P is for... pickles and ice cream? by Mish mish_rose@yahoo.com Classification: MSR, Scullyfic Improv fic, a little bit of everything Rating: NC-17 for sexual situations - kiddies go away! Distribution: Gossamer, Spookys, okay. Anywhere else okay, but I'd like to know! Spoilers: Not much except for one big one for Requiem. Disclaimer: If they belonged to me, we would have seen it all, from the first kiss to the after sex cuddling. Summary: Brought to you by the letter 'p'.... For Skinner, it's protection. For Mulder, it's pot. For Scully? Peace and quiet... and popcorn, of course. Followed by Passionate!Mulder. Many thanks to Alicia for the beta. I was lost on this one, folks. Hope you can make sense of it. Any mistakes are truly my own. 128 'p' words - find them all and you win... a pecan pie! Find the other goodies and you win... a peck of pickled peppers! I think I've gone officially psycho. Stop me now. P is for.... Part One 'Scully?" Her head turned at the murmur to see Mulder's shadowy form outlined in the intrusion of harsh light from the corridor. "What?" She looked away, watching the slash of light disappear as he let the door to the chapel swing shut. "I've been looking for you." "I told the nurse I'd be in the chapel." With a sigh, Mulder sat to her right, though not close. He reached for her hand; she almost jerked it away, then let him enclose it in his warm palm. "Skinner's gonna be okay, Scully. The blood work showed nothing stronger than Valium, with a little ketamine thrown in for good measure. They said we can take him home now. He'll be fine in a couple of hours." Scully closed her eyes in relief, then opened them to look at the plain wooden cross hanging against the small stained glass window. Her prayers had been answered; for once God took the time to listen. Her back screamed as she rose from the pew and pulled her hand from Mulder's, still avoiding his eyes. "Then let's go," she said, moving past him with the door in sight. Mulder grabbed her hand again, stilling her flight. "Does this mean you're talking to me again?" His face was hopeful in the light from the candles on the small altar. She looked his way and removed her hand from his. His eyes were still dilated and she felt herself grow angrier at the sight. "I don't think you want to hear what I have to say." In fact, she was sure he wasn't going to like her impending tirade. It was all she could do to hold it in now; the hospital was not the place for the discussion to come. "Yes, I do," he replied. "Please, Scully... talk to me." Through clenched teeth, she answered, "When we get in the car." His head dropped and he smiled, a small, unsure show of teeth. "As long as you talk to me, I don't care where." Just wait until they got to the car. He was sure to regret that statement. "Are you coming?" she asked, her hand on the door knob. Mulder rose unsteadily and stopped her exit with a hand above hers. "Hey Scully? What say we find the chaplain and make it official?" Her eyes narrowed. "Don't push your luck." She pulled open the door and stormed down the hall, ignoring his suddenly pale cheeks. ********** "I don't know what the hell you thought you were doing." Scully's tight voice echoed in the confines of the car. Fuming, that's what she was. Angry as all hell. Mulder, in his waning cannabis- induced haze, flinched at the pellets of ice that came out of her mouth. "Scully -" The protest was almost lost in the rush of freezing air from the open window. His head lolled to the right and he gulped against the door frame. Well, he'd wanted to talk and she was obliging... it wasn't her problem if his courage was failing along with his stomach. "Don't *Scully* me. And don't you dare throw up out that window." She came to a screeching halt at the next traffic light and faced him, her round face flushed in the neon glow of the corner street lamp. "You were supposed to observe, Mulder, not join in." "I know," he replied in an even voice, unwilling to provoke her further. "I was asked to join the poker game in the back room, Scully. I couldn't very well refuse, could I?" "Yes, you could have." Her voice was shaking now; she was perilously close to tears. Damn him and his *favor* for Peterson in Organized Crime. So much for 'easing back into work.' "Do you have any idea the trouble you could have gotten into?" It wasn't just the fact that she'd lost contact with him from the car. Nor was it the fact that she'd had to burst into the bar like some fishwife on the warpath for her errant husband. Hell, the sight of Mulder with a joint in his hand didn't really bother her either; she wasn't naive enough to believe that he'd never done *that* before. No. It was the lingering traces of cherry red lipstick on his cheek that raised her blood pressure. The smell of cheap Avon perfume that wafted from him, making her poor stomach churn with nausea even now. The picture in her mind that would not disappear... Mulder with a leggy brunette in his lap, her mouth attached to his ear like a remora. She took a deep breath and pulled away from the intersection at the green light, her attention focused once again on the traffic. "You were unarmed, Mulder. Skinner and I couldn't raise you on the radio. You had one of the East Coast's most notorious mob bosses at your right and a known prostitute on your lap. Smoking weed that could have been laced with PCP or heroin...." Sighing, she fell silent. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be home, soaking her now size ten figure in a hot bubble bath. Calgon, take me away. Away from the boring desk duty of the five and a half months pregnant FBI agent. Away from the swollen feet and uncooperative bladder. Far, far away from the idiot father of the Patrick Ewing wannabe that dribbled on her small intestine every time he heard the hum of his dad's voice. "Scully, it wasn't what you think." She caught his pitiful look out of the corner of her eye, but refused to look at him. He wasn't going to get off that easily. "Shut up, Mulder." Reaching for the buttons on the radio, she figured it was a sure fire way of making him do just that. The sounds of Van Halen's "Panama" blared to life, startling her with eardrum shattering ferocity. With one hand on the wheel and one eye on the road, she muttered, "Shit," and fumbled with the buttons. "I think it's stuck... let me," Mulder said, leaning over to adjust the sound. But she would have none of it, slapping his hand away like she would a pesky mosquito. "I'll do it." Chastised, he slumped into the passenger seat and faced the darkness beyond his window. Scully kept trying, punching every button she could find in the ancient excuse for a Bureau sedan. The damn thing didn't even have any of the modern conveniences of most AM/FM car stereos. Talk about a piece of shit, she thought with growing anger. Nope, that button didn't work. David Lee Roth only screeched louder. Great. Now Patrick was intent upon joining in the fun, doing a little 'piston poppin' of his own with both feet. "Shit on it," she muttered, and reached for the knob to turn it off. It broke off in her white grip. "Fuck!" It was no use holding back now. Scully ignored Mulder's astonished glance and threw the knob at him, hoping to hit him square between those bloodshot eyes. No such luck; it sailed right through his open window and was lost. Oh, that's rich, she mused, shaking her head and pursing her lips. Come on, where are you guys? Now's the time, if ever there was one. She hiccuped at the onslaught of her tears. Ah, there they were, in all their hormonal glory. Let's see Mr. Pothead deal with that. It felt good, it really did, to see him wilt with regret. "Scully, don't. Please. I'm sorry." He plucked at her cashmere coat and she jerked away. "You can't drive and cry at the same time. Let me -" "Drive?" Her incredulous reply shook. "I don't think so, Mulder. And don't even think about waking up Sleeping Beauty back there - he's in worse shape than you are." Some help he was, the big galoot. Skinner had gone in ten minutes before she did, unwilling to let her storm in there. Seems he'd appointed himself her protector when Mulder had gone missing and he was reluctant to relinquish that heavyweight title just yet. Of course, all it took was one sip of the Valium-spiked drink the suspicious bartender had given him and he was thrown for a loop. Thank goodness Mulder had been sober enough to help him to the car. Some backup. A very pregnant woman and an Assistant Director that apparently had 'law enforcement' stamped in red on his forehead. Skinner hadn't fooled them for a minute, despite his casual attire. They were only supposed to do a little fact- finding. Instead, she was now responsible for two stoned FBI agents and her back was killing her. "All rock! Commercial free!" The nasally voice of the disc jockey barreled through the tension in the car. "Have a request? Call in right now!" "Yeah," came the mumble from the back seat. "Shut the fuck up!" The beast was awake. Oh joy, just what she needed. She swiped at the diminishing drops on her cheeks. "Sir?" "I said... shut the fuck up!" A black flash of metal appeared over the seat between Scully and Mulder. "Jesus!" she cried, cringing in horror. It was all she could do to hold the car on the road, immediately letting up on the accelerator. She couldn't hit the brakes for fear of the gun discharging in his unsteady fingers. "Mulder!" Mulder reached slowly for the gun. "Sir, give that to me, okay?" A soothing, polite request. But Scully could feel the rumble of fright in his voice. Nothing like the threat of gunfire to sober one up. Thankfully, Skinner loosed his hold on the weapon and slumped back into his seat. "Do something about that fucking noise, Mulder," he growled. "Sure." As quick as a kickboxer, he brought his shoe up and demolished the radio with one blow of his heel, making Scully jump again. "Better?" "Mmm." In the rearview mirror, Scully saw Skinner's goofy smile. This would have made terrific water cooler gossip, if she'd been into that sort of thing. And if she wasn't as mad as a wet hen. "Great, Mulder. Just great. How are we supposed to explain that to the Motor Pool?" Before Mulder could answer, he was interrupted by Skinner's shout. "Food!" "What?" Scully glanced at his excited face in the mirror. "Stop! Here! Food!" The once mighty boss was reduced to monosyllables. She expected him to start drooling any second. "Now?" What else could possibly go wrong? "Yes, now!" He leaned over the seat and pointed at the flashy red and yellow 'All Night Buffet' sign on the corner. Scully debated the wisdom of unloading her passengers, her 'FBI Agent' passengers in this greasy spoon named, appropriately, "Mama's." As in, 'Mama Told Me Not to Come.' Want some whiskey in your water, sugar in your tea? This is the craziest party that could ever be. "You know, Scully, I could use some food, too," said the small voice from the passenger seat. Of course Mulder was hungry - his stomach had probably settled and he was having an attack of the munchies. "Oh, what the hell," she muttered and made a u- turn in front of God and every screeching vehicle on the street. She needed to pee anyway. And maybe a little food in their stomachs would do them some good. She refused to help them out of the car, instead storming into the diner as soon as she'd killed the motor. The lone waitress gaped at her blistering, "Restroom?" "Right around the corner," came the small reply. Scully's heels tattooed the linoleum as she swept past the curious glances of the two patrons in the booth on the left with her chin held high. It wasn't fair, she thought as she fumbled with her old lady panties under her skirt and sat down on the rickety toilet. Mulder had been returned to her a scant three weeks before and already he was a trouble magnet. And she was too cumbersome to be of any real help. Gone were the days of side-by-side stakeouts and perilous rescues. She was pregnant and she was hideous. She was saddled with two idiots, one of whom had become her best friend in Mulder's absence. The other - well, it was impossible to fall out off love with him, despite his propensity for making her worry. Her tears came anew, this time with gale force power. Guilt made her cry harder. She was happy. Very happy. She had everything she'd ever wanted. A man that would give his life for her. A beautiful, caring, intelligent man who had also given her this baby. So why was she crying? He was safe, Skinner was safe, the baby was safe. And she'd done nothing but rant and rave when she should have been thanking God they were still here. It didn't matter that Mulder hadn't made love to her since he'd been returned. She wasn't exactly desirable in this condition. He still loved her, she could tell every time he looked at her. Desire was there too, rolling over her in humid hot waves from the caress of his hazel eyes. But they'd both been through too much to just pick up where they'd left off. Which was not saying much - three times. Three glorious, passionate nights of exploring each other with lips and hands and hearts. They circled each other warily now, wanting to become physical but not quite remembering how. "Okay, that's enough thinking," she said aloud in the dingy stall, finishing up quickly, though she knew in another half hour she'd have to go again. After splashing her face with cold water, she decided she looked presentable enough and made her way into the dining area. When she rounded the corner, she almost plowed right into Mulder. He stopped her stumble with sure hands. "Scully, you okay? I was coming to check on you." His eyes weren't nearly as bloodshot as before; they were misty grey with concern. "Yeah," she said, giving him a resigned smile. "I didn't mean to make you worry." "That's okay. It's just that I don't... I mean, I have no experience with...." "Pregnant women?" she finished for him. "Mulder, you've been living with me for three weeks now." "I know, but it's still so new, so different." His soft words made her heart lurch. "I'm scared, Scully." "Oh, Mulder," she replied, putting her hand upon his stubbled jaw. "About becoming a father? Mulder, you'll be a great father." "I'm not scared about that, Scully." He bit his lower lip; there was more to come, she hoped. This little hole in the wall was certainly not the ideal place for this conversation, but any port in a storm.... "Hey!" Skinner's voice boomed across the near empty room. "They have pizza!" Scully looked away from Mulder's eye roll and around his shoulder at the boss man, who was waving a slice of pepperoni pizza like a red flag. In his other hand was something that looked suspiciously like - "Eclairs, too!" He stuffed the whole chocolate covered pastry into his mouth and smiled with puffy cheeks. Geez, hadn't it worn off yet? "Come on, Mulder. Let's see what else Skinner has on that plate of his." She stroked his arm and squeezed - we'll talk about this later, she promised with her eyes. Mulder sighed and let her go ahead of him. Scully was amazed at the amount of food Skinner had accumulated in the short time she'd been in the restroom. Shrimp fried rice, nachos, breads of every size and shape adorned the five plates arranged around him in a semi-circle. She stopped, hands on hips. "Walter," she began in a quiet voice, deeming them safe enough from prying eyes to use his given name, something he'd insisted upon in their more private moments recently. Skinner looked up from the pile of buffalo wings with all the innocence of a child, his eyes wide and questioning. "Mmm - what?" he mumbled around the drumstick between his teeth. What little fight left in her sailed right out the window at the sight. She was tired and now that she'd relieved her bladder, she was hungry. "Did you save anything for us?" She smiled the smile she'd seen her mother use many times when dealing with a rambunctious child. "Oh, sure!" He scrambled to his feet. "Sit, Scully. Eat." Scully sat down in the chair Skinner was holding out for her. When she'd made herself comfortable, she looked up at a gaping Mulder. That's right, dear. Mood swings come with the deal. Get used to it. "Sit down, Mulder," she said. "We're going to eat." Then we'll shuttle the hopefully satiated Skinner back home to sleep it off, she told him with the arch of her brow. So they ate. And ate. Once Scully's nerves had calmed down, she knew the cravings would begin to surface. She'd developed an aversion to things, too. Especially the pink-tinged slices of dead cow that Skinner had piled onto plate number three. She averted her eyes from the almost moo-ing meat and searched for the one thing she craved above all else... except for Mulder, of course. "Popcorn." "Huh?" Mulder's mumble fought its way out of a mouth full of green jello. "I want popcorn. Hot, buttered popcorn." She seemed to be eating a lot of it these days, couldn't get enough of it. Patrick was already craving the courtside treat, that had to be it. He gulped down the last of the jello and replied, "I don't see any on the buffet -" "Waitress!" Skinner bellowed, silencing them both. Dear Lord, what now, she thought. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. The skinny blonde sidled up to Skinner, a feline smile indicating she was more interested in serving the man something else besides food. "Whatcha need, honey?" He narrowed his eyes at her name tag. "Carla?" "That's me, sweetie. Carla at your service. Now what can I do for you?" "Popcorn," he replied, slipping a twenty dollar bill into her apron pocket. "Hot, buttered popcorn." "Honey, we don't have any pop -" Another twenty slipped into the pocket. "Carla, you find me some popcorn and I'll be *very* grateful." Carla looked at Skinner and smiled. "Sure, honey," she purred. "Popcorn coming up." With a pinch of his cheek, she walked away. Scully pinched Skinner's arm, tearing his gaze away from the swing of Carla's hips. "Walter, I don't need any popcorn." "Sure you do. Eating for two, you know." He gave her belly a meaningful look, then jerked his chin at Mulder. "Thanks to this moron." "Hey!" Mulder's affronted stare elicited a chuckle from Scully, who grinned at him over the gooey slice of pizza. "And you're no better." Skinner directed the comment her way. Taken aback, she dropped the pizza and fixed him with a glare similar to Mulder's. "What?" "Screwing around like a couple of teenagers, no thought as to the conse... con... shit, the outcome." He waved his piece of cornbread like a schoolmaster's pointer. "Prophylactics are very useful things, you know." The cornbread broke in half, but Skinner ignored its flop into his chocolate pudding and continued. "Hell, Scully - you had a dog for what - two months? Pequod? Pegleg?" "Queequeg." Scully raised a brow at his knowledge of her late, lamented puppy. "Whatever. I pay attention. Especially to case reports." Then he turned to Mulder. "And you? How many fish have you gone through? Twenty? Thirty?" "Fifty-two." Scully flashed Mulder an exasperated look at his reply. Let him rant a bit; he'd be done in a few minutes. But they certainly didn't need to add fuel to the fire, which is just what he was doing. "Fifty-two? Jesus, Mulder. That's pitiful, really. How do you two expect to take care of a baby?" "Here ya go, honey," a tinny voice broke through. "Hot buttered popcorn." She leaned over Skinner's shoulder. "And if you're looking for more than just popcorn, just say the word." Her innuendo missed its target, but it hit Scully, making her retaliate with knifing, steely words. "We'll take the check now... and nothing else." "Sure," she answered, popping her gum with bravado. With a brush of her hand over Skinner's ear, she pranced away, giving Scully a vicious grin and Skinner a swing that he could put on his back porch. "Nice girl," he smiled, his head moving in time with the pendulum of her hips. Scully dismissed her and turned back to Skinner, unwilling to let his last comment slide. "Sir, I wasn't supposed to be able to conceive. It surprised us just as much as you. And as for taking care of the baby? We'll manage, like many other couples do." He broke away from the lure of the waitress with a sigh. "Yeah, but those other couples don't have...." A shadow government undermining their every move. He didn't have to finish his sentence, but all three of them heard the echo of his unspoken words anyway, looking at each other, then looking away. He lapsed into morose silence; Scully knew he hadn't entirely shaken off the effects of the Valium yet and she could feel he wanted to say more, but already regretted his hasty rebuke. Actually, there were many concerns that she wouldn't allow herself to think about. She was sure Skinner had the same misgivings. "Sir, this baby is a gift," Scully whispered. "One we thought we'd never have. I know you think it's a mistake... but ultimately I wouldn't want it any other way." Skinner gulped down the last of his coffee and shook his head. Scully wasn't sure if the gesture was meant to clear away the fuzzies, or give them a last reproach. "Just take care of yourselves, okay? I don't want there to be any foolish heroics or grand sacrifices because of this child. You have both sacrificed enough." He looked pointedly at Mulder. "Protect her. Protect yourself." With a heave, Skinner pushed away from the table and swayed. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to go home." Scully sighed and rose from her chair. She threw a longing look at the popcorn and dismissed the urge to steal a handful and put it in her pocket. Grabbing Skinner's arm, she gently led him away, giving Mulder a murmured, "Take care of the check and meet us in the car." The night air was bracing and Skinner straightened, breathing in deep and closing his eyes. "The same goes for you, Scully." "The same?" Reaching up, she brushed the paper napkin still clutched in her hand across his mouth, wiping away the last traces of barbecue sauce. "Protect Mulder. He has a knack for getting into trouble, you know." Didn't she know it. "But he's a good man... and a little marijuana is nothing compared to what they've done to him... what they still may do to him." Damn, she was crying again. "I know," she whispered, trying to find a clean spot on the soiled napkin to wipe her eyes. His somber smile warmed her heart considerably as they stood outside in the smattering of snowflakes that fell upon them like angels. He fumbled in his jacket pocket and produced a handkerchief. "Geez, Scully. Are you ever going to stop crying?" She laughed through the tears and mumbled into the linen, "I don't know, Walter. I'm kind of new at this." "Well, dry up. Here comes Mulder... and I don't want him to see you cry." "Why not? It's just a few tears. He understands." Skinner walked with her to the driver's side and opened her door. "Because before you know it, I'll have two blubbering fools on my hands. And I'm in no condition to drive." She had to admit that even in a half- tranquilized state, he made sense. Not that she agreed with his logic back in the diner - she was confident of their ability to take care of this child - but now... Mulder was definitely becoming more susceptible to her tears. She sniffled one last time and calmed herself with a deep breath. "Get in, sir. I'll be fine." He fell into the back seat, the strain of maintaining a sober facade catching up with him. "I know, Scully. Both of you will." At that moment, Mulder opened the passenger door and sat, nodding at the man in the back seat. "Is he okay?" "Yeah." Scully started the car and put it in reverse. "So are we, Mulder." "We are? What did I miss?" His tentative smile made her smile as well. "Nothing," she said, pulling onto the street with careful ease. "We're taking Skinner home, then we're heading home, Mulder." "Scully, have you been crying again?" His eyes searched her face in the glow of the passing streetlights. "Hormonal, Mulder. Pregnancy does that, you know. As well as increase the sex drive." She winked at him, knowing exactly what she was craving at this particular moment. "Well Scully, I don't know if I ever told you this, but not only does smoking pot make me hungry... it also makes me horny as hell." "Please! Spare me the details!" The furious burst came from the back seat. "I may be doped up but I'm not deaf!" End part one P is for.... Part two Disclaimer, etc. in part one "Well, that was certainly an experience," Scully said as she toed off her shoes and started dropping her clothes. Those three inch heels would have to go, starting tomorrow. God, she would miss those clunky shoes.... As her coat fell on the sofa, Mulder's voice came from behind her. Very close behind her. "Scully." His hands descended upon her shoulders. "I'm sorry about the girl. I was trying to figure out a way to get her off my lap when you came in." "I know," she sighed, thinking back to Mulder's look of absolute horror and panic - and that was before she'd even made her presence in the room known. "But that still doesn't explain why you felt the need to join in the pot party." She was still a little put out about that and it showed in her prickly words. "It seemed like a good way to get them to trust me. I've done pot before, Scully. I can handle it." Her head fell back against his chest. "That's not the point, Mulder. What if they'd slipped you something else, like they did to Skinner? You saw the trouble we had with him before he sobered up. No way I could have handled the two of you in that condition. Not to mention *my* condition." "Scully?" His lips nuzzled the curve of her ear as his hands wound around her waist. "Yes?" Her hands settled over his; Patrick chose that moment to join in on the conversation, slamdunking the rim of her navel. "Oh! Mulder?" "Yeah, I felt it." His voice was a mixture of happiness and awe. "He does this all the time?" Scully nodded and moved Mulder's hand to just the right spot. Together, they waited while the baby quieted, the sound of their breathing interrupted now and then by gasps and chuckles. After a while, Scully brought them back to the problem at hand. "Mulder, you were saying?" She wanted this resolved now and no way was Mulder going to sidetrack her. Patrick either - the little scamp had obviously developed an affinity for his father's avoidance tactics. Heaven help her when they decided to gang up on her in the future. Mulder turned her around and cupped her face in his hands, driving his point home with determined eyes. "I want you to know, Scully, that I will try my best. I can't promise you that I'll be the ideal mate or the ideal father. But I can promise you that I'll try." In turn, she mimicked his moves, running her hands up his chest to his neck. "That's all I'm asking, Mulder. For you to think next time, okay?" Damn, there were the tears again. "Shit." "Hell, Scully. I didn't mean to make you cry again." He ran frantic hands over her face, wiping the tears away. Surprisingly, they left as soon as they had come. Scully sniffled once, then laughed at his distress. "It's okay, Mulder. I do that a lot these days. Don't worry about it." "I know, Scully, I've read all the books." Yes, she'd seen them laying around her apartment in the two weeks before he'd returned to work; trust Mulder to research her pregnancy as thoroughly as possible. "Is that right?" She feigned innocence. "Well, did you read the chapter on sex during pregnancy?" "Ah, Chapter Six. One of my favorites," he mused with a smile. She noticed though, that he wasn't quite the master of innuendo that she'd grown accustomed to - it was evident in his uncertain tone and dodge ball eyes. "Mulder, are you afraid to have sex with me?" Cut right to the chase, that was the ticket. She was tired of her months long sexual abstinence. If it wasn't so serious, she would have laughed; she'd spent years in a dry spell waiting for Mulder to... hell, just waiting for Mulder. There was no one else, there hadn't been in a long time. Get a taste of intimacy with the man you loved and the frustration of a few lonely months was ten times worse than the arid desert of seven years. "Mulder?" In her musings, she hadn't noticed his lack of a response. Now it hit her with the force of a mack truck; this wasn't just about fear. Something was really wrong with this silence. Mulder turned away from her question and moved to the window, throwing off his jacket and tie. "Scully, I'm not afraid of sex with you. Though I wouldn't want to hurt you or the baby, you know that." She moved up behind him, careful not to touch his tense back, sensing his need for sudden detachment. "Then what are you afraid of?" "I can't remember anything," he whispered, his voice coated in pain and fear. Scully knew that one of his more pressing worries was the fact that he'd been returned with no memory of his time away from her, much as she had experienced in the three months she was gone. Basically, he'd resumed his life just like she had, spending the requisite two weeks off doing very little but eating and sleeping, then returning to immerse himself in work with a vengeance. Other than the profound joy she'd witnessed when he'd discovered she was pregnant, Mulder had been closed to her emotionally. It was no wonder she cried every fifteen minutes - it wasn't entirely hormonal. His pain had become hers. "Mulder, it's okay not to remember. You learn to live with it." So spoke the voice of experience. "But I *want* to remember, Scully. I want to know what they did to me, who they were, why I was called." He faced her with tears in his eyes. "What if one day I hurt you in the throes of a flashback? What if I hurt the baby? What if they want the baby?" The last was said with severe anguish, breaking his voice into a million pieces. Scully moved slowly, trapping him in a loose embrace, her hands soothing the rigid muscles of his back. It was a thought she'd entertained many times, and to hear Mulder give voice to it was disconcerting, but understood. "Mulder, let's get through this pregnancy one day at a time, okay? I worry about the same things you do, you know." His reply was muffled against her shoulder. "I know you do, Scully. And that's what makes me the angriest - that you have to live like this. That *we* have to live like this. Not knowing what's going to happen next." His arms tightened, pulling her closer. "It was why I did the pot." That took her breath away. "What?" With a sigh, he released her, stepping away, putting distance once again between them. "When I was in college, long before I underwent regression hypnosis, I discovered that my memories of Samantha were more vivid, more intense when I was high." Scully didn't reply, just pursed her lips. Not at his former drug use, but at his dogged attempts at self-discovery and justification that continued to this day. When was he going to learn that the person he was, the person she loved, didn't hinge on whether or not he ever recovered those memories? "Mulder -" "Wait, Scully. Hear me out." "Okay, but you have to hear me out when you're finished." She created distance of her own, her arms crossing over her rounded abdomen. "Fair enough," he nodded. "When I would get high, Scully - which wasn't as often as you think - I could see her so clearly. It was like she was in the room with me, laughing with me, calling my name. I remembered things that I'd never remembered before. Little moments in our lives together, some good, some bad. But they were real, I felt it. They were real." His eyes pleaded for understanding. "And I wanted to see if it would still work. If I could recapture my missing time on my own, without having to undergo hypnosis. I'm so tired of seeing doctors, Scully. So tired." His head hung in defeat. At the sight of his despondency, Scully decided to forgo the lecture on the dangers of drug use that before, she couldn't wait to give him. Now, all she wanted to do was comfort him, make him see that he wasn't alone in this. "All right," he sighed, picking his head up to look at her with chagrin. "Give it to me." "Give you what?" She moved closer, unfolding her arms to grab his hands. "The usual speech about how stupid I am. The lecture about drug abuse. Come on, Scully, give it your best shot. I can take it." He shook her hands in anticipation. "Mulder, just promise me you won't do it again." "I won't," he said quickly, then his mouth dropped at his apparent light sentence. "That's all?" "Well, for tonight it is." Squeezing his hands, she lowered her voice. "Mulder, you will remember one day. And it won't be violent or unexpected. And when it happens, I'll be right beside you. Just like you were for me." Though she'd not wanted to continue after her last visit to Dr. Werber. She was satisfied that the truth would come out one day, with or without her recovered memories. Mulder would also enjoy the same revelation, she was sure of it. Mulder seemed pleased by her answer, relieved even. "That's it? Sure you don't want to spank me or send me to my room?" She smiled at his lapse into lightheartedness. "Oh, I'd love to spank you, Mulder, but we'll save that for after Patrick's born, okay?" "Patrick?" He was taken aback at her pet name for the child. Hell, so was she. It was the first time she'd said it aloud, though she'd been calling him that in her mind for quite some time. Blushing, she squirmed under his scrutiny, trying to move away. But Mulder wouldn't let go, prodding, "Scully, do you like the name Patrick?" "Actually, no." She was embarrassed at her admission. Lately, she'd been doing such foolish things, things that were not like her at all. The pre-pregnancy Dana Scully would never have mooned over baby names. Especially while gobbling up every NBA playoff game Mulder had ever taped, poring over the tapes in his apartment, grasping at anything that made her feel closer to him. Looking away, she continued, "He just feels sometimes like he's trying out for the Knicks, that's all." Mulder embraced her, his laughter rumbling under her hot cheek. "God forbid he should aspire to the NBA, huh Scully. After all, why waste such spotless lineage on basketball? At the very least, he should be the next Einstein, don't you agree?" She laughed with him, rubbing her nose into his smelly shirt. "Damn right, Mulder." Though it was all a ruse, she knew. It didn't matter what they named him. If he wanted to be a ditch digger, fine. If he grew up to be the next Jonas Salk, great. As long as he was healthy. For a few moments, Scully allowed Mulder to warm her, inside and out. The thoughts of their child's future were, for a short while, unencumbered by anxiety. She pictured him playing baseball, going on his first date, graduating from college. Watching over his own child in the dimness of a nursery. An annoying beep startled her from her reverie. Scully pulled away and saw that it was 11:00 by her watch. Way past an expectant mother's bed time. Grimacing at Mulder's need for a shower, as well as her own, she made a suggestion. "Come on, Mulder." She backed away toward the bedroom. "I'm going to shower and I want you to join me. Then it's time to test your knowledge of Chapter Six." Swallowing hard, Mulder let her lead him. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Scully?" "Yes." She reached for the buttons of her loose blouse, her eyes never leaving his. "I want to make love with you, Mulder. You won't hurt me or Patrick." "But what if I do?" "You won't." She paused, her skirt partially unzipped. "Any other objections?" "No, I guess not." He began to unbutton his shirt. "Just be gentle with me, okay?" His eyes twinkled with mirth. She smiled and made short work of her dreadful underwear. Mulder sucked in a ragged breath at the sight of her. She was heavier than she was many months ago, but she knew by the desire smoldering in his eyes that her round, petite form didn't put him off. On the contrary, she suddenly felt as desirable as she always had. "On second thought," he said, moving forward to touch her breasts, "you can spank me now. I won't mind." Scully reached for his belt, feeling the red flush of arousal creep up her neck. "How about you wash my back instead?" His pants dropped to the floor and he laughed, a trembling exhale of breath. "Your wish is my command, Scully." ********** The water felt so good against her skin, lukewarm and relaxing. Mulder's hands felt even better, skimming over the tired muscles of her neck and shoulders. Caressing her back, her arms, her breasts, before soothing the tightness of her belly. "I love seeing you like this." His soft words drifted on a cloud of steam from behind her. "You were made for this, Scully. Made for motherhood." Scully didn't reply. Her throat was unable to dislodge the sudden clog of tears. Instead, she simply nodded and let him speak, knowing that he didn't need to hear her answer. Mulder picked up the bottle of shampoo from the edge of the tub. "Do you mind if I -?" Lingering memories of Pfaster made the humid air tense, but Scully quickly shoved them away. Mulder wanted to do this for her, and to her surprise, she found she wanted him to. "Please." One strangled word was all she could manage. In seconds, the perfume of the shampoo wafted over her as his hands massaged it into her hair. "Close your eyes," he said, and she did, leaning her head back away from the spray. Oh, God, it felt heavenly, the stroke of his fingers on her scalp, washing away the day's grime. They moved over each ridge of her skull, tracing the pattern of bones with reverence. Over and over, in sweeping circles, he moved those slender digits, and Scully sighed with pleasure. "I've always wanted to do this," he murmured. "But I didn't think you'd let me." "Mulder." Her mouth formed the word, but it came out as a breathy squeak. He continued, lulling her into a boneless mass of desire with his hands and his voice. "It's the closest I'll ever come to touching your mind, Scully. The part of you I love the most." Mulder, that's not true, she wanted to say. You've always touched my mind. "Last year, when I could hear what people were thinking, I could never hear you. I think it's what upset me the most... that I couldn't hear you. It was my one chance to really get close to you and it didn't happen." Scully tilted her head back into the water and let it sluice away the soap before turning to face him. His eyes were sad and dark with regret. She weighed her words carefully then spoke, her hands coming up to bring his face closer. "Did you really need to read my mind, Mulder? Haven't you always known how I've felt about you?" She brought his lips to hers and murmured, "How I loved you... wanted you... needed you. You have touched my mind from the very first day." "Scully," he groaned, then captured her mouth with his. It wasn't the first time they'd kissed since he'd come back, but it certainly felt like it was to Scully. His lips moved slowly, caressing hers with soft purpose before deepening and opening, his tongue thrusting in a foreshadowing of the night to come. She let him enter her mind with the kiss, laying herself bare to his insistent probing. With a sweep of his tongue, he opened the center of her brain that had locked down in his absence, the part that belonged to him and only him. It was where she kept every smile, every touch, every glance they'd shared. She let them burst forth like a shower of fireworks, her body suddenly urgent with the need to connect more fully, straining against his hot hardness. Moaning with reluctance, she broke away to mutter against his mouth, "Mulder, take me to bed, now. I can't wait any longer." He didn't answer, just pulled away to shut off the cooling water and step out of the shower. Standing in the middle of the bathroom, the water making his skin glow, he held out a hand, not smiling, just... waiting. Scully put her hand in his. ********** Dry now, they stood facing each other in the lamplight of the bedroom. Mulder grinned and Scully joined in, her laughter echoing in the haze of desire that surrounded them. "You would think we'd be past this," he said, nervousness making him gruff. "Well, it's not like we've had a lot of practice, Mulder." She approached him and put her hands on his chest, rewarded by his subtle hiss. "Let's just do what comes naturally, okay?" "Naturally, huh?" His eyes sank to half-mast as her fingers trailed down his stomach. "Since when has anything come to us naturally, Scully?" In answer, she took one of his hands and placed it on her belly. "Oh, I'd say we managed to create Patrick the old-fashioned way, wouldn't you?" Her small hand enclosed his erection; his journeyed downward, probing until her legs spread apart and trembled. "Yeah," he breathed, his hips arching toward her with a silent plea. "I love you, Scully. Just wanted to let you know." She groaned at the feel of his fingers dipping into her wetness. "I know, Mulder," she gasped, bringing her mouth to his. "I love you, too. I always will." As their kiss deepened, they shifted toward the edge of the bed, neither willing to give up the contact of their mouths and hands. But a moment of sanity made Scully break away from him, knowing it wouldn't do if either of them got clumsy. Her mouth left his with a slight pop and his eyes opened to burn into hers with disappointment. "Let me get comfortable," she said, lowering herself to the bed. His eyes followed her every move and his hands trailed along her hips and legs as she shoved aside the comforter and arranged the pillows. "Come here," she murmured, holding out her hands like a siren, her mouth open in invitation. He complied, crawling on his hands and knees to hover above her, dropping his head to give her a kiss. "Scully?" "Hmm?" She ran her hands over his back, her nails scraping the curve of his spine, making him shiver. "Chapter Six says we really shouldn't attempt the missionary position, you know." Scully smiled, her belly arching into his straining cock. Mulder going by the book. Amazing. "Well, I think we have a while yet before that becomes unwise, Mulder. Besides, I want to see your face. Trust me, we can do this." His eyes clouded over with concern and his arms shook with the effort to hold himself above her. "Are you sure it's okay?" "Yes," she reassured him. "Just back up and give me a minute." He did as she asked, sitting back on his heels while she pulled the pillows out from behind her. "Help me." Realization dawned in his eyes and he shoved the fluffy pillows under her ass while she raised up on the balls of her feet. "There," she said. "I'm comfortable, Patrick's comfortable. Just don't put your full weight on us, Mulder. Keep my knees bent and in front of you, okay?" She quietly gave out instructions as he watched with wonder, his eyes glowing at the way she opened herself to him. There was no doubt in her mind now; he craved their joining as much as she did. From the look on his face, he couldn't wait any longer. "Scully, we are *not* naming our child Patrick," he said, settling between her legs. Her knees hit his chest and she kept her gaze fastened on his, her slight smile coloring her reply. "Why not? It's kind of growing on me." "No." He moved an extra pillow behind her head, curling her face closer to his before his palms flattened out to either side of her shoulders. "I think it's appropriate," she said under his lips. "No. Way." His eyes hovered above hers with piercing decision. She questioned his adamant stance with a raised brow. "It's your brother's middle name," he replied, sliding into her with one smooth stroke. "Oh! Yesss... I'd - I'd forgotten... about that...." And about the feel of him, too. Scully shifted and moaned at the intrusion. It had been so long, so long. But her muscles relaxed in a heartbeat, accepting and then clenching around his length with the welcome memory. She closed her teeth around his lower lip, capturing his answering groan. "Okay?" he asked softly. "Yes, definitely okay." He smiled against her mouth, then started moving, slowly sliding in and out of her warmth, peppering her face with kisses so sweet she thought she would die from the pleasure of it. This was what she'd missed most when he was gone from her. Just when they'd finally made the last connection, he'd been ripped from her life, taking away that which she'd denied herself for so long. The intense joy of sexual contact. The merging of her body with another's in a natural communion of souls. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. All this and more she wanted to do, but the simple feel of him within her narrowed her vision to the building crescendo of release. It bloomed anew, the remembrance of how he could make her mindless with his touch. Let it come, she prayed, as he moved faster. Let it wash over me and cleanse me. I want to feel whole again. Mulder had to lift himself away from her to move faster, but she didn't mind at all. She could watch him better that way, his face tightening with impending orgasm. Her name started to bleed from him in a mantra and he strained to keep his eyes on hers. "Scully, Scully, Scully...." As the waves of her orgasm began, she felt a stir above where he pounded into her. It seemed they weren't the only ones joining in on the fun. "God, Scully!" he cried, feeling Patrick dance between them just as she did. And it came, a moment so profound she let the tears escape with Mulder's. She dissolved into a diffusion of hot sparks, lifting her torso from the bed to curl into Mulder as he shot into her with such fury it took her breath away. Her hands held on tight around his neck and she laughed, feeling Patrick squirm like he was already protesting their confining hugs. "Mom, I'm not a baby." Her mind could see it as clear as day, his grownup words in a seven-year-old voice, trapped within her arms while his dad waited with basketball in hand for their Saturday afternoon game. When her eyes met Mulder's, she knew he saw the same thing. It was blooming with wonder in his eyes, making him smile and laugh with her until exhaustion forced them to quiet. "Mind touching, Mulder," she whispered. "Told you so." "Of the best kind." He groaned as he withdrew from her. "I'll never doubt you again, Scully." "Yes, you will," she replied, half-joking, throwing the extra pillows to the floor. He moved to her side and wrapped an arm around her waist, turning her into him as their legs entwined and their heartbeats slowed. "No, I won't." Scully watched the play of emotions on his face, unable to speak at the sight of his belief in her, his belief in them that shone from his eyes with the strength and clarity of diamonds. "Patrick, huh?" His shaky voice matched his smile as he made an effort to end the evening on a lighter tone. Scully wiped the tears and sweat from his cheeks, finding her voice again. "Yep. I don't care if it's Bill's middle name. It's the name of your hero." "Scully, *you're* my hero." "Okay, but Patrick Ewing runs a close second, doesn't he?" "Not that close." "Well, I like to think Patrick will grow up to be a gentle warrior, just like Patrick Ewing. Did you know that he's an artist?" Her fingertips traced the ridge of his nose, his chin, his brow. "That's quite an accomplishment, especially for a man that makes his living playing basketball." "You realize, Scully - that's quite a reputation for him to live up to." His hand returned the gesture, smoothing over her face as his eyes followed their path. "Painting aside, he'll have to be a helluva player." "I think he's up to the challenge, don't you?" "Oh, yeah. He's got the feet for it, that's for sure." He paused, then with a slight frown, said, "He's gonna be a normal kid, won't he, Scully?" "Yes he will, Mulder. Believe me." That she knew for certain, no matter what. The last ultrasound had detected no abnormalities. And in her heart she felt that everything would be all right. "But he will be special, because he's ours." Mulder smiled. "Just think, Scully... your mind, my basketball prowess... your eyes, my good looks...." She almost gave him grief at the last, but decided he had a point. He was a very good- looking man, though his comment was made in jest. Mulder was not a self-centered person, especially about his physical appearance. "Your hands," she joined in, bringing his hand to her lips. "Your lips...." She gave him a searing kiss, then broke away with a yawn. "Your shoulders...." Mulder clicked off the bedside lamp and gathered her close, spooning around her and laying his hand over her belly. "Your temper...." She pinched his thigh. "Ow! I meant that in the nicest possible way, Scully." "Sure you did," she murmured. "Go to sleep, Mulder." "Scully?" "Hmm?" "Patrick?" His question was disbelieving to the extreme. How many times was he going to ask? Until she changed her mind, she supposed. "You're not serious, are you?" "No." She cocked one eye open at his sigh of relief. "Goodnight, Mulder." "Goodnight, Scully." The baby gave one last kick, reading her mind and urging her to sleepy mischief. Her lips barely moved against his skin as she nuzzled the arm that pillowed her head. "'Latrell,' however, has a certain...." "Scully!" END The Improv Elements: 1) Scully catching Mulder smoking a joint 2) Scully and Mulder going to the chapel - for whatever reason 3) Speakers that can only be used set on 10 - the speakers must be on, playing something, some time in the story 4) Mulder washes Scully's hair for her 5) Skinner, Mulder and Scully scarfing down on a big naughty meal - pizza, Chinese food, buttered popcorn, nachos, eclairs Note: I have no idea what Bill Scully Jr.'s middle name is, but it fit the story. Maybe it's really 'Pissy' or 'Pigheaded' or 'Pubic'... or "Powderpuff', 'Petty', or 'Protozoan'. Your guess is as good as mine.