From: Shannon Date: Wed, 02 May 2001 21:40:29 -0700 Subject: There Were Butterflies by Shannon Kizzia Source: direct There Were Butterflies by Shannon Kizzia (lmelao@earthlink.net) Rating: R for language and implied sex Archive: Sure! Just keep these headers intact and drop me a line to let me know. :) Spoilers: Season 8 Summary: Scully and Mulder have a par-taaay in their new home. Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance Category: SRH Author's Notes: A little sappy. A little happy. A little humor. A lot of love. I tried to go all caustic with this one, but Scully and Mulder were having none of it. Thanks for all the great feedback I've gotten over "Touch" and "Just Fine". It makes my day to hear from you! As always, I'm grateful for the help of my peeps: Indi, Mai, and Jason. They put up with my lunacy and emails entitled "another question..." ;o I want to dedicate this story to my dear friend and love, Katie, who is no longer of this world but who watches over me and who's helped me to write again. I will always love you. Disclaimer: Moose and Squirrel belong to 1013, CC, and David and Gillian. The Burley Man, the Geeks, the Mom, and the New Guy also are property of CC. Carol and Colleen belong to Gillian Anderson and I thank her profusely for them. No infringement is intended. There Were Butterflies by Shannon Kizzia For Katie.... **** "You make me want to vomit!" She's yelling at me again. I really don't know what I've done. Yes, I ate the double mocha chip raspberry ice cream. I thought it was mine. She already ate her two pints. This one was mine. I know it. So it's not that. I got parsley instead of cilantro at the store tonight. I can't believe she can tell the difference. Only Scully would distinguish between two barely edible shrubberies. I seriously doubt it's that. I tracked mud into the foyer. I know we've only lived here a month and I know it took Scully hours to decide on whether the entryway needed taupe or off-beige carpet, whatever the hell off-beige is, but Doggett and I had to chase what was either a web-footed, half amphibian/half humanoid or a guy in flippers through the Shenendoah backwoods in the rain and afore mentioned mud for about 3 hours -- for a web-footed guy, he was really fast -- and I was tired and just forgot to take my shoes off at the door. I cleaned it up, so I don't think it's that. I've already been yelled at for that. No, this is worse. I've never gotten, "You make me want to vomit!" before. It's a little disturbing. I play deaf. "What?" "Mulder, I said where'd you put the Comet?!" The Comet. She's yelling from the bathroom. Of course. She waddles out into the living room, hands on her hips. "They're going to be here at 6 and I'd like to have that tub not looking like The Swamp Thing lives in it." I look up from my Windexing. "Is Comet the stuff in that bottle that looks like parmesan cheese?" She rolls her eyes. "Nevermind. You're going to sit down right now. I told you I'd do the bathroom." At her pursed lips and the fact that she hasn't budged I add, "Scully, unless you're trying to have a baby tonight, I'd suggest you sit your ass down." I put down my squeegee bottle and close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around her large middle. "Hun..." "Don't," she warns. "Scully." She relaxes a bit. No endearments right now. "Scully, I love you, but you're driving me crazy. Go sit." "Fuck you, Mulder. I can still clean that tub better than you ever could." She plants a light kiss on my lips. "Potty mouth," I call her and kiss her back, this time lingering over it. She has the softest, swollen lips. And she tastes like vanilla beans and peaches. She listens to me for once and goes over to the couch and lowers herself onto it in that way that only a very pregnant woman can. My cleaning of the living room conquered, I head off to start on the swamp tub. **** One by one they arrive. Most of our closest friends. It will be a few weeks before we see them again probably. Mulder and I decided to take maternity leave together. Skinner actually suggested it. I know Mulder was feeling bad for Doggett, leaving him high and dry for a while, but now I suspect he's thinking Doggett's got it made. He doesn't have to deal with an overdue me and all the hormones coursing through my gigantic body day in and day out like Mulder does. I know I've been short with Mulder. I'm just so uncomfortable. That's a tremendous understatement. I haven't seen my feet in a month, I'm swollen and itchy and hot, and I haven't had full out, body-slamming sex in far too long. It's not that I haven't had urges. They come out of nowhere. I'll be brushing my teeth or flipping past the Travel Channel and I just want to call up Mulder at the office and tell him to get is beautiful butt home to eat me out as soon as humanly possible. My physical and hormonal predicament has had me both spontaneously horny and quick to anger and lash out. The poor guy has been on the receiving end of my temper way too much lately. He's had to deal with my outbursts three times more often than my sudden libido. I have to say he's dealing really well with both. Especially the latter, of course. That man's mouth has been very busy of late. I've been craving the feeling of his mouth on me this last month of my pregnancy. I crave that mouth like I crave chocolate and ice cream and Tabasco. And Mulder's been so ready and eager to please me. It's pretty nice getting to demand oral sex at 4 in the morning or in the middle of dinner. And I *do* reciprocate. We both enjoy doing it for each other, so it works out quite well. Mulder is putting CDs in when the doorbell rings and I'm snapped out of my sensual reverie. "I got it," I yell from the kitchen. I've been putting beer in the fridge. I miss beer. Shit. Almost all of our friends are men. And the few girlfriends I have are out of town. The testosterone is thick as they file in with their gifts. Skinner arrives with a bouquet of calla lilies and a wrapped gift. Doggett with a bottle of sparkling cider and a copy of _Goodnight Moon_. The boys with three pizzas, three movies, and a teething ring. This is turning into a house warming/baby shower/wedding reception/farewell party. I can't even remember whose idea it was to have this little fete tonight. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to see everyone and I'm eternally grateful that I didn't have to freakin' cook!, but part of me -- the big, round, kicking part -- just wants to take a long bath and then fall into bed and sleep for days. I've barely moved today and I'm exhausted. Plus, I could deliver at any moment. My doctor says if this kid isn't ready to come out in two more days, I'm going to be induced. I'm all for it. So is Mulder. Tonic comes over the speakers from the living room. I like the loud burst of guitar as "Casual Affair" begins. Between Mulder and me, this kid is going to be quite eclectic -- my Nine Inch Nails, Mulder's Bob Marley, my Grieg, Mulder's Green Day, my Indigo Girls, Mulder's Bach, our combined collection of Prince.... I actually think this kid might have been conceived to "Sexy Mother Fucker". I close the door behind Frohike and turn for his enthusiastic hug. I can't help but smile as he addresses my stomach. "Hey baby!" He places both hands against me and his left ear, too. This is fine. He asked me a couple weeks ago if he could touch my tummy. I can't imagine saying no, not wanting him to. "It's Uncle Frohike. You sure are getting big!" Langly slaps him soundly on the thigh. "Shut up, Melvin!" "No, it's fine. I don't mind." I smile and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "I'm huge. Trying not to notice that fact would be ridiculous." Mulder is showing Skinner the backyard and Byers is headed that direction as well. Doggett is leaning against the wall half in the foyer, half in the living room, looking unsure of himself. I want to wander over and say hi, but Frohike and Langly are monopolizing me with their rapid fire questions. "Do you want a boy or a girl?" "Either." "What does Mulder want? " "Both." "How long are you taking off?" "Mulder's taking six weeks. I'm taking three months." "Will you be going back on the X-Files?" With a wry look I answer, "I'll always be on the X-Files, in some capacity or another. Mulder wouldn't have it any other way." I decide to be honest. "And neither would I. We're not sure yet how it's all going to work." I trail off lamely. I really don't know where my future with the FBI is. I've been too consumed with the pregnancy and the house and loving Mulder to really come to a definitive career decision. I just have to trust the universe to put me where it needs me. I'm along for the ride essentially. I need to sit, so I urge the boys into the living room. As I pass Doggett, I squeeze his arm and grin. "I'm glad you could make it." He smiles back and some of the tension in his shoulders seeps out from under him. I go to plop on the couch and Langly and Frohike start fussing over me. Langly: "Do you want some juice or milk?" Frohike: "Would you like another pillow behind your back?" "I'm fine." I smile up at them. "I just hope you don't mind getting your own beers." At the suggestion of free alcohol, they shuffle purposefully off to the kitchen. I yell after them, "There's Moosehead on the top shelf and some Dos Equis near the back. I put about four Sam Adams in the freezer so they should be really cold by now. One of you fetch Doggett one, would you?" Doggett smiles at me and takes a seat in the arm chair by the couch. "Thanks, Scully," he says and I'm glad he dropped the "Agent" off the front while he's in my home at least. My lips crook up in a tiny, amused smile. He continues as he surveys the room, "I really like what you and Mulder have down with the place. It's a real nice home." "Thank you." I rather like it myself. There are a lot of Indian prints. I like how colorful the room is. And it's a nice blend of Mulder clutter and Scully neat. I slowly rub my hand over the swell of my child. He...She...is restless and elbowing me relentlessly. I love the way she feels, how her head rolls into my hand, stays there for a moment, then rolls on. I hear the sliding glass door open behind me and I turn to see Mulder, Skinner, and Byers come back in the house. I catch the last of Mulder's sentence. "...tree house by summer, which should be a fun project." He turns to see me seeing him and as he passes by the back of the couch, I reach my hand out to him. He takes it in his and brings my fingers to his lips before he walks on and we're forced to let go. "Can I get you guys a drink?" Mulder asks as he makes his way to the kitchen. "I'm the designated driver, so I'll take a Coke if you have it," says Byers. "I'd like a beer. Thanks," comes Skinner's reply. Then Mulder looks at me, "Hun?" I can feel myself blush and I don't know whether to frown in disapproval of his pet name in front of the others or smile vacuously. We've never really behaved as the couple we are in front of our friends. This is the first time we've seen them in our own territory, in this context. It feels...different, good. So I smile. "Maybe you could open that cider Doggett brought?" "Yep. Coming up." He and Frohike share a not-so-subtle exchange of wicked smiles. Even Skinner looks amused. Mulder's so transparent it's funny. He's elated that I let him call me Hun in front of our company. He knows the message couldn't be more clear if he'd've pointed at me and shouted, "Mine! My woman!" and then peed around the couch. I think it's adorable how territorial he is with me, with our house, with our child. It's not like the situation isn't obvious. Mulder knocked me up. We bought a house together. Yes, we fuck like bunnies and yes, we're proud of the result. We're going to raise a child together. We were committed to one another long before we could even admit it to ourselves or each other. These are not things we've tried to keep hidden recently, but I think Mulder wants tonight to put an exclamation point on the end of that knowledge. I am humbled by how obviously proud of us, of me, he is. The CDs swap and now it's Depeche Mode, "Personal Jesus". Frohike comes to sit on the arm of the couch, throws back a swallow of Dos Equis and says, "I *love* this one! Care to dance, Ms. Scully?" "I'd love to, but baby wants to sit this one out." I know he knows I can't boogie down or anything, but I like that he asked anyway. I realize I'm relaxed now. I've got a pillow under my lower back, Mulder's handing me a pretty cranberry colored liquid in a graceful champagne flute, and I feel the sigh come out of my body like a wave of warm water. This is good. Mulder comes to sit next to me. He lifts my legs and then settles them across his lap. He palms his beer in his left hand and rubs my thigh with his right as he carries on his conversation with Langly. It's something about how to cheat at computer poker. Doggett and Skinner suddenly laugh over something they're discussing. Frohike is singing along. Byers is listening to Mulder and scrubbing his beard. I sip my drink and cover Mulder's hand in mine. He looks at me, no longer talking and only half listening to Langly's rebuttal. I mouth the words. And he winks and mouths, **** After taking a few moments to just talk and drink and try to tone out Frohike's enthusiastic singing, I notice that Scully looks hungry. I know the hungry look. I suggest we all eat. We do the paper plate thing out in the living room, continuing to talk around the mushrooms, cheese, and basil. Scully puts away four and a half pieces. I'll miss the pregnant eating after she's had the baby. I think it's adorable as hell. After we're done, I shift our position on the couch so that I'm behind her and she's leaning against my chest, in between my legs. It is intimate and comfortable. I enjoy how her hair feels against my chin, how our child feels against my hands, her hands on top of mine. It feels so normal, so unlike our lives up to now. I never thought I'd want this life. Now I can't imagine going back. I'm in love with all of it. I remember once being out in the field with Scully. It was some case a couple years ago involving cataloguing middle America's manure use. Typical Kersh assignment. We'd been to about 8 residences in Nebraska. It was August and not only hot, but humid, and we were trudging away from a barn somewhere in East Bumfuck. Suddenly, like they were brought in on the southwest wind, there were butterflies. Thousands of small, yellow butterflies. And they were dancing around Scully as she walked ahead of me. I remember my breath catching at the sight of her, so small in this field, but so large in this universe. My quest has been in the stars, searching between the constellations. It has been a grand quest, bigger, I thought, than a woman in a field and some butterflies. Now Scully is pregnant with our child and I feel how absurd and perfect it is that through all my life and its sorrows and losses, I've found the truth and it's right here under my hands, these two heartbeats. "What next?" Langly asks the room. "Huh?" I'm lost. "I haven't seen _A Few Good Men_ in ages," Scully chimes in. "Can that be next? Any objections?" I realize that the credits...or I should say the music and total lack of credits is rolling for _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_ and I don't remember watching it. Sometimes my Scully concentration is so intense that it eclipses all else. She turns her head to me and says softly, "Are you okay, Mulder? You didn't laugh very much." I emulate her soft tone. "Yeah, I'm good. I guess I find it hard to concentrate on anything else when your ass is up against my crotch, Scully." She laughs and wiggles against me suggestively, but not so much that anyone would notice. "I love that the single-mindedness I've always admired in you pertains to me and not just the work, Mulder." "There's nothing I'd rather pay attention to." She leans in and plants an open-mouthed kiss on my neck. "Are we gonna watch this or are you two gonna make out all night?" Frohike asks. "Both," I throw back at him and Scully smiles as she thwaps me on the knee. **** We're to the "You can't handle the truth!" scene when all of a sudden a horrible pain grips me and I cry out, "Oh my God!" I double over my belly and immediately Mulder has his hands all over me. They're like moths, lighting and then winging away to light again. Skinner jumps up. "Scully? What's wrong?" "Nothing," I manage through the pain. "Nothing. I'm just having this baby." The words are barely out of my mouth when all hell breaks loose. Frohike drops his beer. Doggett can only say, "Shit. Oh, shit." over and over again. Byers, for some reason, takes the pizza boxes from the coffee table as though this is the logical first step in baby preparation, and runs them into the kitchen, a very determined look on his face. Skinner is shouting orders like a drill sergeant, "Somebody boil some water! And Doggett, go get a sheet from the bedroom! Somebody boil some WATER!" Langly screams like a girl. The pain passes and I breathe deeply, sagging against Mulder who's still trying to figure out what to do with me. He slips out from under me and lays me against the couch cushions, taking my face in his hands. "Scully? Is this it? Really?" "Yeah, I think so." I smile. The smile disappears when I see Doggett with my champagne colored silk sheets in his hands, his eyes wide with fear. "Nononono! Doggett! Put the sheets down!" I feel like I'm negotiating with a gun-toting madman. "That's not necessary! I'm not having this baby here." Thankfully, he trusts me and puts them down on a nearby chair, unmolested. Suddenly, Skinner starts yelling again. "Turn the stove off! Don't boil the water!" Oh yeah. He's helping. I roll my eyes as four men, looking like Keystone Cops, hasten to follow his completely unnecessary orders. Mulder is the only one not running left and right and diagonally and yelling. He's stock still actually. I want to laugh out loud at his deer-in-headlights impersonation. "Hey!" I yell and everybody stops. "Calm down, you freaks." I take a calming breath myself. "Now Frohike, I need you to go back to the bedroom and get my suitcase out of the closet. It's brown and already packed. Doggett, you need to call my mom. Her number's on the fridge under the Papa Smurf magnet. Skinner, pull your car around. It's big and will fit several of us. Byers, I need you to follow in Mulder's car. The keys are on the mantel. Langly, don't scream like that again or I'm gonna kick some ass." I look at Mulder. "Mulder. I need to you blink." I take his face in my hands now, my voice soft. "Mulder? Are you with me? I need you with me. Mulder?" He shakes his head, then a smile spreads on his beautiful face from ear to ear. "We're going to meet our baby, Scully." I get tears in my eyes. "I know." His arms are around me now, stroking my back, cupping the back of my head, and I'm crying and laughing into his shoulder. Suddenly, he jumps up and throws his arms in the air, making fists. "I'm gonna be a father!" he yells triumphantly. Byers, Langly, and Frohike come over to pat him on the back and give him bear hugs. Langly even high fives him. I want to say "Oh brother" but all I get out is, "Oh broooohhh!!!! as another contraction hits and the pain takes my breath away. And just like that, they're all back to running and scrambling and trying to do my bidding. Somehow I make it out to the car, though my water breaks on the way. "Holy shit!" exclaims Langly at the sight of all that liquid spilling out of me. "Grow up," Byers chides. The ride to the hospital is pretty uneventful, with Mulder holding me in the back seat of Skinner's Ford Explorer, Doggett occupying the passenger seat in front, and Skinner trying not to go 80 miles per hour down residential streets. I have only one contraction on the way there and I know I'm not too close. We're doing fine. "You're doing fine," Mulder assures me. How the hell does he know? I bite off the comment and just squeeze his hand tighter. "I want you to know that I'm glad you're with me, Mulder, and that you are such a comfort to me. Sharing this with you means everything to me. Everything." He nods vigorously. Skinner and Doggett exchange glances. "I need you to know that because from here on out I probably won't be showing it very well." "I understand," he says. And I really believe that he does. I nod at him and let out a sigh of relief. Just as we pull up to the emergency room driveway another contraction hits and Mulder tells me to breathe. I feel comfortable enough with my disclaimer of before to grit out, "Fuck off." **** This is it. This is unbelievably, mind-bogglingly it. Scully is having my baby. Scully. Having my baby. I think I'm going to pass out. Scully is the one breathing so fast that she should be hyperventilating, but I'm the one who's seeing spots. Somehow I'm still managing to keep my right arm wrapped strongly around Scully's shoulders and my left hand in hers. I think the woman is trying to break every bone in my hand. I guess I would be, too, if I were trying to push a person out of my vagina. Wait. That didn't work. "AAAH!" A flash of pain slices through my thoughts and my thumb where Scully has now bent it backwards. "Son of a fucking bitch!!" Scully shouts through the last of this round of pushing. She takes several quick breaths, gathering her resolve to push again soon. She looks at me pleadingly. "Oh, Scully. You're amazing. Just a little bit more. God, you're doing so great." "I can't," she pants and sags against me. "I can't, Muh...." The doctor pipes in, her deep, soothing voice making at least me feel better. "Dana, just one more push. It's time. Push now." Then more emphatically, "Push!" Scully leans forward again, her knees at a horrible angle, and grunts with the strain. "GGGGGAAAAHHH!!!!" "Here it comes," comes the doctor's play-by-play. "The shoulder's out. Just a bit more. There!" We are breathless with anticipation. Scully whimpers next to me, eyes wide. I gulp and squeeze Scully's hand tight in mine. The doctor holds up our baby. "Congratulations. You have a gorgeous baby girl." "Oh my God," I whisper. Scully breaks into happy sobs. I look from her to the baby and back again. A girl. "I have a daughter. Scully, we have a daughter." They take her away to clean her up and I hear her piercing wail. I laugh. It's the best sound I've ever heard. I turn to Scully. Her bottom lip trembles and her tears spill over her eyelids and roll in fat drops down her face. "I love you," she sobs. I lose it. I mean lose it. I'm crying harder than she is. "I love you. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou..." I say and keep saying it as I pull her to me and whisper into her hair. We both laugh and cry at the same time. Her tired fingers grip at the muscles of my back and she wipes her nose on my shirt. She pulls away and we both laugh again. I don't know why. We're both sweaty and exhausted -- okay, she's got me so beat there -- and we're both red and puffy from crying and we're snotty and we're laughing and touching each other. Finally, they bring out our child. She's clean and wrapped in a blanket. The nurse lays her in Scully's arms and I don't know which is more breath-takingly beautiful, my little girl or Scully's awed face as she really looks at her baby for the first time. My tears begin anew. "Hi," Scully breathes. She finds her tiny hand in the blanket and the little fingers close around Scully's one. She leans down and places the gentlest of kisses to the baby's forehead and a quiet tear slips off her cheek and onto the baby's. "She's beautiful." I keep my tone hushed, like I'm in a church service. "My God, Scully, she looks like us." Scully laughs and looks up at me smiling. "She has your lips. And your expression when you sleep." "That's your nose. Your eyebrow crease. Scully, those are your fingers." "How is it possible that I already love her this much, Mulder? I didn't know I could love like this. It hurts." I lean down and first brush my lips against Scully's hairline, then with the greatest care that I can muster, I kiss my daughter for the first time. She is softer than a bunny and she smells sweet like nothing I've ever experienced. "I love you..." My voice breaks and Scully leans her head against my shoulder. The three of us sit cuddled together for long, precious minutes, not speaking, too shocked to move or talk. But it's like Scully and I are psychically linked. I feel her thoughts of love and her promise to always remember every detail about this day, this moment. I feel so close to her. We don't need to speak. We never have. We have perfection here in our midst. There's nothing else to see or feel or say. We are completed. Too soon, the nurse rejoins us and informs me that it is now my duty to go be proud in the lobby and pretend to smoke a cigar. Scully looks up at me with a smile that is both blinding in its joy and sapped of almost all energy. "Get out there, Dad." Dad. Jesus Christ. I reach down to kiss Scully, my chapped lips against her parched ones and her hand caresses my face. "I'll be back soon, Mom." The look on her face when I call her that is priceless. It's the look of someone who never expected to get to hear it and have it mean them. I regretfully leave her and the baby and make my way down the hall toward the steel grey swinging doors at the end. I feel pride well within me like a tidal wave. I push through the doors and there they all are: Maggie Scully, Danny, Skinner's secretary, Kimberly, Scully's friends, Carol and Colleen, obviously cutting their North Carolina trip short, and of course the whole gang from the party. They are all staring at me like freaks. I remember those commercials -- "When E.F. Hutten talks, people listen." I let my poker face fall and smile widely. "It's a girl! We have a girl! Scully's doing great!" A cheer goes up from the crowd and I'm rushed like the quarterback during a blitz. My hair is ruffled. My back is pounded. My cheeks are kissed. After all the rough housing dies down, the group makes way for Maggie to get through to me. Her face is filled with a love so profound. I'm just beginning to understand it. "Fox." She says nothing more and just falls into my chest. My arms go around her and we sway like bad dancers. Her eyes are bright with moisture when she leans back in my embrace. "Can I see her?" "Yes, yes, of course!" I say quickly and excuse the two of us from the others who've started their own little waiting room par-taaay, complete with Skinner making toasts with Fresca and Frohike hitting on the lesbians. I lead Maggie away and through the doors, back toward my beautiful women and with each step I offer my thanks to whoever or whatever let this much happiness into my heart. **** The lights are out except for a dim 40 watt bulb on the desk lamp on the far side of the room. It casts warm shadows over the bed. They finally had to pry my baby out of my arms so that I could try to sleep a little. It's 3 AM and I've been dozing off and on. The baby woke to cry about 20 minutes ago and Mulder got up from his sentinel in the reclining chair beside my bed. He asked if she needed feeding. Mulder has fallen in love with watching me breast feed our child. He's seen it twice now. But he wanted to see it again. I shook my head no, and told him I thought she just wanted her Daddy to rock her. I got to lie back and watch Mulder cradle his daughter and sing softly to her, The Rolling Stones, "Gimme Shelter". I know it was just the first thing that popped into his head. It made me want to grab him and kiss the life out of him. I fell in love with him again in that moment. Now he's asleep in the chair and drooling on himself. Our baby, Katherine Claire, is probably drooling, too. I can hear her short, little breaths as she sleeps. She's a miracle. I let Mulder's and Katie's breathing lull me and I close my eyes. Darkness swims around me comfortingly and I let my brain go. I just let go. And I fall blissfully asleep, my body giving over to its exhaustion, and soon I am dreaming. Dreaming of Mulder holding our baby. And they are surrounded by butterflies. End Feeback welcomed at lmelao@earthlink.net