TITLE: Almost Home (2/?)
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 Char, Keleka, Lisa, Paulette,
and Teresa.

Almost Home (2/?)
By Shoshana

February 20th, 2001
Tuesday

Bang! Bang! Bang! Something was banging in Mulder's head. He was
having the oddest dream and he didn't appreciate being disturbed by
that incessant banging. It involved coming home last night and
discovering a captivating pregnant redhead in his bed, then falling
into a deep, peaceful sleep beside her.

He was so tired, so tired from his hike out of the forest yesterday.
It had taken hours before a car came by to take him to Portland.
He'd roamed around the airport for hours till his flight took off,
reading every newspaper he could find, trying to figure out why it
was 2001 and not 1993.

He, of all people, would be more inclined to believe in time travel,
of some blip in the space/time continuum. He didn't panic, because
he knew there was a good reason for every paranormal experience.
This one was no exception.

He would stay calm and logical and go straight home to DC. The best
place to be was his own apartment, where he could use his computer,
watch television and try to track down the Gunmen.

They'd help him sort out what had happened to him. If he'd been
abducted, if he'd been off in a spaceship for eight long years, he
wouldn't be surprised to find his apartment occupied by some new
tenant. What he hadn't expected was the presence of a five foot two
beauty great with child, *his* child.

It had completely thrown him at first, until he realized she was
telling him the truth... she was his partner, she was his best
friend, she was carrying his child. And when he sat next to her on
the bed and felt that child move within her stomach, he knew, in some
elemental way, that it was truly his progeny.

He didn't know Dana Scully, but he felt closer to her than anyone
else on Earth. He didn't know why, he couldn't *remember* why. But
there had been an electric current between them from their very first
conversation, the very first touch between them.

He'd felt more and more comfortable in her presence, more and more
convinced that he was where he was supposed to be. Of course, he
was. It was his own apartment. But he didn't recognize all the
furnishings as his own, as if they'd been accumulated over years of
haphazard decorating, Mulderstyle.

The surroundings may have been a mite foreign, but Dana Scully
wasn't. She was as warm and comforting as a summer breeze, snuggling
up to him in his bed as if she belonged there. He'd fallen asleep
next to her, his arms around her, one hand zealously protecting the
child they shared.

The banging was getting truly annoying. It was accompanied by a
woman's frantic voice, "Mulder, Mulder wake up! There's someone at
the door. Mulder, let me go so I can get the door!"

He felt his face flinch as she gently tapped him with her index
finger. He half-opened one eye cautiously.

It wasn't a dream. She was very real. She was very pregnant and
she was getting progressively more annoyed with every second he
ignored her.

He loosened his arms from around her waist, and opened both eyes,
taking stock of the situation. She jumped out of bed as soon as
he let her go, and he witnessed a flash of red as she ran out of
the room as quickly as her pregnancy would allow.

He heard a man's voice, Skinner's voice. He remembered Skinner all
right. He'd just taken over the supervision of the X-Files in
January 1993. They didn't know each other very well, but Mulder
didn't mind him. Not yet, anyway. Skinner hadn't had time to go
through all his expense reports. He'd probably be livid when he
realized how Mulder was spending government dollars.

The bedroom door opened and closed, and he turned over on his side
as Scully approached the bed, in flannel pajamas and robe; he was
still in his jeans and tee shirt from yesterday.

He'd taken a shower at some cheap motel near the airport before
leaving Portland. Even so, he was ready for another one. The
disorientation of the last twenty-four hours was catching up with
him. No wonder she had such a hard time waking him up.

He had no idea where he'd been before waking up in Oregon. If he'd
been missing for five months, like Scully had told him, he had no
more recollection of that time period than he did of anything since
January 1993.

A less visionary man would be frenetic, angry, agitated. He felt
exceptionally calm and cool, all things considered. Odd things had
happened to him before; it was why he had pursued the X-Files so
vehemently.

He knew his ideas sounded like hogwash to most rational people. He
knew that his theories were difficult, if not impossible to prove.
But the notion that Dana Scully had stuck by him for the last eight
years vindicated him. There had to be truth to his excursions into
the paranormal if this apparently sober-minded woman had remained his
partner all these years.

Scully wore a humorless expression as she filled him in on the AD's
arrival. "Skinner says you were spotted at National last night, but
he didn't get word until an hour ago. He's been trying to reach me
by phone, but I was recharging my cell and I turned off the phone
here by mistake. He decided to wait until morning because he thought
I needed the rest. He's making coffee for himself right now and I
told him we'd be out in five minutes. Right now... if I don't get
into the john in thirty seconds, I'm going to need adult Pampers.
Wait till I come out and then you can wash up."

She lowered her voice as she leaned closer to the bed. "And *don't*
go out there until I get back. I didn't tell him about the amnesia.
He doesn't need to know if we play our cards right."

She gave in to her need to relieve herself, closing the bathroom
door behind her. Mulder sat up on the bed, rubbing sleep from his
eyes. They must have rested for eight hours, surely a record for
him. It was nine o'clock when he arrived last night, and he vaguely
remembered the glow of his ancient LCD clock before falling asleep.
It was one item that remained the same in his memory. He'd
apparently never replaced it, even though it was vintage late
eighties technology.

What was he going to do if he never remembered all these lost years?
He had started an electronic journal before he'd gone off UFO hunting
in New Jersey in 1993. He'd ask Scully or the guys if they'd found
it on his hard drive. Certainly they would have looked for one if
they were trying any means to hunt him down. If it still existed,
he could fill in most of the memory loss within a few days time.

Whatever else he needed to know could be provided by Scully. He
trusted her. He knew he'd never be this involved with a woman again
unless he trusted her implicitly. He'd been burned by Diana's sudden
flight to Europe, away from him, away from their growing
relationship. She'd left him a 'Dear John' letter in the summer of
'92; her belongings packed up and spirited away before he got home
from an out of town assignment.

Scully loved him. She trusted him. She'd felt safe with him the
minute he explained what had happened. And stopped aiming his gun at
her head. He felt awful about that. Paranoid as always, he had
checked out every room in the apartment before finding her in his
bed. He hadn't stopped to think that she belonged there, that this
was her temporary home while he was missing.

The toilet flushed, and he jumped out of bed and met Scully at the
door of the washroom. She'd changed into jeans and a sweatshirt
after quickly washing up and putting on a little makeup. My God, she
was pretty, he thought. He must have done something right along the
way.

"I'll entertain Skinner and explain to him everything I know so far.
When you're done, come out and you can fill *both* of us in on the
details. Just remember not to tell him everything... not even a hint
about the memory loss. We'll go over to the hospital today and run a
few tests to make sure you're all right and look for implants. Other
than that, we'll have to wait until tomorrow to see Dr. Werber for
hypnosis."

She pulled on the belt loop of his jeans, bringing him closer to her
in the doorway. "As your personal physician, I want to make sure
you're A-OK." She smiled suggestively, and sauntered toward the
bedroom door.

"My personal physician?" he wondered out loud.

She turned around when she reached the door jamb and said, "Your one
and only."

Then she was gone... off to sweet talk their supervisor.

Mulder was aghast. Had she learned that from him? He was the
master of sexual innuendo at the FBI academy and beyond. He'd always
flirted with female agents. Innocent flirtation of course, never
full-blown sexual harassment.

This very pregnant woman was sexier than any busty model in one of
his Triple X magazines. He was incredibly turned by her intentional
remark, a bit of innuendo that surprised him and delighted him at the
same time. How many years had they practiced their banter on one
another until they resolved this palpable sexual tension?

She'd told him last April was the first time they'd been together.
He chuckled to himself, vowing to discover just how outrageous his
bills at the local video store had been all these years. No wonder
she'd looked sheepish after telling him. They must have been
faithful to one another for years, with no sexual involvement.

He just knew it, could feel it about them. Aside from
discouragement from the Powers That Be, there must have been other
factors to keep them platonic. He could only imagine why... until he
got his hands on his journal or asked her to tell him about the
government conspiracy they'd discovered.

First things first, he thought, as he brushed his teeth and washed
his face with the plain terry washcloth. First he had to convince
Skinner he was all right and fit for duty.

It didn't surprise him that his partner was a medical doctor. The
FBI recruited agents from all walks of life. He would have become a
psychologist in private practice if he hadn't joined the FBI. The
FBI sounded easier when they came calling for him. It sounded like
he'd be more useful to society as a profiler than a private doctor.
Little did he imagine how difficult the job would be on his psyche,
how tortured he'd be by his cases.

He'd been delighted to discover the X-Files. After putting up with
Patterson's crap for several years, he wanted to pursue his own
interests. He wanted to find his sister and he wasn't going to
accomplish that while working for the BSU. And it gave him the
opportunity to be his own boss, something he'd been yearning to do.

He wondered if he'd given Scully a hard time when she'd been
partnered with him. He must have been the Senior Agent, must have
ordered her around like some flunky. No, that wouldn't have
happened. She seemed too strong to have obeyed him without question.
She was much too bright and sure of herself to let him get away with
that. He couldn't wait to find out what she had to say about those
early years.

"MULDER!" she yelled from the other room.

He ran a comb through his hair, noticing the extra muscle in his
upper body, the lines around his eyes, the maturity of his facial
features. He was older, eight years older. This was *real*, this
was really happening to him. If it had been anyone else, they'd have
been checking into a mental institution. They hadn't nicknamed him
'Spooky,' for nothing, after all.

He quickly pulled on his sneakers and walked through the bedroom
door to face Skinner. The AD looked different; he'd always been
balding, it suited him. But were he and Scully responsible for all
those worry lines on his face? He hoped not.

"Hello, sir," he offered, sitting down on the opposite side of his
familiar leather couch. Thank God it was still there, like it had
always been.

"Mulder. How are you feeling? Scully told me you don't seem to be
harmed in any way."

"I feel fine. I took a shower yesterday and didn't see any evidence
that I was tested, no scars or needle marks. Naturally, I'll want to
get medical tests, make certain they haven't done any damage... or
given me a little present before dropping me off in the Oregon
woods."

"You can't remember anything? Nothing of the last five months?"

Mulder glanced over at Scully. He shouldn't have, because her
silent admonishment aroused Skinner's suspicions. She was telling
him something with that look, and Skinner would get to the bottom of
it. He was all too familiar with his agents' secretive personal
language. He wasn't privy to all its nuances, but he knew when it
was being utilized.

"Nothing. Not a thing," Mulder asserted. He tried not to reveal
anything more through his body language. His face was expressionless
as he relaxed into the cushions of the sofa.

"We'll go to see Dr. Werber," Scully interjected. "Hynopsis may
help him recall where he was, what was done to him... if anything."

"Have you examined Mulder for scars or implants, Agent Scully?"
Skinner asked.

A rosy glow crept over Scully's face, her embarrassment obvious.
She tried to suppress it, but it was there, whether she liked it or
not. They hadn't even taken off their clothes last night. God knows
how long it would be before they could behave like the loving couple
they once had been.

It was difficult to envision Mulder with the same clinical
detachment she'd used before they'd made love. Despite her little
joke earlier this morning, she realized that Mulder would need some
time to get used to her attentions. And besides that, she was six
months pregnant. She didn't think he was all that attracted to her
in her present condition. She liked to think he was pleased by the
baby, that he felt something for her because of their child. But she
couldn't imagine him looking at her in a libidinous haze of lust.

"Not yet, sir. We've slept most of the time since he arrived home
last night," she said flatly.

"Well... go get him checked out by the hospital. Then, both of you,
take some time off... get out of town. I don't want Agent Mulder
back on duty until he's completely ready. And I think you need a
vacation as much as he does, Agent Scully. No matter how pleased I
am to see you back, Mulder, I'd like to see very little of you the
next few weeks while you recuperate."

"I'd actually like that, sir. Especially... because of the baby,"
Mulder replied, a bit abashed.

It felt so surreal to be discussing this with his boss. He would
have preferred to have told Walter Skinner months ago, before Scully
was so obviously pregnant. The AD had grown accustomed to her
physique by now, had accepted their relationship in every respect.
They would have received a lecture on unprofessional conduct
immediately if Skinner intended to end their partnership. Instead,
he'd asked them to take some time to relax.

Mulder wasn't sure he could relax. There was so much he had to
learn in such a short period of time. He had to bring himself up
to speed, absorb all he'd missed the last eight years. It could be
crucial to their safety.

No one had to remind him how corrupt the government could be. He'd
been friends with Byers, Langly, and Frohike since 1989 and knew
they weren't just some kooks investigating dishonesty in the halls of
past and present regimes. He'd seen things already, things that had
convinced him to conduct his own covert research.

He'd only scratched the surface of this treachery in 1993. He was
curious about the global conspiracy Scully had alluded to last night.
He could tell by her tone of voice they'd had unpleasant things
happen to them, things she didn't want to go into right away.

He wasn't about to risk upsetting her by bringing up the topic.
He'd read his journal, he'd talk to the guys. She wasn't a fragile
flower, but she was six months pregnant. He'd let her decide how
much she wanted to relate to him. He was certain she wouldn't avoid
the subject forever.

"Yes, that sounds good, sir. I'd like to spend some time away from
DC. I think we have some catching up to do," Scully said.

She'd be grateful to get away from her doting mother and
overprotective brother. He hadn't stopped giving her grief about
Mulder's disappearance since she'd told him about the pregnancy in
October. He'd called or left e-mail messages begging her to marry a
nice man so the baby would be legitimate.

She finally told him to stop trying to communicate with her in any
way around Thanksgiving. The only reason they were civil at this
time was due to her mother's machinations, getting them all together
for the holidays. Bill, to his credit, had apologized profusely and
had promised to help her. He hadn't said another word about Mulder's
fitness as a father, and he'd tried to get Navy intelligence sources
to help her search for Mulder.

"Well, I'll be getting along then," Skinner said, rising from the
couch.

Scully remained seated, but Mulder rose and escorted the AD to the
door. They shook hands and said perfunctory words of farewell.

By the time Mulder got back to the living room, Scully was in the
kitchen making coffee and toast. He didn't know what to say for the
first time all day. Were they going to live here together? Were
they going to sleep together every night? What about the vacation
Skinner had ordered them to take? They were going together, weren't
they?

"Mulder..." she beckoned.

He poked his head around the arch between the kitchen and living
room and said, "I'm here."

"Why don't you get some butter out? I forgot it."

"Okay," he replied, crossing to the refrigerator and opening the
door.

He was astounded at how much fresh food it contained, more than he'd
ever kept. She must have been living here the whole time, he thought
to himself. She wanted to be here when he returned.

"Bring it to the table. I don't know how hungry you are, but I'm
ravenous. I'm having real cream cheese; the butter's for you," she
said with a smile.

"Heh, I never liked cream cheese, did I?" he jested.

She grinned over her shoulder as she poured two mugs of coffee for
them.

Scully passed the paper to Mulder after pulling the news and leisure
sections for herself. She was determined to give him as much
normality as possible under the circumstances. She wanted to allow
him the time to readjust to life with her and the FBI. Eight o'clock
in the morning was too early to be planning strategy or even talking
about a vacation. She just wanted to have breakfast with Mulder, to
read the newspaper together like they used to do on Sunday mornings.

After several silent minutes, spent buttering toast and drinking
down the rich Kenyan decaf, Mulder asked, "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine," Scully responded.

She looked up from the paper, and he couldn't resist a smile. She
was adorable; her glasses made her look like a schoolgirl. For the
hundredth time that day he asked himself how he'd been so lucky, how
he'd managed to keep her as a partner and court her, too.

He knew he wasn't the easiest person to live with. He'd found that
out when Diana moved in. It was the first time he'd lived with any
of his girlfriends, the rest always maintaining their own domicile.

Their eventual split-up had convinced him that he'd never find
domestic bliss with anyone. He'd had a few girlfriends since Diana,
but nothing serious, not even close. He wondered if there'd been
anyone after he met Scully in 1993. He was reluctant to ask her.

Maybe his trio of old friends would fill him in. He occasionally
would tell them if he was seeing someone. He must have told them how
he felt about Dana Scully. Or maybe they knew without asking. He'd
call them this morning. They probably knew he was home, knowing
their ability to find out anything about anybody. Maybe they'd told
Skinner he was seen at National. He wouldn't be surprised at all.

"What will we do all day?" he asked after they'd both finished their
breakfast and started on their second cups of coffee.

"I have to call Mom. I should have called her right away, but I
wanted to relax a bit before I talk to her. She'll be really
excited, Mulder. She's been very anxious about you lately. In fact,
she had a dream and you were in it."

"She did?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. She told me not to worry. That you'd be home soon. She was
right."

"I won't recognize her, will I?"

She shook her head, her expression a bit wistful.

"I'll show you pictures of all my family before we go see them. I'm
sure everything will be fine. I don't think you should worry about
that. I think we should get the hospital over with today, and
perhaps Dr. Werber tomorrow. I don't think we should go to Hoover.
I think we should take Skinner up on his offer and get out of town.
Your family has a summer cottage. We'll go up there."

"What about my parents?" he asked innocently.

Her face fell before his eyes. The sadness there was so deep, he
knew immediately he'd asked the wrong question. Whatever the answer
was, he needed to know, so he pressed on, "Scully, tell me the truth.
What's happened to them?"

"They're both dead, Mulder," she said, her expression as grave as
he'd seen it so far.

"How?" he choked out.

He was trying to maintain his composure, but he couldn't. Tears
came unbidden to his eyes and his face scrunched into a miserable
grimace.

Scully got out of her seat, walked behind him and slid her arms
around his neck. She pressed her cheek against his hair, speaking
softly, "It won't make sense now. You'll have to read your journal.
I don't want to tell you how until you've seen that."

"You found it on my computer?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm so sorry, Mulder. We had to invade your privacy. But
you wrote in it frequently. You wrote down all your thoughts about
our cases. All your thoughts about me. You'll understand so much
better when you've read it."

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her cheek. She returned
the gesture, then stood up straight so that she could gently knead
the tension from his shoulders.

"I can do that tonight," he said quietly.

"That's what I thought," she agreed.

"Have you always been this way?"

"What way?" she asked.

"So good," he croaked out, his throat constricting with tears.

"Oh, Mulder."

She pulled him to his feet and embraced him fully, or at least as
well as she could with the baby between them. She nestled her face
against his chest and drew him tightly against her. She rocked him
like a child as he cried, mourning the death of parents he'd never
really understood or known.

Scully ran her fingers through his hair, trying to soothe away the
sorrow. She pressed gentle kisses to his forehead, and massaged the
nape of his neck, trying not to cry. She needed to be strong enough
for both their sakes.

After several minutes, he quieted and she suggested they get on with
the day. "Why don't we both get cleaned up and go to the hospital?
I can call Mom and anyone else from there while they run tests on
you."

He sniffled softly, trying to regain composure. He lifted his tear-
streaked face and her heart constricted once again. "Sure," he
agreed. "That sounds like a good plan."

She brushed his unruly hair back from his forehead, smiling gently
at him. "Like I said last night, everything will be okay."

Her lips touched his cheek one more time, and she extricated herself
from his grasp slowly, squeezing his hands before leaving to change
her clothes. He didn't move until he heard the click of her heels in
the hallway.

fin

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