From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 14 Apr 2001 16:08:52 -0000
Subject: Hearts and Flowers (1/1 - post DeadAlive, pre Three Words) by Foxie Meg
Source: direct

Reply To: megan86@thexfiles.com


Title: Hearts and Flowers

Author:  Foxie Meg

Rating: PG, cos I can't get away without a little
colorful language

Summary: What they won't show you (and didn't 
happen) between DeadAlive and Three Words.  I'd bet 
my paycheck on it.  (Which of course isn't saying 
much.)

Disclaimer: I don't own them; don't sue -- it 
wouldn't do any good anyway.  (See above comment 
re: paycheck)

Feedback: Do you have to ask? megan86@thexfiles.com

Archive: All right, you don't have to ask.  Just let
me know where it's going, and keep my name on it. 

Author's Notes: This was written directly after 
DeadAlive aired, before Three Words.  It was my
take on what I would have liked to see happen,
but knew wouldn't.

***

The first warning she had was a slight movement of 
his fingers under her own, and her eyes fluttered open 
to rest on his face.

He had only regained consciousness the day before, and 
was still utterly exhausted.  His muscles were in 
such a state of dystrophy that he couldn't even lift his 
hand from the bed.  She told him he was lucky he could 
talk, and he joked that his oral fixation had been good 
for something; kept his oral muscles in such fine shape 
that even being mostly dead couldn't stop him.

She was in a constant state of wavering between 
smiling and laughing with pure relief at his return 
and bursting into tears at the memory of his suffering.  
In the end, she usually ended up compromising and 
laughing through her tears.

He slept long hours now, but she stayed beside him 
through all of them, dozing off in the chair, surrounded 
by the pillows and blankets the concerned nurses had 
brought her.  She wouldn't leave his side, and Skinner 
and Doggett had both been convinced through what she 
liked to call "forceful logic" to let her stay.

This was why she stayed.  To be there every time he 
woke up.

"Hey there," she whispered now, and he turned his head 
weakly to regard her, a tiny smile playing over his lips.

"You sure I really got resurrected?" he rasped, and she 
turned questioning eyes on him.  They had discussed 
sketchy details of what had happened during his absence, 
including his burial.  He smiled at her and clarified.

"It smells... like a funeral parlor in here."

She laughed gently, squeezing his hand.  "You're a very 
popular guy.  Even the Director sent you a bouquet."

"You're kidding," he said incredulously.

She shook her head.  "Of course, Kersh didn't even sign 
the card on his -- his secretary did.  I think he's 
holding a grudge against you for coming back from the 
dead."

Mulder grinned and licked his dry lips in an act that 
sent involuntary shivers down her spine.  "Damn I'm good -- 
I piss him off even when I'm not trying."

She laughed.  It was so good to have him back, his humor 
fully intact even if his memory was not.  She was somewhat 
glad he had no recollection of what she had seen in her 
dreams.  She had even momentarily entertained the whimsical 
idea that she had experienced the memories for him, saving 
him from being haunted by them.

Having too many flashbacks to college mythology courses, 
she chided herself.  It was the story of Psyche, whose 
less-than-beautiful step-sister had borne some of Psyche's 
trials in her dreams, thus lessening the torture Psyche 
actually had to go through.

His hazel eyes were traveling the room between languid 
blinks... it was still a tiring occupation for him to keep 
his eyes open more than a couple of minutes at a time.  
He frowned, biting the inside of his lower lip in 
contemplation.

"Would you do me a favor?" he asked lightly, not turning 
back to face her.

"Anything, Mulder.  You know that."  Her tone was heavy 
and serious, and he cut his eyes over to meet hers.  
The utter commitment and honesty he saw there made his 
heart contract.

He did his best to squeeze her fingers, but his motor 
functions felt like he'd ingested far over a logical 
limit of alcohol and he barely managed it.  She felt his 
effort, though, and smiled tremulously, returning the 
gesture.

"I know, Scully.  I know," he said softly, his eyes 
burning into hers.  They stayed like that for a few 
moments before Mulder's eyes reluctantly drifted shut 
against the exhaustion that threatened to overtake him 
completely.

Scully released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been 
holding, then took another deep one before saying in 
a decidedly lighter tone, "So.  What's this favor you 
want?"

"Anything, Scully?  For real?" he asked, and although 
his eyes were still closed, she heard the leer in his 
voice.

"Don't even go there right now," she warned him playfully.  
"You don't know what you're asking for."

At that, he forced his eyes open, exhaustion or not, in 
order to give her a full, honest-to-goodness leer.  "Oh, 
but I do know; that's why I'm asking for it."

She humored him with a wicked grin, then shook her head 
and added more seriously, "Not in a hospital, Mulder.  
Besides," and here she raised her head haughtily, mirth 
dancing in her eyes.  "You can't even hold my hand properly 
or keep your eyes open.  I doubt you're up to that sort 
of strenuous activity."

He pouted, his lower lip jutting out temptingly.  "Ah, 
but Scully, the doctor said I needed to start a 
physical therapy program..."

"I'm afraid that idea's a little too unconventional, 
even for you, Mulder," she teased, squeezing his hand again.  
"Now come on, really.  What's this favor?"  What he was 
going to say -- if the look on his face was any indication 
of it -- was pre-empted by an elegantly arched eyebrow, and 
he smiled meekly, having been properly chastised.

"Just wanted you to read me all the cards.  You know, let 
me revel in the attention a little.  Plus..." his eyes took 
on a mischievous twinkle, "I want to comment on what bad 
taste in flowers everyone has."

She grinned, and shook her head.  "All right," she laughed, 
squeezing his hand again as his eyes fluttered shut.  She 
stood up, moving over to where most of the flowers were 
on a table directly across from his bed.  "Where shall 
we begin?  Friends, acquaintances, or who-the-hell-is-that?"

He chuckled softly, and she glanced over her shoulder at 
him.  His eyes were still closed.  "How about... um, let's 
start with..." she turned back to the table too quickly 
to see him open his eyes, scanning the forest of petals.

"Who's that one from, to your left?  The one with the 
sunflowers and chicory?  It's nice."  She picked it up 
gingerly, laughing when he grumbled, "Now watch that one 
be from Kersh, now that I've admitted I like it..."

She smiled, turning back to him.  "Nope, it's from 
someone a lot nicer than that."  His eyes were again closed, 
and she came over to set the bouquet on his abdomen, sitting 
down in the chair again.  Her lower back was just starting 
to ache with the pregnancy, not terribly, but enough that 
she liked to sit whenever possible.

She reached over and adjusted the little card attached to 
the bouquet that had little hearts in the corners.  "Can 
you read it?" she asked, and he opened his eyes to test 
it out.

He was silent for a few minutes, his brow wrinkling in 
confusion and concentration, then he said, "I think you'd 
better read it for me.  I... can't be seeing what I think I'm 
seeing."  He turned his eyes, cloudy with uncertainty, 
toward her, and she felt a pang of guilt.

She'd forgotten to tell him, and his eyes had been closed 
at all the wrong moments.  What with the excitement of 
having him back... and he was never awake for more than 
a few minutes at a time... and he would always ask about 
what had happened to him...

She hadn't told him.

Damn.

But she let none of this show on her face, taking the 
card from the little plastic pitchfork and clearing her 
throat gently.  "It says," she paused, tucking her hair 
behind her ear.  "'To: Daddy.  I'm glad you're home 
safe.  Love, Foxette.'"

He looked at her strangely.  "That must've gotten 
delivered to the wrong room," he said softly, daring her 
with his eyes to tell him he was wrong.  Begging her.

She shook her head.  "Uh... actually..." she stammered, 
unsure now of how to breach the subject.

"Stand up, Scully," he said suddenly.  Her head snapped 
up to meet his eyes, which he was struggling to keep 
open.  "Please," he added, and she nodded silent 
acquiescence.

Standing, she let her trench coat fall open to reveal 
her pregnancy, and his eyebrows raised, his eyes 
widening.  He recovered quickly, however.  "And just 
what has the enigmatic Dr. Scully been up to in my 
absence?" he quipped.  "I thought we got rid of 
Padgett."

Her eyes flashed fire at him, warning him that was 
dangerous ground.  "You're the one who said not to 
give up on a miracle," she reminded him softly.  She 
looked at him to see his eyes closed again, though from 
the way he had pulled his lower lip between his teeth, she 
realized he was only trying to absorb everything.

When he opened his eyes again, they were cloudy with joy 
and tears, all teasing gone.  He moved his hand slightly 
on the bed, and she reached out to take it in her own.  
He squeezed as tightly as he could manage and blinked once, 
twice, to clear his vision.  "Wow," he said in a voice that 
was so full of wonder and awe that it made her own vision cloud.

She nodded, smiling and laughing softly through the tears 
that now fell over her face.  "Yeah," she whispered.  "I 
think that about sums it up."

"Wow," he said again, quiet chuckles passing his lips in 
bursts of breath.  She twined her fingers through his and 
settled into the chair beside the bed again.  She closed 
her eyes and leaned her head over on his chest, listening 
to the strong beat of his heart.  She had done that a lot 
since his return, to reassure herself of the life pulsing 
through his veins.

He closed his eyes on a sigh, wishing he could thread 
his fingers through her hair.  They stayed that way for 
some time, and she thought he had fallen asleep when his 
voice startled her out of her languid musings.

"You're not serious about the Foxette."

She laughed, sitting up.  "I realized when I was writing 
the card that I hadn't thought of a name for her, and that 
was the only thing I could think of.  Don't worry, I don't 
think it will go on her birth certificate."

He moved his left hand -- the one Scully wasn't holding -- 
as much as he could, managing to brush against the basket the 
arrangement was contained in.  "From Foxette, huh," he said, 
admiring the blue and yellow of the petals.  "None from 
Dr. Scully?"

His eyes turned to her teasingly, and she gave him one 
of her full smiles, then looked down at the bed with 
uncharacteristic shyness that he found utterly adorable.  
His eyes ached to close, but he wouldn't let them.  Still 
not looking at him, she murmured, "I didn't think I needed 
to give you flowers.  You already have my heart."

He blinked rapidly, drawing in a sharp breath.  
"Oh, Scully..." he rasped, trying to tug on her hand.  With 
everything in him, he cursed his present immobility.  What 
he wouldn't give to be able to lean up and kiss her!

She read his mind, though, leaning in and giving him 
a soft kiss, a butterfly brush across his lips.  His eyes 
studied hers intensely, and she gave him a quavering smile.  
"I really do love you, you know," he whispered.

She nodded, laughing softly.  "I know," she whispered back.  
"But I am getting tired of associating those words with 
seeing you incapacitated in a hospital bed..."

He smiled, and she laid her head on his chest again, closing 
her eyes and snuggling into his body.  He finally allowed 
his eyes to drift closed, breathing out a sigh of pure 
contentment.  Scully echoed the sentiment, and the child 
in her womb gave a slight flutter before the three of them 
allowed a bit of peaceful sleep to wind its way around 
their tiny family.

~The End!~


More Author's Notes:  I had a little trouble with 
Scully's character being a little mushy toward the end 
here, but hey.  Blame it on the pregnancy hormones.
I don't think any of us could really blame her at this 
point.  *Smiles*