From: juliettt@aol.com (Juliettt) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: "Cherish," a Marriage story by Juliettt Date: 30 Jan 1996 02:30:50 -0500 "Cherish" by Juliettt@aol.com (completed November 10, 1995) WARNING: Extreme, unmitigated mush ahead. Dana is about eight months pregnant and feeling very low, and she and Fox have a talk. If this isn't your cup of tea, turn back now; otherwise, enjoy. And Dana Scully (Mulder) and Fox Mulder are still Chris Carter's (last time I checked) and he co-owns them with Ten-Thirteen Productions, FOX Broadcasting, Gillian Anderson, and David Duchovny. I'm still borrowing them without permission but with a great deal of respect and admiration, and this story, as well as the universe of the Marriage stories, is mine. Thanks to Macspooky for her always-invaluable editorial advice (and for the "armed and dangerous" line). ************************** "Cherish" by Juliettt@aol.com ************************** He came into the living room to find her curled up on the sofa, reading glasses perched on her nose and her laptop computer on the arm of the couch since she no longer had a lap to speak of. He bent over and dropped a kiss on top of her head. "Hey -- how you feeling?" he asked, draping his coat over the back of the sofa. She closed the computer a bit harder than necessary and frowned at him. "I'm fine. I'm *not* an invalid. I'm just pregnant, not sick," she said somewhat angrily. He stared at her and she glared back, then sighed and closed, then rubbed, her eyes. "I'm sorry, Fox." He slid to the sofa next to her and took her in his arms. "Hey, what's wrong, love?" he asked in concern. She wasn't usually grouchy like this unless there were something really wrong. He began to rub her shoulders softly, noticing the tension in her muscles. "It's nothing," she muttered against his shirt, her shoulders relaxing under his hand. He continued to stroke for another long minute, then squeezed her and pulled away so he could look down into her eyes. "Dana." She looked up. His eyes were full of love and concern. "What is it?" That familiar look in his soft eyes was too much for her self-composure, and her face crumpled. "I can't shave my legs," she wailed. His mouth dropped open and he stared at her, stunned. Then he did the unpardonable. He laughed. Her mouth closed with a snap and she jerked away from him before he could stop her. He reached out and grabbed her arms and they struggled for a moment, but he was by far the stronger and she wasn't really fighting all that hard. "Come here," he said, and pulled her back into a strong embrace, holding her close to his heart. "I'm sorry, Dana -- I shouldn't have laughed at you -- it's just that. . . ." How could he explain that the majority of his laughter had been out of relief? There was so much to worry about -- the baby, their jobs, her safety. He even had nightmarish moments, still, after more than a year of marriage, in which he wondered why she had ever condescended to love him, to marry him. He was happy, utterly happy, for the first time in his life. He had everything he had ever wanted in her -- a best friend, a lover, a wife, a partner, and now, the mother of his child. They had made a home together. Their careers were on track. He waited with a fatalism born of years of loneliness and pain for the other shoe to drop. And now, when he thought perhaps it had, it had turned out to be a simple problem like this. She relaxed against him again. "I know it's silly," she began. He shook his head. "If it's bothering you, it's not silly." He truly meant it, too. But if she were not more politic about the way she said whatever it was she was about to say, he might just embarrass himself -- and upset her -- again. She sighed. "It's just. . . ." Silence again, and he continued to stroke her hair. And then the dam broke. "It's just that I keep gaining weight and I feel big and heavy and ugly and none of my clothes fit right anymore -- I'm so *sick* of maternity clothes and I miss my suits -- and my moods keep changing and now I can't even see or bend over to shave my legs and it makes me feel so *unclean*," she said in a rush. And in a rush of his own, he understood. His wife was beautiful -- the most lovely woman he had ever seen, inside and out. And the sexiest. If her pregnancy had taken away her slim waistline, it had also given her face the most delightful softness. And her skin glowed with even more than its usual radiance -- probably due in part to her careful diet and fitness regimen which was now even more strict, although he was certain it was mostly due to her constant knowledge that she was going to be a mother. And he just *loved* to look at her, to know that inside her lovely body she carried their child, the son or daughter that they had made together, the two of them, out of their love and desire and hunger for one another. He knew that people could look at her and know what the two of them had done in the privacy of their bedroom, and he found it ironic -- and erotic -- that although they might not talk about their love life with others even complete strangers could look at her and see evidence of its activity and fruitfulness. He loved her -- he adored her. And now he realized that she felt like a stranger within her own body. The body that he loved and made love to had changed, and she was uncomfortable with those changes. She might think he was uncomfortable with them as well. He could tell her he was not, that she was beautiful and that he still wanted her -- more than ever -- but somehow he didn't think it would be enough. She knew it in her head; it was her heart and body that were giving her conflicting messages. "Dana, love," he said softly, pulling her into his lap -- as small as she was, she was no great weight even at this point in her pregnancy -- "why didn't you tell me what was troubling you? I might not be able to help you with everything, but I could have helped you with this." She pulled back to look up at him, her face flushed and her eyes wet. He brushed tendrils of damp red hair away from her forehead. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I look at you and I'm amazed at what we have -- that I could ever have you," he said gently, shaking his head. "And this -- our child -- this makes you more beautiful to me than ever. I love you, and I love our baby." She nodded and cuddled up against him again, still unconvinced. After a few minutes of silence he spoke again. "Come on." He stood up, displacing her from his lap, and held out his hand. "Where are we going?" she asked curiously, placing her hand in his. "We," he announced, "are going into the bathroom. We are going to take a long, hot bubble bath, and then you are going to teach me how to shave your legs." "Fox," she began, but he shook his head, and after another momentary hesitation she sighed and gave in. ***** They soaked for awhile, the scented steam curling through the air and the hot water relaxing them both. They sat facing one another with Mulder at the faucet end, and he smiled as she slid further down in the water with a sigh. The tub was deep enough that the water covered her stomach, warming her all the way through to her backbone. He sat up slightly and lifted her left leg out of the water, resting the sole of her foot against his knee and reaching for the razor and shaving gel. She opened one eye and looked at him warily. He grinned. "Armed and dangerous, Dana," he said, brandishing the razor at her. She smiled back. He squeezed some shaving gel into his hand and worked it into a thick lather, then smoothed it liberally onto her leg, working with long, soft strokes that made her sigh with delight. "This is almost better than one of your massages," she murmured, and he smiled. Had her eyes been open she would have seen a faint glint in his. "Oh, that comes later," he said with a curious inflection in his voice. Now she *did* open her eyes. He simply smiled at her and rinsed his hands. "So, Doc -- any instructions?" She shook her head. "I mean, do you go from the ankle up or the reverse?" She frowned slightly. "Usually the ankle up, because it's closer that way, but whichever you find easier." He was very, very careful, and didn't even nick her knees like she usually managed to do. The only time he did graze her on the anklebone, and she winced, he cradled her heel in the palm of his hand and kissed the wound, making her laugh in delight. When he was finished with both legs he rinsed the razor and then rinsed her legs, running his hands along her calves and over her knees, finally leaning forward to plant a gentle kiss on her lips. Then he stood up and climbed out. Before she could protest, however, he walked over and eased back in behind her. She smiled. They lay up to their necks in bubbles, her back against his chest. Her now-smooth legs floated in the water between his much longer legs as she leaned back against him. One long, lean masculine hand absently stroked her stomach, and he laughed softly when he felt the bulge of a tiny elbow, or head, or foot strike out against the confinement. "Not too much longer, little guy," he whispered into her shoulder, Her eyes misted with something other than the rising steam. "Do you have any idea how wonderful you are?" she asked softly. "No. Tell me," he sighed, kissing her forehead. She smiled and snuggled back against him. "You fill all the gaps in my life, Fox. You're my best friend -- have been for years. My partner, the best work partner I could ask for. You're my rock -- the one I turn to whenever I need -- *anything*. My husband. I thought I would spend the rest of my life alone, and then there you were." He hugged her gently and she smiled, tears in her eyes. "Even when I thought we could never be together I knew I'd never really be alone as long as you were there." Her voice dropped and she turned her head to lay her cheek against his chest. "My lover. The way you kiss me, and touch me, and talk to me -- you make me feel beautiful -- like the most beautiful woman in the world, even now, when I feel big and ugly inside myself. When we're together -- it's like nothing can touch us, like there's nothing and nobody else in the world but us, and I forget myself in you. I'm not even me anymore, I'm -- I don't know -- I'm more *me* than I ever was before I met you." She reached down and clasped his hand in hers. "It's like when we finally came together I found the part of me I'd been missing all of my life. I'd finally accepted the fact that I would never find it," she admitted softly. "I grew so accustomed to being without it that I just accepted that that piece would always be missing." She closed her eyes and rested against him, feeling the comforting low thud of his heart in her ear. His mind reeled. So many of the things she had said -- those were things he felt, too, but had never thought to hear her say. He needed her -- desperately -- and had for a long time. She had told him she needed him before, but he had never recognized that need as being on the same level as his own. It was essential, intrinsic. It wasn't a need like a need for a good night's sleep or a good meal. It was like the need for water or food or any rest at all, and he no longer thought he could survive without her emotionally. And this, too, was different -- it wasn't like the frantic understanding he had gained as she lay in the coma so long ago and he had thought she would die. It was her love he needed even more than her physical presence. And he understood now that had he known she loved him at that time he could have survived. It would have broken his heart and his spirit and it would have been the hardest thing he had ever done, but he could have lived. "Dana," he whispered. "You've said -- so many of the things that I was thinking. I -- never thought you could feel all those things, too." She half-turned in his arms to face him. "When I said, the night that you told me about the baby, that the past year had made up for so much in my life -- I could never tell you the healing that you've brought me." She reached up to stroke his wet hair back from his forehead and he closed his eyes. "You brought sanity and direction and more -- trust and beauty and hope -- back into my life when I thought all those things were gone. To say that I love you hardly seems adequate -- I can't begin to express what I feel for you. There just aren't the words." He held her more tightly, his face buried in her damp hair. She smiled softly. "Fox, you show me every day how you feel. Even when we're not touching, and I look up at the office and see you looking at me -- even when you don't say anything I can read it in your eyes." He bent his head and kissed her bare shoulder and she glanced up into his eyes and smiled again, this time knowingly. She didn't have to be a mind reader to read this message. . . . ***** Getting out of the tub was another problem. Showers were easy to manage so long as she was careful to step onto the bath mat when she got out, but she had given up bubble baths nearly two months ago. She realized now how much she had missed them; a long, soothing bath had always been one of her indulgences after a hard day at work, and she had especially enjoyed them since their marriage, when she and Fox would climb into the big claw-footed tub together for a long soak. He got out first, then helped her up, supporting her as she stepped over the side onto the plush bath mat, giggling a little at the insecurity of slippery skin against slippery skin and the safety of his strong arm around her waist. He enveloped her in a huge bath sheet, wrapping another securely around his waist, and led her into the bedroom. She sat on the bed while he moved around the room and bathroom, and admired the way the skin and towel moved across his lanky frame. He turned back towards her and approached the bed and she smiled, thinking how beautiful he was with his hair damp and messy from the bath and the light of love and desire in his eyes. He climbed up on the bed next to her and she touched his cheek. The steam had softened his slight beard and it felt sensuous against her bare hand. "Looks like you need a shave, too," she teased, and he grinned. "Next time. Not now," he said, and pushed her back against the pillows, slipping the towel from around her and tucking it under her legs. He opened a bottle of baby oil and massaged it into her still-damp legs to keep them soft against the dryness of the chill winter air. Then he insisted on rubbing the pink cream the doctor had suggested to prevent stretch marks on her stomach. And as he sat there, working in silence, seeing her gazing up at him with that look of wonder and gratitude, he began to understand some of the things that had troubled him -- troubled them -- of late. Some of her recent hesitancy to make love to him with her usual abandon was due not to a loss of desire but to a drop in her self-esteem. Dana was not a vain woman, but neither was she usually down on herself. He understood that the pregnancy had affected her physically and chemically in ways that he had not realized, that she had not fully believed him when he told her he found her beautiful, that she had been embarrassed by her body and he had not recognized this. So now, when he was done with the cream, he poured more baby oil into his palm and began smoothing it onto her feet, her legs, her thighs, working up her body. He lavished her with caresses and kisses and poured out all of his love for her and for their child in his touch, touches not meant to arouse -- at first -- but simply the physical expression of his adoration of her. Several times she thought she heard him -- or felt him -- whisper something against her skin, but she could not hear the words. But his movements and tone were such that she understood, deep, deep in the core of her being, the depth and extent of his love and devotion, and her heart leapt and she felt a deep sense of peace and warmth and reassurance spread through her mind and body. And when he finally took her in his arms, gently, tenderly, she knew and felt and understood the meaning of the vows they had taken more than a year before, and knew beyond a doubt that this man, her husband, her lover, her life's partner, loved her and honored her and cherished her. And in that moment she knew that she was beautiful. *End* The Marriage Series: Epithalamion Wonders Wrought (2 parts) Waking On the Road Girls' Day Out Old Habits Die Hard [in editing process] Watching the Storm The Madness of an Hour [in editing process] Life Changes (2 parts) Mother's Day [in editing process] Nursemaid [in editing process] Success Cherish [in editing process] Childhood Lullabies [in editing process] Lullaby For a New Generation Room Service [in editing process] Juliettt@mail.aol.com Troupe Leader, Dragon Posse, Lone Gunwoman #7, Eden Agent, Clan McBride, Wolfpack, DDEB 3, WWtBJLSWWGU, TFOSG charter celebrant, SKKS co-founder, BBTG!