TITLE:                         The Way Things Are

AUTHOR:                   Sukie Tawdry

EMAIL:                       [email protected] <mailto:[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, M/S (some elements of M/other)

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 9 - Mr. Accidental

 

A fragment of bright yellow crime scene tape still clung to her

front door. The plastic was slippery against her fingers as she

pulled it off. "Lovely," she muttered, shivering a little despite

Mulder's jacket worn over the jogging suit. Mulder stood beside

her, his hand warm against her back.

 

"Your bag is still in evidence," he said. "It was found inside the

open door of the apartment. You must have dropped it when you were

grabbed. Your mother gave me her key at the hospital."

 

"Why didn't you tell her you already had a key?" she asked. It had

been months since they had exchanged keys during Mulder's

recuperation from the wound he'd received in North Carolina.

 

"Didn't have the guts," he replied, hiding a smile. "Let's just

say, your mother intimidates me a little."

 

She was a little surprised at her mother handing Mulder a key to

anything, much less her daughter's apartment. Margaret Scully

had been less than enthusiastic at the idea of Mulder staying

with her.

 

"Dana, I want you to come back to my house," she'd said at the

hospital.

 

Scully had been adamant; she needed to sleep in her own bed. If she

didn't go home that night, she might never be able to face returning

to the place where she'd been kidnapped.

 

The larger hurdle was in persuading her mother that Mulder should

accompany her home. It had been Mulder who pointed out that as an

armed federal agent, he was better equipped to protect Scully.

Reluctantly, Margaret agreed to wait until the next day to stop

by with groceries. Scully was sure her mother would be up all

night, shopping and cooking.

 

Mulder unlocked the apartment door, pushing it open. Scully

swallowed past the lump in her throat, walking into the living

room on legs that felt like rubber.

 

"There may be a little fingerprint dust here and there," he said,

walking ahead to turn on a lamp. "I called Skinner while you were

getting dressed. He agreed to hold off on any questions until

tomorrow."

 

She slipped out of Mulder's jacket while he busied himself with the

lights. Surreptitiously, she brought the fabric to her face and

inhaled, breathing in the warm, clean scent of Mulder's aftershave.

She had come so close to never seeing him again. Shuddering, she

remembering how frightened she'd been, how alone. She dropped the

jacket over the back of the couch.

 

The room tilted slightly. As she reached out to steady herself with

a hand on the sofa, Mulder rushed to her side. "Hey, we need to get

you to bed."

 

If she'd had an ounce of energy, she would have bristled at Mulder's

"take charge" routine. Instead, she allowed him to lead her through

the living room and into her bedroom.

 

"Can you hand me a nightgown?" she asked as she sat on the bed.

"Top drawer of the dresser."

 

Mulder looked exceedingly uncomfortable rummaging around in her

lingerie drawer. She might have smiled if she wasn't so drained.

The remains of the drugs in her system seemed to press down on her

like an ocean of water. He finally drew out a blue plaid

nightshirt, a Christmas gift from her mother several years ago.

"This one okay?"

 

"Fine," she answered. It was certainly appropriate, she thought,

for a high school sleepover. Maybe she and Mulder could make

brownies and set each other's hair.

 

"Can you manage?" he asked.

 

He seemed relieved at her nod and left, closing the bedroom door

behind him. Slowly, she unzipped the jog suit top and slipped it

off. Her hand rested on the gentle bulge of the baby, and she

wondered when she would start to feel the child move within her.

Sometimes, it all felt a little unreal--the physical changes, the

emotional upheaval--as if it were all happening to someone else.

 

She shrugged into the nightshirt, standing to shake it down

over her hips. Scully toed off the sneakers her mother had

brought with the jog suit. Skimming the slacks down, she kicked

the them off and dropped back on the bed. God, she was tired.

The simple act of climbing into bed seemed an insurmountable

task.

 

"You okay?" Mulder called through the door, probably having

hovered right outside.

 

"Yeah. Come on in," she answered. He looked exhausted standing

in the doorway, with eyes slightly glazed over and shoulders

slumped. How long had it been since he slept for more than an

hour or two?

 

"I wondered if you needed any help." Mulder approached the bed,

straightening the pillows and drawing the comforter down so she

could slip underneath.

 

"I...uh...I do have a favor to ask." Sitting against the pillows,

she glanced down at the blanket. "Would you stay with me until I

fall asleep?"

 

He nodded, turning out the light. "Sure," he answered, softly.

She slid down, turning on her side. Mulder sat on the end of the

bed, his back curved in exhaustion.

 

"Why don't you lie down?" she asked. He shook his head in token

resistance. Looking into her eyes, he smiled ruefully before

pulling off his shoes and stretching out beside her. It was a

toss up as to which of them was asleep first.

 

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"Hold her down."

 

Her arms and legs were held down, gripped by hands like iron

vices as she struggled fiercely. "Let go! Leave me alone!"

 

"Settle down, my dear," Dr. Rabbitface said, her voice honey

sweet. The woman's eyes glittered like blue ice chips. "We

need to do a few more tests."

 

Rabbitface held a large syringe above Scully's abdomen. The

long needle glinted in the bright light, its sharp tip moving

closer and closer to the bare skin.

 

"Get away from me," Scully shouted. "Mulder! Mulder, help

me!"

 

"I'm here. I'm here, Scully. It's okay. You were dreaming."

 

Mulder pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "You're

safe now."

 

She realized her face was wet with tears, strands of hair

plastered to her cheeks. Mulder brushed the hair back,

looking into her eyes. "Can you tell me about the dream?"

 

She shook her head. To talk about it would make it too real,

would bring it right into this room. "Maybe later, okay?"

 

"Sure," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "We'll do

whatever you need. Do you want some water?"

 

"No, thank you. What time is it?" she asked, her voice shaking.

 

"About four," he said glancing at his watch. "You need to try

and sleep some more."

 

She nodded, sliding down in bed. Mulder lay spooned behind her,

his hand tenderly stroking her hair. "I won't let anything

happen to you."

 

His arm snaked around her waist, hand resting on her belly.

With Mulder's breath stirring her hair, Scully drifted off.

 

Waking to sunlight streaming between the slats of her blinds,

the dream was almost forgotten in the safe warmth of her bed.

Mulder was gone, but his scent remained, comforting her as his

presence had in the middle of the night.

 

She stretched, cat-like, luxuriating in the softness of her own

nightgown and sheets. Rolling onto her side, she peered at

display on her alarm clock. She hadn't slept until 10:30 in

years. Life always seemed so much easier to face in the morning.

 

Using the bathroom, she turned the lock with satisfaction, not

because she needed to, but because she could. Her stomach

growled, and for the first time in days, she she wanted to eat.

These were such small things, but miraculous to her now.

 

She heard the murmur of voices drifting from the kitchen as

she opened the bedroom door. Wrapped up in her bathrobe,

she allows hunger and curiosity to draw her to the kitchen.

 

"Well, Dana was never one to fuss," her mother said. "She

fractured her wrist when she was six, rough-housing with her

brothers. Not once did she complain; we didn't know it was

broken for two days until I noticed she was favoring it."

 

"That sounds like Dana. I didn't know she hadn't told you

about the dehydration."

 

An uncomfortable silence had settled over the kitchen.

As she reached the door, Scully saw Mulder standing by

the counter, studying his fingernails with more intensity

than they warranted. Her mother sat at the kitchen table,

her hands cradling a mug of tea.

 

"Good morning. I can't believe how long I slept." Scully

walked into the kitchen. "Or that I made such interesting

breakfast conversation," she muttered under her breath.

 

"Good morning, sweetheart. Are you hungry? I brought

some groceries."

 

"Starved. I'll just get some cereal."

 

"Nonsense. Sit down. Let me get you some juice,"

her mother said, rising from her chair. "I can whip

up some eggs in a jiffy."

 

Scully sat, watching Mulder move out of her mother's

way as Margaret bustled between fridge and table and

stove. His shirt was creased from being slept in, his

jaw covered with stubble.

 

A frying pan sat on the range burner, recently used. A

plate containing the remnants of breakfast and a used

juice glass lay in the kitchen sink.

 

"Agent Mulder, would you like more eggs?" her mother asked.

 

"No thank you, Mrs. Scully." He turned to Scully.

"Uh...I'm going to hit the shower, if that's all right."

 

"Sure," Scully said, bemused. Her mother laid a heaping

plate of scrambled eggs and toast before her. Scully

watched Mulder's retreating back over the edge of her

juice glass.

 

Could things get any more surreal, she wondered, than her

mother cooking Fox Mulder breakfast. Only the concept of

Mulder showering in her apartment while mother eyed daughter

with a pensive gaze.

 

"I take it that's Mr. Accidental?" her mother asked.

 

Scully choked on a sip of juice. "Mom..."

 

"Don't bother to deny it, Dana, because we both know it's

true." Her mother returned to the table with a refilled tea

mug. "Eat your eggs before they get cold."

 

"Mom, there were reasons I couldn't tell you."

 

"I know, I know. There are far too many things you can't

tell me."

 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was in the hospital last

month. I knew you'd worry, and I really was fine."

 

"Dana, you don't end up in the hospital because you're fine.

I don't want you to keep things from me anymore. I don't like

having to find things out from a complete stranger." Margaret

glanced in the direction of the bathroom. "I will admit,

though, he was the only one who would give me a straight answer

when you were missing."

 

"You must have been so worried."

 

"We were all worried. I don't think Agent Mulder ate or slept

the entire time you were gone. He'd stop by with whatever news

there was on the investigation...one night I thought he was going

to collapse on my doorstep. Dana, I just don't understand."

Her mother broke off and listened for the sound of the shower.

"He obviously cares for you. Why won't he acknowledge this child."

 

"It's hard to explain, Mom. Mulder...Mulder was afraid that his

involvement in this pregnancy would bring unwanted attention from

some men he has been investigating for work."

 

"And you think that's who kidnapped you? Dana, what kind of men

is Mulder investigating? Is it...organized crime?"

 

"In a manner of speaking. They're certainly organized."

 

"Oh, honey...what are you going to do?"

 

"I don't know, Mom. I just don't know what's going to happen."

 

The cessation of running water signaled the end of the conversation.

The women listened to the distant sounds of Mulder moving around

the bathroom.

 

"Scully," he said as he returned to the kitchen. "I just talked

to Skinner. He's going to come by after lunch. He said he wanted

to handle your debriefing himself."

 

"I'm flattered," Scully said dryly. "Assistant Director Skinner is

our new boss," she told her mother.

 

"Uh, Scully. I'm going to run to my apartment while your mom is

here. I need to pick up a few things."

 

"Mulder, you must have things you need to do. I'll be all right,"

Scully said.

 

"Everything I need to do is here, Scully. I...uh...I'm going to

move in for a while."

 

"Funny, but I don't remember advertising for a roommate. Tell me,

Mulder, how does this fit in with your non-involvement policy?"

 

"I was wrong about that. I thought you'd be safer if I kept my

distance. But that was a mistake--you were in danger anyway.

I won't get in your way," he assured her. "We'll be roommates--

nothing else, I promise."

 

"That's not the point, Mulder. I can take care of myself. I don't

need a bodyguard or want you here out of some misplaced feeling of

obligation."

 

"Scully, I've never doubted you could take care of yourself. Hell,

you've saved my ass a few times." Mulder seemed to realize they

weren't alone in the room, turning to see Margaret Scully watching

them with curiosity. "But right now, you need someone. Scully,

I couldn't handle it if something happened to you. I...I need to be

here, okay?"

 

Something in his eyes kept her from arguing further. "One week,"

she offered.

 

"A month," he countered.

 

"Two weeks," she said. "And that's final."

 

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