Testing Times I: Light by Leigh Alexander leigh_xf@geocities.com First posted: August 20, 1998 RATING: PG CATEGORY: SA SPOILERS: Season five and a very small movie spoiler KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully UST SUMMARY: Unbeknownst to her, Scully is abducted, with far- reaching consequences. In typical Scully fashion, she is loath to discuss the repurcussions with Mulder. DISCLAIMERS: 1) Dana and Fox belong to Chris and Ten Thirteen Productions and the other Fox. Absolutely *no* copyright infringement is intended - I'm not doing this for money, I'm doing it for love. I *love* these characters, I wouldn't want to hurt them! :) 2) OK to archive, but if it's going anywhere other than Gossamer, please drop me a line just so I can keep track. 3) Feel free to distribute and discuss this, as long as my name and addy remain attached. 4) I have no medical knowledge, so please excuse any missteps in that area. INTRO: Although the topic dealt with in this story isn't an original one, I'd like to hope that I've tackled it in an interesting way. As most of us know, it's getting *very* hard to come up with original ideas in fanfic these days! This is the start of a series although I have no idea how far I'm going to go with it. The main idea has been buzzing around in my head for a very, long time but I only just got around to writing it down, so who knows how long it will take to continue. I've touched upon the movie in a small way, but it's not really a post-flic fanfic, so if you're sick of those, don't be deterred by the spoiler warning! :) Thanks to Melissa for her really, really good editing. As always, it was insightful and extremely helpful. ----------------------------------------------------------- Testing Times I: Light ----------------------------------------------------------- They meet in the shadows. Breathing in the vice that encircles them in wisps of grey smoke. Murmuring, for that is the only way they speak. Creating fate and dealing in death. The man with the lined face and the yellow-stained fingers is the one currently talking. "They have asked us for another." "For what purpose?" The question emerges from someone's mouth, but the specifics are superfluous; their evil merges into one. Tapping his cigarette against the ashtray - his gaze fixed on the falling ash - the man replies, "Secondary tests. A follow-up." His eyes crinkle at his own feeble joke. No-one else sees the humour. A raspy voice interjects, "Someone who has already been taken?" A slow nod. "That's right." He feels his power growing once more. One of their number has recently been "removed" and in that man's absence the smoking man has filled the place of two. He allows his quiet voice to weave itself into the minds of his colleagues, filling their heads with his thoughts, his plans... "Mulder must learn to stay on his toes." He felt their eyes drawing towards him with interest. "As must his partner..." ******************** Scully turned off the faucet and exited the bathroom. She switched off the light and positioned the glass of water on the table beside her bed, simultaneously removing her glasses and putting them next to her alarm clock. Moving over to a chair near the window, she picked up her gun holster and pulled the weapon out. As she did every night, she carefully placed it on the same bedside table, within easy reach of her hand, yet far enough away from the water to avoid creating an unnecessary spill if she happened to need the gun in the middle of the night. Her ritual complete, the agent pulled back the covers and slid into bed. Briefly, she glanced at her still-unfinished copy of the latest Patricia Cornwell book but then decided to forgo it for another night. She switched off the lamp and soon after she was asleep. --brightness invaded the dark-- She was awake, suddenly and violently. In the narrow space of time that it took her to realise she was sitting on the floor of her bathroom, Scully experienced a telling wave of nausea that gave her just enough warning to get to the rim of the toilet before the vomiting began. When it was over she sank back on the floor and pressed her forehead against the cool porcelain bowl. Without looking, she reached up and flushed the toilet and in a few seconds slowly lifted herself to her feet. With relief she was aware of her stomach settling down; whatever had caused her to be sick didn't appear to be sticking around. She cast her mind back over all she'd eaten the previous day - momentarily disconcerted by how long it took her to recall what day it actually was - and a memory of the tin of tuna she'd opened for dinner suddenly assailed her. Scully thought to herself as she splashed water on her face. While looking at her tired expression in the mirror, she slowly became aware of the quality of the light in the bathroom. Sunlight was streaming in through all her windows, and not just six o'clock in the morning sunlight, either. She glanced at her watch but found her vision too blurry to read it properly. Hurriedly she ran into her bedroom and peered at her alarm clock: 11:12am. "Shit!" Forgetting her earlier sickness, Scully raced around the room getting ready for work. Adrenalin kept her moving every time her legs threatened to give way and she was out the door and in the car in less than ten minutes. On the way, she absent-mindedly noticed the number of messages on her answering machine but - knowing they could only be from one person - chose to ignore them. She could explain everything to Mulder once she got to work. ******************** He'd reached the fingernail-biting stage, something he hadn't done since childhood and even then, only in his most severe moments of anxiety. Mulder had called his partner's place so many times he'd started to lose track and he'd just finished doing the rounds of the hospitals. Now his mind turned to other avenues. He debated whether he should call Mrs. Scully before or after he went over to Scully's apartment, but his ruminations were cut short by his partner's sudden appearance at their office door. Mulder only had to look at her to know something was seriously wrong. She had no makeup on and her face was unnaturally pale, sweat seeping out of her pores. As he drew nearer to her, he noticed that she seemed to be swaying slightly so he placed his hand on her arm with an attempt at supporting her. "Scully...?" He didn't get any further. With a quick, panicked look, Scully dropped her bag and charged out of the office in the direction of the nearby restrooms. Mulder looked at her retreating figure in concern but knew well enough to steer clear of her in that state. Instead, he waited patiently in the doorway of their office until she emerged a few minutes later, looking even whiter than she had when she'd arrived. As she drew nearer to him he spoke to her gently. "Scully, you should have called. Is it the flu?" Her eyes seemed unable to focus on him as they stared at him jumpingly, "I guess so... Or something I ate." She spoke thickly, as if her tongue were too big for her mouth. Mulder wrapped his arm around her shoulder in a warm gesture. "You should be in bed." "Is that an offer or a suggestion?" Her eyes lifted slyly in his direction and he breathed a sigh of relief. If she was well enough to be throwing innuendo at him, then the condition couldn't be too serious. "Come on. I'll take you home." He picked up her bag and shut the office door behind them. His arm was still around her shoulders, and as he felt her weight leaning into him, he got the impression that his support was the only thing keeping her from falling. Mulder just hoped that she'd be able to make it to the car - he'd already carried his partner enough to last a lifetime and his muscles were still aching from their frantic dash through that alien spaceship. By the time they reached Georgetown, Scully was nearly too weak to get out of the vehicle, but she managed all the same. She was practically falling asleep even as Mulder fumbled through her bunch of keys to find the right one for the apartment and he could sense her relief when she was finally inside. As Mulder closed the door, Scully was already making the slow journey to her bedroom. She slid her coat off and let it drop to the floor, stepping out of her shoes in almost the same motion. There they joined the rest of the clutter that seemed to have filled her apartment since Mulder's last visit. Just before she reached her room, Scully turned back and looked at Mulder. Looking like a cross between someone suffering from hay fever and a drunk, she loosely waved her hand at him and whispered her thanks. He stepped forward, "Do you need anything?" She shook her head. "You want me to call your mom?" Again, no. "I just need to sleep, Mulder. I'll be fine." A weak grin. "I'll call you." He watched as she weaved into her bedroom and heard more clothes falling haphazardly to the ground. "Bye, Scully." He heard her faint reply and let himself out. ******************** Every morning she woke up the same. A calm, dreamless sleep would be rudely interrupted by her eyes flying open and a mad dash to the bathroom. A general queasiness would then persist for most of the morning, accompanied during the first few days by a temperature and a feeling of disorientation. However, without fail, the afternoons would be incident free. By two or three in the afternoon she would be feeling well enough to contemplate going back to work the next day, but when the next day actually rolled around it would start all over again. The illness lasted a week, during which time she received multiple phone calls from Mulder, along with daily visits by her mother. She certainly couldn't complain about the TLC she was getting. Then, as quickly as it had arrived, it went. One morning she woke up to find the nausea gone. She checked her temperature and discovered it was back to normal and was even able to eat a little bit of dry toast without any of it threatening to come up on her. With a sigh of relief, Scully phoned her partner and told him she was coming back to work. Once there, she plunged straight back into the pile of paperwork that had built up in her absence. Mulder had spent most of the week in a small Virginian town investigating a supposed abduction and hadn't bothered to deal with the forms that needed filling out, or the people that needed contacting. So there was plenty for Scully to occupy her mind with upon her return. Which was just what she needed. Keeping her head full of work-related thoughts was the best way she knew of avoiding the other thoughts that she'd managed to ignore until now. Like why she'd woken up on her bathroom floor at 11am without any memory of getting there. Or why her apartment had been in such a mess when she'd finally been cognisant enough to look at it. And if her memory even dared to throw images of a light - a painfully bright light - on her, she would just bury her head further into the work and study each line with more intensity than she even knew she had. Not thinking about it was her way of dealing with the problem. Not talking about it was a further step, and she never once raised her doubts with Mulder, knowing exactly what kind of assumption he would jump to. An assumption that she thought she'd put behind her. After the cancer, and after Emily, she'd thought it was over. She'd assumed that it was just a matter of her pushing those memories into the past and purging them from her life; that was the way of coping with whatever it was that had happened to her. Then it had resurfaced that morning in the hospital; when she'd woken up with burns to her hands and face to be told by Mulder that she'd experienced something she had no memory of ever experiencing. She was sick of these blank patches in her life. Sick of feeling like a puppet in someone else's evil game. So this time, she just wasn't going to think about it. Not going to enter into a deal with fate where she was always the loser. That was the decision she made. And she stuck to it. For as long as she could. ******************** ~ Five weeks later ~ "Mulder, I saw a gun." She hissed into her phone. "He's armed?" Scully nodded and then realised that he couldn't see her. "Yes - be careful." She didn't disconnect the call, but lowered the phone into her coat pocket. As soon as her hand was free, she grasped her gun with a double-handed grip and crept stealthily forward. Out of the corner of her eye she detected a movement that she knew to be Mulder. She didn't acknowledge him, instead concentrating her gaze straight ahead. She'd seen the suspect crawl in behind the garbage bins but after that there'd been no movement and she had to wonder if he was injured. Originally she'd thought that the fall had just knocked the wind out of him, but now she wasn't so sure. She continued to inch forward, the slim cover she had behind bits of burnt out car becoming smaller and smaller as she did so. Not daring to move her eyes from their target she could only hope that Mulder was covering her as she quickly made the decision to risk a small square of open space. Scully dashed across, but it had been the moment he'd been waiting for and in a split second a single shot rang out. It was immediately followed by a barrage of fire, but Scully only dimly heard that as she lay on the ground feeling her temple throbbing and blood pouring out from her side. From the distance there was a strangled cry, "Scully...!" And then darkness. ******************** When she woke up she was engulfed by light. She sat up and screamed at the top of her lungs. "NO!!!" Mulder was at her side in an instant. "Scully, Scully - shh..." Her eyes cast about feverishly until they focused on his face. "You? What are you doing here?" Her voice was anguished. He'd betrayed her. He was the one responsible for her abductions. "You're in the hospital, Scully. You were shot - do you remember?" Slowly the pieces fell back into place. The other memories receded into the background of her mind as this reality came to the fore. She felt a dull pain and ran her hands along the hospital gown until she reached the sensitive spot. At the bottom of her ribcage, near her lung, but from the way she was breathing she knew that it hadn't been damaged. She looked up at Mulder again and smiled apologetically before trying to cover her reaction with a weak joke, "These hospitals are becoming a real drag." He returned her smile and then softly trailed a finger down her cheek. "How about we make a deal that you stay out of them for a while?" The look they exchanged was interrupted by the doctor's arrival. Mulder straightened and said to Scully, "I'll be right outside." He cast a quick glance at the doctor as he walked towards the door, stopping to look back at Scully before he pushed it and exited the room. "Agent Scully, I'm Dr. Kim Montague. I was the doctor on call when you were brought in, although you'll obviously have to consult with our obstetrician for more details about your condition." Scully almost laughed at the woman's mistake, "How long have obstetricians been dealing with gunshot wounds?" She queried good-humouredly. The other woman smiled and replied, "I'm sorry - I should have been more specific. I'll be talking to you about the injuries that were a result of the gunshot, but I'll be calling Dr. Walters in to speak to you about the baby." This time there was no mistake. Yet still Scully sought an explanation, "There was a baby injured also?" Dr. Montague looked perplexed for a moment, before understanding sunk in. "Again, I have to apologise, Agent Scully - I assumed you knew." This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. "Knew what?" All the force had been sapped from her voice, leaving it a weak shadow of its former self. "You're six weeks pregnant." Her mind had already leapt ahead, but her emotions were still ten paces behind. The first thoughts that emerged were the rational ones, "That's not possible." At the doctor's puzzlement, she explained self-consciously, "I haven't..." Incomprehension still painted the doctor's face so with a sigh Scully spelled it out. "I haven't had sex in a very long time. There is no chance I could be pregnant." Before the doctor could continue, she added, "And I was told six months ago that I was barren - I can't bear children." Dr. Montague studied the woman in front of her for a long time before she started talking. "Dana, I'm going to get Dr. Walters in here to talk to you. She's got much more experience with dealing with this sort of thing than I have. I just wanted to come and let you know that the wound was fairly superficial..." As her injuries were explained to her, Scully found herself wondering what "sort of thing" it was that Dr. Walters had so much experience with. Women who'd lost track of the last time they'd had sex, or just women who'd been told they could never conceive a child? Since she fell so neatly into both categories she could already guess that this Dr. Walters was going to have a field day with her. Her mind was so deep in thought that she didn't even notice the doctor rising; she had barely heard any of her prognosis, apart from a few vital words like "not serious", "discharge this afternoon" and "baby's fine". The statement seemed to bounce off all the walls and ring out of the doctor's footsteps. It came at her from so many angles she felt like the only way to escape it would be to burrow as deeply as she could under the sheets and hide from those terrible words. Only even that would be no sanctuary, because then she'd only be closer to the physical thing - her head pressed into her stomach in the foetal position would mean nestling her nose against that being that supposedly existed inside of her. Gingerly, she placed her hand against her abdomen and rubbed it. She felt nothing. She lifted the flimsy fabric of the hospital gown and laid her hand directly against her skin. It felt warm, and flat. She pushed with her fingers, trying to detect any kind of pulse or movement, but could feel nothing. It couldn't be true. It was impossible. Scully's self-examination was interrupted by the arrival of another doctor who she assumed to be Dr. Walters. "Dana, hi." The young woman approached Scully with her hand outstretched. In a no-nonsense tone she said, "I hear you've got some doubts about the diagnosis?" Scully tried to explain the exact nature of her doubts but Dr. Walters held up her hand and shook her head. "No, that's OK. I understand. Look - I'll do the test for you again right now, all right?" From the pocket of her white coat she pulled out a small jar and handed it to Scully who took it without a word. "Just take your time." Five minutes later two sets of eyes were trained on the pregnancy test slowly changing colour in front of them. Scully had double-checked what each colour signified before they'd started the test so now she was in no doubt. She was pregnant. Stiffly, she fell back against the pillows that had been supporting her. It was finally starting to sink in. All of a sudden the nausea that had dogged her so assiduously a few weeks ago rose up once more and threatened to overwhelm her. With determination she bit it down, refusing to allow her body to take over when right now she needed her mind more than anything else. "... in a while?" Dr. Walters was talking to her, but she had no idea what she'd said. "I-I'm sorry?" "Kim told me what you told her, Dana, and I'd like to talk to you about that." Scully nodded mutely, her head still trying to get itself around the concept of being pregnant. "The fact that you were told that you were barren doesn't worry me so much as your assertion that you haven't engaged in sexual intercourse recently enough to explain your pregnancy. After all, it's within the realms of possibility for a doctor to mistakenly diagnose you as being permanently unable to bear children when it may, in fact, only be a temporary condition, but it seems extremely unlikely that you wouldn't remember a situation that might have lead to you falling pregnant. Does that sound reasonable to you?" Scully looked at the doctor, her brain still in the process of dealing with the news it had been hit with. Receiving no reply, Dr. Walters went on, "Which is why I'd like to ask you if you've had any recent experiences of what we could refer to as "missing time"?" This time the silence had a different quality. It was threaded with tension; anger emanated from the bed as Scully absorbed the meaning of the doctor's comment. She tried to keep herself calm when she answered the question, but her rage was palpable, nonetheless, "Dr. Walters, I don't know if you've been speaking to my partner, or if this is just the usual question you give to people in my "situation", but this has *nothing* to do with aliens, or abductions, or whatever else you want to dream up." The doctor was stunned. This reaction was a complete first for her and it took her a few moments to bring her shocked thoughts together in a coherent enough framework to continue speaking. "Dana... I don't - I don't quite know what you're talking about." The anger in Scully's face dulled slightly and Dr. Walters went into more detail, "What I was intending on suggesting to you is that you might have been the victim of Rohipnol - I'm sure you know what that means." Scully felt the colour drain from her face. So this was the point she'd arrived at. "Trust no one" had turned into "suspect everyone" thanks to everything she'd seen and experienced over the last five years. Jesus Christ. She felt tears pricking her eyes but refused to let them fall. Feeling the doctor's gaze trained upon her Scully bundled together an excuse and pushed it weakly out of her mouth, "I'm sorry. I'm just going through a bad time at the moment. I lied to you - I did have sex... It was with my partner and if anyone found out..." She tried to determine whether the doctor was buying the lie and then decided that she just didn't care so she shut her mouth and waited for the response. Dr. Walters sat back in her chair and studied her patient. Something was definitely going on there but she had no idea if what she'd just heard was the truth or not. However, it wasn't her place to solve the emotional problems of her patients, particularly if they didn't ask for help, so she simply stood up and started to leave. Scully's voice held her back for a moment, "He doesn't know." The doctor nodded and then glanced back. "Should I send him in?" Scully shook her head, "Tell him I need a few minutes." And she was alone. Finally. Alone with the damaging thoughts that were beating under her skin. Bewilderment coursed through her; her logical mind tried to sort the details out and give the impossible some kind of grounding in fact. Desperately she tried to convince herself that she must have gone out, gotten plastered and slept with a complete stranger, but as much as she wanted the fiction to be true, her head refused to accept it. For a brief moment she even wished that the lie she'd told the doctor had been true. Mulder being the father would be a far easier dilemma than the reality with which she was now faced. As that truth slowly took hold of her, its meaning began to sink deeply into her core, and a sob crept out of her mouth, followed closely by a cascade of tears. She sank gradually down into the bed and turned on her side, putting her back to the door. In that position she allowed herself to cry until her throat was hoarse and her mind had been emptied of all feeling. ******************** Mulder looked at his partner's form through the glass square and then turned back to the doctor. "I don't understand... I thought the other doctor said she was fine." "She *is* fine, sir. She just wanted some time alone." Mulder trained his gaze on Scully's back once more; he was sure he could see her shoulders shaking ever so slightly. Dr. Walters took his silence as a termination of the conversation and silently blended back into the muffled hospital background that had been droning through Mulder's head for the last half hour. As he waited and watched he couldn't stop his mind from replaying the image of Scully being shot. Her rapid movement into the open space had attracted his attention and he knew that he was to blame for her injury. If he'd maintained his steely-eyed gaze on their suspect as he'd been trained to do this never would have happened. A moment's distraction that could have cost Scully her life. He felt guilt take residence, his shoulders sagging under its familiar weight. Sometimes he almost wished that he could cut off all connection with the outside world. Days like this, when he felt he'd jinxed the entire planet by just being born, led him all too often to selfish thoughts of desertion and betrayal. He knew that Scully counted on him, that she needed him just as much as he needed her, but even that understanding couldn't hold him back from the dark promises he would make himself. Vows to disappear, to gain a final absolution for the suffering he had brought on others in his mad quest. But just when he felt himself standing on the edge of making the decision something would happen - Scully would show him just how much she was invested in him and his success, or he would see a tiny glimmer of his Holy Grail - and all the promises would be recanted. Postponed until the next time. Mulder's gaze drifted once more in Scully's direction. He looked at her - really looked at her - and felt things tangibly shifting into place. As usual, he needed the shock of seeing his one source of strength and meaning under threat to realise just how valuable her presence was to him. A thousand times he had told her this, although only occasionally with words, and rarely with actions. The thought would reach his eyes on its slow journey down to his mouth and somewhere along the way it would sputter and lose steam. He knew she'd seen it radiating out of his gaze, and he could only hope that that was enough for her. As was so often the case when he felt his mind's emotions were loud enough for her to hear, he saw her slowly turn in his direction, allowing him to believe that maybe she had been listening after all. Her eyes locked on his through the small glass window and with a look she invited him back inside. He needed no further encouragement, swiftly pushing the door open and moving to her side. "Is everything OK, Scully?" He wanted to touch her face, but restrained himself. Scully looked at him and in his vivid imagination he detected the trace of tears on her cheeks, but her voice was solid and buoyant, belying the assumption which he pushed out of his mind. "Everything's fine, Mulder. The bullet missed all the major organs and arteries... it was a lucky hit." His face darkened as he continued studying her, "It was luck that saved you, Scully, but it wasn't luck that got you shot - that was all my fault." Scully picked up his hand and shook her head. "Don't blame yourself, Mulder. I shouldn't have taken the risk. It has nothing to do with you." He chose not to reply, knowing that nothing she could say would convince him he was blameless. Instead he squeezed her hand and then lowered it back onto the bed. "I'd better let you get some rest." He started to walk away but was pulled back by her voice. "Mulder..." The strength had gone, his name said in the weakest of tones. He took a step back towards her and she gripped his gaze with her own, tying him to her with all of her strength. He felt, rather than understood, her need to tell him something but as he continued to wait patiently it appeared to slowly drain away and her eyes eventually dropped down to stare vacantly at her hands. She didn't say any more and he left her with her thoughts, understanding that the moment had passed for her to tell him. Maybe all she'd wanted him to know had been expressed in the speaking of his name. ******************** Scully watched him leave and pushed out a shaky breath. It had been right there - the words had formed in her head - but in the end, she hadn't been able to go through with it. She'd made the decision not to tell him. Throughout their brief conversation a debate had been burning behind every word she'd spoken. When he'd first walked into the room she had waited for him to acknowledge the phantom tears that she was sure he'd been able to see, but he had been too concerned with his own feelings of guilt. And that had been yet another reason compelling her to bite the pronouncement back - even though this was clearly her pain she didn't have to think about it too hard to know he would shoulder it like his own. Scully had given up wishing for a partner who was easy to understand; someone who would be there when she needed him and know to draw away when she didn't. With Mulder it always seemed like they were out of sync. He revealed his feelings to her in a darkened hallway two years too late, only to have the moment destroyed by a lethal bee-sting. She sent him away at moments when she needed him the most. They connected in the purest ways when they were working together, but couldn't carry that link into their private lives. When were they going to fix this lack of synchronisation? When were they going to start being honest with each other? Her mind continued its unending circles, eventually feeding her dreams with jarring images of Mulder and babies. Her sleep continued in this disturbed pattern for most of the night, causing her to wake up every hour in a sweaty panic until daylight threaded its way in through the translucent blinds. Fatigue hung over her throughout the day and her fogged up brain found itself stuck in the sluggish groove of the one question that mattered: what was she going to do? ******************** The first, immediate thought was abortion. This was once Scully had finally been discharged from the hospital; once she'd found herself secure in the sanctuary of her home. The former sanctuary, that is. As she'd unlocked the door and entered her apartment, Scully hadn't been able to repress the cold sensation of violation that had descended on her. Here, they'd taken her. They'd snatched her out of the one place she'd felt safe - her home. Her eyes had skittishly darted from one dark corner to another, searching for a presence that her commonsense reassured her wouldn't be there. She'd forced herself to relax, meaning that true relaxation was impossible, but she'd decided that semi-peace of mind was all she could hope to achieve and had accepted it with bitter grace. She had quickly settled herself on the couch with a cup of tea and started going over all the possibilities. Terminating the pregnancy was the one that had been hovering over her like a dark cloud almost from the moment she'd been given the news. Now that she let it loose, its appeal grew bit by bit. In some ways it was the "easy" solution: it would solve the problem in a matter of hours; she never need tell anyone else what had actually happened; and the pain of loss would be relatively minor compared to what she would experience if her child was taken away from her further down the track. But in so many other ways, it was the hardest choice of all. There was a very real fear growing within her, just as gradually as the embryo itself, that whatever it was, it had to be an experiment. An experiment whose purpose she could only guess. With Emily she had made the choice to end the experiment and now she was to be faced once more with that decision. On the other hand, if she made the decision too hastily - if she resolved to cut off this baby's chance at life - she could be making a choice founded on nothing more threatening than her own fears. And what if she were wrong? Underpinning these logical questions were her twisting emotions which kept threatening to undo her. When she had been told that she was unable to bear children, she had been devastated. While it had never been something that she'd been openly planning, it had always been a concrete possibility at the back of her mind; something that would happen "one day". And now that she was pregnant, her first thought was getting rid of it. The thought abhorred her. Not for any ethical reasons - she had always been a strong pro-choice defender - but because her feelings were being so completely illogical. She had wanted a child, and she'd been given one. Now that she'd been given one, she no longer wanted it. The reason was simple: her dreams of motherhood had never once entertained the notion that it would be something that was out of her control. She'd already been through the trauma of losing a child - a child that she'd had no say in creating - and if she had to go through that again she feared it would destroy her. And yet... maybe this was her one and only chance at being a mother. A real mother, with a real child to love. Although Dr. Walters had made the groundless assumption that her previous doctor had been mistaken in his diagnosis of her inability to bear children, Scully knew better. Even without conducting any tests, she was certain that the embryo that had been implanted in her was just that: an implanted egg that had been fertilised out of the womb and placed inside of her. The only part of the equation that she wasn't sure about was whether they had actually bothered to use one of her own eggs that they had so assiduously extracted from her. She wouldn't be able to verify this until the baby was advanced enough to have its DNA examined and by that stage an abortion would be out of the question. Adoption was the only other possibility. Only... it felt like cheating. Something like splitting your bets for a round of roulette: if the baby turned out bright and bubbly, she'd keep it; if it was sullen and sick, she'd reject it. Scully couldn't quite bring herself to play by those rules so almost without even thinking about it, she ruled out that option. Leaving her with two alternatives: keep it or abort it. And she was brought right back to her never-ending circle of thoughts; her mind remained unresolved. ******************** "Frohike, I need you to stop taping this." The man with the glasses and the bizarre vest looked at the phone with an expression of incredulity, momentarily forgetting that the woman at the other end had no way of seeing his face. "Sorry, Scully, no can do. First rule in the book: record *every* conversation." He detected a sigh coming at him down the wire but after that there was silence. "You still there?" "I'm here." She sounded anxious. "I'm just thinking." Frohike began to clean behind his nails as he waited for her to start talking. He'd barely even started on the second one when her voice reached his ear. "We're working on a case at the moment that involves a forty- year old woman who's seven weeks pregnant." She paused and then rushed the next part out, "I need to know if you can determine anything about the embryo's health at this stage." "Mulder got you doing his dirty work again, hey Scully?" "As usual." Her tone was light-hearted but she sounded distracted, as if her mind was miles away. Frohike turned business-like. "We can't do anything at seven weeks. Bring her in at twelve weeks and we could help." "You need the mother?" "Either bring the mom in at twelve weeks and allow the specialist we know to extract some foetal tissue using Japanese medical practices that are yet to be cleared by the US government, or wait until the four to five month mark when any normal hospital can check the baby's health. Those are your options, Agent Scully." More silence. Frohike started trying to listen to its rhythms, to see if he could pick up on any of these unspoken messages that Mulder seemed to read from her without difficulty. After a few minutes he gave up and cut into whatever noiseless reverie she'd sunk into. "I could start singing." He'd obviously startled her with his comment and he smiled to himself as she hastily said good-bye and hung up the phone. Oh yeah, she was interested. ******************** Byers looked over at Frohike as he gently placed the phone back on its hook. "I hope you're not still thinking you've got a chance with her, Frohike." The shorter man looked affronted and pulled at his vest in a peacock-like movement. "Agent Scully is a woman of great character who knows a charming man when she meets one." Langly met Byers mocking gaze and neither man made any attempt to conceal their laughter. "Sure, Frohike," Langly stepped forward and pinioned him with his eyes. "If you think that Mulder would let you slip in under his nose and whisk Scully away into the sunset, you need your head examined, doofus." Frohike shrugged and returned his attention to the "Celebrity Skin" magazine that had been resting on his lap, "Well, Mulder had better act fast or he's going to find himself looking at my rear end as I escort my lovely companion away from here..." They left him to his ramblings and returned their attention to what they had been working on. Only a few moments had passed before the buzzing of the security door garnered their attention. Glancing quickly at the closed-circuit TV, the Lone Gunmen saw Mulder standing at the street door fixing the camera with an impatient look. "Open up, guys." Mulder's attention turned away from the camera to the door in front of him as a subtle click announced its unlocking. A few minutes later he was inside their office with a thick sheaf of papers. "I need you to analyse this data." He dumped it on the desk and continued talking, "I can't trust the agents at the Bureau with this stuff - it's too sensitive." Frohike moved closer to the desk and peered at the folder, "This have something to do with that abductee case you two are working on?" Mulder looked at him blankly and parroted stupidly, "Abductee case?" Casually, Frohike picked up the folder and started leafing through its contents, suddenly more absorbed in it than in what he'd just been saying. His mind was miles away from what he was saying as he replied in a distracted tone, "Scully just called. Wanted to know what kind of tests we could run on a seven-week old embryo of an abduction victim- - hey, this has gotta refer to Roswell. Byers, look at this..." Mulder stood completely still. He paid no attention to the Lone Gunmen's increasing excitement over the information he had brought them. Instead his mind put the pieces together: Scully's illness, the mess in her apartment, her shaking shoulders and a question about a baby... The first sign they noticed was the sound of the slamming door. Byers, Frohike and Langly looked up at Mulder and discovered he was gone, a shuddering door frame the only remaining sign of his presence. They exchanged puzzled looks for a moment before plunging back into the pages in front of them. Whatever it was, Mulder was taking care of it. They didn't think about it again. ******************** The car idled for a few minutes as Scully studied the brochures the young woman had given her. Her visit to the health clinic had been informative; her options were explained to her in clear, balanced terms that only made the decision she had to come to all the more difficult. If only one of the choices was so completely out of the question it rendered itself invalid... but it wasn't to be. Both paths would be difficult, regardless of which one she followed. She turned off the ignition and slowly stepped out of the car, her mind still tethered back in that small consulting room and the dialogue that had taken place there. It wasn't until she was a few feet away from the steps leading up to her apartment building that she noticed the familiar figure sitting outside. With an unhurried gesture designed not to raise his suspicions, she coolly unzipped her bag while simultaneously folding the brochures and dropping them in. Her hand re- emerged clutching her keys which she slowly sorted through as she continued walking. Reaching the bottom of the step she stopped and studied him. "What are you doing here, Mulder?" "Waiting for you." He sounded weary and pained and Scully began to guess what was on his mind. Avoiding his gaze, she brushed passed him and headed inside. He followed closely behind and murmured, "We need to talk, Scully." She stopped in her tracks and swivelled to face him, her gaze levelled at him with a trace of resignation. Her mouth opened briefly to reply but then she thought better of it and continued in the direction of the elevator. The partners remained silent until the door to Scully's apartment closed behind them. Feigning disinterest, Scully shrugged off her coat and dropped her handbag on the table near the door. Only because Mulder remained standing in the same spot did she finally face him and prod with a carefully offhand tone, "What do you want to talk about?" His eyes traced every shape, line and shadow on her face as he fixed her with his gaze. She knew that he knew, but she wasn't going to say anything until he said it first. He felt an anger building up inside of him; its intensity scared him because it was directed towards her - the woman who incited such wild feelings of need and devotion in him and who had now earned the heat of his fury. When he was sure he had her full attention, he hit her with it. "I want to know why you lied to me, Scully." She flinched but gave no answer. He shifted his feet slightly and stared at her even more intently, "I want to know why you didn't tell me what they did to you. Why you didn't tell me about them abducting you, impregnating you and putting you back with a seven-week old experiment inside of you." The colour drained so quickly from her face that he thought she was going to faint. He stepped towards her, his hand reaching out automatically, but she pushed his arm away with a rough gesture. "This has nothing to do with you, Mulder." Her voice had dropped to a whisper but he had no trouble hearing her. Cruelly, she pulled words from her memory, "I don't owe you anything. You said it yourself." It was as hurtful as she could get - a manipulation of the sentiment he'd been expressing to her outside his apartment - but he refused to be drawn, responding angrily, "You owe me the *truth*, Scully. That's what I expect from you - just as you expect it from me." He beat her at her own game by throwing her past comment back at her. A reciprocal rage flared in her eyes. "It's my life, Mulder." "No." He shook his head. "This is something bigger, Scully. They are using you to punish me and to further their plans. Yours isn't the only life being affected." She looked at him with cold fury. "So what does that make me, Mulder? An albatross around your neck? Or just the stick they use to flog you with? Where do I stand in all of this?" Pain and anger fuelled her words and she didn't care if what she said hurt him. "You're giving them that power, Mulder. You're the one who's turning me into nothing more than a test subject." Before he had a chance to respond, she added, "If you keep blaming yourself for everything that happens to me then you're giving them exactly what they want." "No." Mulder shook his head as an understanding suddenly clicked into place. He lowered his voice and made an admission that was as much to himself as it was to her. "I'm giving them what they want because they seem to have figured out just how much you mean to me..." The revelation bred complete silence. Scully was undone by his openness. She couldn't reply. Couldn't find the words to tell him how she felt... Nothing could verbalise the disparate emotions that bled through her veins and fed into her heart. "Oh, Mulder..." she sighed. It was impossible to express anything more. Her forehead dropped so that it was pressed against his chest but when she felt his arms drawing up to hug her, she stepped back, shaking her head. She couldn't accept that from him right now. When things between them were muddy and unclear like this she knew it would be all too easy to fall into something that she would later regret. Her independence and strength were the qualities that she relied on so heavily and if she began supplanting them with a need for Mulder's comfort, Scully knew that it would be the first in a long line of sacrifices. She drew away but clung to him with her eyes, unable to wholly cut loose from him. His shadowed face met her gaze unflinchingly and knowingly. The time would come. Scully looked at the man who was her partner and friend. But not her lover and not the father of her child. With a low voice, she explained, "I don't know what I'm going to do about this, Mulder. But I have to be the one to make that choice. This *is* my life and I need to think about me. On my own." He didn't understand. Couldn't understand. But he nodded and silently retreated. Respectfully. When Mulder had closed the door behind him, Scully moved to her window and studied the path below until he appeared. As she watched she saw him emerge from the building, descend the steps and briefly pause before continuing onwards. Feelings and thoughts swirled around her head as her eyes followed him to his car. As he opened the door his head turned in her direction, filling her home with his omniscience and omnipresence. Reacting instinctively, she lowered her hand to her abdomen and silently caressed the heartbeat within. It was time to decide. ~ THE END ~ ------------------------------------------------------------ Thanks for reading. Comments are welcome. leigh_xf@geocities.com