TITLE: Almost Home (5/?)
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, and Teresa.

Almost Home (5/?)
By Shoshana

February 20th, 2001
Tuesday

Krycek fled quickly, a cursory 'I'll be in touch,' his only
farewell. Scully stared off into the night around them, stunned by
the younger man's revelation. A groan beside her brought her back to
her senses.

Mulder was doubled over against the wall, hands clutching at his
knees for additional support. Even in the dim incandescent light,
she could tell his color wasn't very good. She rushed to his side
and forced him to sit down on the ground beside her.

"Mulder? What's wrong?" she asked, fearful of another side effect
of his abduction.

"Dizzy."

He took in one deep, painful breath, then exhaled it in a whoosh as
he lowered his head between his knees. Scully rubbed his back,
cooing to him about taking it easy. He took in several more less
arduous inhalations, calming slowly. He was able to sit up against
the brick wall within minutes; his breathing becoming more regular
with every stroke of her soothing fingers.

"Better?" she asked.

He looked over at her gratefully, then said, "That doesn't happen to
me very often."

"Me neither, Mulder. I had attacks of vertigo right before you
left..."

She realized too late she shouldn't have brought this up.

"Oh, great. Another thing I can't remember, right?" he said
bitterly.

He pulled himself to his feet and raged at the wall, "Goddammit,
Scully! How can I protect you when I can't recall what's happened to
you?!?"

He struck his fist against the brick wall, blindly lashing out at
his own inadequacy.

"Ow!!!" he howled, cradling one fist with the other. The uneven
texture of the bricks had chafed at his hand, skinning his knuckles.

"Mulder!" she shouted, moving to his side immediately, urging his
fingers apart so she could examine the damage.

He held still for her, regretting his loss of control. She was
infinitely patient, reaching inside her coat pocket and pulling out a
handkerchief to wrap his injury. He could tell it wasn't the first
time she'd witnessed the foolishness of his ill temper.

"Sorry," he apologized, his eyes telegraphing remorse.

"'S'okay, Mulder. I've done the same thing. Unlike you, I wait all
day, internalize all my anger, until I have a chance to be alone.
You've always just let it go, whoever happened to be around," she
told him, tightening the makeshift knot.

"Have I ever hurt anyone? I don't remember taking it out on people,
just inanimate objects..."

He was panic-stricken by the thought he'd ever taken his ire out on
Scully, or anyone else close to him the last eight years.

"No, no, no! I've never seen you take your anger out on an innocent
person. You've had to replace the office wastebasket several times,
and plaster over a few holes in the wall of your apartment-- but
that's it, Mulder. I've seen you go ballistic against a criminal,
but I hardly think that's misplaced emotion."

"You stopped me from killing Krycek," he remarked.

"Yeah, and if you hadn't been with me just now, I might have killed
him myself. I blame him for luring you back to Bellefleur. He told
you the ship wouldn't be there much longer. You wouldn't let me go
with you because of the vertigo and we didn't have a clue it was
caused by my pregnancy. It never even crossed my mind. I thought it
was--"

She hesitated, lowering her eyes to the concrete slab beneath them.
She didn't want to rub salt into his wounds, revealing more grief
from the past. He implored her to continue, raising her chin with
his good hand. He cupped her cheek gently, encouraging her to look
into his eyes.

"You thought your cancer was out of remission. I probably thought
so, too," he said quietly.

"You wanted me to go home from Bellefleur as soon as I felt ill.
You told me how much I'd lost, how much more you wanted for me."

A few tears trickled down her cheek, and he gently wiped them away
with one slim finger. He took her in his arms, holding her as
tightly as he could with one hand incapacitated.

He whispered in her ear, "I do want more for you, Scully." He
smoothed his hand over her back, comforting her as she wept silently
against his chest.

Mulder pulled away from her slightly, looking directly into her eyes
as he continued, "You've got a small part of what you lost back.
You're going to have a baby. No one's going to take him from your
womb, or from your arms. I won't let that happen."

"What do we do now?" she asked, still troubled by Krycek's warning.

"We do what we were going to do, Scully. We call the guys and have
them debug the summer house-- set up a great security system there.
We'll go to see Dr. Werber tomorrow, then we'll drive up to Rhode
Island and stay there-- at least through next Sunday. The guys will
check out our apartments while we're gone."

"Okay. All right. We can't be intimidated by threats. We can't be
sure what Krycek told us is the absolute truth."

Scully rubbed her eyes with the fingertips of one hand, cleansing
them of tears. She gave him a brave, but weak smile, entwining her
right hand with his left one.

"Let's go home, Mulder," she said, quietly leading the way.

When they arrived at his apartment, Scully allowed him to remove his
jacket, then dragged him into the bathroom to bathe his hand with
alcohol and apply a few Band-Aids. It wasn't as bad as it looked;
he'd be able to use the hand with no problem the next day.

Mulder sat docilely on the toilet seat, enjoying the attention. He
chuckled to himself, imagining this might be why he'd been so
accident-prone while partnered with Scully. Subconsciously, he must
have craved her touch-- the more damage he inflicted upon himself,
the more physical contact he received.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, as she applied the last bandage.

"Not really," she replied.

"I'll make you something," he offered.

"Not hungry," she said, shaking her head and turning to leave.

Mulder's left hand snagged Scully's wrist before she could escape.
He reeled her back in, imprisoning her between his thighs. His large
hands balanced gently on either side of her hips; hazel-green eyes
daring her to elude his grasp.

"You *have* to eat. It's eight o'clock and you haven't eaten all
day. You have to put what Krycek said out of your mind. We'll do
everything we can to protect this baby, but first and foremost you
have to stay healthy."

"You can't cook."

"Who says?" he replied.

"I know for a fact you have an extremely limited repertoire, Mulder.
That's why we eat out ninety-nine per cent of the time."

"I used to cook, years ago. I stopped after--"

"After Diana left," she filled in.

He gave her a quizzical look. "There's not much you don't know
about me, is there, Scully?"

Scully panicked temporarily; he'd had virtually no reaction,
positive or negative, to Diana's name. Mulder hadn't finished his
journal and couldn't possibly know of her death. It would be
bittersweet news for him; Diana had saved his life by sacrificing her
own.

Scully didn't have the energy for this, couldn't imagine how she'd
marshal enough strength to tell him. She gathered up her last ounce
of energy and told him the truth bluntly, "She's dead, Mulder."

"Who?" he said, temporarily confused. Then, comprehension sank in,
and his face reflected an aching disbelief.

Scully brought her hands to his face and experienced a sense of deja
vu. She'd delivered the news twice to him now. He was truly stunned
this time.

He didn't realize Diana was involved with the Consortium, as he had
in October 1999. She wondered whether she should have prefaced her
remark with that information. She stroked his cheeks with unsteady
thumbs, trying to assuage his grief with physical tenderness.

"She returned to the states in 1998. There's a lot you don't know
about her, Mulder. It's a long, complicated story. I guess I've
been reluctant to tell you about this," she said sheepishly.

"I can tell you this, Mulder-- she didn't pass in vain. She was
still your friend when she needed to be." Scully fought back tears
unsuccessfully, blinking them away as she spoke.

Mulder closed his eyes, folding his arms around her waist and crying
softly into her belly. She tangled her fingers through his hair,
soothing him as best she could. She wondered if they'd both go mad
before the week was up. He, from the stress of losing so much at
once; she, from a growing sense of dread Krycek's prophecy would be
fulfilled.

"Sshh, Sshh," she crooned into his ear.

He lifted his bereaved face to hers and said, "Scully, I'm sorry.
I'm not a whole lot of help, am I? Losing my cool twice today."

He released his hold on her, leaning back, rubbing at his eyes with
his uninjured hand. She stood patiently beside him while he took
several deep breaths.

"What next, Scully? Anything else I should know that we've missed?"
His tone was sardonic, but not directed toward her.

Scully dabbed at her eyes, clearing them of tears. "Come on,
Mulder, let's go have some tea. It did both of us a world of good
last spring. Maybe I'll even let you cook for me."

She took his hand and helped him to his feet. Before she could turn
toward the door, he enveloped her in his arms, rocking her from side
to side. It felt so good to have him back. She knew they would
survive, their baby would survive, if they just stayed this close to
one another.

*******

An hour later, Scully was falling asleep on Mulder's shoulder. He
tickled her cheek with his finger, trying to rouse her.

"Scully, let me put you to bed," he urged.

"Hmmm, that was a good peanut butter sandwich, Mulder," she muttered.

"Glad you liked it, but I think your back will be much happier if
you sleep in a comfortable bed," he insisted.

"Okay. You have to go to Dr. Werber tomorrow. And call the guys
tonight."

"I will, I will. Now, would you like to walk or do I have to carry
you?" he teased.

"Walk," she declared. Using Mulder as a springboard, she rose onto
wobbly legs and started for the bedroom. Mulder jumped to his feet,
guiding her around obstacles on the way.

She was pretty mobile by the time they reached the dresser she'd
expropriated while he was gone. Without much thought, she reached in
a drawer and snatched some warm pajamas and proceeded to the bathroom.

Mulder turned the bed down, then sat down to take a good look around
his bedroom. He hadn't used it after Diana left for Europe. He'd
piled file folders on the stripped-down mattress and stacked boxes
and boxes of magazines and government reports around the room.

He must have had a reason to change the decor in here, if not for
Scully, then for some other reason. Out of curiosity, he reached
under the bed and found cardboard boxes lined up in a row. He pulled
one out and discovered his pornography stash.

He was scrutinizing one of the labels, a film with several auburn
haired porn stars on the cover. It was called quite aptly, 'Redheads
in Bed.' He didn't hear Scully's approaching footsteps, and all
attempts to conceal the tape were futile.

He gave her a guilty smile, then passed it over to her outstretched
hand. She let a guffaw of delight and collapsed backward on the bed
beside him. Her laughter was contagious; she was charming him more
every hour he spent with her.

They laughed beside one another, until Scully sat up and said,
"Don't worry Mulder. I'm quite familiar with your taste in video."

"I'm just glad I got the hair color right," he joked.

"They're not natural redheads," she said with confidence.

Mulder gave her a sidelong glance, considering a suitable comeback.
He felt clumsy cracking sex jokes with Scully, even though they'd
slept next to one another all last night. He wanted to give her more
respect than that, but also realized their levity was easing a pall
surrounding them-- the prospect of having to hide their child from a
mysterious shadow organization.

She laughed at his hesitancy, then said, "Sorry, Mulder. I'm so
used to this kind of banter between us. It's unavoidable. I've
forgotten about your amnesia so many times today when we've joked
around. It's like it never existed... and you came back to me
completely whole."

Scully reached over and took his hand in her own. "I'm not trying
to tease you," she concluded apologetically.

He leaned over and pushed a stray hair behind her ear, then replied,
"I like a woman with a good sense of humor. But most of all, I like
a woman who's easily tickled..."

Without warning, he reached under her knees and tickled her till she
cried out for mercy. Mulder ceased immediately, but she couldn't
stop laughing for several minutes. Scully fell backward onto the
bed, hands poised to ward off further attacks.

"How did you know?" Her voice quavered slightly, anxious he might
try for a second round of unbearable mayhem.

"Know what?"

"That it was behind my knees."

"I don't know, Scully. It seemed like the logical place. Must be
instinct. I think I'll open an X-File on it."

She groaned at his jest, punching him softly in the arm.

"I wanna go to sleep, Mulder. I'm exhausted. Tuck me in."

She slid underneath the bedsheets, settling in as he helped
rearrange the comforter to her liking.

"Don't stay up too late. I know it's useless to tell *you* that. I
know you have a lot to read and plenty to think about, but it would
be nice to have you beside me when I wake up," she said, playing with
his hand above the covers.

"I'll be here," he promised, kissing her once on the lips, then
switching off the light.

Mulder went back to the living room. He felt energized by all the
time they'd spent together so far. He was beginning to enjoy their
new domesticity and didn't know what they'd do after the birth of
their child. He didn't know where she wanted to live or if she
wanted to get married right away. Scully hadn't seemed adverse to
his offhand proposal Monday night, but he wasn't sure she'd taken him
seriously.

He was worried about the X-Files-- would they continue if he didn't
have her as a partner? Evidently she'd been a huge factor in their
survival, and he hoped she'd come back after her maternity leave. He
was sure Mrs. Scully would love to babysit. She'd have to-- from
what he'd read of their life so far, they'd been on the road
constantly, with little time for a child. Maybe Skinner would allow
them to cut back on their responsibilities while the baby was still
young. And then there was the other, more ominous factor, the
knowledge the baby might be taken by someone. He didn't want to come
back from Podunk, USA and find both baby and grandmother missing. Or
worse.

He yawned and decided to call Frohike to set up the summer house
arrangements. All three of them were home, of course, and didn't
seem bothered he'd waited twenty-four hours to contact them.

"How is Scully?" Frohike asked immediately.

"She's fine. Really tired. She's in bed already or I'd let you
speak to her," Mulder replied.

"How's fatherhood treating you, Mulder?" Frohike asked cheekily.

"Quite a surprise, Frohike. Quite a surprise. I'm really happy for
Scully. I'm pretty happy about it myself, old friend," Mulder
replied.

He treaded cautiously through the rest of the conversation,
carefully avoiding any verbal slips concerning his memory loss.
After he hung up the phone, he decided to tell them the truth
tomorrow. They were completely trustworthy and had taken good care
of Scully while he'd been gone. They needed to be told; he needed
their help to protect the baby.

Mulder sat down on the couch and started in on his electronic
journal again. After reading about Emily, and her affect on Scully,
he didn't think he could take much more bad news in one day. He felt
unbidden tears trickle down his cheeks, so he got up and gazed out
the darkened window for half an hour. He returned to his task only
because he was determined to plow through the diary before his
therapy session the next day.

The alien virus, the trip to Antarctica to rescue Scully, all read
like science fiction. If he hadn't been absolutely positive the
account had been written by him, he'd have trouble believing it, too.
God knows who paid the bill to get them back from the South Pole.

Diana's reappearance in his life and her assignment to the X-Files
when they were taken away from Scully and him was a major jolt. He
suspected her involvement with the Consortium because of what little
Scully had told him earlier. Why she would ally herself with these
monsters was beyond belief. She'd been his best friend and lover for
almost a year. What the hell happened?

He skimmed through most of their cases. He noted, however, the end
of each entry. He always said something about Scully in that last
paragraph. He was most definitely in love with her by 1998, though
the attraction had been growing since the day he'd met her.

He finally made it to the fall of 1999. This was crucial reading.
He needed to know the significance of the artifact and its affect on
his brain functions. Scully could always fill him in on the medical
aspects, but he didn't feel secure not knowing why he'd ended up in
the psychiatric ward.

Mulder didn't find any easy answers in his journal. He wasn't able
to read minds after the surgery but he'd tapped into Diana's head
before that, discovering that she'd been involved with the Project
for years, studying MUFON women in Europe. Diana had wanted to
survive and was willing to go to great lengths to do so.

She'd had a change of heart before it was too late-- probably
because Cancer Man was willing to leave him for dead. Diana had
saved his life, losing her own in the process. She'd slipped the key
card to Scully, gone back to the Watergate Apartments and quietly
waited for an assassin's bullet.

He was too exhausted to continue. He'd made it through October
1999, and fatigue was setting in. It was one o'clock in the morning
and he didn't have to sleep alone tonight.

He turned off the laptop and shut off the rest of the lights around
his apartment. After checking the locks and burglar alarm, he
tiptoed into the bedroom, stripping down to his tee shirt and boxers.
Within minutes, he was nestled from head to toe next to Scully, one
hand curving around her belly.

As he dozed off, weary, but more content than he'd ever been in his
life, he wondered if there were any more bombshells in the rest of
the diary. Could it be their life had been pretty routine (at least
by their standards) until his abduction?

They'd gotten romantically involved, that was a major development
last April. But what had impelled their relationship, what had made
the difference for Scully? His journal entries sounded like he'd
been ready to make his move for years, especially after her bout with
cancer.

He'd read the rest tomorrow and find out what had changed Scully so
profoundly last spring. Now, he just wanted to sink into the comfort
and security of his own bed-- his best friend snuggled beside him.

fin

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