From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: Fri, 4 Sep 2009 20:08:01 -0500 (CDT) Subject: All Alone by Vickie Moseley by Vickie Moseley Source: direct Reply To: vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com Title: All Alone Author: Vickie Moseley Summary: Scully needs to do something about Mulder's attitude, especially once she realizes it's personal. Disclaimer: Just cleaning up after you again, Chris. But don't worry, I promise not to make money off this. Archive: Yes Author's note: Flying without a net, or beta. All mistakes are mine. Comments to vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com All Alone Washington Memorial Hospital May 7, 2001 7:15 pm "Mulder," I said as Agent Harrison yawned for the second time in a little under ten minutes. "I think we should be going." Harrison started to object, but another yawn caught her by surprise. Mulder smiled and patted her leg. "You get some rest." "Thanks, both of you. But Agent -- er, Mulder, thank you for saving our lives," Leyla said shyly. "I won't forget it." Mulder opened his mouth, but found he had no words. I nodded to Agent Harrison and pulled him out the door into the hallway. By the time we reached the elevator, his hand had found its way to the small of my back. It felt warm there, I had missed his hand guiding me, grounding me. "So, Scully. We missed Lamaze class," he said, punching the button to call the next car. "Not really, Mulder. There's another one tomorrow," I told him. He nodded, thinking. I could hear the gears grinding in his dark head. "So, want to grab a pizza?" I have to admit, my mind wasn't on food. I still felt bothered by how this case had ended, with Agent Doggett again alone in the basement. He had vanished not long after Mulder and I stopped in to see Agent Harrison. I couldn't help but feel I needed to find out if he was all right. Not physically, I knew he was recovered from the venom. But emotionally, that was another question. "Earth to Scully," Mulder prodded. "Oh, sorry. What did you say?" I asked again. "Pizza. Want to grab a pizza before I take you home," he asked again, this time sounding just a little put out. "Oh, um, not really. Thanks. I think I want to get home, put my feet up. Maybe give Agent Doggett a call." I hadn't meant to say anything about that, but it slipped out. I saw the dark shadow pass over Mulder's eyes. "Sure. I'll just drop you off. Unless you want me to call you a cab," he said tersely. I looked at him and instantly felt annoyed. "Mulder, do you have a problem with me calling Agent Doggett?" He stared at the elevator floor indicator, crossing his arms. Classic defense posture. "No," he said with a huff of breath. "Why should I mind? You're free to call whomever you want, Scully. Anytime, anywhere." The elevator reached the ground floor and Mulder almost twisted an ankle trying to get ahead of me, as far ahead as he possibly could. I was getting just a little tired of this dance we'd been playing. One step forward, then Mulder would inevitably find a way to backtrack at least a block. My back was sore, I was cranky and I just wanted to go home. I followed him out to the car and got into the passenger side of his car. He was fuming and by the time we got to my apartment, so was I. But I really did want him to be with me at the Lamaze class the next day. If not him, who, right? As I was opening the car door, I forced my anger aside and looked at him. "So, tomorrow?" "Look, Scully, I'm sure if you want to find another birthing coach . . . " He was still being pissy, but this time I was positive there was something more than that in his tone. He sounded hurt. "Mulder, I don't want anyone else for my coach," I told him gently. "Do you want to come up for a minute?" "No, you have a call to make. And I have . . . I have to clean out my garbage can." "Mulder, I -- " I wanted to tell him I was sorry for whatever it was that was making him angry but he cut me off. "Scully, go. You're tired, you need to get your feet up. Enough already. Call me tomorrow to tell me when to pick you up." There was no reasoning with him when he got that look in his eyes, so I got out of the car and made my way up to my apartment. I changed into my pajamas, about the only clothes that were still comfortable, and started some water for tea. The doctor had restricted my caffeine intake and for once in my life, I was sorry I'd badgered Mulder all the times he'd been forced to go without. I put my feet up on the coffee table and pulled the phone over. When I dialed Agent Doggett's number, I got the answering machine. I left a message that I'd called and put the phone back. As I did, I knocked the gift Mulder had given me off the sofa table and on to the floor. I hauled myself off the sofa and padded around to retrieve the box. The doll had fallen out and I picked it up tenderly, remembering the look of wonder on Mulder's eyes as he watched me open the package. It was a beautiful gift, one that I know came directly from his heart. I also remembered what I told him that night. I thanked him for giving me courage and that I hoped to pass that gift on to the baby. As I lifted the box a slip of paper fell out and to the floor. It irritated me that I would have to lean over again -- touching my toes had been a dream of mine for about two months. I managed to grasp the paper and force myself into a standing position, a feat not unlike a circus acrobat. Taking the doll and the paper back to the sofa, I ungracefully flopped down and got comfortable again. The paper looked like it was a half of a sheet of computer paper. Leave it to Mulder to use anything handy to scribble a note. I have often found old napkins with expense account totals scribbled in smeared ink stuffed in file folders. I unfolded the sheet of paper and reached for my reading glasses on the sofa table behind me. It was a short note, but it immediately brought tears to my eyes. "I just wanted to make this personal, Scully. M." My mind immediately flashed back to a situation that hinged on the use of that one word -- personal. I could hear his voice, anger coloring it, denial strong in every syllable. 'Scully, you're making this personal.' I had just accused his former partner of collaborating with our greatest enemy for the purpose of destroying not only our partnership, but possibly most of the inhabitants of the planet so that she and her cohorts could survive. I was making it personal because, in my own thoughts and words, that was all I had left. Mulder never does or says anything without a reason. The reason is usually not based on science or logic. Sometimes it's unfathomable to anyone but the few who know him, who understand him, who have seen his mind work for years and have benefited from its leaps and insights. Mulder was giving me a message in that eight-word note. We'd done an incredible job of picking up and carrying on after his return. He'd jumped right into danger again, much to my dismay. Maybe more to my dismay, I'd readily helped him. And that made me so angry. Didn't he understand that things were different now? That we had something else to consider -- this baby inside me and its future? Why did he keep running head long in the abyss when I was standing on the edge, trying to pull him back? But then I thought about it a moment more. Things had changed, but Mulder hadn't. For him, it was like he'd gone to sleep one night and awoken six months later. Time had marched on with all the evolution and upheavals known to man and yet, he was still stuck in the night before, six months ago. Back then it was just the two of us, down in the basement. The two of us against the world. No babies, no . . . other partners. I put my hand on my extended belly and felt the baby kick. Mulder had told me he didn't want 'this' to come between us. At the time, I thought he was simply referring to a medical procedure but now I see he might have had more insight, another of his famous leaps. Not that I felt he resented the baby. The look on his face when I was in the hospital and I was able to tell him we were fine, and really mean it, told me all I ever needed to know. But then I realized, I had been making sure to keep Mulder at arms length just as much as he had been keeping me at a distance. I picked up the note again and read it once more. He was taking the first step with those eight short words. Then I thought back to what had caused him to be so obviously pissy with me outside Agent Harrison's room. He'd offered pizza and I'd . . . said I needed to call Agent Doggett. I closed my eyes at my own stupidity. Again, one step forward, maybe a mile back. It was time to change that equation. Mulder's apartment 9:15 pm I didn't bother to knock on the door. I've had his key for 8 years and by God, I was going to use it. I did make enough noise with my entrance that he would be warned it was me with a key and not another Scott Hasslehoff with a shotgun. Mulder might have been drummed out of the FBI, but he still had his back up Beretta. I had no intentions of getting shot. He was lying on the couch, watching something that looked suspiciously like porn. I found it odd that he grabbed the remote and changed the channel the moment I entered his living room, something he'd never bothered to do in the past. Mulder, had we changed that much? He stared at me and then nodded. "Make yourself at home, Scully. You know where the refrigerator is." His tone hadn't changed from the car ride and in fact, I could see two empty beer bottles sitting on the coffee table and a third one, half full, in his hand. Great. Alcohol and hurt feelings. I'd just joined an official Mulder pity party. I decided to take him up on his offer and went into his kitchen to get a glass of water. When I returned, he'd turned on a basketball game and pretended he was watching it, all the while he was watching every move I made out of the corner of his eye. He was still stretched out on the couch, so I took the armchair across from him. Without looking directly at me, he rubbed his nose, took another pull on his beer and sighed. "So, how was dear Agent Doggett? Still above reproach, I'm sure." I licked my lip and let his icy tone wash over me but not through me. I knew he was lashing out because he was hurt, and I was beginning to understand where that hurt originated. It was personal. "I didn't get him," I told him truthfully. "I got his answering machine." He huffed out a breath. "Well, I'm sure the minute he gets the message he'll run right over to make sure you're all right." "Mulder, look, I think I know what's going on here - - " I started to say. The glare he turned on me stopped me dead in my tracks. "Really, Scully? You really know what's going on here? Good. That's just fucking great. Care to enlighten me or are you just gonna watch me twist in the wind for a few more years." Ouch. That one was just a little too close. "I was trying to say that I think I understand," I started again. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at me some more. Classic Mulder temper tantrum. Was this what I had to look forward to when the baby turned two? "First, I want to tell you I'm sorry," I said quietly, hoping my tone would set the stage for this long put off discussion. "For what?" he shot back. Ah but that was the rub. How to tell him I understood without bringing up more long dead baggage in the name of Diana Fowley? I was playing a game of checkers with a snake in the middle of the board. "I know you feel . . . I've . . . displaced you -- and you couldn't be further from the truth," I hastily added. He sat up at that but his arms were still on folded and if I wasn't completely mistaken, he was almost hugging himself. "Displaced. You know Scully, I think you just hit the nail on the head. I do feel displaced," he growled. He rose to his feet and started to pace the room. "I understand, Scully. I do. He's by the book, he wouldn't believe in aliens if one walked up and bit him on the ass. He's the perfect man, Scully. I can see why you'd fall for him." "What?" I interrupted him stupidly. "What the hell are you talking about, Mulder?" He couldn't look me in the eye, but as he looked down toward his shows, jaw clenched, muscles of his neck straining, I could see the tears rimming his lashes. He flopped back down on the couch but his posture didn't change. He had the look of a wounded animal. It took my breath away, how much he was hurting. What really upset me was that I was the cause. "Mulder, I don't know what you want," I muttered before I realized the words had left my mouth. "I want my life back," he growled. "I want my six fucking months back!" The last was said with a fist pounding his thigh and the tear finally cascading down to freefall on his gray tee shirt. "I want them back," he whispered bitterly. "I would too," I said quietly, finally sitting down on the coffee table -- no small feat in my position. "I would too," I repeated, taking his fist still pressed against his leg into my hands. "If that was all we had." He was still breathing heavily through his nose, his nostrils flaring in his anger and hurt, but he finally looked up at me, waiting on me to continue. "Mulder, the last six months were a living hell. And I have to tell you, sometimes I didn't want to be living. But do you know what made me hold on?" He looked pointed down at my stomach and then up to my eyes. I smiled sadly and shook my head in the negative. "Mulder, the one thing, the only thing that kept me going was that I had seven years of memories. When things were bleakest, I would think of those seven years, each and every day of them, and know that I had the greatest gift you could have given me. I had all that time with you." He chewed on his lip and swallowed. I had him on the hook, now I had to reel him in. "Do you know what I've always loved about you?" At his blank expression and shake of his head I smiled again. "How cute you are in the rain." He rolled his eyes and I allowed myself a grin. "Oh, Mulder, that night in Oregon -- you were adorable. The way the rain was streaming down your face, the way you would shiver as the water trickled down your back -- you looked good enough to eat!" "Tell me this now, Scully. You could have said something then," he muttered, but I could tell he had memories of that night as well and his eyes were softening, losing their hard edge. "And your manly prowess at climbing trees. Mulder, I couldn't tell you at the time, but that was . . . that was a major turn on." He snorted but a smile was playing at the edges of his mouth. "But those things pale in comparison when I think about how gentle and loving you were with . . . Emily." My throat was so tight I could barely make out the words. I could feel the tears wetting my cheeks. "Mulder, you think I was holding you at arms length when Emily died," I whispered. "But you have to understand -- I knew you were right there, within my reach. I always knew you were there." I couldn't speak for a moment and I could see the compassion, the love, shining in his eyes. It gave me the courage to go on. "Do you know how I fell asleep for those six months I didn't have you with me, for each of those 182 nights?" I almost laughed at the surprise on his face when I can tell him exactly how many nights it had been. But I had something more important to convey. "I would hold your blue oxford shirt close to my face and I would lie there and remember how you held me our last night in Oregon. It was the only way I could fall asleep. I had to trick myself into thinking you were there with me, with your arms around me." By that time I was crying so hard I had to stop. The look of anguish on his face was painful and I knew I wasn't through -- not yet. There was still one little matter to clear up. "Agent Dogget has been good to me. When you consider that he could have been another Alex Krycek who was sent to destroy us, or another Jeffrey Spender -- or even another Diana Fowley," I dared to mention she who is never mentioned. "They sat in the office, but Mulder you and I both know they never 'worked' down there. They never opened a case, they never investigated a single incident in the months they held our places. So when you compare him to them or even to Chesty Short or Gene Crane -- I think I'm safe in saying that he is above reproach." I waited a beat to let that sink in, but not too long. I didn't want to lose him in my logic. "But I have never been so foolish as to try and compare him to you, Mulder. He is above reproach when it comes to what they could have sent me. But in no way can he ever hope to take the place of the man I spent seven years of my life beside. Agent Doggett has never gone to the end of the earth to save me. Agent Doggett would never have found a cure for my cancer. Agent Doggett -- for all that he's done in the handful of cases we've worked together -- would never encourage me to believe in miracles. But more important, he would never have made those miracles into reality. In that, Mulder, Agent Doggett isn't even in the same galaxy as you. And he could never hope to get there." I leaned forward and took both his hands in mine, pulling him forward to rest our joined hands on my stomach. "You, Mulder, are my partner -- here. And as far as I'm concerned, they could turn that basement office back into the copy room because as long as we're together, that's all that matters to me." The smile he gave me was worth all the heartache we'd just gone through. Well, almost. He squeezed my hand and nodded. "So, Scully, speaking of partnerships -- are you going to tell me what we're expecting here?" I couldn't help the perplexed look on my face. I had not idea what he was talking about. "You know -- boy . . . girl . . ." I gave him my best look before answering quite smugly "I don't know, Mulder." "What do you mean you don't know? Scully, I know you've had sonograms and amniocentesis -- how can you not know the sex of the baby?" he shot back, obviously offended. "I don't know because I made a point of asking that any information on the sex of the baby be redacted from the test results," I said, crossing my arms over my now ample chest. "You have no idea," he accused. "Tara says it's a boy by the way I'm carrying him but she's only seen me in pictures. On the other hand Mom is sure the Drano test would say it was a girl." At his horrified expression I quickly reassured him. "It's not what you're thinking. I would never consume anything dangerous." "So you really don't know," he said, slightly amazed. "No. _We_ really don't know," I countered. "But we will find out . . . soon enough." He pulled me over to sit next to him on the couch, enfolding me in his arms. I relished the kiss he pressed to the top of my head. "I'm sorry I've been such a horse's ass. For the record, I really wasn't . . . well, I didn't mean to be . . . " "Jealous of Agent Doggett?" I supplied helpfully. "Resentful was the word I was searching for," he said haughtily. "I do admit, when I found that keychain on the ground today -- " I took his hand and kissed it tenderly. "Mulder, there are so many more important gifts you've given me. That keychain, as much as it meant when you gave it to me, is just an object. What you've given me, what I truly cherish, is your love. And that I will never 'regift'." "So, that means I don't need to worry about the birthday I missed this year?" he asked with a distinct gleam in his eyes. "Don't worry. You can make it up on Mother's Day," I reply as I struggled to get up. Mulder followed me but looked surprised when I didn't immediately head for the door. "You're not leaving?" he asked. "In a minute," I told him, going down his hall toward his bedroom. Once there, I found his suitcase in the closet and started packing it with the clothes in his drawers. "Scully, do you want to tell me something?" he asked, watching me from the doorway. "I'm leaving in a minute . . . and you're coming with me," I informed him. "It's silly, you here, me there. And to be honest, Mulder, your bed makes me seasick. So, at least for a while, we're stuck at my place." I zipped up the case and let him take it off the bed. "We can move the fish tomorrow." "You . . . you want me to -- " The look on his face was priceless, but I really was tired and I wanted to get home. "Mulder, earlier today you were going be my birthing coach. That carries a lot of responsibility. If you're currently so busy that you can't make that commitment -- " He hefted the suitcase and placed his hand at the small of my back. "Let's go home, Scully." the end. Author's note: there was, long ago, an old wives tale that combining a pregnant woman's pee with the drain cleaner drano would produce a substance that was different colors if she were having a girl or a boy. I do NOT advise trying it at home. I just always thought it was a terribly strange (and potentially dangerous) superstition and wanted to include it here.