TITLE:                         The Way Things Are

AUTHOR:                   Sukie Tawdry            

EMAIL:                       [email protected]                       

RATING:                     NC-17            

SPOLIERS:               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. 

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Big thanks to Sybil for beta and support.

ARCHIVE:                  NO ARCHIVE FOR EPHEMERAL OR GOSSAMER--I'll take

                                    care of them.                

 

 

Part 2 - Pillar of Salt

 

"Glad you could make it, Scully."  Mulder was tipped back

in his chair, his feet crossed on his desk.  "Stuck in

traffic again?"

 

She wanted to punch that smirk right off his face.  She'd

spent the morning crouched by the toilet, alternately being

sick and checking the cadre of pregnancy tests, each one

delivering its bad news.

 

"No, I wasn't stuck in traffic," she said, shooting him

a "don't mess with me" look.

 

"Is everything okay?" he asked, his concern apparent.  "I

don't mean to pry, but you haven't been yourself lately. 

You look very pale this morning, Scully."

 

Just when she thought she had him figured out, Mulder would

surprise her.  When she had decided he was too obsessed with

his work to notice anything else, he turned gentle and tender.

 

"I'm fine.  Well, actually, I wasn't feeling that well this

morning, but I'm better now."  She cleared her throat.  This

wasn't going to be easy.  "Can we go for a walk, Mulder.  I

need to talk to you, and I'd prefer not to do it here."

 

"Now you're scaring me.  Are you sure you're all right? 

You're not having after effects from the insects, are you?"

 

"No.  Nothing like that.  I just....we need to talk."

 

"Okay.  Of course," he said, wariness in his voice.  They

left the building, walking the two blocks to the Mall. 

Each time they had to cross a street, his hand would come

to rest on her back.  He was like that--gentlemanly and a

little territorial.  

 

"What did you want to tell me?" he asked, when they reached

an area away from any tourists. 

 

She took a deep breath, fighting back the urge to be sick. 

Now, that would be disastrous, throwing up on Mulder's shoes

in front of dozens of gawking tourists.  On the other hand,

it would certainly open up the subject at hand.

 

"I wanted to be absolutely sure before I told you, Mulder. 

I haven't seen a doctor yet, but...I'm pregnant.  At least

that's what four separate home pregnancy tests said."

 

He didn't speak, and she wondered how long it had been since

anyone had been truly able to shut him up.  Finally, he

found his tongue.  "You're sure....you're sure it's..."

 

"Yours? Yes.  Unless I had sex with someone and developed

amnesia, yes, it's yours."

 

"I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to insult you."  His gaze seemed

to be fixated on a street vendor, unable to meet her eye. 

 

"I'm not insulted.  It was a fair question.  I don't sleep

around, Mulder."  She pinned him with a fierce look.  "There is

no  chance this is not your child, Mulder.  Look, I'm not any

happier than you are about this."

 

"One drunken night.  One stupid, miserable drunken night. 

I can't believe this."

 

"Are you insinuating this is all my doing?  Because, if you

are, Mulder, I need to remind you that I was not alone in

this stupidity."

 

He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut.  "You're right.  I didn't

mean to imply you were the only one at fault. Scully, what

are you going to do?"

 

"Gee, I thought talking to you was the logical first step.

What with you being there at the time of conception and all. 

I thought you'd want to be the first to know, but obviously

I've misjudged the situation."

 

"Scully, I'm not denying my responsibility, but honestly,

what happens next is up to you." He stuffed his hands in

his slack pockets.   

 

"I was hoping you would want to be part of that decision,

Mulder.  Obviously, you don't."  She turned and began to

walk back to the office.  She fought the urge to run

as fast and as far as she could.

 

"Wait!  Scully, wait." He caught up to her easily with his

long legs. His hand gripped her upper arm.  "I...I don't

mean to be callous.  I'm still in shock, okay."

 

"I have to go," she said, as she pulled out of his grip. 

Head held high, she walked away, glancing back when she

reached the corner.  Mulder remained where she had left him

staring after her.

 

The basement office was blessedly empty when she arrived. 

Mulder was probably still standing on the Mall, a pillar of

salt, rather like Lot's wife.  She retrieved the file she'd

been working on the day before and headed up to the forensic

area where she hoped to camp out in an empty office.

 

She wasn't sure what she'd envisioned when she told Mulder. 

She'd have hated it if he tried to dictate her next move. 

He was right--there were choices before her--keep the baby,

give it up or abort-- but ultimately, the decision was hers.

 

She'd never felt so alone in her life.  Her mother was still

reeling from Bill Scully Sr's death.  Melissa was hard

to reach these days, still traveling the West Coast.  Scully

was too embarrassed to tell her friends.   How utterly

humiliating--a thirty-year-old physician, FBI agent, independant

woman--finding herself "in trouble" like some teenager. 

 

And the father of the baby was no more interested in her than

a teenager's one-night stand.  She couldn't even be angry

with Mulder. He'd made it perfectly clear from the very

beginning that finding out what happened to his sister was all

he cared about.

 

"Nothing else matters," was what he had said all those months

ago as they sat in a darkened motel room on their first case. 

He allowed no distractions or impediments to his quest.  The

women he slept with were an evening's diversion, a way to scratch

an itch.  She'd seen him sidestep the morning after phone calls,

gently and carefully extricating himself from further involvement.

 

It was no wonder that he was panic-stricken now.  She wasn't a one

-night stand, a pick up.  They had a partnership, a relationship of

growing trust, and that was on the line.  She had no doubt that he

cared for her on some level.  She could see the affection in his

eyes, hear it in his voice.

 

But Mulder was a terribly isolated man.  He seemed to be somewhat

estranged from his family.  He didn't appear to keep in touch with

anyone from his ISU days.  He'd acted pleasantly surprised whenever

they'd come across people from his past.  Mulder traveled light.

 

She had turned her cell phone off earlier, and checking it now,

she saw a series of messages from Mulder.  She turned it off again.

She wasn't ready to talk to Mulder, not until she sorted

things out.

 

Trying to work, she concentrated on the autopsy results from

their last case.  She reached into her briefcase and pulled out

a packet of saltine crackers.  They helped the morning sickness

a little.  She munched a few, only to find herself in the ladies

room within the hour.

 

She knelt on the cold tile floor after losing everything she had in

her stomach. Thank God, the bathroom was deserted.  That was all

she needed--to set the Hoover building grapevine into motion. 

Hey, did you hear--Agent Scully got knocked up.  Really, wonder

who she took off her panties for. Well, you never know about those

frosty types--sometimes they're real sluts.  Bet it was that sexy

partner of hers--he'd be hard to resist.   Yeah, but how long 'til

he takes a powder?

 

She pushed herself up from the floor, her stomach a bit steadier.

Her legs felt shaky as she walked to the sink.  Mulder was right,

she looked like a ghost.  He'd been generous--he hadn't mentioned

the dark circles under her eyes or the hollows under her cheekbones.

Weren't pregnant women supposed to get chubby cheeks?

 

She splashed water on her face and rinsed out her mouth.  She was

becoming a little concerned about the vomiting.  She wracked her

brain, but couldn't remember enough from her medical school

training to know what was normal in early pregnancy.

 

It was after four thirty when she went back to the basement office.

She had steeled herself to face Mulder, though she wasn't sure

what to say to him.  It turned out to be a moot point--Mulder wasn't

there.  She lifted a post-it note off her computer terminal,

"Dropping off the prints from the Miller case--see you tomorrow."

 

Using the privacy of the deserted office, she phoned her

gynecologist and made an appointment for the next afternoon.

Gathering her things, she left the office.  Scully couldn't

remember when she'd felt so exhausted.  

 

Her apartment looked dusty and neglected when she arrived home.

Lately, she had no energy at the end of the day.  She couldn't

remember the last time she had straightened up.  The answering

machine yielded a series of increasingly terse messages from

Mulder asking her to call him.  She hit the erase button.  Too

tired to eat, she kicked off her shoes and dropped onto the sofa.

In moments, she was sleeping soundly.

 

It was dark when she woke.  Blessedly dark, and quiet.  Her

mind felt clear for the first time in days.  Suddenly, she

saw the options before her, and realized that there was only

one true choice. 

 

She couldn't abort this child.  It was wrong.  Not for anyone

else, perhaps, but for her, for Dana Scully.  She had never

taken the easy way out, and to abort the child because it

was inconvenient wasn't right for her.  She'd been raised to

a strict code of right and wrong.  You took responsibility for

your actions.  You owned up to the consequences no matter how

uncomfortable.

 

And she didn't think she could give this child up, no matter

what the impact to her career or her reputation.  She made a

decent living and her skills would ensure her security.  With

Mulder's support or without, she would do what she had to do.

 

She needed to tell him.  He would, no doubt, be relieved that

he was off the hook.  She thought about calling him, but

decided he deserved to hear the news in person. 

 

She felt more energized than she had in days.  It was all

so clear now, so simple.  She hummed along with the radio as

she drove to Mulder's apartment. 

 

But the damned morning sickness reared its ugly head, and

she rushed to park the car.  She wondered why the hell it

was called morning sickness anyway, since she seemed to be

sick morning, noon and night.

 

She knocked on Mulder's door, frantically swallowing back

the nausea.  In her misery, she barely listened

for movement behind the door.  Desperate, she pulled out

the key she still had to Mulder's apartment, a remnant from

the days when he was freshly home from the hospital with

a bad leg wound.

 

She pushed the door open, frantic to get to the bathroom

before she vomited in the hall.  The sight that greeted her

stopped her in her tracks.

 

A naked Mulder sat on his couch.  He wasn't alone.  The

woman who straddled his lap was naked as well, her short

brown hair swinging as she turned her head to see who had

walked in the door.

 

"What the hell?" the woman screeched.  What the hell, indeed,

Scully thought.  Mulder was saying something, but Scully

couldn't take the time to decifer his words.

 

"Damn morning sickness," Scully muttered, as she bolted for the

bathroom.

 

 

 

 

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