TITLE: Almost Home (15/?)
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 and Sallie!

Almost Home (15/?)
By Shoshana

February 23nd, 2001
Friday
10:00 p.m.
The Mulder Summer Home, Quonochontaug, Rhode Island

"You're sure we've never done this before?" Mulder asked, surrounded
by Scully's precious family photo albums. "I feel like I've seen
most of these people before," he added.

"Yes, I'm positive, Mulder. You've asked me about individual
photographs on my bookcase shelf, but I've never subjected you to all
this before."

They were sitting on the couch at the summer house, drinking tea and
enjoying the warmth of a crackling fire. They'd spent the rest of
the afternoon sightseeing, returning just in time to watch the sunset
from the cliffs nearby.

She glanced up from the volume in her lap and grinned. "You have
seen quite a few of these people before," she agreed. "I hate to
read more into that than there is... but I think your reaction to
sensual memories is a good sign."

He matched her grin, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "I'm very
pleased to have vivid sensual memories of you, Scully." He drew back
so he could stroke her softly with his forefinger. Her face had
reddened slightly with his words.

"You didn't recognize me when you came charging into your apartment
Monday night," she remarked doubtfully.

"Not at first. I think I was too hyped up on adrenaline to give
your features proper attention. Once I sat next to you on the bed
and relaxed for a few minutes--your voice, your touch seemed so
familiar to me. It's only intensified with every passing day,
Scully."

Scully pursed her lips in thought for a minute, then said, "I'd like
to believe you retained those memories, Mulder. I really would. But
my skeptic heart knows we've been together almost twenty-four hours a
day since Monday."

"No, no, Scully. You can't analyze this from a logical perspective.
I *know* these aren't things I'd just discovered about you. I
can't imagine trusting you, spending Monday night in the same bed
with you, if I hadn't remembered you on some subconscious level.
It's a positive sign. Moreover, if the only memories I ever retrieve
from the past eight years are limited to the sight and smell of
you... well, I think I can live with that."

He kissed her on the lips this time, stroking her silky hair with
one hand while balancing several photo albums on his lap.

Scully's cheeks were glowing now, warmed by his flattery as much as
his heated kisses. "I can still hope for more, can't I? I'd feel
better if we knew what happened to you. Mulder, I hate to bring
this up now, but there's no better time. We're going to have to go
back to Hoover so we can use the resources there. I'm going to want
to get back to the office next week."

"No problem. We'll just go when the fewest people are there. If I
don't remember someone, I'll play it by ear. We're on vacation,
Scully. Not banned from the building itself."

"I know. But Skinner's been bugging me to take some time off. If
we start spending a lot of time in the basement he'll personally
throw us out."

"Do you trust him, Scully?"

She shrugged her shoulders, still baffled by the enigmatic AD. He'd
been so helpful to her all these months, allowing her access to all
the Bureau's resources, cooperating with the Lone Gunmen's requests
for specific information. She didn't know what to think of Skinner
anymore. He was more friend than foe at this point.

"I'm not sure. Most of the time I trust him. I think he might warn
me before I revealed too much to him. He's done that before,
especially when you were in the psychiatric ward at Georgetown. He
told me he was already compromised--before I told him information
Krycek might desire."

"We don't have to tell him everything, Scully. Just enough to get
his help in certain areas. I don't think there's any way we can keep
the memory loss a secret from him forever. It will come out sooner
or later, in a meeting about a case, maybe even a casual
conversation. I can prepare myself for that by spending hours of
time at the office. Or I can just try to take things as they come."

He shifted the photo albums to the couch beside him so he could put
his arm around her. He put his feet up on the coffee table and
leaned back against the cushions of the old, but sturdy piece of
furniture. Scully relaxed against his side after shuffling her
volume to an end table.

"Tell me more about your dad, Scully. I only found a few paragraphs
about him in my journal. I know there's so much more than that;
things you've never told me."

"It's been so long since we've talked about Dad, Mulder. I wish I
could remember what I told you about him, but I had to skim over that
part of your journal. I was more interested in how recent events
could help me find you when I used it last year, not those from the
early years of our partnership. Should I just begin from the
beginning?"

He leaned over to press a kiss to the crown of her auburn hair, "I'd
prefer to hear your version anyway, Scully," he told her softly.

She squeezed his hand gently and began, "My father used to read to
me from Moby Dick when I was a little girl. I can't remember the day
I started to call him Ahab, I was so young when I nicknamed him that.
And in return he called me Starbuck, his good little sailor."

Scully entwined her fingers with Mulder's and drew tiny circles on
his thumb as she continued, "He was gone for months on end, but
seemed ever-present, always in our hearts and minds. His letters
were read out loud by the youngest child, as soon as they acquired
the ability to plow through his plainspoken words. I couldn't wait
to learn how to read so I'd be the one to have that privilege."

"He was gone a lot, but when he was home, he was really home,
Mulder. He spent every minute after school was out for the day with
one or more of his kids. He'd never actually pull us out of school
or anything, he was too concerned about all of us doing better than
he had. Which was really silly, in my opinion. He was a great
success in life; a naval captain, a good husband, a great dad."

She tilted her face up toward Mulder's so he could see her eyes were
filled with unshed tears. "I wish you could have met him. He would
have understood you, Mulder."

"How so?" he whispered softly. He didn't need much volume to be
heard distinctly in the stillness of the beachfront home. By this
time of night, very few cars passed by outside and most winter
residents had turned in for the night.

"He was a dreamer, too. He'd spend so much time on his own at sea;
he'd come back with fascinating stories, some from books, some all
his own. Stories about the stars, and the sea, and monsters of the
deep. He'd always tell me a story before bedtime when he was home."

"He'd tell you scary tales at bedtime?" Mulder gawked.

"They weren't scary when he was through telling them. The hero
always succeeded, always slew the giant squid or octopus or whatever
he came up with that night. My mother would warn him not to tell us
a particularly chilling story, and, of course, that was the one we'd
beg for. It took me years to realize my parents were playing a
little game with one another; she never really meant to dissuade him
all."

"What happened at bedtime when he wasn't around?" Mulder asked
curiously.

"Mom had her own repertoire, Mulder. More like Grimm's fairy tales
than anything else. Sometimes she'd improvise and change the
endings, but we always called her on it when she did that."

"Who was the disciplinarian of the family?"

"They both were, in their own ways. It was kind of difficult for
Mom. She could never say 'Wait until your father comes home!' to us.
She dealt with sibling fights and rivalry like she did everything
else, with fairness and lots of good humor."

"Didn't you ever rebel against your parents? Or did you leave that
all to your siblings?" he wondered.

"Well, I know you're aware of Melissa's vagabond ways. She was
always a free spirit, even as a young child. I was constantly warned
by my parents not to end up like her, especially when she dropped out
of college and cruised up and down the California coast with her
friends. Bill and I never did anything like that. We didn't want to
disappoint Mom and Dad."

Scully smiled up at him and continued, "Of course, that didn't stop
Charlie from becoming a hellion in high school. I was in college by
the time I started getting calls from my mom about his behavior.
After just a few minutes of pleasant conversation, she'd give a
resigned sigh and tell me 'You're not going to believe what Charlie
did at school the other day.'"

Mulder gazed down at her, lifting his hand to guide one stray
tendril behind her ear. "Where's Charlie now?"

"In Germany. He was in the Army for his hitch and now he's married
to a native girl there. They have three kids, but I rarely see them.
It's just too expensive to bring the whole family over," she said
wistfully.

Mulder winked at her and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Maybe
we'll get them over here soon. So we can get all the little cousins
together."

Scully beamed up at him. "I'd like that. Bill's family is
stationed in Maryland temporarily. They may be transferred back to
the West coast at any time, but it would be nice to plan on having
everyone here for Christmas." She paused a beat, then asked, "Would
that be all right with you? Really?"

He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips, and responded,
"Scully, it's only February... so much will be resolved by then. It
will be more than all right with me."

She returned his kiss, pulling his chin toward her own and lingering
a little longer than he had. She smiled, then unhooked his arm from
around her shoulder. He raised his brows, silently asking her why
she was moving toward the other side of the couch.

"Let's finish looking at one last photo album, Mulder. You want to
be well prepared for Mom, don't you?"

"It's not your mom I'm concerned about, Scully. You know that," he
answered goodnaturedly.

"Bill's nothing but a show off, Mulder. He's all bluster, no
substantial threat to you."

"Yeah, but his little sister's never been knocked up by her alien
chasing partner before, has she? I can imagine what he was like when
he heard about this."

She reached over and pulled his hand into her lap, twining their
fingers once again.

"Look, I already told you--my mother has already given him a
lecture. He's heard my opinion loud and clear, and he won't be
giving you any trouble on Sunday."

Mulder ran the pad of his thumb over the smooth, soft skin of her
hand. He licked at his lips, pausing to choose his words carefully,
"I... Scully... I just want to prove to them I'll be a good father.
Like your Dad was."

Scully ran her hand along his strong jaw line, smiling at him. "So
that's why you asked me about Dad." She bobbed her head knowingly
and continued, "I thought there was more than mere curiosity in your
request."

Her thumb stroked his full mouth lovingly, and she pulled him down
for a quick caress of his lips.

"You'll make a fine dad, Mulder. I know you love children. You're
wonderful with children. You already were... with Emily," she
whispered softly.

Scully's eyes welled with tears once again; this time they strayed
down her cheeks with abandon. Mulder closed the gap between them,
pulling her against him tightly. She buried her face against his
chest, finally giving in to thoughts and emotions she'd entertained
often while Mulder was gone.

She'd often thought about those few days with Emily, how Mulder had
played so well with her, how the little girl had instantly taken a
shine to him. More poignantly, she remembered Emily in his arms at
the children's home, feverish with an illness the Consortium had
given her. She'd pushed Mulder away before Emily had died; she could
never exclude him from her life again. More than ever, they needed
one another--to deal with Mulder's illness, to provide a happy, safe
environment for their newborn child.

Mulder mumbled softly against her hair, "I don't want anything to
happen to our child. No experimentation, no genetic juggling acts.
We'll protect our baby. We'll find a way, Scully."

"I know," she sniffled against his shirt. She pulled away from him,
trying to compose herself, brushing tears from the corners of her
eyes.

Her sobs had all but tapered off now, and she addressed him with
more courage now, "Mulder, we don't even know the truth yet. I
didn't have any contact with Krycek until you came home. Maybe he's
just trying to scare us. He could be trying to manipulate us into
allowing him access to the baby."

Mulder nodded contemplatively, then answered, "I got really bad
vibes from him, Scully. I do think he's responsible for my
absence... why return me now? You're not ready to give birth. Maybe
there's some physiological reason someone would want the baby's blood
at this stage in its development."

"It could be mean that the antibodies which provide immunity from
the alien virus don't mature until a certain stage in the baby's
development," Scully mused.

"You know I'm not a biologist, Scully. I understand the basics and
I trust you'll know the rest if we need to pursue this line of
questioning. But... I can tell you this right now... I'm not so sure
I want to trust anyone with this kind of information. If you want to
find out about the baby's immune system we better be careful when and
where we conduct tests," he warned.

"We'll be cautious, Mulder," she asserted. "We'll find a doctor
through the guys. They have lots of physican friends. I don't think
that's a problem. I do think we need the resources of the Bureau.
All their resources, including their protection."

Mulder rolled his lower lip between his teeth and slowly shook his
head in agreement. "We'll have to tell Skinner, won't we?" he
concluded.

"There's no one else. I know he's felt compromised in the past, but
he knows the importance of our battle against the Project, Mulder.
If he can't help us directly, at least let's give him the opportunity
to find someone who will. Unless Krycek controls the entire FBI
bureaucracy--which I seriously doubt. There *has* to be a way past
this, don't you think?"

She reached out for his hand and brought it to her face once more,
rubbing her cheek against the palm of his hand.

"Let's look at one more album, Mulder," she proposed.

"Oh no, Scully! Not another one!"

He had enjoyed this Scully family cram session immensely, but he
couldn't resist poking fun at her zealous efforts to bring him up to
speed on every aspect of her kinfolk. She seemed to be
overcompensating for his lack of memory by showering him with trivia
about relatives she'd rarely seen or heard from the last eight
years.

Every single great-aunt or uncle had some fascinating story
associated with them, but they'd been perusing photos for hours and
Mulder wanted to give Scully one last birthday present before
midnight--if he didn't pass out by then. Sleeping with Scully every
night had all but cured him of insomnia this week. It was unusual
for him to go a whole week without nightmares, and he wondered
whether it was her influence or some other factor they didn't
understand yet.

Whatever had been done to him by his captors had been so subtle, so
undiagnosable, not a trace was left behind. Mulder feared he might
be a human time bomb, programmed to detonate after so many weeks or
months back home. He planned to see a psychotherapist as soon as he
was able, perhaps as soon as next Tuesday.

He'd had enough experience with Posttraumatic Stress Disorder to
recognize its symptoms, and it disturbed him he had none. The
inability to recall his captivity was almost as stressful as having
full knowledge of it. In any case, it would help to discuss these
things with someone objective, someone who wasn't Scully.

She already had enough to worry about; he didn't want to burden her
with his wealth of insecurities. She probably was already aware of
most of them, but he saw no reason to unload everything on her. He'd
gone through voluntary therapy sessions before leaving Oxford and he
was willing to slog through it again if it would protect Scully in
the future.

"Yes, Mulder. This will the last, I promise!"

Scully reached down into the soft-sided suitcase underneath the
coffee table and produced the goods. She made herself comfortable
next to Mulder once again and allowed him to crack open the album.

"This is us! These are from years ago! How did you get all these
old clippings, Scully?" he asked.

He was already scanning each article with great interest. This was
a virtual archive of their years together. She'd managed to track
down almost every case which gained public recognition of some kind.
Mulder knew only a fraction of their work was ever scrutinized by the
press, but this seemed like a complete record of their most high
profile cases, such as the Tooms case.

"I had a lot of help from our good friends. I worked on this
scrapbook when I'd run out of leads on you the last few months. I
started out with a shoebox full of yellowed newspaper articles I'd
saved over the years. I decided to replace them with archival
quality copies so I could show the baby..."

Scully faltered, painful memories resurfacing with their
conversation. She fought back tears so she could explain, "I was so
afraid you wouldn't be back for a long time, Mulder. I wanted our
child to know what kind of man you were."

Mulder stroked her cheek gently with the back of one hand, then
assured her, "Don't cry, Scully. I can't promise nothing will ever
happen to me but I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere if I have
anything to say about it. I have two of the best reasons in the
world to stay out of trouble, you know."

Scully managed a weak smile, checking her emotions through sheer
willpower. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, all
capable of triggering dramatic outbursts. She'd never been this
demonstrative before her pregnancy. She'd been the epitome of self-
restraint on the job and it embarrassed her to have Mulder see her
this way now.

She produced one of Mulder's old handkerchiefs from her pocket and
dried her eyes, composing herself before she spoke, "I don't like you
to see me this way, Mulder. I'm sure you realize how humiliating--"

"Shh, Scully," he whispered, as he tangled one hand through her
auburn curls. He could feel the tension in her neck muscles and he
gently caressed her there while he spoke, "There's no disgrace in
facing your feelings. You don't have to hide from me. I know what
you've been through, Scully. Samantha had been gone for twenty years
the year I met you. I can't imagine five days without you now, let
alone five months."

Scully's head fell forward to her chest in relaxation as he smoothed
his hands over her shoulders, banishing all the tension there. She
closed her eyes and Mulder was pleased to see her smile once again.

"I'm going to really enjoy reading through this scrapbook, Scully,"
Mulder said quietly. He pulled her close to his chest, lacing his
arms around her growing waistline. His hands stayed in one place
while his lips travelled downward, layering kisses from her forehead
to the sensitive skin beneath her jaw. He paused there, mouth
lingering across her cream-colored throat.

"Why don't we go to bed now?" he whispered in her ear.

"All right," she responded, turning slightly, rubbing her cheek
against his unshaven chin.

"Upsy daisy," he requested, pulling first himself, then Scully, to
her feet.

She shuffled along beside him, the feeling in her legs slowly
returning. He put his arm around her and they tackled the steps
together, laughing at their uncoordinated efforts to climb in unison.
Finally, they established a rhythm between them; their efforts
rewarded by arriving at the second floor landing.

Scully giggled, her hand still entwined with his, ready to take the
last few steps to the bedroom. Mulder had other ideas, leaning over
to press kisses throughout her hair, then down her cheek, and on to
her rosy-colored lips. He lingered there a few minutes... their
mouths engaged in deep, passionate kisses, their hands threading
through one another's hair.

They parted with some hesitation, and Scully took the first step of
three small ones leading to the second floor. She took the second
step, then the third one, then turned in abject horror at the sound
behind her. Not only was Mulder not following her lead--he was
crumpled on the landing, groaning in agony, palms clenched tightly
against his forehead.

fin

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