Forever and a DayTitle: Forever and a Day
Classification: SAR
Keywords: MSR, Scully DAL for Mulder
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Requiem
Disclaimer: not my characters, just my idea
Distribution: just let me know
Thanks: realb, Karri, and Liam for beta

Summary: set present day, after Mulder's abduction in Requiem

Note: (partially) based on actual events



<><><><><><>

It was Mulder's unique version of foreplay - Adam's peanut butter 
cup fudge ripple or chocolate chip cookie dough cheesecake.  
Guaranteed orgasmic or double your money back.  She'd never had to 
pursue a refund.

The first time, it was a surprise.  It was just another, normal 
lunch at their favorite restaurant.  She'd taken her first bite of 
the Adam's and the contractions hadn't stopped for nearly ten 
seconds.  She'd hoped she could hide the flush on her neck and 
chest, the guilty, wicked smile on her lips, the sparkle in her 
eyes, but she couldn't.  Mulder saw, lowered his eyebrows in 
question, and leaned across the table.  He'd been concerned.

"Scully?"

"Hmm?"  She'd purred unintentionally.

A grin began.  "You okay?"

"Ohhh, yeah."

He'd cleared his throat, taking a sip of his tea.  "Was that what 
I think it was?"

Her own guilty smile was back, tinged with embarrassment.  "Yeah."

He must've recognized the look on her face.  His grin widened, and 
he'd turned to look over his shoulder, then back at her.  "If it's 
the waiter, I can fake a pretty good British accent," he'd teased.

On cue, their flirtatious waiter (from Essex, England) had 
appeared to refill their drinks.  As he'd walked away, they'd 
burst into giggles that had turned the heads of the tables nearby.

After that, it was a running joke.  "Cheesecake tonight?"  He'd 
ask as they walked to their cars.  Will I see you tonight?

"Sounds good," she'd tell him.  Of course; every night.

She pulls a chunk of cookie dough from her slice now, remembering.

"Dana?"

Her eyes snap to her mother's; she'd not been listening.  "What?"

"Are you all right?" 

Around them, the restaurant is full of friends sharing appetizers 
and gossip, couples leaning intimately towards each other over 
their entrees.  The din is loud and the atmosphere is vibrant and 
happy.

"Yeah."

Her mother doesn't know that this had been their place, their 
ritual, that cheesecake had been an aphrodisiac for them.

"Are you sure?"

You've got to move on, she'd told her after five months.  He 
wouldn't want you to stop living your life because of him.  He'd 
want you to be happy.  He'd want you to keep working.  He'd want 
you to be with people who care about you, not shut away inside 
your apartment like a hermit.

"Yes.  I'm just full from dinner."

They'd sat at that table right there, where the pregnant mother 
and father sit with their toddler, the last time they'd eaten 
here.  She'd convinced him to order wine and they'd drank the 
bottle together, exchanging looks that spoke volumes of their 
love, their desire, their need for each other.  That night, they'd 
gotten their cheesecake to go.  Later, he'd watched her soaking in 
her bathtub as her hands moved between her legs underneath the 
water, feeding her tiny bites to keep her going.

"You barely ate anything."

If she looks hard, she can see his reflection in the window where 
the other man is.  He'd sat there, right there, alive and healthy 
and happy and he was in love with her and she was in love with him 
and they'd just started this and he said it was forever and she'd 
never have to be lonely again he promised he wouldn't leave her he 
fucking promised!

"I'm not really hungry."

This is it, Scully.  One last game of UFO tag, then that's it.  
I'm quitting.  Some things are more important than little green 
men.

I thought they were gray.

He grins against her hair and strokes her back, his hands 
smoothing over her thighs then back up to her shoulders.  They can 
be yellow with purple stars on their bellies, for all I care.  Not 
anymore.  Not where there's so much more to life...

"Dana?"

Would you like to move to the Vineyard?  I've got that big house 
up there, right on the ocean.  The people are nice; they keep to 
themselves, mostly.  You could work at the hospital there and I 
could fish.

You don't know how to fish.

I do, too.  I watched Andy Griffith.

"Dana?"

Do you know how long I've had this ring?  Since your cancer went 
into remission.  I always intended to give it to you, but 
something was always happening, there was always something else 
going on.

That long?

He nods, embarrassed.  I promise, things will be different when I 
get back.  I know you don't think they will, but...Scully...  he 
shakes his head, his voice tight.

"Dana?"  Her mother grabs her arm, pulling her out of her 
memories.  "Are you ready to go?"

You were right, Mulder.  Things are so much different now.  Why 
did you break your promise?  I don't think I can't trust you 
anymore, not when you broke a promise as important as this one.  I 
need you, Mulder.  You're the only person I've ever admitted that 
to, and then you went and left me.  Now what do I do? 

"Yeah."

Mulder, what do I do?  What do I do without you?  

"Dana," her mother begins quietly in the car.  "It's been over 
three years."

"I know," she admits.

"You can't go on like this forever."

We can't go on like this forever, Scully.

"It's too soon."

Her mother shakes her head, winding her way through the parking 
lot.  "How long are you going to keep this up?"

"As long as it takes."

"As long as it takes for what?"

"Until he comes back."

Her mother's hands tighten on the wheel.  "Dana, honey...he's not 
coming back."

She shakes her head, not able to answer.

<><><><><><>

She's always silently wondered what their reunion would be like.  
Nighttime is the worst.

He'd be in a hospital bed, unconscious, and she'd run to him.  
She'd rest her head on his chest and listen to his slow heartbeat, 
squeeze his hand, kiss his cheeks.  He'd wake up, stirred by her 
familiar touch, and gaze up at her with fuzzy hazel eyes.  
"Scully?"  He'd ask, just stating a fact, and she'd nod, trying 
not to cry happy tears.

He'd be in a police station, confused, and he'd meet her at the 
door when she arrived.  She'd wrap her arms around him, breathe 
him in, melt their mouths together.  He'd smile down at her, 
slightly embarrassed, and make a silly joke to break the silence.  
"Scully?"  He'd whisper, asking her without words why he'd been 
lost in the Oregon woods so long, and she'd shake her head, not 
ready to get into that yet.

Those are the happier nights.

He'd be in a morgue, gray and battered, and she'd approach him 
slowly, a shaking hand covering her mouth.  She'd touch his hair, 
trace a finger down his wounds, cover him with an extra sheet so 
he wouldn't get cold.  He'd just lay there, sleeping without 
breathing, breaking her heart.  "Mulder?" she'd mouth painfully, 
futilely hoping that he'd open his eyes and wonder what she was so 
sad about.  Before she'd leave him, she'd tuck her flashlight into 
his hand; he'd always been secretly afraid of the dark.

She knows that is more realistic.

The day of their son's funeral, she'd stood over his tiny grave 
and wept quietly, her mother at her arm, Skinner a few paces 
behind them.  "What am I going to tell him?"  She'd asked her 
mother, guilt and regret washing over her with tides so strong 
they tugged at her, bleeding the oxygen from her lungs.  Her 
mother had squeezed her arm and led her away from the damp mound 
of earth, not answering her question.

She'd lost his child because she was careless.  Because she was 
reckless.  Because she didn't realize the reality of what was at 
stake until it was too late.  If she hadn't taken that last trip, 
if she hadn't gotten on that last plane, if she'd stopped to eat 
just one more meal, their son might still be alive and she could 
show Mulder how much she'd needed him while he was away.
 

She'd dropped the first sonogram picture into her Mulder Bag, 
paper-clipped to a photo of their son in his incubator, nude 
except for his cloth diaper and tiny blue cap.  The jaundiced skin 
was difficult to see beyond the wires and tubes that had briefly 
kept him alive, but he was there.  He had been real.  And now he 
wasn't, and she didn't know if Mulder would ever forgive her.

Science, statistics, and rational thought told her she wouldn't 
have to worry about it.  Her heart told her otherwise.  Every 
passing day was another that proved her heart wrong.

Finally, her heart had stopped feeling.

Sometimes, she swears she hears his voice, ragged from screaming, 
calling to her to help him.  She awakens and her own name in a 
terrified cry is ringing in her ears.  She hears his skin tearing 
as he struggles against the screws and hooks.  She hears the blood 
and tissue part as the saw digs into his chest.

She goes to her Mulder Bag and removes one of the videos there.  
Late one night, she'd caught the episode of COPS they'd been on 
and recorded it.  She winds it to that one spot where he's 
convincing that prostitute, what's her name, to cooperate with 
them.  His voice is low and pleading, but not desperate.  He knows 
what he wants and he knows how to get it.  That's the way she 
likes to remember him sounding - at night, when he would sneak 
under the covers and spoon behind her, pretending to pretend to 
accidentally wake her so they could make love.

She winds some more, to where she tells him that Skinner said the 
FBI has nothing to hide.  He's smiling down at her, glad to have 
won another battle.  More winding.  A look on his face, solemn and 
concerned, as he tries to figure out the puzzle before the sun 
comes up.  More winding, more, more, until she's seen the entire 
episode out of order and she can't breathe anymore from crying.

Babies need to recognize their parents' voices.  They hear them in 
the womb and can associate the voices with the people after birth.  
When she was pregnant, she would rationalize her COPS marathon 
with that.  She would call his answering machine and press the 
phone to her belly so he could hear the message.  Their son needed 
to hear his father's voice so that when he was born, he would know 
his father from the other men bound to visit.

She'd stayed with her mother for weeks after the funeral and, late 
one night, her mother had caught the end of the marathon.  She'd 
told her everything, of how the Gunmen had had to make her another 
video because she'd worn her original out, of how she'd tried to 
be a good mother but she just couldn't do anything right.

No, you did this just right, honey, she'd whispered to her. 
They're both in Heaven now, and he knows his father because of 
you.

At the time, that was a comforting sentiment, but the next 
morning, she'd remembered that Mulder wasn't in Heaven yet, and 
she had to start looking for him again.

What did I do, God?  Why do you do this to me?  I've tried to be a 
good person, a good Christian, even when I didn't go to church.  
I've always believed in you, I've always revered and respected 
you.  Why are you doing this?  Just tell me what I did and I'll 
fix it.  I'll do whatever it takes, just tell me...tell me how to 
fix this.  Tell me how to get him back.  I can't live without him.  
I thought I could, but I can't.  Just tell me.  Just tell me.

And then the sun rises and her tears disappear and she goes to 
work and goes home and goes to bed and cries and prays and begs 
and nothing ever happens.  And then the sun rises again...and 
nothing ever changes.

<><><><><><>

She's replayed that last morning in her head so many times she has 
it perfected.

He gets up before her and is packing before he takes a shower.  He 
brushes his teeth, he shaves, he showers, he dresses, he makes 
coffee.  He wakes her up.  He kisses her and tells her how warm 
she is and buries his face in her neck.  Her arms go around him 
and she asks him why he bothered to get dressed.  He says he 
doesn't know and takes off his clothes.  They make love.

He tells her he has to go and she says no.  She tells him she 
thinks she's pregnant and puts his hand on her stomach and asks 
him if it isn't a little rounder than it was last week.  He looks 
at her deeply, shifting his jaw from side to side, and asks her, 
really?  And she says yes.  He closes his eyes and asks, the dizzy 
spells?  And she says maybe.  She says she needs to take one of 
those home tests and he says okay.  She asks him if he can get a 
later flight and he says yes.  While he calls Skinner, she dresses 
and runs to the drugstore on the corner.

When she gets back, he hovers outside as she takes the test, then 
she opens the door and tells him, five minutes.  He sets his 
watch.  He follows her back into the bathroom and she sits on the 
counter and he moves between her legs.  They cling to each other.  
They cry.  They are hopeful.

His watch beeps and she turns her head and says she's afraid to 
look.  Afraid if will be positive or afraid it will be negative, 
he asks.  She kisses him and tastes salt on his lips.  He nods.  
He looks at the test and reads the back of the box.  What are we 
gonna do with a baby, Scully, he asks breathlessly.  She laughs 
and looks at the test.  They kiss.  He carries her to the bed and 
they make love.  Afterwards he calls Skinner and tells him to 
cancel their flights to Oregon.

They talk about a boy versus a girl.  They talk about names.  They 
talk about getting married.  They talk about moving into that big 
house on the Vineyard.  He rubs her stomach in amazement and asks 
her how it happened.  The birds and the bees and the monkey 
babies, Mulder.

He isn't abducted.  He doesn't disappear.  Their son is full term.  
He has red-blond hair and blue eyes and her nose.  They name him 
William.  They get married and move into that big house on the 
Vineyard.  She works at the hospital and he fishes.  Their 
refrigerator always has plenty of cheesecake in it.  They plan for 
a daughter next fall who'll have brown, curly hair and dark brown 
eyes and olive skin.

And she's happy.  She lives.

<><><><><><>

Tell me about the rods, she says.

He smirks.  Rods?  As in, the inter-dimensional organisms that 
have reportedly been caught by amateur photographers?

Yeah.

That's about all there is to tell.  Not much is known about them.  
No one's ever caught a live one and studied it.  Why?

I saw a show on TLC about them.  I'd never heard of them.

Was Trading Spaces not on?

She smiles.

There was an article about them in Omni a while ago.  It's not a 
particularly well documented phenomenon; probably just normal 
video interference.

You don't believe in them?

No...I don't believe in everything.

Do you believe you'll come back one day?

He takes a deep breath, hedging.  Do you?
 
Yes.

I want to believe, Scully, but it's so hard.  Sometimes, I just 
want to fall asleep and never wake up.  It feels so good to be 
asleep...

But I need you here, Mulder.  Please come back.

I'm trying, Scully.  I promise you I'm trying.

You promised you wouldn't leave me and you did.  Why did you lie 
to me, Mulder?  Mulder?



Mulder don't go...no, please, don't leave again.  Mulder, come 
back.  Mulder, please...come back...Mulder!  Mulder!  MULDER!



"Mulder?"  She asks her empty apartment.  There is no answer.

<><><>End<><><>

Dedicated to Dri and Myra: see what happens when you give me a 
challenge?

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