From: Michele Connole Date: Sun, 18 Jun 2000 18:43:49 -0700 (PDT) Subject: xfc: Bitter Pills (1/1) Source: xfc Title: Bitter Pills Author: MaidenJedi Rating: PG-13 Archiving: duh, of course. Spooky's for sure, Gossamer for sure. Same goes for everyone. Category/Keywords: S/A, V Summary: Scully deals with Mulder's abduction and her pregnancy. Set in the hospital following her fainting at the FBI Building. Spoilers: Requiem, of course. all things, Duane Barry, Anasazi, Je Souhaite Author's Notes: I wrote this on the Tuesday following Requiem, before any of my other post-Requiem fic (White Rabbit, One Heartbeat). It took me three hours to write this after watching Requiem 3 times. I had to. I know there will be TONS of Requiem fics out there, but I had to put in my two cents. As a shipper this episode means a lot to me. This is dedicated to Nathan, my X-Files buddy who got me into all this and is the only male shipper I know personally. Also to Mag-Nato, despite all his claims that it is CSM's kid. And finally to SockMama and LoveMonkey, who put up with my obsession quite well. All four of you are great! Disclaimer: Not mine! Dana Scully, Melvin Frohike, John Byers, Ringo Langly, Walter Skinner, and Fox Mulder are the property of 1013, Chris Carter and Fox. I'm just borrowing them, I swear! Oh, and the dialogue between Skinner and Scully up to "I'm pregnant" was written by CC, not me. ~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~ Afternoon Scully's Hospital Room I have hated hospitals for a long time now. The cold, white sterility and the reek of Lysol mixed with the metallic scent of blood and bile. The hushed voices, the soft crying. Gowns that guarantee your bare ass will show. Scratchy blankets, flat pillows, insomnia. The steady beeping and blipping of the machines, interrupted intermittently by the wail of an alarm and the squeaking sounds of nurses running to shut them off. Doctors with no bedside manner, doctors with so much spunk you just want to slap the hell out of them. I hate the joy of the well and the fear of the hurt. As a doctor myself, I hate knowing that for every cure, there are at least twice as many deaths. Dealing with the dead is so much quieter, so much easier than having to break bad news. My news, of course, isn't bad. I almost wish it were; I'm used to bad news by now. Dana, you have cancer. Dana, you've been shot pretty badly. Never did I expect "Dana, you're pregnant." Of all the times I've been in a hospital over the past seven years, why isn't he here for the best part? The irony of it is so cruel, it feels like a rock in the pit of my stomach. I've survived cancer, gun shots, viruses, and that doesn't begin to include what I've sat through for him. Hell, the F.B.I. forgot to audit our insurance bills. Had they, I'm sure we would have been shut down so fast our heads would spin. After all that, all the times we were each certain the other was going to die, there is an opportunity to celebrate life, life we together created. All this time thinking I was barren, unable to have kids. Finally I test that theory, and it turns out that I was just celibate. Why did we wait so long Mulder? Why? I am especially curious to hear what you think. But I won't get to, will I? Happiness is a bitter pill when you're keeping it to yourself. He's gone. Gone where, I don't know, though I'm sure I've been there. The great unknown. Damnit, Scully, what were you thinking, listening to him, letting him go? Ah, visitors. "Hi guys." They nod at me in turn. Frohike, Byers and Langly. They've come to tell me something I already know. None of them is quite looking me in the eye. Mulder. All of them are carrying something. Frohike has lilies, Byers has a single rose, and Langly has a fern that looks nearly dead. It's nearly comical to see them standing there, speechless. "Scully, we are so damned sorry..." Frohike trails off, not wanting to be the one, not wanting to break my fragile heart. Poor Scully. Handle with care. I blame myself. Isn't it funny? After all these years, its my turn to feel guilty and responsible. My turn to experience what Mulder experienced so many times, first with Samantha, then with me after Duane Barry. I don't want to cry in front of them. I managed this far not to cry at all, despite what the doctors have told me and in spite of what these three think I don't know. I can feel the tears threaten of course. Maybe Byers has noticed, because he has finally looked me in the face, his eyes searching me, and I watch it click home. All I can do is nod. "You know, don't you?" I nod again. "What dirty son of a bitch did it, Scully? Who just couldn't wait to share the news?" Frohike is angry as hell. Byers catches the flowers that Frohike has chunked at his head, not seeing or caring what he's doing. "No one." My voice is choked. I can't speak above a whisper. "What do you mean?" Langly is puzzled. Its quite obvious that these three consider themselves sole proprietors of hacked information. This is their forte, knowing everything before anyone else. But Mulder and I have a connection that few people would understand. Maybe Mom, she's seen it in action. "I just know." Like before, when I knew he was alive when everyone thought he was dead. I just know. The three of them seem to accept this explanation. After, even they can't know everything. And while they have Mulder's attention and have a lock on his conspiracy theorist leanings, I have always had his heart. I have to tell them, don't I? "I'll find him, guys. I will. I have to." It has become my litany, my chant. I keep telling myself the same thing over and over. If I keep it up, I may even believe it. "I will." Byers nods first, his eyes never having left mine. He knows as well as Mulder and I what it is to have this conviction. It's a lifeline in a nightmare you are never sure you'll escape. He knows what it is to not know all the answers, but to be preternaturally certain of one thing: "I will succeed. She is not lost to me." He, like me, knows that this is the only thought that will keep us all sane. Frohike won't look at anyone. His eyes are shut and his head is down. It never occured to me that someone might feel this loss like me, but I should've known. Mulder is Frohike's hero. A memory comes to me, of a wasted Melvin Frohike, certain that his hero is dead and gone. But its Langly's reaction that strikes a chord in my soul. A single tear falls down his face, and he just nods, and speaks very low, so low I can hear the tick of the clock over his voice. "We will." I have been given hope. They each leave their gifts, each kissing my cheek as they turn to leave. Langly, Byers, then Frohike. "Frohike?" He stops cold. The others turn, and I wave them off. "I want to speak you, if I could." "Sure." He pads over to my bedside. "I have some news." I can feel the smile twitch in the corners of my mouth. Frohike smiles widely, which puzzles me. "We know." What!? "You know?" "Yeah." "How?" "Oh, we have ways, keed." He winks at me, then turns and leaves me sitting and smiling at his back. ~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~ Early Evening How did this happen to me? How did I lose my innocence so completely, yet at the same time retain this naivity? I really thought nothing could ever tear us apart, because so many people have tried, and even Death himself failed to do it. It takes extraterrestrials and Mulder's goddamn curiosity. Mulder. It wasn't so long ago that I still only wondered what it was like to make love to you, to be physically a part of you. And now that I know, it is the memory of it that will keep me warm as I begin the search for you. I alternately curse you and pray for you. I am torn between being grateful for this child and loathing it. In some ways I wish I could put it on hold until I can share it with you. This is an experience neither of us should be robbed of. I will love him or her for the both of us, Mulder, whether I find you or not. But I know you would want to know, would want to be a part of it. You'd make a great dad...you will make a great dad. Oh, God. The tears are there again, behind my eyes. I swallow hard not to fall prey to my emotions. Imagine that, Dana Scully fighting her emotions. Fuck it. I am sick of hiding. The tears are falling now, and I won't make a peep. Mulder, can you feel me at all, the way I feel you? Something inside me is saying you're alive. Its a flame that kept me sane in the past, and it has to now. In my dreams you'll be waiting for me, and when I sleep I can sleep knowing you're out there. The sun is starting to go down Mulder. I wonder if you can see it where you are, the sun. I wonder these things because I don't want to think of what the alternative could be. "Scully?" Oh God. Here is the confrontation I didn't want to have today. I was hoping I could just sit here staring and thinking of Mulder, waiting for my test results so I can go back and begin the process of searching. I was hoping I wouldn't have to see another pair of pitying eyes. But no. These eyes hold more than pity. In these eyes, there is hurt, grief, and self-loathing. A reflection of my own battered soul. Skinner doesn't think I know yet. I can tell, its in the way he walks and in the way he's holding back the tears. "Hi." "Hi. How you feeling?" Skinner steps up to my bed, almost as afraid to look at me as Frohike was. "I'm feeling fine. They're just running some tests on me." He looks at me briefly, then stares at the sheets. "Um..." he wants to tell me, I knew it..."um..." I can't help it. I start crying. "I already heard." He is shocked. I cry, and he cries. "I lost him. I don't know what else I can say, I lost him." I don't want him to tell me this. It will make it hurt more than it already does, not that I'm sure that's possible. "I'll be asked..." He's struggling with this, I know. He takes a breath to try and calm down. "I'll be asked what I saw. And what I saw I can't deny." My very own words. Its the irony that gets him, like me. All this time we both couldn't believe it. And now they have Mulder and we have nothing. Well, nearly nothing. "I won't." The tears are at me again, threatening. Skinner has nearly lost it, and I know I have to say something to reassure us both. "We will find him. I have to." He nods, then turns, embarrassed. "Sir, there is something else I need to tell you." Oh what the hell. He needs to know anyway, he's my boss. "Something I need you to keep to yourself." Skinner is waiting, unsure he wants to hear what I have to say, because he no idea what I'm about to hit him with. "I have a hard time explaining it....or believing it..." At this, a smile overrides the tears. I am happy about this, no matter if Mulder is here or not, and I almost want to shout it from the rooftops. "I'm pregnant." Skinner's eyes widen in shock, his teeth clench slightly. "Are you...are you serious, Scully?" "Yes, sir, I am." "I...who...when...?" "It's Mulder's, sir. This I know without a doubt." I can even tell you when, but I'm sure you don't want to know. "Does he know?" This is a whisper, really. Poor Skinner. He's been through a lot. And now I'm dumping this on him as well. "No." I whisper back, because the tears have come back with a vengeance. Skinner sets his jaw, and takes my hand. The news has transformed him. His eyes are a different pair than just a moment ago; now they are set with determination. "We will find him, Dana." And I close my eyes against the sudden vertigo. It all hits me. I am pregnant, and I have no one to go home to tonight, to share a beer with and watch "Steel Magnolias" with. If I had three wishes.... Skinner leaves with that, patting my hand before turning. And I am alone again with my thoughts and my pain. I am reinvested now. I am dangerous. I will find Mulder, and I will have help. I am not alone on my quest. Happiness is bittersweet, you know. And there is always a price. ~**~**~**~**~**~ Fin. Or is it? The Telepathic Philes are said to be holding a contest for post-Requiem fic....maybe I will delve into this deeper! Check out my other fic at and my X-Files site at http://www.geocities.com/texgoddess ===== "Ginger had it easy. She had only had to do everything that Fred did, but backwards and in heels."--- anonymous How do you know you're leading a sad life? When a nymphomaniac says "Lets just be friends." http://www.geocities.com/texgoddess (the kiosk) Aries: (March 21--April 19) You will lose all credibility when it is revealed that, contrary to your claims, your life is not based on a true story. (from "The Onion")