TITLE: The Way Things Are
AUTHOR: Sukie Tawdry
EMAIL: [email protected]
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS: Season 1
CATEGORY: Guess you could call it AU. Diverges
from canon some time during season 1.
KEYWORDS: Story, MSR
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me. Sniff
SUMMARY: One night and their whole lives were changed
forever.
FEEDBACK: Good or not so good--go ahead. I can
take it. I'm a big girl.
ARCHIVE: Again, go ahead.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks go to Sybils for wonderful beta and support.
And a big thank you to Foxymulderluver for giving
this story a home on her website:
http://www.geocities.com/foxymulderluver

Part 18 - Answers and Questions

"Well, isn't this a big surprise," Mulder said. "I hate to use
a cliche, but where were you when I needed you?" Mulder's eyes
sparked with anger in the dim light of the parking lot.

"Please keep you voice down Agent Mulder." His voice placating,
the man in the shadows glanced around the parking lot. The
childbirth class attendees were settling into cars and pulling
out, the air punctuated by the sound of each vehicle roaring to
life.

"You know this man, Mulder?" she asked.

"Yeah." His voice was tense as he glanced at her. "In a manner
of speaking." Mulder returned his gaze to the man. "But does
anyone really know you? Let me rephrase the question: where the
hell were you when Scully was missing? I went crazy trying to
contact you."

"I know, Agent Mulder. It was too dangerous. I couldn't tip
my hand. Agent Scully was never in serious danger."

The man took one step forward, still half in shadow, but now she
could see his bland, friendly face. He looked like anyone's
uncle, and his voice was kind and warm. But Scully knew from
bitter experience that people weren't always what they seemed.

"But *I* didn't know that," Mulder hissed. "Tell me what they
did to her?"

"I will tell you, but not here," the man said, scanning the parking
lot. "It's too dangerous. Get in your car and pull around the
corner. I'll wait for you there."

Mulder nodded slowly and opened the car door for Scully. He helped
her into the car, throwing the pillows into the back seat.

"You better not screw me over," he warned the older man as he got
into the car and fired up the engine. The man hunched into the
collar of his coat and disappeared into the darkness.

"Who is he, Mulder?" Scully asked when Mulder had backed the car out
of the parking space and pulled onto the street.

"An informant. He's been on the money just about every time."

"And you trust this man?" she asked, incredulous. "Someone who
hides in the shadows?"

"As I said, he's been accurate in the past. He's told me things,
information about some of our cases. He's been good to me, Scully."

"So, all the times you put me off with some vague story--this was
who you were meeting. Explains a lot, Mulder," she made no
effort to hide her annoyance as memories flooded back.

"Scully...can we talk about this later? I see him."

Mulder slowed the car at the corner and the man climbed into the
back seat, hunkering down so he couldn't be seen. "Don't look
back at me. Just keep driving."

Mulder pulled away from the curb, gliding to a stop at the
traffic light. Scully watched a gang of young men jostle down
the sidewalk, their voices ringing out in the cold air.

"All right," Mulder said, his eyes trained on the street before
him as the light changed to green and he accelerated the car.
"Why did they take Scully? What did they do to her?"

"There are men, Agent Mulder, who have the answers to every
question you could think to ask. About the existence of aliens,
about what happened to your sister, about what role your father
had in decisions that were made before you were born."

"Answer my question, dammit."

"In due time, Agent Mulder. These men have a vested interest
in your life, and by association, Agent Scully's. Her
pregnancy came to their attention; they were understandably
curious as to the identity of the baby's father."

"How did they find out I was pregnant?" Scully asked,
surprising herself. She hadn't planned on participating in
this charade, but her interest was far too piqued to ignore.

"From Assistant Director Skinner," the man said, his
disembodied voice drifting over the back seat. "Indirectly,
of course. His office has been bugged for some time. I can
see you in the rear view mirror, my dear. Ah, I understand.
You thought perhaps Mr. Skinner was part of this conpiracy."

She nodded slowly in the darkness, her eyes on the road before
them.

"You may put your fears to rest. Your superior did not
betray you. He was an unwitting accomplice at best."

She closed her eyes, annoyed that this mystery man was resting
against her bed pillows, angry that he knew what she had been
thinking.

"So they abducted her. What did they do?" Mulder's voice was
sharp, a knife edge of pain.

"As Agent Scully undoubtedly suspected, they performed a series
of tests. If you had any doubts about the paternity of the
child, I can assure you this is your baby, Agent Mulder.
They've had samples of your DNA since your little sojourn at
Ellens Air Force Base. Confirmation of the child's parentage
was only one of their goals of the operation, though. They also
wanted to gauge Agent Scully's strength. They tried to break you
down, intimidate you, but they never truly succeeded, did they?
You impressed them, my dear."

Scully gasped, eyes straight ahead. "I hope all of you burn in
hell," she said, her voice a low growl.

"Oh I imagine our accommodations in Hades are confirmed.
These are dangerous men--men who'll stop at nothing to ensure
their placement when...certain inevitabilities come to pass."

"What are you talking about?" Mulder bit off the question,
his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.

"Ah, that is a discussion for another evening. Let's just say
that these individuals were thrilled at the turn of events.
An unexpected pregnancy. They couldn't have derailed you more
effectively if they had planned it."

"Why? What were they afraid of? It isn't as if I've had a
lot of success."

"Unfortunately, due to the structure of the organization, I have
not been privy to the exact details, but there are ways you
could be useful to them. However, they were becoming concerned
about your unpredictability. You are something of a loose cannon,
are you not, Agent Mulder."

"If I'm such a problem, why not kill me?"

"That's a very good question, Agent Mulder. I have to admit,
I'm not entirely sure, but you seem to be important to their
plans. They want you controllable, pliant. When she was
assigned to work with you, they had hoped you would be
distracted by Agent Scully, perhaps take her to your bed.
This unexpected pregnancy was, as they say, 'icing on the
cake'. I'm afraid you played right into their hands."

"They think I'll be docile now. Is that it?"

"You gave them the proof yourself. They tested you, and you
passed with flying colors."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"That little phone call a few weeks ago--the one that prompted
your visit to O'Neill's Bar. You resisted the initial offer of
information about your sister. They had to see what your reaction
would be to certain stimuli. You didn't take the bait until they
offered information about Agent Scully and her child."

Suddenly, there wasn't enough air in the car. Scully's gaze flew
to Mulder, her mouth open as she gasped for breath. Her partner's
eyes squinted in pain.

Shame washed over her in hot waves. She'd made assumptions about
his motives that night, forgiving him for sins he hadn't committed.
Scully reached out to touch his arm, shocked at the rigidity she
found in the muscles.

"Why did they beat him up?" Scully asked. From the back seat, she
could hear the man softly chuckle.

"Agent Mulder has been a bit of a nuisance. I believe some scores
were settled that night."

"Why tell us this now?" she asked. "It's obviously a risk
for you to even meet with us."

"You need to be aware of this, both of you. There is work to be
done, and you are the only one who can do it, Agent Mulder. You
must not let certain questions go unanswered."

Mulder rolled up to a red light. The neighborhood was quiet,
the shops and offices closed. An Italian restaurant and a dusty
looking bar were the only signs of life. Scully watched the
flashing "Michelob" light in the window of the bar. It seemed
to pulse in time with the pain in her heart.

"This will do nicely. I'll get out here, Agent Mulder. As
you've noted, our conversation puts me in great danger. Please
don't try to contact me again. I'll be in touch when and
if it is safe. Good-bye, my dear Agent Scully. May you
have a safe delivery."

The man opened the passenger side rear door and got out of
the car. He glanced around before disappearing into the bar.

"You didn't tell me," she said gently, her hand on his arm.
"You let me assume you were looking for information about
Samantha that night."

"It doesn't matter, Scully," he said, his voice ragged with
emotion. "I failed. I...I couldn't bear to tell you
I still didn't know what they'd done to you."

They rode the rest of the way home in silence. Scully
replayed the evening's conversation in her head over and over,
trying somehow to make some sense of it. Any delusions she
had about understanding the forces against them were gone
now.

Each answer they had received had brought ten questions to
the forefront. Her head swirled with the fragments of
information, each meaningless in itself, like pieces of
a jigsaw puzzle. Would she ever be able to fit them all
into a cohesive picture? And how terrifying would that
picture be?

Mulder helped her from the car, his hands icy cold. Her
prediction of needing help in the next few weeks had been
accurate. Four weeks from delivery and Scully was feeling
as helpless as a beached whale. She trailed him into the
building, noticing the slump of his shoulders, the drag of
his feet. Mulder seemed completely drained.

Carrying the two bed pillows, Mulder unlocked the door and
followed Scully into the apartment. She looked around with
worried eyes, wondering if her home, like Skinner's office,
was bugged. Mulder followed her gaze, and Scully was sure he
could read her mind.

"I've had the guys make regular sweeps of the place since
I moved in. They haven't found anything," Mulder said,
causing her to smile at his intuition.

Scully yawned and opening the refrigerator, poured herself
a glass of juice. She watched Mulder as he stood,
statuelike, in the middle of the living room. She tried to
gauge his mood, but his face was expressionless.

"I'm going to bed, Mulder."

"Okay. Sleep well. I...I'm going to stay up for a while."

As she reached the doorway, Scully turned to see Mulder
still motionless and lost in thought. Cold fingers seemed
to squeeze her heart as she glimpsed the deep sadness
within him. Sleep didn't come for a long time.

Over the next few days, Mulder seemed to close in on himself.
He hadn't spoken about the night they met "Deep Throat," but
she knew it was on his mind. Truth was, she had thought about
little else, herself.

Mulder was as gentle and considerate in these last weeks
of her pregnancy as she'd ever seen him. He took her to
the now weekly doctor visits, faithfully helped her with
her prenatal exercises and made sure she didn't overextend
herself. But there was a faraway quality to him even as
he faced her across the dinner table.

During her training as a pathologist, Scully had seen a
great deal of tragedy. Meeting with loved ones,
explaining the details of death, she'd observed grief
in all its permutations. And now, she recognized that
emotion in her partner. He was mourning, as surely as
if he'd suffered a death.

Perhaps he regretted his decision not to pursue the
information he'd been offered about Samantha. Did he
perceive that choice as a betrayal? Scully had intuited
from her very first days with Mulder finding Samantha
was more than just a search for a little girl. It was a
quest for the restoration of his family. Was Mulder
mourning the death of that dream?

And now it was the day before Thanksgiving, and Scully was
up to her elbows in pie-making. She floured the butcher
block, her fingers making abstract patterns in the white
powder.

Samantha Mulder had disappeared almost exactly twenty-one
years ago, and her brother still bore deep wounds over
the event. The passage of time had done nothing to ease
the trauma of that night. Mulder was still in terrible
pain over what he perceived as a failure back then,
compounded now by what he saw as a betrayal now.

Scully flattened the lump of piecrust dough on the
counter, hampered by the bulk of her belly, covered
awkwardly by an apron. If only her arms were a few
inches longer, she could reach around this beachball of
a belly.

She'd insisted on bringing pies tomorrow, though her mother
hadn't wanted her to fuss. But Scully had been desperate for
something to occupy her thoughts. Unfortunately, rolling
out piecrust was not exactly mentally absorbing, and her
mind was drifting with every pass of the rolling pin.

She fit the piecrust into the glass dish, trimming the
excess. Scully sighed, dreading the next day. The holiday
had disaster written all over it. Mulder was in an
emotionally fragile state, she was hormonally challenged and
big as a house, and her brother Bill would be loaded for bear.

The previous record for worst Thanksgiving was the year Melissa
announced she had become a vegetarian while Ahab carved the
turkey. Scully thought her father was going to have a stroke
that day. This year had the potential to be worse.

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