Chapter Text
1.
He dragged himself to the door after the third knock and peered through the peephole. Sure, it was 7 am on a Saturday morning, but he was no idiot. He’d been assaulted and shot at in his own home enough times to know better than to let anyone in blindly.
Skinner. He undid the deadbolt and pulled open the door.
“Well, what an unexpected surprise. Did you bring breakfast?”
“Agent Mulder, put some pants on and pack a bag. Boston PD needs a profile ASAP, and they’ve asked for you. I tried to call. You’re a goddamn FBI agent, why is your phone turned off?”
“It is? Shit. It must be dead. Sorry. I guess I forgot to plug it in.” He stepped back to allow Skinner entrance. “What do you know about the case?”
“Not much. Three bodies, all found at the same time but died separately within weeks of each other. All elderly. It’s ugly.”
Mulder sighed. “Ok. How long will I be there for, do you think?”
“How should I know? A day? A week? Just get your ass moving. Call Scully and let her know.”
Mulder gave him a strange look and seemed to debate with himself. Finally, he said, “Ok…I’ll tell her. Have a seat. I’ll be ready in 10.” He moved away to the bedroom. A moment later Skinner heard murmured voices, and realized with a start that one was Scully’s, live and in person. He caught bits and pieces of the conversation.
“…no, it’s ok, I’m fine…just need to sleep…” This from Scully.
“…not feeling well then you should…”
“…worry too much. Don’t be sorry, that’s the job.”
What was this happy horseshit?
A door closed, a shower ran for a few minutes, and then Mulder reappeared, toweling his hair with one hand and carrying a duffle bag in the other.
“I can only assume that you’ll explain all of this on the way to the airport?” Skinner asked dryly.
“Yup. But I can only assume it’s self-explanatory.”
“Don’t be a smartass, Mulder. You should’ve told me.”
“What for? It’s nobody’s business but ours.” Mulder was flipping through folders on his desk now.
“You really think that’s true? Don’t be an idiot. The next time you step out of line, which you’re sure to, this is just more ammunition for those that want to hurt you. They’ll tell you to choose the X-Files or her, and then what’re you going to do?”
Mulder paused in the act of loading a file into his bag. He looked at Skinner. “Is that all? Easy. Her. I’m always going to pick her.”
Skinner was dumbstruck.
Light footsteps, and then she came into the room in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Her feet were bare and her hair was wet. God, had they showered together while he sat in the living room and waited? Apparently so. She looked tired and a little wan, but also beautiful …she was always beautiful.
“Good morning, sir. This is awkward.”
“Good morning, Agent Scully. At least one of you thinks so. I’m sorry for intruding. I didn’t know.”
“I understand. At some point soon we would’ve told you.”
Mulder turned to look at her and his whole face changed. One glance and Skinner knew it wasn’t a lie. He would choose her every time. There had been something there from the beginning – a blind man could’ve seen it – and the thing had grown. Now it filled the room. Skinner suddenly felt like an intruder and a voyeur.
“Sorry I let the cat out of the bag, Scully. I didn’t really see a way around it.”
“It’s ok…I don’t mind. Here – you forgot this.” She handed him his cell phone charger. “Sounds like I’ll need to remind you to use it, too.” She smiled.
“I’m a mess,” he said, smiling back. “Hopefully it’ll just be a day or two. I’ll call you.” He zipped the bag and headed towards the door. Skinner stood, and Mulder almost knocked him over when he suddenly pivoted and walked back to her. He dropped the bag and wrapped his arms around her in a tight squeeze.
“I love you,” he said, and then he kissed her. “Stay in bed and get some rest. Feel better. Feed the fish.”
“I love you, too. Please be careful.”
Skinner tried not to watch, but he found it impossible.
2.
He was gone for almost two weeks. They spoke a handful of times, but always briefly. The case was a difficult one, and when he profiled he was all in. He asked her how she was feeling and she always said she was fine. The truth, though, was that she wasn’t fine. She was tired and out of sorts, overwrought and emotional. She cried twice over missing him and felt like an absolute fool.
How long had they been together? Two months? Yes, depending on when you started counting.
Partners for seven years.
In love for six years.
Lovers for two months.
It had finally happened on a Friday. She’d begun the evening on a date with another man, and ended it in bed with Mulder. She’d never left. His bed, her bed, motels, the backseat of a government vehicle, even the office once…she’d had more sex in the past sixty days than she’d ever had in her life, many times over. They were crazily in love, constantly in heat and insanely happy.
Now she sat alone at her desk and stared blankly at her computer screen. She fucking missed him. Is this who she was now, someone who couldn’t function without her lover? Ridiculous. It was just that she felt so unwell, perhaps if she felt better she’d be able to –
She stood suddenly, swayed, and barely made it to the bathroom in time to vomit. She splashed water on her face and stared at her reflection. Her mascara ran. She told herself that what she was thinking was impossible – not just unlikely, but impossible. And yet, she knew.
She knew.
She returned to her desk to collect her purse, and then she walked two blocks to the nearest Walgreens.
***
He called later that night, sounding exhausted and depressed. Profiling a serial killer was bad for him. It would be bad for anybody.
“It’s done. We got him. God, I fucking miss you. We have some things to wrap up here and then I’ll fly out. I’m scheduled to land at Dulles at 6 tomorrow night.”
“I’ll come get you.”
“I can take a cab. Honey…you still sound so tired. Maybe you should make a doctor appointment.”
“I’m fine. Promise. I’m going to pick you up…I want to. Email me your gate information, ok? I miss you, too. So much.”
“K. If you change your mind just let me know. I can take a cab home to get some clean clothes and then drive to your apartment.”
“Nope – I’m coming. I’ll see you at six.” Her voice wavered.
“Scully…are you crying? What’s happening?”
She closed her eyes and tried very hard to get control of herself. “I just can’t wait to see you. I love you, Mulder.”
“I love you too. This being away from you bullshit is for the birds.”
3.
He stepped off the jetway and into the bright, florescent lights of Gate C23. He saw her immediately. She was standing towards the front of the crowd of friends and relatives and drivers holding up big cardboard signs with names lettered in black sharpie. Their eyes met and he felt his heart lift for the first time in well over a week. He resisted the urge to shove his way through the people in front of him and instead wove around them, impatient and aching. When he finally reached her, he dropped his bag and swept her up like a sailor returning from a long voyage at sea. He kissed her once, twice, three times, hands smoothing up her back to tangle in her hair. She kissed him back and everything around them disappeared.
“Tell me how you are,” he said between kisses. “Are you ok?”
“Me? Are you ok? I watched the news coverage. It was horrible. Mulder, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you had to see those things and be in that man’s head.”
“It was bad. But it’s done and he’ll never be free again.”
“You saved lives. Maybe lots of them. I’m proud of you.” Again with the tears. God.
“Scully…”
“I’m ok, I’m ok. Just incredibly happy to see you. Can we go home?”
“Yes. Can we skip the office tomorrow? I want to spend the whole day in bed with you.” He grinned. “I hope you didn’t make other plans.”
“Oh, I’ve cleared my calendar.”
“Thank God.”
“I cleared it for Friday, too.”
He beamed. “Have I told you that I love you?”
“Not since yesterday.”
“I really do.” He slid an arm around her as they walked toward the baggage claim. “Did you ever go in to the doctor? You still don’t seem like yourself.”
“I’m fine. Let’s talk at home.”
He stopped dead in his tracks. The person walking behind him almost ran into him and flipped him his middle finger as he veered around. Mulder ignored it completely.
“What is it?”
“Mulder…”
“Please tell me it’s not the cancer.”
“It’s not.”
“Ok. Jesus. Then what?”
“Can we…”
He led her to the closest bench and sat, tugging her down with him. “Scully, please. I can see it on your face. There’s something. Tell me.” His face, already lined and tired from two weeks spent in the mind of a murderer, now showed raw panic.
“Let’s get your bag.”
“Scully, fuck my bag. I can’t –”
“I’m pregnant.”
He closed his mouth, opened it, closed it again. His eyes were red and wide as he searched her face for the punch line. None came.
“You can’t be,” he finally said. His voice cracked on the can’t.
“I am.”
“Scully, how?”
She managed the ghost of a smile. “Birds do it, bees do it, even educated MDs do it. Mulder, I don’t know. I think I’m around two months. It may have been that very first night. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?”
“You didn’t ask for this.”
“But I did.” His eyes filled. “I don’t know if I even believe in god, Scully, but I prayed for this. I just didn’t think…I couldn’t hope…”
Her own eyes burned. “Really?”
He pulled her back into his arms, and he wept.
4.
She dozed off in the car on the way home. He pulled up to the curb near his building and leaned over to kiss her cheek.
“Home,” he said. “Come on, let’s put you to bed.”
“We should talk,” she mumbled.
“We can talk tomorrow. Everything’s ok.” He pushed her hair behind her ear. “Everything is wonderful.”
He’d always felt protective of her, but now, as he guided her down the sidewalk and to his door, he felt positively primal. If someone approached he thought he might bite them.
He led her to his bed and undressed her. She raised her arms like a child so he could pull off her shirt and lifted her hips so he could tug down her jeans. When she was down to just her panties he tucked the blanket under her chin and stroked her hair for a few minutes, waiting until he was certain that she was asleep. Then he crept around his apartment, putting away his things and sorting his dirty clothes into piles for dry cleaning and laundry. He paused frequently to wipe his eyes with his sleeve or rest his hands on his knees until the trembling slowed.
Their whole world was going to change. He fantasized about the house he was going to buy with her, the ring he would put on her finger, and the baby that was the product of their love. He thought about how they’d need help with the X-Files because there was simply no way they’d both risk their lives in the field now that they were having a child. He thought about the woman in his bed and how he’d be waking up beside her every day for the rest of his life, and he wondered what on earth he’d done to deserve such good fortune.
5.
She woke up and felt him breathing beside her in the dark. She was still tired, but she felt better. Peaceful. No doubt tomorrow she’d be back to worrying, questions about how and why swirling in her head. In the moment, though, she was overwhelmed with only gratitude. She was being given a gift that she never in her wildest dreams thought possible. No – that was wrong. They were being given a gift. She and the only man she’d ever really loved. She stared at the ceiling and thought about having a home with him. She thought about the ring he’d wear on his finger, the one that would match her own, and she thought about a tiny person with brown hair and blue eyes and a rosebud of a mouth.
She slipped quietly from the bed and used the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and took a long drink of water, and then she padded back to the bedroom. For a long moment she leaned in the doorway and looked at him. His face was beautiful in repose. Then she walked to the bed and let her underwear fall to the floor.
“Mulder,” she whispered as she got in beside him.
His eyes fluttered open. “Hmm?”
“Love me.”
He opened his arms.
Typically their sex was loud and messy – six plus years of tension will do that. Tonight, though, was different. His hands and lips were very tender. Her little sounds were sweet. They kissed for what seemed like hours, days, weeks. He couldn’t get enough of her mouth. He’d move to her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, but always briefly. Her mouth was what he wanted. He could taste her promises and his own. Their future was on her tongue. Her love for him was in her every exhale, and he breathed them in with great, gasping breaths. They gripped each other tightly as they came, mouths fused. When they needed air they held their open mouths close together, lips touching. He pushed her name from his throat in a desperate whisper, and she swallowed it down.
She fell asleep to his voice in her ear, his stream-of-consciousness murmurings about their baby and their love and their future sweeter than any lullaby. Meanwhile, inside her womb, organogenesis was beginning. Cells divided and embryonic structures formed. Their baby, still an embryo, was the size of a raspberry.
Eight weeks down. Thirty-two to go.