From: LMollynel@aol.com
Date: Thu, 13 Jul 2000 14:19:08 EDT
Subject: resubmission
Source: direct


Disclaimers: The characters herein are the property of Chris Carter,
Fox Broadcasting, and 1013 Productions, 
with no disrespect or copyright infringement intended. 
These characters, as they are portrayed by Gillian Anderson and 
David Duchovny, have inspired this, which is my own.


Name: Faith
Author Handle: Winsomewriter 
Rating: PG
Category: MSR Vignette with RST and DAL
Distribution Statement:  Anywhere, as long as these headers stay 
attached and it's archived in its entirety. Tell me where so I can 
visit.

Feedback: Always welcome to Winsomewriter@aol.com

Story: This brief interlude occurs in Requiem when Scully first learns 
about Mulder's disappearance and her pregnancy just before Skinner 
visits her hospital room. The X-Files perpetually taunts us with 
storyline segments and scene fragments from which we are asked to 
create presumptions. Certain minds cannot resist the temptation to 
"connect the dots." I hope you will enjoy the picture I've created with 
those dots. 
________________________________________________________________________

Faith


Shock was anesthetizing.

In the artificially bright hospital room, she sat blinking. The 
fabric of the standard-issue hospital gown was thin; the cool 
sheets began to warm against her reclining body, though she 
couldn't claim she was feeling anything.  In the ether of her 
thoughts, she was poised to escape. 

Was she dead?

She raised her hand and stared, expecting to see nothing, mildly 
disappointed that blood coursed normally through delicate veins, 
that a pulse beat a gentle rhythm in her wrist.  Half dead, then. 
Something inside her had been crushed, beaten senseless, and it 
had smashed with such a force that her ears were still ringing?

The bedside phone had been returned lopsided to its cradle, she 
couldn't recall when or how.  

Disbelief was numbing.

The news couldn't be true?  He couldn't really be gone. No! Not 
really.  She had suffered over his loss times before and just 
when reason argued he was dead, he'd return-a phoenix from the 
ashes.  

Phoenix Mulder.

OOOOOH MULLLL DER MULLLL DER MULLLL DER 

Awful, hurtful sensations were returning. Numbness waned. She 
rocked herself, clutching elbows.
 
OOOOOH MULLLL DER MULLLL DER MULLLL DER RRRRRRRRR

Words assailed her:  "disappeared in thin air," "abducted,"  
"space craft." 

Hard to fathom, even harder to believe, except she had seen 
things, things she could not explain, things she could not deny. 
If she believed these things, then she knew he was really taken.

OOOOOH NOOOOOH MULLLL DER 
Blessed are ye who have not seen and believe. Instinctively she 
felt for her cross necklace; that too was gone. OH-MY-GOD! 

She believed.  

In the pit of her stomach, the smallest moan rose to a thin wail 
and twisted. Growing stronger, violent as a tornado, it 
threatened. NNNNNOOOOOOO!  She suppressed it, nothing 
rushed past her lips, though her eyes brimmed with tears, 
blurring vision. Lids closed as if to dam the flood.

Damn!

How could she have let him go?  How could she have let him 
convince her that she was in danger?  Her symptom-vertigo-had put 
her off balance, made her too easily swayed. She succumbed to his 
need to protect her, her need to be cherished. 

"I don't want to...lose you!"  His words, imbued with seven years 
of depth and significance, were unmistakable.  Her memories 
lingered over the passion in his voice, eyes, face, touch. Seven 
years ago, it was "boy meets girl." Now it was "man loves woman."

NNNNNoooooo! If only, she hadn't let him go.  She could not lose 
him!  Not now, especially now, when they both had truly learned 
to love.

Only recently, he had experienced closure; she, freedom from 
long-suffering repression and guilt. Only recently, she chose to 
drop her protective shield, to lay down her sword of resistance, 
for which the next step was a most natural process, a new 
journey. 

It began over a month ago, at Mulder's apartment. Fatigued, she 
had drifted toward sleep, her head bobbing beside him on the 
couch as she fought but lost to the overwhelming tide of slumber. 
Waves murmuring on the shore, Mulder's conversant tone, had 
worked like a lullaby. Was she dreaming that he stroked her hair 
tenderly and laid a blanket over her?  She had wanted to reply 
with thanks, but he moved away.  This made her stir. Her legs, 
extended on the coffee table, were in stiff discomfort.

Oooooommmmldrrrr. Her sigh soft and cooing brought him back. 

He hovered hesitantly. 

Oooooommmmldrrrr, she yawned, still too deep to surface fully 
conscious.

"Uncomfortable?" He queried softly, perhaps to himself, and 
lifted her up in his arms. She hugged his neck and tucked her 
head under his chin as he transported her to his bed. After 
folding the bedspread over her, he left her there.

"Where are you going?" She was suddenly fully alert.

"To the couch." Standing in the threshold between rooms, he kept 
his face averted. But she knew him well and understood his 
personal battle.

"Why?"

His back stiffened, shoulders shrugged. "You need your rest." 

"Please stay."  Rehearsed only in her dreams, these words 
materialized with startling effortlessness.

She saw him shiver and freeze. His silence was long and full with 
expectation. At last, his guff voice replied. "If I stay...," he 
couldn't continue.

"It's what we both want." She grew bolder, "Isn't it?"

He bowed his head, nodding, "For a very long time," then turned 
toward her. Desire and passion were unmistakable. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely!" She raised welcoming arms to him.

At long last, not just hearts, minds, and souls but now their 
bodies were bared to each other, wondrous revelations not 
diminished by realization. Her silky skin, quivering, fulfilled 
his sinewy tautness. An exchange of abundant kisses showered 
newness upon the landscapes of their entwined forms like soothing 
rain upon drought-wracked fields. 

It was transfiguring. Their enduring commitment-that had forged 
their minds and welded their hearts in mutual purpose and 
determination-had shifted it focus away from the global crusade 
and fixed on the personal: each other! Then-only recently-he 
unveiled the beautiful truth in his soul, restored by her healing 
power. It was a celebration of discovery, for which they had 
never been happier, never felt more alive, more at peace, more 
united.

The fulfillment was so great, he had exclaimed, "I can die a 
happy man." She had admonished him, with a promising smile. "Not 
now. There's more to live for."

Unfortunately, he had always been prophetic.

If only she hadn't succumbed to his gentle persuasions about her 
susceptibility. "They're taking abductees. You were abducted..." Is 
this the reason that partners should not become lovers?  Had 
their clear thinking been muddled by emotion?

He wanted her to stay home. Didn't he know, that whenever she was 
with him, she was home? She should have gone with him to the UFO 
site. She could have convinced him to play it safe, to break free 
of the alien willpower, to resist the temptation of the truth. 
She would have used the ploy of her own danger to get him away-
she knew he'd rather die than let any harm come to her.  

Perhaps that is what he did.

She winced and shook the desolation from her mind.

While she didn't go with him, she had given him her gold cross, a 
sign of her renewed faith. "An amulet," the skeptic she had once 
been would have scoffed, "a silly superstition."  Always open to 
the power of talisman, Mulder, of course, was quick to accept the 
token of her belief, her conviction-and, yes, her love. 

Upon it, he swore a promise.  "I'll be back."  

Why did these words seem so different this time? 

Now her faith was being sorely tested.  He was gone, and she was 
desperate for a sign to restore her belief-that he would return, 
no matter how impossible.  The odds of that were astronomical. 
Nooooooo! The Wail threatened to crack her sealed lips and emit 
its endlessness. Nooooooo! Nooooooo! She was spiraling downward, 
swallowed by sorrow.

It was senseless to hope for a miracle.

"Dr. Scully."

It was futile to ask for a sign.

"Dr. Scully?"

Her eyes flew open, as if she really cared about her life 
anymore.

"We have results from the tests." The physician returned, chart 
in hand. "Information you should find quite interesting."

She expected to hear prognoses, theories, explanations rooted in 
the scientific world.  She braced herself.  Could she endure 
those practical descriptions from the analytical mentality 
without screaming her anguish to drown the logic?  Do not 
suffocate my hope.  Do not dispel my faith.  Do not imprison my 
belief! 

"We are a bit amazed, given your history-"

"Am I dying?"

The physician was startled.  "No. No.  Actually, this is 
remarkable news.  You're pregnant."

Scully inhaled.  "Excuse me?"

"I know.  We tested and retested, the blood work, urine samples, 
sonogram...it's all unmistakable."

Impossible!

She must have spoken her thought aloud, for the doctor replied. 
"That was our first reaction, but now after analyzing all the 
data, we've concluded that this is one of those medical miracles, 
an unexplained regeneration of ovarian production.  Despite the 
documentation of your sterility, you are pregnant."

A miracle!

"...with a perfectly developing fetus...." The doctor offered her a 
litany of information she heard remotely, galaxies away.

A sign!  

"...we'll schedule you for regular checkups...." Scully's 'automatic 
pilot' kicked in for the amenities until the physician left.

Joy so strong swelled within her, filling the void with infinite 
hope.  Love would give her the strength, the resources, the 
insights to succeed in the search. The intensity of her emotion, 
despite the common opinion about partners becoming lovers, 
cleared her mind.  Love was power and she would move heaven and 
hell to find him and bring him home whole. My faith will save 
you! She vowed with her heart and soul.

At that instant, although it was medically impossible, she sensed 
the "new soul" stir and rubbed her flat belly in wonder.  Talk 
about defying the odds!

No longer immobilized by the unknowns, she knew she must act. 
Poised, Scully heard a sound at her door. Assistant Director 
Walter S. Skinner, subdued and remorseful, hesitated before 
entering the room.  

She would be strong for him, for everyone. No matter what people 
might believe, Mulder was out there.


Faith
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