiny startled and began to cry. "And there goes your abnormally happy baby theory, Scully. Another X-File solved." "Take her," Scully urged, offering up the baby. She always settled down right away when her father held her. "No," he said, still smiling. "You're doing fine." "But, Mulder, she's crying." "Then make her feel safe. Tell her it's going to be OK. You always seem to like it when I tell you that." Destiny's face was a dark, angry red, and her eyes were squeeze shut against the force of her wail. Scully pulled her tight against her chest and began to sway from side to side, hoping the movement would calm her daughter before her breasts responded with a weeping of their own. "Talk to her, Scully. She likes to listen." "She can't understand me," she snapped, frustrated at the lack of results she was getting. "Just take her, Mulder." "Talk to her," he urged again. Scully inhaled. "Come on, Destiny, stop crying." The baby continued to scream. "You're safe. Your daddy and I are here, and everything's going to be OK. Mulder, I feel silly talking to myself." "Then talk to her. She's not a vegetable, you know. She does respond, even if it's not verbal yet." "But she's just a baby. She's one big nervous reflex. She can't distinguish speech yet. Use your magical bond thingy to make her stop crying." "Magical bond thingy? Did those words really come out of your mouth, Scully?" "Shut up." "Just talk to her. Trust me on this." Scully closed her eyes and kissed her child's head. The baby tensed for every shriek she uttered. "OK, OK. Hey, now, Destiny. You can stop crying now because all this will be better soon. In a couple of months you're going to be able to roll over and sit up on your own, and then you'll start crawling. And once you can walk, the whole world will be at your fingertips." Her wide little watery eyes stared up at Scully, unsure. She made a few more unsettled sounds. "That's right," Scully continued. "And once you're on your feet you'll learn some words and be able to let us in on what's going on in that beautiful head of yours. I know you're going to be smart. You'll get that from your father. I hope you'll also have his curiosity and wonder. I already see his intensity in your gaze. Make sure you don't let it control you. "There's a whole new world that we're creating for you, Destiny. Find your truth in it. Find it in yourself. Truth is subjective, and that's its beauty. That's something your father was never quite able to grasp." Scully glanced at her husband, his eyes full of their quiet little girl. "You are loved, Dessy. Never forget that. Love created you, love nourished you and protected you. It's the most valuable gift your father and I can give you, and we give it unconditionally and eternally...and I never understood what that meant until I held you in my arms." Tears came, but Scully smiled through them. Another child. Was there really that much love in the world? It was impossible to fathom the depth of emotions she carried for her daughter multiplied by two. It scared her. "Look how she responds to you, Scully. Look..." Mulder's voice wavered with emotion. Scully laughed; nervous and happy and vulnerable all at once. Mulder joined in. "But the one thing you should always remember, little one," Scully whispered to her daughter. "Dessy was all your father's doing." ***** End of chapter 19 ***** Journal 2000 by MD1016 Gossamer: TAR Rated: NC-17, MSR Summary: The struggle continues. ***** Epilogue ***** "I watch my daughter draw tiny breaths as she sleeps across her father's chest, rising and falling with his regular inhales and exhales. They are a picture I am trying to burn into my retinas so that even in my old age, when little Dessy is out in the world with a family of her own, I will be able to close my eyes and see them as they are now. Mulder is the father to her that I always longed for; generous with his love and praise, adoring, proud not for what she might do but because of what she is. "She is his daughter. "I spoke to my mother this afternoon. I tried to explain a little of what I experienced during those eighteen days, how my child is different and special, how I came away with a knowledge that has reshaped my whole belief structure. She said I was crazy, said Mulder had corrupted me and brainwashed me into forgetting who I am, and she said...worse things. Things I don't want to be remembered because I know that there's a bitter truth in some of her words. She is still my mother, and when I'm sixty-six I'll continue to crave her loving words and adoration just as I did when I was a child. I hate this power she has over me. She does not understand. "My love for Mulder, and the experiences I have had because of my relationship with him have changed me. They've allowed me to look beyond the knowledge that came with my degrees, and Catholicism that was instilled in me from the moment of my christening when I was nine months old. I fought it and him for a long time because I defined myself by both practices, science and religion, and I found comfort in them. Now I understand that I don't have to give up one to have the other. I have them all. And I am better for them. "My science is intact - although much broader than I ever dreamed possible. Man began on this planet 250,000 years ago, as a creature we call Neanderthal, a primitive beast with the capacity to evolve. But he did not evolve fast enough. 225,000 years of evolution produced little more than simple hand tools and sheltering in caves. No written language - barely any language at all. A group of males and females were altered, and the resulting children became modern man. Or, what we so egotistically called ourselves. "Then Neanderthal man was...removed. And now, 25,000 years later, history repeats. "I know there is a god. I have seen Him, felt His voice through me - I know He exists. He is the artist behiind our journey through the universe, and the reason we are, and will continue to be here through the daughters my daughter will bear. It will take many generations for the Earth to recover from the devastation the aliens have wreaked, but one day my great, great, great, great, great, great, great grand daughter will be born into a world where aliens are a little more than a myth, and her planet is once again healthy and thriving. Modern man will slowly disappear from the picture. My daughter will be our legacy. "The aliens are much like the wardens of a nature preserve, reducing the numbers to protect the herd, and reconstructing the habitat after the herd has devoured the land barren. "To protect one at the cost of so many. A year ago I would've said it was a horrible, barbaric, alien practice; but, now that I see the world through a mother's eyes, I find it very human. There is nothing I wouldn't do to protect my daughter. My children. "Children, plural. I'm warming to the idea. "Tomorrow begins the first day of the 21st century. We've no snow or rain since Dessy's arrival. Each day grows warmer - today was unbearably hot. Steam rises from the frozen mountain side through most of the day, creating a humidity that can be suffocating. The nights are the reverse, freezing and clear, and going between the extremes has caused a flu outbreak in our depot. It's avoided our house so far, thank God. "I'm not the only one who is concerned about the weather. Logan suggested that the entire planet was thrown on to a different axis that now places Switzerland in the southern hemisphere. But there are a lot of theories being bandied about, and none of them answer all our questions adequately. It's driving Mulder nuts. He always has to know, and this truth seems as illusive as all the others we've chased after. Now, though, he's less manic, and at the end of the day he's able to put his quest for answers aside and doze by the fire with our baby in his arms. "She's a miracle in so many, many ways." ***** End of Journal 2000 ***** AUTHOR'S NOTE: There are many people who deserve a word or two of thanks, especially those who wrote with encouragement and corrections , and who stuck with this story through to the end. Thanks also to Inya who donated time, effort and bandwidth to the cause. And, of course, Bonetree who inspired and supported. Thanks for playing.