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 17 - The Gray Area

"If you're a good girl, I'll bring you some gruesome autopsy
notes to review."

"Thanks, Mulder. You're a real friend," she said. "I'm so
desperate for something to do, I'll overlook the 'good girl'
comment and let you live."

"I know you're bored, Scully. I'll be home early--maybe we
can go out for dinner."

"Okay. See you then. And don't forget the autopsy notes."

She hung up the phone, wondering if a person could lose their
mind due to boredom. Scully had been restricted to desk duty
for several weeks, and had hoped to ride that out until delivery.
It may have driven her crazy to stay behind when Mulder visited
a crime scene or interviewed a witness, but being at the office
was one step closer to her old life. Maternity leave was like
jumping off a cliff into the unknown.

The world as Scully knew it ceased to exist three days ago at
her now bimonthly obstetrical visit. Paula's frown, as she
looked at Scully's chart had been truly ominous. It had been
one of the rare appointments Mulder hadn't been able to attend,
leaving Scully feeling a bit more vulnerable.

"Dana, your blood pressure is slightly elevated. I'm seeing
signs of physical stress here. Have you been taking it easy
as we discussed?"

"The last few days have been hectic, Paula, but I've tried to
rest."

"We agreed you would stay in the office."

"And I have..."

"It sounds as if there is a 'but' coming along."

"Well, there was one autopsy I didn't trust anyone else
with."

"An autopsy? On your feet for hours without a break? Oh,
Dana. I'm afraid there is no middle ground for you, old
friend. I'm putting you on maternity leave, effective
immediately."

Pleading did no good. Paula would not budge on the issue,
threatening to call Dana's superiors and Mulder as well.
So, Scully had gone back to the office one last time to meet
with Skinner and pack up her briefcase. Mulder had embraced
her in the office, joking that without her company, he'd
henceforth be known as the hermit of the basement.

Her mother had been delighted. Margaret Scully had lamented
over the half decorated nursery. She'd approved of the 'baby
chick yellow' color scheme, but had been frustrated because
Scully hadn't seen fit to choose a theme. Her daughter was
now a captive audience with no escape from Margaret Scully
in Grandma-overdrive.

Scully flipped though a magazine, barely glancing at the pages.
Thanksgiving photo spreads, turkey recipes, pumpkin pie ideas.
She really should try to find a nice side dish to bring for
the holiday next week. She'd need to find out what her mother
was planning on making.

She dropped the magazine onto the floor with a loud slap.
The television chattered in the background, mostly left on
for the company of its voices. Daytime TV had held her
interest for all of seven and a half minutes. When your
life was a soap opera, you didn't need to spend the
afternoon watching other people's troubles.

The doorbell's ring came as a welcome relief. "I'm coming,"
Scully called out, as she struggled off the sofa. She must
really be bored silly, she thought. Scully was actually looking
forward to the prospect of looking at baby magazines with her
mother in the endless pursuit of the most adorable nursery.

"I'll be there in a second, Mom!" Finally reaching the front
door, Scully rose on tiptoe to peak through the peephole.

"Oh, shit," she muttered under her breath as she opened the
door. "Bill! I thought you were at sea."

"Good to see you too, Dana." Her brother's words seethed
with anger, his eyes flashing. "Are you going to invite
me in, or do I have to stand in the hallway."

"Sorry," she said, stepping aside to admit Bill. He glanced
down at her enormous belly as he entered the room. "How is
Tara?"

"She's fine." Bill Scully stared at his sister's midsection,
exasperation evident on his face. "God, Dana, I can't believe
this."

Moving with a pronounced waddle, Scully motioned her brother to
the sofa. "Believe it, Bill. In roughly four weeks, you're
going to be an uncle."

He smiled briefly at that. It might have been too early
to play the 'uncle' card, but Scully was desperate. Bill's
smile vanished, replaced by the stern look he'd arrived with.

"I keep wondering what Dad would say."

Bill winced as Scully lowered herself awkwardly onto the sofa.
He flopped into the armchair, his eyes on her stomach. Her
hands automatically came up to rest protectively over the child.

"Don't you think I've wondered that, too? If Dad were alive,
would he be ashamed? Would he understand? I'd like to think
no matter how horrified he was in the beginning, he would have
come to accept it."

"Mom and Dad were so proud of you when you graduated medical
school. They spent a fortune on your education and you broke
their hearts by joining the FBI."

"Bill, haven't we exhausted that topic by now? I use my
education on every case I work on. I think Mom and Dad
accepted my choice. I don't know why you can't."

"I've heard about your *work*, Dana. I looked into that partner
of yours--the guy who got you pregnant, by the way. He's a
nut job who had a nervous breakdown and washed out as a profiler.
I heard he chases after UFOs and aliens--and now he drags
you along."

"Bill," she said, wearily. "I don't know who you've been
talking to, but you've got everything wrong. Mulder is a
gifted profiler. He did not wash out of the ISU, quite
the opposite, actually. They'd take him back in a heartbeat,
but he found something he wanted to do more than that. And
he had the clout to investigate the cases he wanted, not
because he's nuts, but because he's so damn good."

"Sounds like he sold you a load of crap."

"He didn't sell me on anything except his talent. Profiling
is extremely difficult work, and a lot of them burn out.
But, think about it, Bill. Do washouts get to choose what
they do next? The FBI isn't all that different from the Navy,
you know. What happens to guys who can't hack it there?
Mulder got to do what he wanted to do because he was in a
position of power, because he's *that* good. Not the other
way around."

She was exhausted. The baby limited her lung capacity and
made long speeches difficult. Scully closed her eyes and
tried to control her breathing. When she opened her eyes, she
saw her brother, kneeling beside her, concern on his face.

"You okay, Dana?"

"Yeah. I just get tired quickly these days. My doctor just
put me on leave."

"So, you're not working with him anymore."

"I'm on maternity leave; I haven't resigned my position."

"So, even though he doesn't want this baby, you'll keep
working with him. Dana, I just don't understand. How
could you let someone treat you like this."

"Who said he doesn't want the baby? It was a little rough
in the beginning, but we worked it out. He wants to be part
of this." She saw the disbelief in her brother's face and
wondered how much of the story their mother told him. Or
how much her brother had listened to.

"He lives here, Bill."

Her brother's face changed, and she couldn't decide if the
barely concealed anger was preferable to this new expression
of disdain.

"Is he at least going to marry you?"

"You mean 'make an honest woman of me'?"

"It's not an antiquated concept, you know. People get
married, usually before they have a baby together. So,
why won't he marry you?"

God, this was hard. And embarrassing. Truth was, they
hadn't discussed marriage at all. "What makes you think
I even want to get married?"

"You're going to have this baby out of wedlock?"

"Drop it!" She struggled to rise from the sofa, needing to
walk off her irritation, but instead, she floundered like
a turtle on its back. Or a beached whale. "I am NOT
discussing this with you."

Her frustration grew as her limbs flailed ineffectually.
She was stuck, damn it to hell. Bill's smile was involuntary,
but she wanted to smack it off his face anyway.

"Let me help you," he said, extending a hand. His concern for
her came through over the genuine humor of her predicament.
She ought to slap that helping hand away, but then she'd have
to stay on the sofa indefinitely. She took his hand and
allowed him to pull her up.

"Thanks," she said, straightening her maternity top and trying to
salvage her dignity. Definitely time to change the subject.

"Are you going to Mom's for Thanksgiving?"

"Yeah. You?"

"We'll both be there. And Bill," she allowed her voice to drop
in pitch, showing her deadly seriousness. "I don't want anyone
to spoil the holiday."

"Okay, okay," her brother said, palms up in surrender. "Whatever
you might think, Day, I'm only looking out for you."

"I know you are."

"I should let you rest," he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
"I'll see you next week."

Scully was at the kitchen table, trying to decompress with a glass
of warm milk, when she heard the front door slam. She listened
to the now familiar sounds of Mulder in her life.

"Hey Scully, you'll never guess the odds they've got for you
giving birth on Pearl Harbor Day." Of course, they won't let
me bet in the office pool. Said I have an inside track. I tried
to tell them I'm completely in the dark about 'D' Day, but..."

His voice trailed off as he rounded the corner into the kitchen,
and saw the look on her face. He held her in a concerned glance
as he reached blindly into the fridge for a bottle of water.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice cautious. He took a long swig
and dried his mouth with the back of his hand. "Did something
happen, Scully?"

"Remember when I told you my brother Bill was at sea?" Mulder
nodded in response. "Well, he's back on dry land and proving
to be a bigger pain in the ass than I remember."

"Should I head for the hills?" Mulder chucked, but she detected
some worry in his voice.

"No, but you might want to keep your weapon handy at Thanksgiving
dinner."

"Maybe I shouldn't go. I mean, if it's going to cause a problem
with your family, I can drive you there and leave."

"No. I want you to come. My family is just going to have
to accept us, and they might as well start on Thanksgiving with
all that good will and a nice healthy dose of tryptophan.
Bill's obnoxious, but relatively harmless."

"It's the relatively part that concerns me," he said smiling.

"Me too." She sipped her milk, barely warm now, and blinked
back tears. Damn hormones. Damn, fucking hormones, sending
doubts into her mind like little daggers.

"Scully? What else did your brother say?" Mulder turned a
kitchen chair around, straddling it. Chin propped on one
hand, he regarded her with concern.

"Nothing important."

"If it was so unimportant, why are you sitting here trying to
calm down with the pregnant woman's drug of choice?" he asked,
gesturing at her warm milk.

"He has...the ability to push my buttons. Dad was gone so
much when we were young, and I think 'you're the man of the
family now' was drummed into Bill's head. He's taken that
role a little too much to heart. It's gotten worse since
Dad died. I love my brother, but he sees things in terms
of black and white."

"And we live in the gray area."

"Exactly. So, when you meet him, try not to take him too
seriously. I have a feeling he's going to ask you about
your intentions toward me."

"My intentions? Is he going to be asking that with a large
shotgun in his hands?" Mulder asked, laughing, but
his eyes flicked to hers. "I'll try to think of an answer."

"You do that, Mulder," she said, softly. Scully stared into
her milk glass, at the thin white coating left at the bottom.
*Be sure to let me know what that answer is* she thought, and
quickly pushed the bitterness away.

She needed to look at how far they'd come, how far Mulder had
come into her life and not obsess about the distance left to
travel. She hadn't been thinking about marriage until Bill
opened his stupid mouth.

In a few short months, Mulder had gone from being an
'unofficial' father-to-be, to embracing both Scully and their
child with a certainty that took her breath away. Surely that
was more important than a piece of paper.

And yet, that piece of paper was important. It stood for so
much: permanence, security, stability. And it said to everyone
they were 'official.' Maybe that was the problem--maybe Mulder
still had fears that making things official would draw the
attention of people who bore them ill will.

She looked up into Mulder's concerned eyes. "He really rattled
you, didn't he?" he asked.

"Yeah. But not as much as he wanted to." She smiled at him,
covering his hand with hers. "I'm starving. You promised
to feed me, and we both know you had better deliver on that
promise."

<><><><>

"See you all after Thanksgiving. Be sure to keep doing your
exercises, everyone. No slacking because you ate too much
turkey!"

Groans filled the air as the husbands helped the wives
scramble off the exercise mats on the community room
floor. To the other Lamaze class attendees, she and
Mulder probably looked like just another couple.

And in a lot of ways, they weren't that different from the
accountants and pharmacists and teachers that comprised the
class. They all wanted the same thing: a safe delivery of
a healthy baby.

The other parents probably didn't carry firearms. Scully
smiled, remembering their awed reaction when she and Mulder
mentioned that they were FBI agents. Cordial voices called
goodbye as the room emptied out.

Mulder pulled her up, grunting with mock exertion. "You
better watch that pumpkin pie, Scully. Might need a crane
to get you up in a few days."

"Shut up, Mulder," she said, punching his arm.

"Ow!" Mulder made quite a show of rubbing his arm. "Don't
be in such a hurry to hurt me. Your brother will have his
shot soon enough."

He helped her into her coat, pulling her close with the
ends of her scarf. Scully stepped forward, wrapping her
arms as far around Mulder as her belly would allow.

"You can hide behind me. Bill won't be able to see around
my bulk."

He nuzzled the top of her head. "As much as I appreciate
that noble offer, Scully, honor demands I stand up to
old Bill."

"Okay, but go easy on him. Mom won't like it if you hurt
him too badly."

Mulder chuckled as he shrugged into his coat, obviously
tickled at her confidence in his butt-kicking abilities.
He gathered up the bed pillows and tucked them under his
arm.

The instructor was tidying the room for the night as they
waved goodbye. Mulder's free hand was at her back, guiding
her down the hall and out the community center doors into
the cold night air.

Their breath formed frosty clouds in the cold air, as they
made their way through the dark parking lot. It took all
of Scully's concentration not to stumble in the shadows.
She was very aware of Mulder's hand on her elbow.

Scully's internal alarms were just beginning to sound as they
approached the car. She felt Mulder's hand tighten on her
arm, signaling his own nerves. Something wasn't right; she
just couldn't put her finger on it. Was it an almost
imperceptible sound, a flicker of movement in the shadows?

"Good to see you, Agent Mulder. And the lovely mother-to-be."

<><><><>