TITLE: Almost Home (24/?)
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 Amy, Keleka, Lisa and Sallie!

Almost Home (24/?)
By Shoshana

February 27th, 2001
Tuesday
10:13 p.m.
A motel room
Bellefleur, Oregon

Scully hugged the extra pillow between her knees, listening to the
now familiar sound of Mulder's nightly routine. She fidgeted on her
side of the bed, rearranging her nightgown for the umpteenth time
since crawling under the covers. The mattress swayed gently as he
came to bed, sliding across the sheets to mold his body behind hers.

Mulder threaded his arm around her expanded waistline, resting his
palm on the slope of her belly. Warm lips caressed the nape of her
neck, cold toes became better acquainted with her own. She hummed
with contentment, burying her cheek against the soft cotton of the
pillowcase.

The bed clothes smelled of sweet detergent and fabric softener, but
Mulder tasted minty when she turned her head to receive his kiss.
Just over a week now, she thought. He's been home such a short while
and we've already settled into a routine.

They were both too tired for anything but sleep, yet she sensed some
agitation on Mulder's part, something left unsaid in the last few
hours at the motel.

"What's wrong?" she whispered, stroking her thumb across his hand.

"Oh, you're too tired. It can wait," he muttered.

Mulder nuzzled her shoulder gently, then rained small kisses across
her shoulder blades. It was soothing to her until his mouth returned
to her neckline, chancing upon a ticklish square inch just above her
shirt.

"Ooh," she cried softly, squirming back against his chest.
"Tickles."

"Sorry," Mulder apologized.

"Don't be." After several silent seconds, she demanded, "Tell me
what's wrong, Mulder. I'm too curious to fall asleep now."

He repositioned his arms around her, one stretching beneath the
pillow, the other cradling her belly. She waited patiently for him
to speak, long acquainted with the brief pauses he often took before
telling her something significant.

"I wanna go home tomorrow, Scully," he told her pensively.

She hesitated in her response, expecting more of an explanation.
When he remained silent, she spoke calmly, "Okay. We don't have to
stay. Billy hooked us up with several receptive parents who'll allow
their kids to be tested when things settle down around here. There's
no reason to hang around, Mulder."

"I know I said we should go out to the abduction site, Scully, but
I've changed my mind. Frankly, I've had enough of Bellefleur for the
rest of my life. It gives me the creeps, Scully."

Scully laughed softly, her lips forming a wry smile. "Knowing your
threshold for creepiness, I guess we better get out of Dodge,
partner."

Mulder chuckled, then caressed her neck softly with his nose. He
lifted his head slightly, attending to her small, delectable earlobe
with his tongue. She shivered at the contact, pleasantly exhilarated
despite her fatigue.

"I don't feel comfortable here, that's all," he added.

She slowly shifted in his arms, coming to rest on her back so she
could see his eyes gleaming in the filtered light from the stylized
lantern outside their door. He propped himself up on one elbow,
inches away from her. His free hand sought out her left one, lacing
their fingers neatly together.

"Me, neither," she admitted, meeting his gaze.

"Good. I mean, I don't want you to stay here if you don't want to,
Scully. I think we did what we had to--now I just want to leave. I
don't have any curiosity about these woods. I don't want you hiking
around as far along as you are."

"Oh, I'd be all right," she said quickly.

"Yeah, probably. But what's the point in going out there? If I was
truly taken aboard a ship--it's not there anymore--I'm fairly sure of
that. If I was kept at some facility, I think the boys would have
found it with their satellite maps. You already checked out all
major structures around here months ago. And you know there wouldn't
be any evidence left behind anyway. I think we need to get on with
our lives back home; I want to get back to work, plus all the plans
your mom has for us--"

"Ha! Don't worry about my mom. She's a military wife. She's used
to changing plans at the drop of a hat."

"You want to? Change plans, that is?" he asked with some
trepidation.

Scully realized within seconds what he thought she meant. She
sighed with exasperation, "No, Mulder. I don't mean *not* get
married. I'm just saying, if we need to postpone she won't go
ballistic. Family events always were last minute affairs; there were
times we didn't know where we'd be living the next month of our
lives. It didn't pay to plan too far ahead."

Mulder grazed his fingers down her cheek, then leaned over to kiss
her on the mouth. "No wonder you put up with me, Scully. I haven't
given you much advance notice, have I?"

She smiled up at him, "Especially when you'd tear off in the car
without me, Mulder. No notice is more like it," she complained
goodnaturedly.

"I was bad, wasn't I?" he admitted.

"Very bad," she responded, reaching over to capture his hand. She
gripped it tightly, lifting his fingertips to her lips.

"Wanna punish me?" he managed to say between chortling laughter on
both their parts.

Scully tugged at his arm, then lowered the register of her voice,
"Get over here and I will right now, G-Man."

Mulder grinned roguishly, then carefully gathered her into his arms.
Their lips met for several minutes, until they relaxed away from the
kiss, remaining in a side by side embrace.

"You need to rest," he said, tenderly tracing her mouth with his
index finger.

"I will," she pledged. "Later."

He snickered softly, then bridged the gap between them, pulling her
as close as he could, with special deference to her expanded figure.
His hands coursed down her back, paying close attention to the bumpy
knobs of her vertebral column.

She sighed with obvious pleasure; this was what she had yearned for,
all those lonely months. A simple back massage was as welcome as
every other aspect of their intimacy, including lovemaking. She'd
missed it all and she had it now--she felt tears trickle down her
cheeks in spite of a mighty struggle to contain them.

"Oh, Scully," he crooned softly when he felt the wetness on her
cheeks. "You're crying."

She shook her head as he cradled her cheeks with his large palmed
hands. "Happy," was all she uttered before their mouths met again,
lips moist with passion and salty tears.

Mulder paused to swipe his thumbs across her face, gathering the
last traces of moisture from beneath her eyes.

"Me, too," he breathed into her lips, before kissing her again.
"Let's get some sleep, okay?"

She felt his smile as he brushed his lips against her forehead.
"Okay."

Scully turned onto her right side, then readjusted the pillow
between her knees. As if on cue, Mulder snuggled close to her body
again, draping his arms around her waist. Her feet sought out the
warm flesh of his shins and his hand left her side for brief seconds,
pulling the bedcovers over her shoulder.

*********************************************************************
February 28th, 2001
Wednesday
United Airlines Flight 920
3:59 p.m.
Thirty minutes away from Dulles airport

Scully held on to her left forearm with great effort, steadying it
so she could read the digital readout. Twenty minutes between
Braxton-Hicks contractions, she thought to herself. Damn, damn,
damn. She couldn't possibly be going into labor now.

She knew these mild contractions increased towards the end of
pregnancy and were more common for women who'd had at least one child
before. This didn't prevent her from fretting over their frequency
and intensity. They might increase in regularity for several hours,
then become farther apart and gradually fade away.

They *should* fade away! She was nowhere near thirty-seven weeks
pregnant, when she should first see signs of preterm labor. She
didn't want to alarm Mulder, who was presently sprawled out in the
seat beside her own, lost in dreamland.

The contractions were somewhat erratic, occuring every twenty to
forty minutes--and they weren't increasing in intensity like Scully
knew they should if she was actually in labor. She'd drunk her whole
bottle of water since the flight had begun several hours ago, trying
to manage what she hoped were unproductive contractions.

Fortunately, it had been non-stop from Portland to DC--a five hour
flight leaving at 8:40. Mulder had been up at the crack of dawn,
making arrangements with the airline. It was costing a fortune; he
hadn't wanted to rush and make an cheaper, earlier flight the Bureau
would have preferred.

He'd told her he just wanted to get out of town, didn't care if they
had to make up the difference when 'Chesty' Short bitched about it
during their next audit from hell. If there ever was one. She
wasn't so sure they'd get to keep the X-Files after all.

The silence from the powers that be was peculiar; she'd expected a
review board almost immediately after Mulder's reappearance in DC.
It hadn't happened yet, pending some decision from above Skinner's
level of bureaucracy.

She dreaded the consequences of an OPR meeting. Theoretically, they
could close the X-Files, could separate her and Mulder, could strip
them of access to resources she needed to study the medical records
of all the abductees and a select few of their children.

Worrying about these possibilities distracted Scully from her
physical problems, but didn't prevent her next contraction from
occurring at four o'clock. They were still twenty minutes apart,
still the same moderate intensity. She couldn't wake Mulder this
soon before they landed, she thought.

Ultimately, she had no choice but to tell him. He'd already awoken,
and was staring at her as she let out a tiny gasp, then gripped the
circumference of her belly with her hands.

"Scully?" he asked, rousing himself from his sleep state quickly.

Mulder rubbed his forehead with his hands, wishing he had some
pain relievers, yet knowing his first priority was definitely not his
own welfare.

"What is it, Scully?" he persisted when she didn't say anything.

Her eyes betrayed her anxious state and Mulder pulled his body out
of a relaxed slouch. He reached over with one hand, tenderly
embracing the right side of her face.

"Tell me," he demanded.

He noticed red marks on her lips, tender flesh she'd gnawed at with
worry. The thumb of his right hand traced over her lips lightly, and
he could feel a slight tremor course through her body.

"Scully," he entreated, his hand coming to rest on her cheek again.

"It's nothing, Mulder. Really," she said unconvincingly.

"Are you having contractions?" he guessed correctly.

Scully opened her eyes wide and nodded affirmatively, appreciative
of his insight. Mulder must have been peeking at her pregnancy
manuals, especially after their visit to Dr. Myers on Monday.

"They're too far apart, Mulder. And they don't feel like real
labor. I mean, I don't know for sure, but I don't think this is it.
Okay? I wasn't hiding from you. I just didn't want you to panic."

Mulder fixed his eyes upon her with a penetrating gaze, one
betraying a calm she'd seen many times in the field. He seemed to be
approaching this whole pregnancy as one prolonged investigation,
researching it as he would any other adventure they'd embarked on.
His attitude was contagious; she felt herself relaxing against her
seat, forgetting her obsession with timing the contractions.

He gave her a quick smile, then said, "Wake me next time. You don't
have to go through this alone, Scully. I want to be here for you,
okay? Now, what happened, again?"

"Braxton-Hicks contractions or false labor. I'm not sure which, but
they're twenty minutes apart," she reported tersely.

"Is that bad?" he asked, one hand scrubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Not necessarily. They're irregular; they aren't getting stronger
and closer together with time. I guess I just got a little worried
there, but it's nothing, Mulder. I'm a doctor, remember?"

"A doctor who's delivered one baby in her life--one who's had to do
extracurricular reading in a field she vaguely remembers from med
school--"

"Vague, my ass! I aced my exams in prenatal care," she countered.

"Yeah, and I graduated with first honors in psychology, Scully. It
didn't prevent me from ending up in a padded cell, did it?"

"That was different, Mulder. You couldn't have avoided that. It's
a ridiculous comparison."

"Well, I can think of other times I lost my cool demeanor and ended
up in four point restraints. My point is, you don't have to do this
on your own. Just because you studied pregnancy or got an 'A' on the
exam doesn't mean you have to see your own experience from a clinical
perspective. Every day I look at you--see you grow--it's amazing to
me, Scully. It was incredible before last Saturday when I wasn't all
that sure who I was anymore."

Scully sat open-mouthed, a smile reaching her eyes as she took in
his testimony. He was correct--she'd seen her pregnancy clinically
before he'd arrived home, protecting herself from the disappointment
of going through the whole experience alone. Even after he'd
returned to her, she'd been reluctant to let her guard down and
accept all the help he was willing to give. It was just an extension
of her normal, nonpregnant personality, unaffected by hormones, off-
side kicks inside her womb, or cravings for Ben and Jerry's.

She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. "I guess I should have
said something. But really--I don't think there's anything to worry
about. If I get up and walk around a little the contractions should
go away." She reached over and patted his cheek assuringly. "I'm
not hiding from you, Mulder. I can't even lie to you--how would I
ever lie to you?" she concluded with a smile.

Their conversation was interrupted by the usual announcement to
fasten one's seatbelt and prepare for landing. They spent the rest
of the flight quietly, holding hands, watching the green fields of
western Virginia fly by and the familiar cityscape of DC rise to
greet them.

fin

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