TITLE: Almost Home (11/?)
AUTHOR: Shoshana
EMAIL ADDRESS: [email protected]
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Gossamer, Spookys site, Xemplary,
etc.
SPOILER WARNING: Seventh season episodes through Requiem.
RATING: NC-17 (Most of the story is rated R, NC-17 parts will be
clearly marked)
CONTENT STATEMENT: MSR
CLASSIFICATION: SRA
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully Romance
SUMMARY: Post ep for Requiem. Mulder comes back... but he's
missing something.
DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me.
NOTE: Thanks to my great beta readers Keleka, Lisa, Sallie and
Teresa.

Almost Home (11/?)
By Shoshana

February 22nd, 2001
Thursday
5:00 p.m.
The Mulder Summer Home, Quonochontaug, Rhode Island

"I can't believe they did it, Scully! I can't see why they had to
destroy a magnificent grove of trees for a parking lot!" Mulder
stormed into the house, still irritated by his recent discovery.

"It's all right, Mulder. We had a good walk anyway," she soothed.

"But, don't you see, Scully?" He turned to her, opening his palms
in a gesture of frustration. "That was someplace I remembered so
well, had such great memories of. I wanted to share it with you and
it wasn't there."

She gave him a dubious look, attempting to relate to his dilemma.
"Mulder, my family moved around so much when I was a kid I was lucky
to stay in one place two summers in a row. You're lucky you have
your memories--"

He interrupted her swiftly, "But I don't have my memories, Scully.
I've lost eight years of precious memories. The loss of that special
place means more to me than you know. I know I sound like a
two-year-old having a tantrum, but it just pissed me off so bad...
Okay, all right, let's switch gears. I'm sure you're sick of hearing
about it. I've already talked your ear off for the last half hour."

She smiled, her lips parting slightly. She shook her head from side
to side, telling him she wasn't irritated in the least. "I enjoyed
those stories about your dating disasters, Mulder."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't dare tell you about my successful soirees in
the forest," he joked, waggling his eyebrows.

She stepped closer to him and punched him gently with her loosely-
closed fist. "I think there are limits to 'things we have to tell
our significant other,'" she teased.

"Oh, is that what I am now?" he answered, lowering his hands to her
waist and dipping his head to kiss her brow.

"Very significant other, okay? Make you feel better?"

"Much. But I know what would make *you* feel even better, Scully."

"What's that?" she said, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

Mulder smiled and paused, waiting for her to become impatient for
his answer. He enjoyed toying with her; she was so easy to frustrate
when he kept her guessing.

"Come on, Mulder. No games. I'm hungry as hell and not in the mood
for charades."

"Actually," he said, stroking her cheek with his hand, "Hunger has
something to do with it."

"Is that a clue or an innuendo, Mulder? Because I'm way too
ravenous to indulge in certain activities. I'm eating for two, don't
you forget!" She punctuated her statement with one jab of her
forefinger to his chest.

He chuckled at her annoyance, and grabbed the offending digit,
kissing it tenderly. "Scully, how could you think such a thing?
That I would deny you sustenance to fulfill my own longings?"

"Not if you're smart, G-man. I have cravings of my own, you know."
She freed her hand, lifting it to his chin. "Now, let's get over to
the supermarket before they close. I feel my urge for submarine
sandwiches and Ben and Jerry's cancelling out your 'longings.'"
    
The nearest grocery store was in Charlestown and they made it there
just in time to do some shopping. Mulder and Scully had been to
supermarkets all over the United States, but rarely as a couple.
Scully had insisted on keeping a low profile in the DC area,
especially after they'd become intimate.

It was difficult enough to deflect rumors at work, much less if they
were spotted in their own communities. Mulder had always thought
this slightly ridiculous. It was unlikely anyone cared enough to
split up their partnership, but he went along with Scully's cautious
attitude.

There was really no point to concealing their relationship now;
everyone assumed the baby was Mulder's, and Scully never did anything
to disavow that notion. She was delighted to stroll up and down the
aisles of the establishment, Mulder's warm hand on her shoulder as
she wheeled the cart through an obstacle course of displays and other
shoppers.

"Mulder, please get those for me, will you?" she asked, pointing to
the package of Mallomar cookies on the top shelf.

Scully's eyes pleaded sympathy for the mad desires of a hormonally
challenged woman shopping on an empty stomach. Two empty stomachs to
be precise. His lips curved into a doting little smile. She wielded
complete power over him in this situation. He'd obey her every
request. Or so she thought.

"What ever happened to bee pollen, yogurt, and tofutti bars,
Scully?" he teased.

"How? How do you know about that?" she said with surprise.

"I have my sources," he answered mysteriously.

"Those rat finks! Snitches! It's all their fault I went off my
health food diet and started eating junk food!" she asserted.

"Oh, yeah. They must have forced you to acquire a taste for Chunky
Monkey and Mallomars."

Scully's face flushed, irate, but also embarrassed. She'd been
having trouble during the first few months gaining weight because of
her restrictive diet. The Lone Gunmen had taken it upon themselves
to lead her into temptation, bringing over pizza and doughnuts
whenever they had a strategy session.

Her willpower had crumbled after a month of delicious sights and
smells all around her. In retrospect, it was a godsend; *they* were
a godsend. She gained enough weight immediately, maintaining an
exercise program to offset any excess calories. She knew she
shouldn't feel self-conscious about her eating habits while pregnant,
but the mere thought of Frohike, Byers, and Langly discussing them
with Mulder upset her.

"Hey," Mulder said gently, smoothing his hand across the nape of her
neck. "It's just a joke. We weren't sitting around making cracks
about your figure. They thought it was cute when you fell off the
wagon."

Scully glared at him and said, "I don't do cute, Mulder."

He chuckled and leaned over to peck her cheek. "Adorable, then," he
teased.

She swatted him away playfully, barely suppressing a smile. "Time
to hit the ice cream aisle, Mulder. And Chunky Monkey's not my
favorite anymore," she advised.

She loved shopping with Mulder. It was about time she could share
this small dose of domesticity with him. The guys had accompanied
her on many trips to the grocery store, and she'd always felt so
forlorn when well-intentioned people would congratulate one of them
on the baby. She would nod and smile at perfect strangers, never
bothering to correct them.

All that aggravation was in the past, now that she had Mulder by her
side. He escorted her around the store like a fertile goddess, hand
pressed against her lower back. There were some very attractive
women doing some last minute shopping after work, but he only had
eyes for her. Her insecurities were consoled by that, but not
entirely erased.

She still had doubts they'd succeed at becoming a family, not
because they didn't care about one another, but because of Mulder's
unaccountable amnesia. They didn't know all the long-term effects it
would have on him psychologically. She planned on tracking down
other similar cases on the internet as soon as they got back to DC.
She wanted to know if other patients were able to reconcile with
their families, and start new lives without their precious memories
intact.

"Scully?" he whispered in her ear.

"Huh?" She snapped out of her reverie, realizing it was taking her
way too long to decide on her new favorite flavor.

"Hard to decide?" he asked, warming her now freezing cold hand with
his fingers. She'd rested her hand on the case while lost in thought
and it was about ten seconds away from turning an unattractive blue
color.

"You choose," she demanded.

"Ah, Scully. I've never had Ben and Jerry's. I don't think they
went national till recently because I can't remember eating any of
these strange flavors. But on the name alone, I think we should take
home some Cherry Garcia."

He let go of her hand and fished out a couple of pints of that
flavor, throwing some Chunky Monkey into the cart for good measure.

"How's the Grateful Dead doing, anyway? Are they still a band?" he
asked.

Scully's eyes softened with regret, and she let out a little sigh.
"Oh, Mulder. Jerry Garcia's dead. The band's probably still
together, but he passed away. I don't even recall what was wrong
with him."

"Wow. He wasn't even that old," Mulder wondered.

"No, he wasn't," she said ruefully.

"Well," he said, perking up a little as he put his arm around her
shoulder, "at least his name lives on. I doubt Cherry Mulder or
Scully will ever become a household name."

"Not unless it's our household! And I definitely think our names
are going to live on," she asserted, raising her hand to her belly.

Mulder leaned down and warmed her lips, chilled from too much
speculation in the frozen foods aisle. They ignored the rest of the
world for a minute, celebrating their little effort at posterity.

"Come on, Scully," he said, commandeering her cart, "Let's check
out."

She insisted on paying for the food since he'd gassed the car up
before they'd left DC. He peered over her shoulder, curious about
something he should have discovered by now. His eyes went wide when
he realized what tomorrow was.

Mulder couldn't let this happen again. His journal had several
anecdotes detailing valiant efforts to compensate for all those
forgotten birthdays. He'd even taught her to play baseball under the
pretense it was a very late birthday present.

He wasn't fooled by that. He had a pretty good idea why he'd taken
her out for batting lessons that night. His motives had been far
from innocent, even though he didn't get very far with the object of
his affection. Surely he would have mentioned in his diary if things
had progressed beyond gentle touches and hand holding.

He'd have to work fast, make a few phone calls in the morning when
she was otherwise occupied. He could still redeem himself in this
respect. He *would* remember her birthday this year.

"Mulder?" she questioned, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

"Oh, sorry. Just thinking about something," he answered
sheepishly.

Mulder gathered up the few bags they had and followed her out to the
car. His mind was racing, trying to recall where his mother had hid
her jewelry in the summer house. He knew one item she'd kept there
was perfect for Scully. At least it would do until he could find
something better to give her. If she would let him, he mused.

Scully seemed a lot less concerned about tying the knot than he was.
He couldn't blame her--he wasn't considered the most stable
individual in the world. He thought she might feel otherwise, but
when you added rumors of insanity to his current amnesia... his
psychological profile wasn't all that promising.

He'd learned enough about amnesiacs in school to know what he was up
against. Those who successfully reintegrated into society had
excellent support at home and good reasons to stay there. He knew he
would have all that and more, but he was still scared he'd screw up
somehow, someway. He shoved his insecurities to the back of his mind
and concentrated on driving.

They didn't say much on the way home. He'd glance over at her
occasionally, but she seemed preoccupied with her own thoughts. The
sun had set an hour ago and he couldn't wait to get back and kindle a
fire on the hearth.

Hopefully, some sparks would fly between the two of them tonight.
She needn't worry whether he found her attractive during her
pregnancy. He was fascinated by her swollen breasts, her round, soft
hips. He would never look at angular, pencil thin models the same
way again.

Scully insisted on helping with the groceries so Mulder could unlock
the door and disable the security system. The electricity and heat
had been activated by the Lone Gunmen, so all they needed to do was
uncover some furniture and set the table for dinner.

"Mulder, I'm going to change my clothes upstairs. Why don't you
build a fire and I'll be down in a minute."

He grabbed her before she could leave the kitchen, kissing her long
and hard. He wanted her so much--and knew she wanted him too, if
her reaction to their kiss was any clue. They parted for a breath,
then swayed in one another's arms a few minutes before she pulled
away.

"Hey," she reminded him softly, "we've got the whole weekend
together. I'll be right down." She ran her fingers down his cheek,
a caress and a promise for the night to come.

Mulder went about the business of starting a fire on the hearth.
There was plenty of firewood. No one had used the house for years
and it was still stacked neatly in the corner.

He found silverware and plates just where they'd always been, a
circumstance which gave him great pleasure. The rest of his life was
out of sync, sometimes unrecognizable to the one he'd left behind.
Not so here. Everything made sense here, familiar and in the same
place as always. He knew they couldn't stay here the rest of their
lives, but at least this weekend would give him some peace.

Scully came down the stairs as he was pulling out the subs and soft
drinks. She was wearing a long chenille robe over flannel pajamas.

"Nice change of clothes," he said, walking over so he could smooth
her unruly collar down under just-brushed silken hair.

"It's a lot more comfortable," she responded, tugging at his sweater
meaningfully. "I laid out some sweats for you. Why don't you go
change, too?"

"All right. But don't do anything I wouldn't do. I mean,
foodwise," he amended.

"Mulder, you're truly nuts." She sent him on his way with a well-
practiced swat to his rear and headed back into the kitchen.

Several hours later, they reclined on the musty couch, Mulder
spooned closely behind her. They'd made it through sandwiches and
two pints of ice cream with no problem at all. Scully was still a
little concerned about his general health. He was lighter than he'd
been for years, and she feared the dizziness he'd experienced in the
doctor's office might recur.

"Hey, Mulder."

They were listening to his old Beatle and Motown records from the
sixties. Mulder knew every lyric of every song on every album. He
was singing along to 'Respect' in a questionable falsetto as they
lay cuddled against one another.

"What you want... yeah, Scully?"

Mulder nuzzled her hair fondly. She smelled so familiar, as though
they'd nestled like this after every evening meal for many years. He
didn't know whether to attribute this ease to his subconscious or to
the instant rapport they'd had since Monday night. Why bother to
question what was so pleasant to accept?

"I still don't understand why you didn't exhibit any symptoms of
weightlessness," she questioned.

"Never left the ground, probably," he posited.

"I know. I've thought of that. It's possible what Skinner saw was
an optical illusion. They wanted him to believe you were taken into
space."

"But I remembered being on a spaceship in Dr. Werber's office. Of
course, there weren't any window seats, Scully. I could have been
anywhere. The aliens might have been little men dressed as aliens.
They might have had me under the influence of powerful drugs before
they wiped out my memories."

Scully shifted around so she could see his face and brought one
slender hand to his cheek. Mulder didn't appear too anxious--calmly
discussing the only experiences the hypnotic regression had allowed
him to remember. He was still angry about the abduction, but was
slowly accepting the notion he might never find out where he'd been
incarcerated for five months time.

"Do you want to find out? Is it important to you?" she asked,
stroking her hand through his thick, brown hair. Someone had kept
him well-groomed all this time; the hair was a nice length and still
lustrous.

"Only if it helps me to protect you and the baby, Scully," he
affirmed. "I'm interested in finding out if the other abductees were
returned to their homes in Oregon. I know you've kept me away from
Hoover for good reasons, but when we get back to DC we'll have to
sneak back into the office and use our resources."

"Oh, I think if Teresa and Billy return to Bellefleur the Lone
Gunmen will tell us," she answered.

"I guess you're right. But don't you think we ought to get in touch
with the authorities there? Tell them to comb the woods and look for
local people? I'm curious why I was returned alone."

"Maybe they're back already and the information's been suppressed.
I don't know what to tell you. I'll ask the guys when we get back.
You know I have a doctor's visit on Monday, don't you?" she asked,
tickling his chin with her nose.

"Of course. You told me Tuesday. I do remember a few things,
Scully," he said with mock indignation. He kissed her fine hair,
then moved along to her ear, eliciting giggles when he wiggled his
tongue against it.

"Stop!" she cried, squirming in his arms. He refused to let her go,
giving his full attention to her graceful neck, the next item on his
menu.

She relaxed as his caresses became more arousing than bothersome;
his interest was welcome if it felt this provocative. He traced her
jawline with his moist lips, then traversed her chin with an erotic
slowness that made her shudder inside.

Mulder finally kissed her, driving his tongue against hers with
finesse. Scully loved to neck like this with him; she always had.
But she thought he might expect more tonight, and she was ready to
offer it.

"Want to go upstairs?" she asked coyly, pulling back from his face a
scant few inches.

He smiled back; his darkened eyes surveying her warm gaze. "Not
yet. We're just getting started, aren't we?"

Scully's face was flushed with desire, but she was happy to take
this slow. She was so well acquainted with his handsome features, so
familiar with his gentle, roving hands. She had to remind herself
that every nuance of their lingering kisses was remarkable to
Mulder.

She was conversant with every inch of his body, well preserved in
both her nighttime fantasies and daytime musings. In contrast, it
was a voyage of discovery every time he trailed his hands from her
brow to the tips of her fingers. The look of wonder on his face was
worth the wait. There'd always been more to their lovemaking than
intercourse. He was clearly content taking the long way home.

Mulder kissed her once, then surprised her by disentangling their
limbs and gently shifting her to one side. He sat up on the other
end of the couch and Scully joined him, easing her body weight to a
sitting position.

"What?" she asked, mildly annoyed at the loss of contact with his
warm body on this chilly night.

The fireplace wasn't raging with heat anymore. Someone would have
to feed the fire. She decided to do it herself, since he made no
movement whatsoever, grinning at her from the other end of the couch.

"Whoa, sit down, Scully. I'll get that," he announced, reading her
mind.

Mulder threw another log onto the hearth and used the poker to get
it burning reasonably well. He reached over to one side of the
mantelpiece and grabbed a little box from behind an old chiming
clock. She expressed her curiosity by elevating one crimson eyebrow
skyward.

"What's that?" she queried.

He smiled enigmatically, then sat down on the couch, leaving a foot
or so between them.

"I remembered where my mom kept all her summer jewelry. She kept
something there she'd always promised to Samantha."

"Oh, Mulder. You can't! Don't give me--"

He held up one hand and silenced her protests. "No, Scully. It's
something my mom would have wanted to be passed on to the next
generation. Now that I know what happened to Samantha--" He paused
to swallow a small lump in his throat, then continued, "Anyway, she'd
want you to wear this."

Mulder opened the plain white box and produced a golden ring, a
modest emerald set in between two smaller diamonds. "I don't know if
it will fit. It was my grandmother's. I was so young when she
passed away."

His thoughts drifted to all the times he'd seen this item on his
grandma's slim hand and he struggled to contain a few tears. Scully
scooted over on the couch and stroked his forearms as he clutched the
box in his hands.

"I'd love to wear it, Mulder. It's lovely. She must have been a
special grandmother," she said quietly.

"She was," he murmured, slipping the ring on her left hand.

Scully allowed him to do so, knowing it belonged there. It was a
promise for the future, their future. She wasn't opposed to
marriage, but she wanted him to feel self-assured before they made a
lifetime commitment.

There was still an air of hesitancy in his touch sometimes. Not the
cool confidence he'd exuded before--the cocky possessiveness that
had both annoyed and enthralled her. He'd develop those traits soon
enough; they were already part of him, waiting to be drawn out by the
love of a strong woman.

"It fits," Scully proclaimed, lifting her hand toward the fire so
all the beautiful facets would reflect the light. She leaned over to
kiss him on the lips briefly, then caught his hands in her own. "Now
can we go upstairs?" she complained mildly.

They laughed in unison and Mulder brought her bejewelled hand to his
lips for closer inspection. "Yes, I think we can," he replied.

fin

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