From s_anders@ix.netcom.com Tue Mar 11 16:27:28 1997
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: REPOST: A Thimble for Peter (0/7)
From: Anderson <s_anders@ix.netcom.com>
Date: Tue, 11 Mar 1997 22:27:28 GMT
--------
A Thimble for Peter

Category: MSR.  Serious Angst

Rating: R (maybe for language and adult situations)

Spoilers: TFWID, Leonard Betts (maybe), Memento Mori

Summary:  Set in the un-named future.  In the wake of an
unexpected event, Mulder and Scully must overcome pride and
uncertainty before too much time has passed.

Author's Notes:  This started as a little expriment in preperation
for another story which was promised and has not yet been written.
So, as "practice", I started this one.  Then Cheryl signed on as
co-author and it began breathing a big life of its own.

***Anyhow, let me warn that the following deals with a
controversial subject.  How the characters deal with it is one
possibility and not the only one, obviously.  It is not intended
to be a commentary on the matter.

***We've tried to remain true to the characters.  However since it
invloves MSR, it obviously doesn't strictly follow X-File Canon.
Either forgive that or move on ;>.

Thanks to Cheryl DeLuca:  I've never written with someone before.
Thanks for making it a fun experience, despite our occasional
disagreements and compromises.  It was a lesson in viewing the
same characters in different lights.  Thanks x Million.  You are
an excellent writer.  Thanks to Debbie Goldstein:  What an
attentive editor/beta reader you are.  I was floored by the effort
you put into helping us with the numerous parts of this story
which had to be fixed.  Thanks x Million.

(Cheryl bypassed on Author's Notes but wanted to say "Hi!" to her
Mom....;>)

Disclaimer:  Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, and all things X-File belong
to the brilliant Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions, and Fox
Broadcasting.  Anything else is ours.  We have no intention of
deriving any material profit from this in part because we don't
have the drive or the connections.  We use the characters in
admiration and for recreational purposes only...LITERARY
recreation that is.

End (0/7)


From s_anders@ix.netcom.com Tue Mar 11 16:29:31 1997
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: REPOST: A Thimble for Peter (1/7)
From: Anderson <s_anders@ix.netcom.com>
Date: Tue, 11 Mar 1997 22:29:31 GMT
--------
A Thimble for Peter (1/7)

by

S. Anderson (s_anders@ix.netcom.com)
-or-
Cheryl DeLuca (cheryld@inforamp.net)

Category: MSR.  Serious Angst

Rating: R (maybe for language and adult situations)

Spoilers: TFWID, Leonard Betts (maybe), Memento Mori

Sept 25th
6:58pm
	
His head bobbed back and forth through the long narrow window in
the door.  Watching.  He just needed to see her, make sure all was
fine.  Shifting from foot to foot, he contemplated his escape
before she looked up.  If she did, she would see an unwelcome face
appear and disappear behind the wooden barricade that separated
them.  She had told him not to come.  He wasn't supposed to be
there.  But he was.  For one small peek.
	
The woman's hands spun warm, slow circles around Scully's abdomen.
Even among the splash of basic colors in the room's decor, Fox
Mulder was hypnotized by the lazy rhythm.  The motion was all he
could focus on.  Not the controlled heaving of Scully's chest.
Nor the fact that she and her mother were only two of fifteen
pairs sprawled on the navy mats dotting the floor.  Nor that they
were mismatched among the other couples.  All he could see was the
way Margaret Scully's hand eased the imaginary pain Dana's swollen
stomach would soon bring.  It should have been his hands.  After
all, it had been his touch, his caress that had led them down this
path.  It didn't matter now.
	
She had told him not to come.  He wasn't supposed to be there.

A sharp clap yanked him from the yearning stupor a little too
late.  The Lamaze instructor clapped again to make sure her
students were watching her for a brief review of the evening's
exercises.  As Scully rose to the best sitting position she and
her mother could manage, there was no mistaking the pendulum of
brown hair standing in the hall.  Hazel locked with unforgiving
blue.  The pathetic surveillance had been blown to hell.  Mulder
could already hear the litany of apologies he would have to make.
If it were going to happen, might as well make another stand now
and get it over with.
	
Dana Scully watched the clock above their heads tick off the
seconds before she would have to face him.  Mulder would be there
when they left.  Now that he had been discovered, she knew he
would not run.  She began to make a mental list of ways she might
get this man out of her sight and mind, and for a few more hours,
her heart.  She had told him not come.
	
Mulder saw the class break up and watched as Margaret helped
Scully to her feet.  Another one of HIS jobs.  It could have been
his if he had ever had a clue about their marriage, about what
they were supposed to be building together.  If he had been able
to find the courage to choose...

***

Eight months earlier...

	
"NO SCULLY...NO!"  Mulder waved his hand at an invisible foe and
turned his back on the smaller yet equally strong figure sitting
in front of him.  The silence in their small two bedroom apartment
rolled around them; feeding off his anger.
	
A short, decisive breath later Scully replied, " 'NO' you don't
want it? or 'NO' you can't believe it?  Which is it Mulder?"
	
Mulder spun to face her in mid pace on the opposite end of the
couch from where she was sitting.  Defiant to the last, she stared
him down as the words rolled out of her husband's mouth. " 'NO' I
can't believe it.  And..."  He was all too aware of the war he was
about to wage.  The shape of her eyes, wide with emotional terror,
told him Scully knew, as always, where he was going and knew it
was going to kill some small part of her.  " 'NO' we can't HAVE
it..."
	
"We CAN'T HAVE IT!"  Scully was off the couch and moving towards
him with heavy measured steps.  "Are you presuming to withhold
some imaginary permission from me?  From MY body?"  This had
become yelling long before she had expected.  Watching both of his
hands rake through his hair, she remembered the best way to deal
with an angry Mulder was not to match him in volume or threats.
Her tone made a retreat but her conviction did not.  Standing
close enough now, she reached out to rest her left hand on his
chest.  The emotion had turned the cool smooth cotton warm and
damp.
	
He was instantly calmed by the contact.  This was still his wife,
the only one he had ever considered as his mate and the only one
with whom a lifetime was possible.  Taking her hand in his, Mulder
looked down at the tension in her fingers and briefly considered
running his lips across the single, thin gold band there to take
it away.  His voice was low and sad, crackling just a bit.  "Dana,
we agreed..."
	
Scully stepped forward to interrupt, she knew where this was
going.  Her right hand slipped along the top of his belt and made
a slow, tender trail to the small of his back while her body
invited and received a fearful embrace.  "Yes.  Yes, we agreed.
But you and I both know that pledge was made at a time when we
believed conception wasn't going to be possible for me.  It was an
academic promise, just in case we were wrong."

The embrace of Dana Scully, Mulder had learned, was not a finite
action.  It was an experience much like a song.  A different
musician could reveal a nuance heard only when that artist played
the same notes as any other musician might play.  With this woman,
her musicians were her moods and they played themselves in her
body and how it wrapped itself around him.  He had heard this
version of the song before.  He liked it.  At times, he craved it.
It told of her bonafide need that he understand and support her in
this.  If not for the terror, disguised as conviction, pounding in
his head, she may have succeeded.  Removing her arms from him,
Mulder turned around to breathe air that didn't contain her smell
in hopes he could gather his thoughts and make her see how wrong
this was.

"But 'just in case' happened anyway..." was the first thing he
could come up with.  "How?"

Scully would not be put off, taking another step forward, she
touched him again by placing both hands flat on his back and left
them still as if she might draw the fear out of him and infuse
Mulder with the joy cowering inside her.  "Mulder, I was the only
woman returned near death...with the kind of branched, genetic
waste you found."  Her voice was articulate, but meek.  It was a
painful memory for both of them.  "What if it was an attempt to
*fix* what 'they' had done to my body?"

Mulder turned to face her.  The corners of Scully's mouth were
wrinkled in a half smile, half frown that spoke of quite
desperation.  She continued, "What if the branched material was
some attempt at gene therapy targeting the infertility caused by
what they did to me?"  Scully watched as his face relaxed.  He was
listening.  "Think about it.  You have always said that their goal
was to create some human hybrid."  She cringed inside as she used
his explanations to further her very personal cause.  "Why would
they continue with such a project if it meant the sterilization of
human females?  The men we've come to fight would never be
satisfied with a course of action that could ultimately lead to
the end of their own species."

Mulder was rubbing his face furiously with both hands, but it gave
her more room to talk...and to stall.  "Perhaps I was the first
case which gave them some hint of success.  Surely, you never
believed this 'Cancerman.'  No amount of twisted, misplaced
affection led to my return.  My survival had to offer them
something."  It suddenly shocked her.  She was Scully the
scientist in a moment where science had no place.  When Mulder
stilled himself and stared at her for some deeper answer, she
offered what was she really believed at that second.  "Mulder,
sometimes all the intentions in the world can't protect us from
chance."
	
Mulder's ears were straining to hear her words.  Silence returned
and he stepped forward to take her once again into his arms.  He
needed the time to make her understand that they could not do
this.  They had already risked so much to be together in the open.
As much as the worry and caution had been worth it in order to
claim her life back and their future, to bring a child into this
would be too much he reasoned.  He had come to second guess
everything they did and everywhere they went.  There was no doubt
in his mind that a life they created together would become a third
target to protect.  It would exhaust them if not destroy them
should they fail.  Mulder swallowed and pushed forward in the lie
he was telling himself.  He would make her understand...of course
he would...  "I...Scully..." A cough, his arms tightened.  Time to
jump.  Time to try.  "I...would go..."  A swallow.  "I would
go...with you..."  The words were hollow with their morbid
meaning.
	
Her flesh became dead weight in his arms.  Later, when he looked
back on those unfinished words, all he would see was the picture
of what he had broken inside her.  Without a tear or hint of rage,
Dana disengaged herself from the void she felt with the stranger
holding her and left without ever making a sound.

***

Sept 25th
7:02 pm

	
Dana Scully took her time getting her stuff gathered and her coat
on. A feeling of dread washing over her as the instructor,
accompanied by the last of the couples left the classroom and
drifted out into the hallway. She swallowed down the lump that
caught in her throat as their excited and expectant conversations
drifted back up to the classroom.
	
"I'm going natural, no epidural for me. And Jimmy's going to be
there every step of the way.. Right Jimmy?"

"Every step honey.." A jovial man's voice replied, as the elevator
bell dinged, and silence once again claimed the hallway.
	
"Come on Dana." Margaret Scully grabbed the bag her daughter had
been stuffing with her Lamaze tools: 2 pillows, and her focal
point, a giant stuffed fish.  Slipping her arm through Dana's, she
said, "Waiting isn't going to make this any easier."  She looked
at her daughter, a deep concern edged her voice and showed on her
face.
	
He could no longer be seen through the doorway but she knew he was
there, waiting just out of view. Perhaps ready to inflict more
damage on her already painfully shattered spirit. She would not
let him see her cry.
	
Nodding her head slowly Scully picked up her information pamphlets
and slowly made her way to the door. She wanted to disappear, to
turn invisible and just walk right by Mulder without him even
noticing. That way she wouldn't have to talk to him again. She
wouldn't have to see his face, or smell his cologne. She could
simply leave with what little was left of her emotional control
fully intact.
	
Stepping through the doorway she hurriedly turned towards the
elevator without even looking to see if he was there or not. Her
mom, walking along side her turned to look over her shoulder, just
as his voice broke the still air around them.
	
"Dana."
	
She kept walking as her mother slowed. Maybe if she ignored him he
would go away.
	
But he wouldn't. He moved after her. "Dana, please.."
	
Margaret Scully grabbed her daughter's arm. "Honey please. He's
your husband. Talk to him."
	
Dana shook her head, a firm "No!" spilling out of her as she
reached the elevator and pressed the call button.
	
"We need to talk." He was only a few feet away now, and reached
out as if to touch her.
	
She backed away, and shook her head again. "There's nothing to
talk about Mulder. Whatever we had to say has already been said.
And if you're here for one last ditch effort to try and get me to
terminate this pregnancy, you're much to late."  She ran her hand
gently over her swollen belly. "Now it would legally be considered
murder."
	
Mulder shoved his hands deep into his jeans pockets, and kicked at
some imaginary dirt on the floor.  Who was this woman?  She
wielded *that* word so freely now.  Where was the clinical tone
that should have accompanied her reference to the act.  "That's
not what I want, and it's not why I'm here.."  He raised his head
and looked her straight in the eye, his own deep hazel ones a
brooding mixture of dark emotions.  "I want to try and make this
work between us."
	
Dana looked away, fighting back a few threatening tears.  She
would not cry.  She shook her head, anger seeping into her psyche.
"You told me to kill our baby Mulder.  A child you and I created
together out of love."  Her voice rose to a half yell.  "Not just
a putative child, a possibility or something that might never be.
But something that was already formed and living.  Our baby, and
you wanted it dead." She closed her eyes against the tears welling
up inside them, and sucked in her breath.  "It's over Mulder."
Her voice dropped to a sad tense whisper.  "The time to make it
work was 8 months ago."  She turned and made her way towards the
stairs, at the same time mentally cursing the elevator which had
still not arrived.
	
Margaret Scully followed close behind her daughter, her own tongue
kept firmly in check.  There were things she herself wanted to say
to Fox Mulder but now was neither the time nor the place.  Now was
about them, not her.
	
"It's not really over Scully, because I know you and if that was
what you really wanted we would be divorced by now."  Mulder
caught up to his wife and gripped her by the arm.

Scully spun on him.  "Wrong Mulder.  I've already seen a lawyer.
I simply haven't had the time to go back and sign the papers."
She brushed at his hand on her arm, as a single tear finally
escaped and rolled down her face.
	
"If you really wanted a divorce Dana you would have made the
time."  He pulled her closer to him and caught her tear with his
thumb.  His voice softened and he allowed her to see the pain in
his own eyes.  "I love you."  His hand cupped her face.  "I'm
going for counseling, and I need you to be there."  The decision
to seek outside help had left him feeling degraded and exposed.
His pride felt the sting again as he confessed his actions.
	
Dana shook her head and backed away a few feet.  His touch set off
an almost physical ache inside her.  She was going to cry after
all.  "I can't."  Her voice was hoarse, and her tears flooded past
her stoicism.  If it didn't work out it would hurt even more.
	
"Please." His eyes were pleading with hers. "We need to try."
	
Dana swallowed heavily, and shook her head again.  She was beyond
speaking.

Mrs. Scully moved up to her and put a loving hand on her daughters
back.  "Dana dear you owe it to yourself to try," she whispered
softly, at the same time running her hand through Dana's silky
auburn hair.  "If not for you then do it for the baby."  She
hugged her gently, wishing she could take away her little girl's
pain.  "I'll meet you down stairs."  She wiped away the tears
staining Dana's face.  And then she left.
	
"I-" Her voice broke.  "I can't do this again Mulder."  She looked
away from him not able to see he pain in his eyes.  "It hurt too
much the first time.."  She swiped at the fresh flood of tears,
and buried her face in her hands.
	
"I never meant to hurt you."  Mulder moved up and put his arms
around her.  "I'm sorry.."  She felt good in his arms, and it made
him feel complete.  A feeling that had abandoned him for far to
long.  He would make it work he promised himself.  He closed his
eyes for a moment and just enjoyed her in his embrace.  It didn't
matter that she was crying.  He would do whatever it took to make
things right.  He kissed the top of her head. "Please come talk to
someone with me.  Werber recommended the guy.  I think he's as
close to someone we can trust with this as we're going to get."

She nodded softly against his chest, as Mulder felt a soft push at
his abdomen.  Dana pulled away, and wiped her eyes with one hand
while the other went comfortingly to her belly.

Mulder stood there his mouth slightly agape.

Despite the tenseness of the situation Scully smiled.  "You were
squishing him or her."  Her hand jumped again as the baby
delivered another kick.

Mulder just stared at her like she had sprouted ten extra heads.
After seconds which lasted much too long, he saw the expectation
in her eyes, the need for him to acknowledge the sign of life they
had just shared.  "You decided not to find out the sex?"  Mulder's
hands stayed perfectly still by his sides, the tight fists turning
his knuckles white.  His eyes, however, stroked the area over and
around the protruding mystery inside her skin.  A sudden, slight
twist of his mouth showed a careful amusement.
	
"No. I settled for a surprise."  Scully's words died out.  She
recognized that half smirk.  It read "I know something you don't
know" and revealed that he had done some digging.  "But it's
not a surprise for you.  Is it Mulder?"
	
"Maybe not."  The smirk widened and exposed just a hint of teeth.
"Wow.." he said after regaining a little more of his composure.
"Can I?"  She nodded so he hesitantly reached out and placed his
hand tenderly on Dana's stomach.  Touching her, he thought.  I'm
touching her again.
	
He pulled it away almost instantly as the baby kicked him once
more.  An ache arose in his chest.  This shouldn't have been the
first time he'd felt it, yet all those uncertainties began to
flood his thoughts.

Scully could see it in his eyes too and felt the familiar weight
of disappointment shift through her.  She backed up a few steps.
"Mom's waiting.  I have to go."  She turned and exited into the
stairwell, without even looking back.

End Part 1





From s_anders@ix.netcom.com Tue Mar 11 16:31:19 1997
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: REPOST: A Thimble for Peter (2/7)
From: Anderson <s_anders@ix.netcom.com>
Date: Tue, 11 Mar 1997 22:31:19 GMT
--------
A Thimble for Peter (2/7)

by

S. Anderson (s_anders@ix.netcom.com)
and
Cheryl De Luca (cheryld@inforamp.net)

Category: MSR.  Serious Angst

Rating: R (maybe for language and adult situations)

Spoilers: TFWID, Leonard Betts (maybe), Memento Mori


October 15th
6:13 pm
FBI Academy, Quantico Va.
	
Scully's shoulders slumped as the remnants of her small class left
the autopsy bay, their voices a mix of awe, excitement and
trepidation.  Stripping her gloves off, she dropped them into the
waste receptacle and then stared at the white sheet draped over
her latest 'victim'. Death was morbid and often times gruesome,
but interesting nonetheless. She smiled to herself.  She'd only
lost one student to the queezies this afternoon, which was better
than most.

Slipping off her hat and then mask she inhaled deeply, enjoying
the fresh air despite it's medicinal smell.  Medical masks had
never before made her uncomfortable, but with the baby almost to
term, and it's tiny feet constantly pressing up on her diaphragm
breathing was difficult enough without having her nose and mouth
covered.  "Mmmmm.." She let out a soft groan of protest as another
Brackston-Hicks contraction shook her.  They were nothing new to
her, since she'd been experiencing them for the past several
weeks, but they'd been more frequent and a little stronger through
out the day.  But then again she'd been on her feet for the full
day, as opposed to spending half a day in the classroom so it was
probably to be expected.

	
She gently massaged her belly, waiting for the pain to fade.
"Soon little one," she said to her protruding belly.  Soon he or
she would be born, and she'd get to meet the little person she and
Mulder had created, the little person she had been willing to give
up the man she loved for.  Soon she'd have her body back as well,
which at this point in the pregnancy, couldn't be too soon.  By
Dana's estimation a human female's gestation period was about 2
months too long.

	
"Time to go home," Dana mumbled to no one in particular and rubbed
her tummy again.  The pain had subsided to a dull tense ache, so
she unbuttoned her lab coat and hung it on her hook.

	
"Hey Doc." Scully jumped as a tall dark man poked his head in the
door and smiled, his deep chocolate eyes squinting slightly at
her. "You done with the stiff??"

	
"I am for today, Tim."  She picked up a particularly horrific
looking tool off the tray table parked next to her and pressed the
it's power button.  It sparked to life with a dangerous whir, it's
tiny saw quick and lethal.  "Tomorrow we open the cranium."  She
grinned mischievously.

	
"Aw Doc - what'd you have to go tell me that for?"  Tim Dodry
moved into the room his step slow and ambling.  He was as tall as
most professional basketball players Scully'd seen, and she'd
heard rumors that he'd once been drafted to the NBA. But that was
before he'd collapsed his knee joint, and his speed, and jump had
left him.  Now he was relegated to the job of a maintenance man in
the bowls of Quantico while putting himself through college.  "How
am I supposed to sleep tonight after you tell me something like
that?" he asked peeking under the sheet covering the corpse.

	
"You're not.."  Dana laughed and patted her belly.  "Misery loves
company."

	
"Yeah but I'm not the one who got you knocked up Doc..."

	
"Yeah but it's nice to know that I'm not the only one stuck
sitting up late."  Scully grinned and grabbed her coat off the
rack.

	
Tim shook his head, and released the wheel locks on the table
holding the body.  "Yer a heartless woman Dr. Scully."  He pushed
it over to small refrigerated cubicle it needed to be stored in,
and popped open the door.

	
"No I'm not."  Dana held up a jar containing formaldehyde and a
human heart.  "I've got two."  She passed the jar in front of the
janitors face teasingly.  She suspected he was fairly unfazed by
most aspects of death and that much of what he said was in humor.
He confirmed this by laughing at her heartily.

	
"I guess you always have a spare.  Eh Doc?"

	
"Always."  Scully placed the container back on the counter,
buttoned her trench coat over her greens, and grabbed her
briefcase.  "Night Tim.."

	
"Night Doc."  Scully heard him call out as the door closed behind
her and she stepped out into the hall.  It was bright in the
sterile white hallways of the forensic pathology department, and
for some others would be insanely so.  The lack of windows and for
the most part decor, left many feeling imprisoned, but for Scully
it held all the familiarity, and comfort of home.  She had spent a
better part of her early adult years here.  Following the wedding,
she had returned to her old haunt not as a student, but as a
professor and permanent part of the faculty.  It was funny, she
smiled to herself.  Somehow she always ended up in the basement.

Pressing the up button she waited for the elevator to ding on B,
and let out a startled yelp as a large man with his head buried in
a file almost trampled her on his way out.  "Sorry."  He turned
back to apologize, lowering the file he'd been reading and his
mouth almost hitting the floor. "Agent Scully..."

Dana smiled at the familiar bald head and glasses.  "It's just Dr.
cully now, sir.  How are you?"

	
"Uh... Fine..."  Walter Skinner took in her rounded shape, and
then the hallway he'd stepped into.  "I think I missed my floor."
	
"Were you just arriving?"  Scully smacked at the elevator button
hoping to catch it before it closed but found herself a moment too
late.  It was on its way up again.

"No actually I was leaving."  He looked up at the number bar on
top of the door. The elevator was back up on eight.  "Today is the
first day for our newest batch of recruits and I lost the draw at
the last poker game I attended.  So I got stuck doing the welcome
speech."  Skinner caught Scully's smirk and silent nod.
	
"So how are you doing?"  He pointed to her belly.  "You look uh...
good."

"More like big.  And I feel ready to explode."  Scully shifted her
weight uncomfortably as the beginning of another Brackston-Hicks
slowly settled in.
	
Skinner stared silently, as the half smile on Scully's face faded,
only to be replaced by something akin to a cringe.  A look of
concern flickered across his face as he grabbed her right arm.
"Are you okay?"
	
Dana's jaw clenched against the pain in her abdomen, and she
dropped the brief case she was carrying.  This one was a hell of a
lot more forceful than the last, and it made her slightly light-
headed.  She nodded biting down on the cry building up in her
throat.  Instead she let out something of an unintelligible moan.
Then her knees gave out.
	
"Woah..." Skinner slipped his arm around her and, moved to support
her from behind as he realized she was going down. She was
trembling slightly, a soft gasp of disbelief escaping her throat,
as Skinner felt something wet and warm run down his left leg.

	
"Oh my God.."  Dana pitched forward, her hand going instinctively
to her the bulk of her belly.  It was rock hard, and the
contraction was still building.  Somewhere beyond the pain she
heard Skinner yelling for help, for a doctor.  Somewhere beyond
the pain she also realized that the warm stickiness saturating her
underwear and pooling on the floor was amniotic fluid, and
that it was her water that had broken.  She shook her head.
"We're the only ones here," she gasped.  Breaking free of her
former boss' grasp, she and reached out for the wall.  It felt
like her insides were about to split apart.  "Focus," she said
aloud, remembering rule number one from her Lamaze class.

	
"What??" A pasty white Walter Skinner bent in to where Dana had
her head up against the wall and waited for her to repeat herself.

	
"Breathe." Step two, Scully stated aloud.

	
"I am."  Completely flustered he looked at her like she'd lost her
mind.  "It's you who has to breathe!" he told her, thinking back
to the limited emergency training he'd received at the academy.
She shot him a look that made his balls want to shrivel up and
retract up into the safety of his body.

	
"Focus."  She gritted her teeth and grabbed him by the tie.  For a
moment Skinner thought that she was going to take her misery out
on him.  But she didn't hit him.  Instead she stared at the
brightly colored diamond pattern on his tie, sinking all of her
attention on it, and away from the pain.

	
"This isn't early labor." Dana Scully told herself.  The
contraction was far too strong.  It felt like her baby was ready
to push it's way out and slide down her pant leg.

	
Skinner grabbed for his cell phone and pressed the power on.
"Shit!" He let out a cry of dismay; there was no signal available.
	
"Breathe," she repeated, and began the rhythmed breathing for the
first stage of labor, her eyes never leaving his tie.
	
Skinner, picking up the pattern, breathed with her. "I've got to
get you out of here," he told her.  One of his hands instinctively
moved to her back.  He massaged gently as she let out another soft
moan and closed her eyes against the contraction as it peaked.
	
Then the elevator dinged open, and Skinner didn't think twice.
Immediately he scooped Scully and her brief case up into his arms
and carried her onto the elevator.  Despite her size she felt
light in his arms.  She and the baby combined, couldn't have
weighed more that 135 pounds.  Banging his elbow against the
control panel he finally hit the M button, and the doors closed
with a whoosh.  "We can call an ambulance, once we get up to the
main floor," he told her noting that the tension in her body was
easing.  And for one terrifying second he thought that she had
passed out.
	
"No.."  It sounded like a pained sigh, but it was certain in it's
meaning.  Scully shook the residual ache out of her head, and
wiggled to get down.  She looked Skinner in straight in the eye,
and smiled faintly at the mixture of confusion and sheer terror
she saw.  "Thank you, sir  but you can let me down now."  Her cool
professional facade slid back into place, though it seemed kind of
bizarre considering she had just saturated his leg from the knee
down.
	
Skinner shook his head. "What do you mean, no??"  He lowered her
back onto her feet, as the elevator jolted to a stop.  His arm was
wet as well from the fluid that had soaked through her coat, and
he thought for sure she was losing her mind.

Scully stepped shakily off the elevator, her hand still holding
her belly.  "I don't want an ambulance. It's stopped now."  She
massaged her tummy unconsciously.
	
A.D. Skinner gripped her by the elbow.  "For now, yes, but a woman
never has just one contraction.  At least not that I have ever
heard of."
	
"I'm okay Sir," she said in a tone that was far to calm for
Skinner's liking.  "I'm going to get my bag from my car and change
and then I'll call a taxi to take me to the hospital."  She
figured that she had maybe ten minutes before the next one hit, so
she started to walk towards the exit to the parking lot, her low
heels making a dull click on the marble as she made her way
towards the exit.
	
Skinner looked at her like she was deranged, and then followed
her.  "I think an ambulance would be more appropriate."  He moved
along side her, trying to reason with her.  "And I don't think a
taxi will take you anyway..At least not in this condition."

"In what condition?  I'm in labor.  Women in every country, during
every second of the day are going through the same thing that I
am.  It's not usually fatal sir."  She kept passing glances at him
as they made their way across the lobby.
	
"Good night, George."  She seemed almost cheerful as she waved at
the security guard on her way by.
	
"Wait a minute."  Skinner grabbed her by the arm, and then turned
to the guard.  "Please call an ambulance.  Dr. Scully here needs
to get to the hospital; she's in labor."

The young guard blanched and picked up the phone, but didn't have
the opportunity to dial before Dana stuck her hand over his desk,
and dropped her finger on the disconnect button.  "It's okay
George.  I'm going to take a taxi."  She shot Skinner a deadly
look.  "Babies just don't drop out after one contraction; it's a
long arduous process.  I'm fine, sir.  Really!"
	
"You are now - But I'd be willing to bet that in about five
minutes you won't be."  He gripped her again this time with both
of his hands on her upper arms.  "Listen."  He had to make her see
some sense.  She was obviously wasn't thinking clearly.  "You need
medical attention. And I don't think a cabby can provide that.
Let the man call an ambulance."
	
"Oh..." Scully let out soft moan, her mind going blank as another
contraction began. A secondary and smaller gush of fluid followed
as she doubled over leaning heavily up against the desk.
	
"Call an ambulance, now." Skinner ordered the guard, and began
rubbing her back again.
	
"NO!" Scully slammed her hand down hard on the receiver before
George even had a chance to pick it up, and glared at him
ferociously. He backed up knowing that she was  probably armed,
and therefore dangerous. He was smart.  He knew it was better NOT
do disagree with a pregnant woman.  After all, his having a family
someday relied greatly on him having the two things that most
laboring women would most like to shoot off a man during the heat
of a contraction.  NOPE- he wasn't about to cross her.. NO way..

 	
"I want to go to Georgetown Memorial," she told them through
clenched teeth.  "If you call an ambulance from here they'll take
me to Mercy. Oh Jesus...."  It came out almost as a whimper.
"Please.. just call me a taxi.."  Her hand shot out and she
grabbed Skinners tie again, pulling him down to meet her.
"Focus," she repeated and then she started her rhythmic breathing
again.
	
George looked at the bald man in front of him with a 'what should
I do' look on his face.
	
"Call Georgetown Memorial and tell them that I am bringing in Dr.
Dana Scully by car.  The ETA will be about 30 minutes."  He was
definitely nuts to be doing this, he told himself as he scooped
her up into his arms again.
	
Maintaining a tight grip on his tie, Dana never said a word; she
was too busy concentrating on its funky pattern and her breathing.
	
Silently Skinner prayed to whatever available god that she didn't
deliver in his car, and swiftly made his way through the sliding
doors and into the parking lot.  He'd passed out when they'd shown
the birthing video during his Quantico training, and during an up
close and personal demo in real life he didn't think he'd fair any
better.

***
	
"Oh God..."  Scully bent forward and clawed at the dash board.
This was all happening too fast.  She had this incredible urge to
push, but it was too soon.  Labor usually took hours - days.
There was no way she would get off with simply a few hours intense
pain.  Not after her mother had already cursed her for putting her
through 48 hours of labor.  She stared at the tie that Skinner had
gladly given up the moment they'd reached the car back at
Quantico.  That was over an hour and a half ago, and they'd been
stuck in traffic ever since.
	
"Oh God."  Skinner's eyes seemed to bug out as he repeated after
his passenger.  A hand immediately went out to soothe Scully's
back, and he started to breathe the all too familiar pattern, but
found that she'd changed it.  "What's the matter?" he asked,
knowing full well he wouldn't like the reply.
	
Scully grunted slightly, and let out a heavily moaned reply.  "I
feel like pushing."
	
"No!" Walter Skinner ordered.  "Please don't do that.."  He
gripped her hand trying to get her attention.  "Don't push!"

	
"Mmmm."  Scully shook her head and squeezed Skinner's free hand.
"I have to," she gasped.

	
"No.. "

	
There was absolute terror in his voice.  If she hadn't been in so
much pain Dana would have laughed at him.

	
"Look the exit is there, we're only minutes away from the
hospital.  DON'T PUSH!"

	
"I have to.."

	
"Breathe."  He began the new breathing she'd started, hoping to
divert her attention as he exited the highway.
 	
"I am." Dana growled, sucking in a deep breath.  She could feel
the baby's head pressing down between her legs.  She could feel
herself trying to stretch to accommodate the child.  It was
excruciating.  She let out a soft whimper.  "Hurry..."
	
Skinner didn't need any prompting.  As soon as the car in front
had eased it's way forward enough for him to safely exit, he did.
	
Scully's pulling had ceased, and she sat back a bit and rested her
head against the cool glass of the window beside her.  That had
been a tough one.
	
Skinner squeezed her hand, at the same time cursing Mulder where
ever he was.  He should be the one going through this with his
wife, not Skinner himself.  "Are you okay? Is it gone?"
	
The tension in Dana's face had faded, leaving her flushed and
sweating from exertion but none the worse for wear.  Exhausted she
simply nodded and fought back the tears brought on by the pain.
Somewhere inside her a small part of her wished Mulder were with
her, but she quickly shoved that thought aside and focused on the
comfort of Skinner's hand on hers.  It was almost as if he had
read her mind.
	
"Dana?"
	
She opened her eyes at the use of her first name.

"When we get to the hospital would you like me to call Mulder?  He
should be here with you."
	
Scully shook her head and swallowed hard.  She knew that Skinner
was aware of their difficulties, but she didn't think he knew what
had caused them.  Her mother had been called in between
contractions once they'd gotten onto the highway and she would be
waiting for them at the hospital.  That was all she needed. Mulder
hadn't wanted their child to be born at all.  He didn't deserve to
be there.  "No," she reiterated, the emotional pain in her voice
more than slightly evident.
	
Skinner was about to ask Dana if she was sure, when he felt her
grip tighten on his hand once again.
	
"Mmmm." A soft moan escaped her lips.  She could feel it building
in her, and it was completely beyond her control.  Her fundus was
beginning to contract downwards, while the rest of her uterus
followed suit.  Her body was now under the influence of some
powerful hormones that forced her body to push without even
consulting her brain.  "I can't stop it," she mumbled bending
forward again to stare at the tie.
	
"Breathe." Skinner panicked. They were stopped at a light now only
moments away. They would make it. They simply had to. "We're here.
See?"  He pointed ahead to the new steel and glass structure.
"Just hold on."
	
Scully nodded her head and breathed, her mind trying
unsuccessfully to will her body to stop pushing.  The pain was a
release for her now.  Her body took almost an insurmountable
pleasure in bearing down.  Over come by the sensation, she gave in
an let out a soft grunt.
	
Skinner heard it and turned an even pastier shade of white. "Don't
push," he ordered.  'As if you have any real control over the
matter,' his mind replied.  "Just wait," he added, swinging the
car into the left lane as the light turned green.  All he needed
was one more minute he told himself racing through the
intersection and squealing the car across three lanes into
the Emergency Entrance driveway.
	
"That's easy for you to say," Scully half mumbled and half groaned
as she through all of her force behind a push.

"Jesus."  Skinner slammed on the brakes outside of the sliding
doors and blared on the horn.  "We're here."  He unstraped his and
Scully's belts, and threw the car door open as 3 men and a gurney
raced towards the car.
	
"What's the matter?" the taller and darker of the three asked as
one of the men practically ripped open the passenger door.
	
"Dana Scully.  We called in.  She's pushing," Skinner yelled but
no one was listening.  Two of the men had moved a moaning Scully
onto the stretcher, and one already had a stethoscope placed on
her belly.  While the other one was doing something down near her
bottom half.
	
"Foetal heart rate is good," the older of the three called out.
	
The gurney started to move and Dana, only semi-aware of what was
going on, reached out and grabbed Skinner by the hand.  "Don't
leave,"  She pleaded, gripping him so hard he had no choice but to
follow along.
	
"Baby's crowning," the other Doctor informed them, as they swiftly
moved into the hospital where two women joined them.  "We don't
have time to get her upstairs."
	
"Trauma room 3 is open," one of the women yelled.  The stretcher
made a sharp turn to the left.
	
"Your mother's here.  She's been waiting for over an hour," the
other woman informed Scully, at the same time placing a cool cloth
on her head and wiping away the sweat soaked hair from her brow.
One of the doctors wrapped a BP cuff around the arm Scully was
holding onto Skinner with.
	
"BP's 140 over 85, Heart Rate 95. Respiration 30."  He rattled off
her vitals one by one.  Then reaching down he flipped on a
canister of O2 and strapped a nasal cannula into place.
	
"Mom," Scully yelled around another push, and yanked the cannula
off with a fierce "Get this out of my way."
	
"Shhh.. She's coming. She's just getting changed."  The comforting
nurse slipped a protective hand around Scully's back as she sat up
to push.
	
"Dana, Honey...."  The petite brunette that was Margaret Scully,
ran up from behind in a pair of oversized hospital greens, and
slipped in next to Skinner.  "It's okay Sweetheart."  She kissed
her daughters cheek as they made another tight left and backed
into a trauma room.
	
"Ohhhh... " Scully moaned and pressed herself in toward her drawn
up legs.  "Cut the rest of her pants off."  Skinner heard someone
yell as Scully relinquished her hold on him in favor of the
stretcher handle bars, and he made to leave the room.
	
"One more push. Hard this time," the doctor covering Scully's
bottom half ordered as Skinner slipped out the door and turned to
look at the scene unfolding before him through the large glass
windows.
	
A moment later, Scully let out an intense groan of pain and a lush
infant's cry was heard as another Scully and another Mulder joined the 
world, harbored in the same new soul.

End Part 2





From s_anders@ix.netcom.com Tue Mar 11 16:32:50 1997
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: REPOST: A Thimble for Peter (3/7)
From: Anderson <s_anders@ix.netcom.com>
Date: Tue, 11 Mar 1997 22:32:50 GMT
--------
A Thimble for Peter (3/7)

by

S. Anderson (s_anders@ix.netcom.com)
and
Cheryl De Luca (cheryld@inforamp.net)

Category: MSR.  Serious Angst

Rating: R (maybe for language and adult situations)

Spoilers: TFWID, Leonard Betts (maybe), Memento Mori

*Additional Author's Note: The following section takes a possible
liberty with a character's name which has not been Officially
revealed to the authors' knowledge.  The choice was made on the
basis of other fanfics.

October 15th
8:30 pm
Georgetown Memorial
	
Mulder's mind was swimming.  Dana had delivered.  Katherine Ann
had been born at 7:40 pm on a cold October evening.  And no sooner
had her mother been admitted to the Georgetown hospital, then the
flurry of computer entries for Scully's arrival had triggered a
flag at the Lone Gunmen's office.  Frohike had worried the
hospital staff to frustration with calls for information on
Scully's condition and the condition of her child.  Finally,
against policy and out of selfish need to be rid of the man, a
nurses aid had given in and relinquished the basic information.
Katherine Ann weighed in at 8 lbs. 4 oz., measured 19 3/4 inches,
and was as far as anyone could tell, perfect.  What Frohike knew,
Mulder knew and from there on in he had been in turmoil
emotionally, a mish mash of feelings colliding painfully inside
his head.  He was a father.  He had a daughter.  The very word
alone terrified him, overjoyed him, worried him, and compelled
him.  He now had a daughter with the woman who was and wasn't his
wife.  He was a wreck and that's why his hands were shaking as he
reached to press the elevator button that would take him to the
sixth floor of Georgetown Memorial.
	
"Oh he's perfect..." a elderly woman gushed as the door slid open
and she and her companion stepped in as Mulder stepped out.  It
seemed unusually silent as he glanced up and down the pink and
blue saturated walls.  A short distance away in the center of the
corridor he spotted the nursing station and made a bee line for
it, all at once anxious to see his child.
	
"I'm looking for Dana Scully," he informed the woman behind the
counter, who seemed more than a little miffed at being
interrupted from her report.
	
"I don't have one on the ward," she told him, and turned back to
her paperwork.
	
"You have to," he stated, grabbing her pen out of her hand in an
attempt to gain her full attention.  "She's in the hospital
computer."
	
"Maybe so but the systems down, and I don't have a Dana Scully on
the ward.  See.."  Flashing an angry look at him, she pointed to
the call board behind her and reached to get her pen back, but
Mulder slipped it out of her reach.
	
"I was told she just delivered, maybe an hour ago.  Where would
she be."
	
The nurse held her hand out expectantly and smiled evilly.  "First
my pen."
	
Mulder considered wrestling her for the information, but she was
big and brutal so he passed her back the pen and smiled at her
disarmingly.
	
"Try recovery two floors down," she told him and then thumped away
to the back of the station, report file in hand.
	
"Wonderful customer service," he muttered and headed back towards
the elevator as a mother with a screaming infant hobbled sleepily
out of her room.

***
	
"She's a heartbreaker Dana."  Walter Skinner stared at the small
sleeping life form wrapped in Margaret Scully's arms.  Her face
was almost as pink as the blanket she was swaddled in and she was
so incredibly tiny.  He was amazed and awed at the sight of such a
little thing.  He and Sharon had never been able to have children,
and it was completely his fault.  He knew going into the marriage
that he was sterile and had made sure that Sharon knew and
accepted it too.  But that didn't stop him from wondering what it
would be like to have a child of his own, or from feeling and
seeing the regret on his wife's face every time she had
encountered an infant.  Mulder was a damn lucky man.  Too bad he
was too dumb to realize it.
	
"Here."  Margaret held out the sleeping child as Skinner backed
away.
	
"Ah No.."  He shook his head.  "I'd better not."
	
"Hold her sir.  I trust you with her."  Dana Scully looked
somewhat groggily at her former boss.  "After all you helped make
her arrival possible."  She smiled slightly, and contentedly.  The
pain reliever they'd given her in the ER had just kicked in
dulling the pain down below considerably, which was good.
However, it had a blurring effect on her reality state and she was
suddenly scared.  "Mom please don't leave her alone for even a
minute," Dana implored quietly as she felt the drug pull her
under, and her eyes involuntarily closed.
	
"I won't honey.."  Mrs. Scully grinned at her sleeping daughter,
and held out the child once again to AD Skinner.  "It's simple."
She slipped her grand-daughter into his reluctant arms.  "See."
She ran a finger along Katherine's rosebud mouth and smiled
lovingly.  "Nothing to it."
	
The baby made small suckling actions in her sleep, and Walter
Skinner watched thinking it was the cutest thing he had ever seen.
Then all of a sudden her eyes squeezed together so tightly in
intense concentration that little lines formed around the corners
of the lids.  Her face turned bright red and she grunted.  "I .. I
think she's choking."  Terror ran through him as he tried to pass
the baby back, and Margaret Scully refused laughingly.
	
"More like filling her first diaper."  She ran a hand gentle hand
over her delicate peach fuzz of her grand-daughters head.  "It
always seems like it is such a large effort for such a tiny
being."
	
A tiny hand sneaked out from between the folds and gripped
Skinner's finger, as its owner let out another small grunt, and
Skinner laughed softly.

***
	
"Dana Scully?"  Mulder eyed the recovery room nurse as she
attached two tiny wrist and ankle bands to a patient's file.
	
"Ahh.."  Nurse Hedricks turned her attention to the call board.
"Recovery room five."
	
"Thanks."  Mulder turned to go find the room.
	
"But you can't go in there."  She stopped him before he'd even
managed a step.
	
He turned back to her and uttered a frustrated "Why not?" 	
	
"She's only allowed two visitors at a time, and there are already
two people in there."
	
"Who?"
	
"Umm.."  She picked up the sign in sheet.  "A Mrs. Margaret
Scully, her mother I believe, and the gentleman who helped deliver
the baby, a Mr. Walter Skinner.  I think he's the dad.  They both
accompanied her up from emerge."
	
Mulder nodded silently, and headed off towards RR5.
	
"And your name is, sir?" Nurse Hedricks called to him as he made
his way down the hall.
	
"Mulder and I just want to look in the window if it's okay."  He
turned almost running into the nurse who had followed him down the
hall, clipboard in hand.
	
"Your relationship to the patient?"
	
Mulder looked through the slatted window he'd come to.  The scene
before him striking painfully at a part of him.  Mrs. Scully and
his boss were partially turned away from him and completely
blocking Dana.  All he could see of his child was a lumpy pink
blanket, and a tiny pink hand gripping Walter Skinner's finger.
He'd delivered Mulder's own child.  He'd been there to help
Dana when Mulder himself should have been but wasn't.  And now he
was lucky enough to be one of the first to hold their new baby.
Mulder was grateful, but the emotion was quickly over shadowed by
incredibly strong feelings of anger, guilt, and jealousy.  They
were laughing and enjoying his child, someone he hadn't even had
the opportunity to meet.
	
"Sir, I need to know your relationship to the patient."
	
Mulder looked at nurse Hedricks.  It was obvious he wasn't needed
here.  "No one," he replied stalking past her towards the
stairwell.  "Just a friend."
	
Mulder made his way hurriedly down the stairs, his anger quickly
abating to leave way for his hurt, and the tears that followed.
	
Plopping onto a step near the second floor, he dropped his head
into his hands.  He was running away again.  As much as he wanted
to see his child, to touch his wife, the reality of it was
terrifying.  He had to stop running.  He had to think about it
all, and fight his way past his gut reaction to what was hiding
even deeper.  Mulder lifted his head up and swiped at the few
stray tears that had managed to escape his tightly clasped lids.
Resolute, he stood up and followed the white and red placard that
pointed to the basement cafeteria.

***

October 16th
12:20 am

The blanket popped and twisted around the tiny phantom form
inside.  The world was bright and pink for the newborn life under
Mulder's scrutiny.  Was this his daughter?  Huddled to one side of
the viewing bay, he squinted to read the name written so illegibly
on the card at the front of the clear, hospital bassinet.  It was
easy to read the cards closer to the window which separated these
vulnerable lives from the outside world and its passersby.  But,
further back it became more difficult.  Still, she had to be
there.

Tired of hoping to spot the child out of luck, Mulder gently
rapped on the window and caught the nasty glare of a neonatal
nurse nearby.  Did every nurse in the whole friggin complex have
an attitude problem.  She approached the wire-mesh glass in a set
of scrubs which were a different shade of pink.  Pink, pink, and
more pink.  He wondered what they were already telling this kid.
At least they could have wrapped her in yellow.  Yellow was
neutral.  So was green.  Shaking the petty argument from his mind
and smiling to himself that it was there in the first place,
Mulder took a pen and notepad from the pocket of his well-worn
black leather jacket.  He scribbled for a moment and held the word
"MULDER" up to the glass.  The thin, older woman looked from the
paper to his face and melted a little at the lost look he played
so well in his hazel eyes.  She was off with his order, checking
each card on all of the bassinets before turning back to shrug in
defeat.

At first, Mulder shrank in disappointment and not a little relief
thinking the baby was upstairs with her mother or that the
hospital staff was caring for her elsewhere before making a
display out of her.  But, eight months of being a spectator to his
own family turned the shrinking feeling into a lingering defeat.
Mulder motioned for the nurse to come back and then scribbled some
more.  This time when he held the pad to the window, the word read
"SCULLY."

It took the muted helper no time at all before quickly taking hold
of the small bed near the far left of the little human herd.  The
sound of his beating heart was thunder over the bustling of
hospital staff.  That was his daughter coming this way, a life he
had produced in ignorant love.  The very concept still dumbfounded
him.  He was about to see a face that would never leave his
thoughts for the rest of his life.  He wondered what color these
eyes would be that would penetrate and possess him.

The cart came closer and a small fist appeared from beneath the
cotton and shook briefly in the air before disappearing again.
This was becoming more real by the second.  There really was a
human in there, one that might have his features.  It definitely
had his blood, if not his name.  Almost instinctually, Mulder took
a step back into a quiet presence that had sneaked up behind him
as if it had crawled from the walls.

"Fox?"

The voice startled him, but he was able to control most of the
jerk which had raced through his chest.  Turning to Margaret
Scully, he saw what looked to be a mixture of relief and knowing
in her eyes which were growing steadily brighter.  "Mrs. Scully,"
escaped as broken chuckel to greet her.  He'd been busted again.
Now Scully would know he had been here.  Mulder would never ask
Margaret to lie for him.

Margaret joined her son-in-law at the window.  The bassinet was in
full view and the nurse had returned to her duties.  Both turned
to see what could be seen of the tiny form.  Most of her face was
hidden under the blanket and her tiny head was covered by a
stocking cap.  Both eyes were squeezed tightly shut again as
Katherine appeared to be testing both lungs under full power.
Mulder surmised that the sound had to be deafening inside the
room.

Margaret broke the silence.  "I know I'm biased, but she is
beautiful."

Mulder nodded for no reason.  "I wish I could tell from here.
They've got her so covered up."  Shifting to look at his companion
he asked the obvious question, "How's Scully?"

This was the position she hated.  Margaret had worked so hard at
removing herself from the canyon which seemed to separate her
daughter from the young man who Margaret had welcomed into her
family as Dana's husband.  The truth was that Dana had been
overjoyed at the first sight of Katherine's little face.  But,
reality would not be appeased and Dana had soon turned to
depression over Mulder's overwhelming absence.  Measuring the
words, Margaret answered him.  "She's recovering well..."  How was
she going to phrase this so as not to point any fingers?  On
second thought, maybe fingers needed to be pointing at someone.
Looking Mulder square in the eyes, "But, she's alone."

He turned away and caught his breathe.  The whole situation never
seemed to ease.  There he stood.  Unable to fully look at this new
creation and unable to ease the pain of the woman who had given it
a chance a thrive.  Mulder made the quick decision to overlook the
dilemma and hope that Mrs. Scully could concede even more space.
He searched for anything to say.  "Katherine's a good name.  I'm
surprised Scully picked it though."  He cleared his throat.  "I
wouldn't think she would have been comfortable naming a child
after herself."

Maybe this man was just stupid.  Margaret's face flushed with
anger and her throat tensed with what was surely words close to
hate until it dawned on her that perhaps he truly never considered
it.  Besides, she had no idea how long he had been here.  Perhaps
he hadn't spoken to anyone.  Quickly calming herself, she raised a
pointed finger to the window and tapped at the name card on
Katherine's bed.  "Can you read what that says?"

Mulder folded both arms and leaned a little closer for a better
view.  What he saw made it all better and worse at the same time.
In thick black lettering, he learned his daughter's name:
Catherine Ann Scully.  One "C", no "K".  The thin line of his lips
slowly parted in order that the mouth attached to them could say
silently, "my mother."  He felt the heat pool in his eyes
immediately.  Closing them allowed one warm stream to roll free.

Margaret ached with him for his grief.  Still, it was well
deserved.  There was one more thing to offer him before she
returned to Dana's room.  "Dana wanted her daughter to have
*something* from her father.  She thought this might be fitting."

Mulder continued to stare at the moving form and caught just a
glimpse at the pinkish skin of his little girl's cheek.  He was
lost in the weight of his helplessness.  In surrender to the
confusion, he let loose the first coherent thought.  "I never saw
myself as a father.  I never thought I would be."

	
"Fox..."  Margaret struggled to be objective with him.  After all,
she cared for Fox Mulder deeply.  He was the man who had risked
everything so that he and Dana could share their lives completely.
Yet, he was also the man who had suggested that the world pass on
the tiny beating heart right in front of them and so her final
words before turning to leave him there alone were those of a
disappointed parent.  "...you don't have the luxury of thinking
anymore."

***

October 16th
2:40 am

The early morning hours found Fox Mulder about to invade the lives
of both women in his life.  He had waited until Margaret left for
the night before coming up onto the delivery ward.  The previous
hours had been long and left him still without having seen his
daughter face to face.  Catherine had been wheeled out of the
nursery a couple hours ago.  Allowing enough time for feeding and
the assorted other motherly things he assumed Scully would need to
do, he had arrived at her door in the hopes both she and the baby
would be asleep.  It was ridiculous; spying on his own family like
he might a suspect in the line of duty.  But the emotions swirling
in his chest since first learning of Catherine's arrival were both
delicate and exhausting.  They would not allow enough stamina for
a litany of pleas or defenses.

Peering through yet another window, Mulder saw that the room was
dark, illuminated only by a few small lights around some medical
equipment stored in a corner and the fluorescent glow flooding in
from the hall.  The door handle made several soft mechanical
sounds as he opened it and moved inside to find what he had
planned for.  Scully asleep.

She was smaller than she had been the last time he saw her.  But
her face was still rounded with the weight she had gained over the
past months.  Her auburn hair was flat and straight and combed
back out of her face which was scrubbed clean and while mostly
pale held just a hint of color that peeked out of the shadows.  It
was her morning face.  He knew it well.  He missed it incredibly.

The movement from the bassinet by her bed brought him back to the
covert mission.  The pink blanket he had been stalking all night
was moving again and demanding the sort of attention Mulder was
suddenly unsure he wanted to give.  His heart was pounding again,
so hard it might have been a physical pain if he weren't clinging
to it for some assurance he was really here.  The faint hum of the
lights from the corner gave him something to listen to while he
argued inside and pushed himself forward.  Everything he had ever
wanted and hoped for and worked for in his life was about to
change again.  With every step he made toward that little bed, he
became more aware of that fact.  It both thrilled and angered him.

And then he was there and he was looking at Catherine Ann Mulder.
<"Scully", he corrected himself.>  But the sight of her led to
stubbornness.  <No! "Mulder" was the reply.>  She was nothing like
he had imagined.  In what he assumed was stereotypical male self-
centeredness, he had always pictured his child with a swatch of
plain brown hair, a faint cleft in her chin and a nose one might
call "disproportional."  Save for the small cleft, Catherine was
the opposite.  Reddish wisps covered her entire head and curled
just slightly at her temples.  The nose was decidedly Scully,
small and defiant.  It was all wrapped in skin which was a bright
newborn red and gave Mulder pause to wonder if she might have
inherited his darker skin tone.  It could all change in a week he
thought, but hoped it wouldn't.

The back of his mind fought to put this experience into
perspective.  This awe he was feeling, was this the first stirring
of love for his child?  He remembered the first feelings of awe he
had possessed for her mother; they were born out of admiration,
trust, and physical want.  Yes, love was the emotion being born in
the middle of Mulder's fear.  He couldn't help but recall passages
from the Bible he had read once: "We are flesh of His flesh.  Bone
of His bone."  The past 30 seconds of his life had instantly put
those words into perspective and made him realize why Christians
might find them powerful.  All of his life, Mulder had considered
himself as a non-religious person looking for a religious
experience.  He had thought that the moment he knew Scully would
receive him as her partner *and* her lover had been the only one
he would ever get.  He was about to be proven wrong again.

Watching the infant twist and move under the blanket led him to
reach for her.  It wasn't enough to look at this breathing thing.
He needed to touch it to make it real.  First casting an eye to
make sure Scully was still asleep, Mulder slid his hands under his
daughter and held her body and head as he lifted her into his own
arms.  God, she was so tiny.  One arm engulfed her completely.

Whether it was the new position or the presence of human contact,
Mulder would never know, but it brought Catherine to life even
more.  Her head moved back and forth on his elbow.  Soft, but
staccato whimpers drifted from her lips.  The reality of this
human being continued to crash through Mulder's heart while the
scent of soap and powder drifted up from her miniature body.
Regardless of what had happened after her conception, the meaning
of the very act was hitting him for the first time.  Catherine was
victory.  Fox Mulder had spent his life losing in one form or
another.  He had lost Samantha.  Had lost the soul of his
childhood family.  He had lost past lovers and relationships.  He
had lost battle after battle in his search for "the truth,"
whatever that was anymore.  Men in smoke-filled rooms made
Mulder's life a game of move and counter move.  Every decision and
action he ever made was out of caution of their power.  Even when
it came to marrying Scully, the fear and uncertainty they fostered
in him had taken it's toll before his sacrifice and then the
gamble had left he and Scully enough room to take the chance.
But, the worry often shadowed the joy and in the end took her from
him in yet another defeat.

Still, in the midst of all of that loss, Catherine had been made.
The longer Mulder stared at her the more he knew she was victory.
She was the essence of both her parents, proof that no matter what
was done to Mulder or Scully or herself, what made each of them
good and courageous and a threat would live on.  Those things
could never be silenced.  Catherine was proof Mulder was alive,
and was worth something to this world.

Her head became still and the lack of movement shook the new
father from his reverie.  Looking down, he noticed two small dark
disks where her closed eyelids had been and his stomach lost touch
with gravity.  His daughter was looking at him for the first time,
a first of many firsts.  The darkness of the room shadowed her
still and he moved quickly to the window in the door, turning his
back to a motionless Scully.

Careful not to overpower her, he held her as close to the harsh
stream of light as he dared.  And as the fluorescent energy seeped
into the color of his baby's irises, the non-religious father had
his second religious experience.  At first they were hazel, these
eyes.  Not the blue of her mother or the brown of her grand-
mother, but the color of her father.  But, before Mulder could
smile, the change began.  The more he gazed down into them, the
more the tiny flecks of gold and streaks of brown faded and
dissolved to give way to the pure hue underneath: a deep, abiding,
emerald green.  Mulder was stunned at the transformation he
couldn't be sure he had seen.  Nevertheless, the proof was in his
arms.

The two little eyes looked directly into his and stole any will to
breathe or move or speak.  They were not wide-eyed in fright, or
heavy with sleep.  Later, in the car back to his apartment, Mulder
would swear they were filled with recognition, with words of a
language she had not yet learned.  Words that said "I know you...
It's going to be OK."  Hypnotized by his disbelief, it was no
wonder he didn't see the shifting in the bed.  The next audible
words startled him into panic.

"What do you think?"

End Part 3




From s_anders@ix.netcom.com Tue Mar 11 16:41:03 1997
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: REPOST: A Thimble for Peter (4a/7)
From: Anderson <s_anders@ix.netcom.com>
Date: Tue, 11 Mar 1997 22:41:03 GMT
--------
A Thimble for Peter (4a/7)

by

S. Anderson (s_anders@ix.netcom.com)
and
Cheryl De Luca (cheryld@inforamp.net)

Category: MSR.  Serious Angst

Rating: R (maybe for language and adult situations)

Spoilers: TFWID, Leonard Betts (maybe), Memento Mori


Mulder controlled the spin to face an awake Scully, who was
pushing herself up on the bed and smoothing her hair back in a
futile attempt to make herself more presentable.  It didn't help.
She was already beautiful by virtue of the fact that he never saw
her.  The hospital gown could have been a Versaci, it wouldn't
have mattered.

While his mouth stammered for words, his hands remained still in
order to protect the cookie-jar he was holding.  Reaching out into
the ether he came back with, "I think she won't stop staring at
me.  Have you taught her that already?"

The corner of her mouth upturned tightly for only a flash before
Scully realized what he was saying and her curiosity forced her to
pass on his attempt at humor.  "Really?!  I haven't seen her with
her eyes open yet."  Mulder took an opportunity to be closer to
her and walked gingerly over to give their daughter back to her
mother who was straining to see the jewels he had already
witnessed.  After Catherine was situated in Scully's arms, Scully
reached to cut on the lights by her bed.  The baby's first
reaction was to slam her eyelids shut in response to the painful
rush of sensation to her sensitive orbs.  Cautiously, they
flickered open again to reveal the perfect hazel gaze Mulder had
first seen.  He couldn't understand it.  The emerald was gone.  He
looked away from them both to take it all in and run the
fantastical explanations around in his mind.

Scully was dealing with her own astonishment.  "I don't
understand.  They should be blue."  Holding Catherine up to the
light, Scully studied the round brownish/green windows more
intently.

"Looks like the current in the Mulder gene pool is a little
stronger than yours."  More humor rambled effortlessly out of
Mulder as he quickly decided to keep the moment of wonder he had
shared with his daughter to himself.  Who knew how many he might
get in the coming years.  Scully would get most of them.  He
wasn't in the mood to share his stash.

"No I mean, all fair skinned newborns have gray-blue eyes, it's a
natural part of the post-natal condition.  I can believe she would
have..."  Scully's voice fell in intensity at the unintentional,
if hidden, revelation of one of her hopes for their baby.
"...your eyes.  It's just, right now they should be blue."

Mulder was chuckling above her and Scully looked up in irritation
only to have it melted by the softness around his eyes and the
carefree smirk on his face.  His next quiet words brought her own
smile to the surface.  "She's an X-File....."  Looking at them
both, he was filled with a need to know more about the baby's
arrival.  "Was it hard?  I mean was it...Well, of course it was
painful but..."  He was stumbling to ask about something Scully
might consider private and they both knew it.

Scully was tired and therefore merciful, "There weren't any
complications if that's what you're asking.  Although, there is a
mystery stain in the upholstery of Skinner's car he's embarrassed
to ask me to have cleaned."  Her joke earned another chuckle from
above.  They continued to stare at one another while the reality
of how impossible their situation was came down around them and
the tension of reality settled in.  This was not a Rockwell
painting, and they both became keenly aware of it at the same
time.

Mulder made the decision to leave.  Neither Catherine nor Scully
needed this right now.  He would come back tomorrow and visit his
daughter in the nursery.  Much less tap dancing involved.  Moving
away, he fished in his pockets for the car keys.  "I'm gonna go
now.  If you'll tell the nursing staff who I am, I won't have
to..."

"You're leaving?"  Both the tone and question caught him by
surprise.  There was an underlying accusation in Scully's voice,
but it was soothed by the tinge of disappointment he knew he must
be wishing was there.

Looking at her directly, "Yeah.  No need to push the issues
involved here."  He turned to leave.

"Issues."  That was a therapy word and it's significance wasn't
lost on her.  Scully knew he had been going to counseling alone.
She had her own sources and she knew he had taken it seriously,
making time every week.  "What do you talk about?"  Regret came
immediately after she asked.  It required an intimate answer and
she both craved and feared an intimate exchange with this man now
in the presence of living proof that she had been and continued to
be desired by him.

She hadn't had to clarify, he could sense the longing to know.
Not just about what he might be revealing to a stranger, but about
what he might still be willing to reveal to her.  Mulder turned
back to give her her answer.  "The baby.  And you."

"How...what have you said...thought about?"

He was becoming angry at the pitiful sound in her voice.  Why ask
him now?  After all the begging he had done.  Why now?  Well, if
she wanted truth, let her have it.  "That maybe it's time to let
go," was the plain, nearly automatic response.  "That maybe I'm
doing more damage than I could ever do good by holding onto you
when you have told me repeatedly it's not what you want from me."

"Is that what you really believe?"

She was playing the game again.  It was the one where she made him
do the confessing before she would risk being vulnerable herself.
His first reaction was to be thankful she was interested and that
there might be a chance she would be vulnerable.  Yet, as more of
the honest answer to her question solidified in his mouth, he let
go of the hope in favor of finally saying words he wanted
desperately to settled on her shoulders.  Time for her to feel
some of their weight.  "I don't know what to believe anymore about
us, Scully.  Other than the fact that Catherine is mine.  And I
now know I would do anything to protect her."  Mulder shifted from
one foot to the other and crossed to the window to finger the
blinds absently before he continued, "We discuss what marriage is
and that someone should do their best to see their partner for who
they really are.  We've talked about how I don't think I can say
that about you anymore and what it could mean.  The woman I saw
wasn't so rash or easy to quit on something we nearly gave up
everything for.  She wasn't as melodramatic or quick to
judgement... and she forgave me from time to time...and she would
have NEVER accused me of wanting someone dead."  Mulder looked
quickly to her and then out of the window onto the hospital
parking lot.  Clearing the mixture of anger and surrender in his
throat, "We talk about how I'm not sure I married the wife I
thought I married.  We talk about how I miss that person deeply.
That's what we talk about."

After he finished, the room fell quiet.  It wasn't just the quiet
of honesty, it was the quiet of stone.  Dana processed his words
over and over and looked away from him as soon as the real message
was clear.  He was giving up.  She was about to win their sad
little game because he was beginning to doubt his need for her and
beginning to believe she no longer needed him.  She was winning.
The prize was a near instantaneous sense of grief the magnitude of
death, of her sister's death and perhaps beyond.

Shock bolstered her pride, and Scully was able to maintain her
composure, but not before turning away.  He had to leave fast if
she were to have even a shred of dignity in the wake of his
bombardment.  Staring at the flimsy hospital sheets and blanket,
Scully ran a free hand through hair still sticky from the sweat of
labor.  What was there to say?  If she challenged him then it
would encourage him to hold on.  And that was not what she wanted.
Right?

What a liar I've become to myself, she thought.  The irony of it
all was cruelly funny.  Fox Mulder had become her life because of
the trust they had built.  It was only because of that trust she
had been able to let go and give her private self to him.  Now
though, she was breaking their entire life together over her
ability to deceive not just him, but herself as well.  What a
funny fucking joke, she thought.

Mulder saw the anguish play on her brows as they crossed and
uncrossed and in the way the sides of her perfect lower lip moved
in and out with the suction she applied to stifle any reaction a
tremble might unveil.  She still loved him.  It was so plain to
him and to her, but no comfort.

It was time to go, he reasoned, before this became another verbal
tug-of-war.  Ever ready to follow any desperate lead, Mulder
refused to leave without giving her one more key back into his
life.  A few strides brought him to her bedside where he leaned
over to run a finger along Catherine's cheek, and place a hand on
Scully's shoulder.  Scully looked up into his face and found a
resolute smile stretched across his mouth.  From his pocket,
Mulder produced a pale blue business card and placed it by his
wife's side while whispering to her, "If I've hurt you at all by
saying what I've said.  If there's any doubt inside you.  Even if
you think it's time you had your say, here's the number and the
address.  I'll meet you there anytime you want...as long as you're
still Dana Mulder."  There was a kiss to her temple and he left.

***

October 30th
9:30 am
A Georgetown Office

"There were whole weeks where you couldn't even...speak a whole
sentence to me."  She knew her eyes were blank as he spoke.
Scully tried to find any little place to focus on.  As long as it
wasn't the pain in his voice.  She couldn't begin to feel sorry
for him or to think of him as anything other than the enemy.  If
she did then it would all be over.  Scully knew she would have to
give up the hatred and disappointment that had become so
comfortable.  To love Mulder was too confusing.  The anger was a
safe substitute and far better than feeling nothing for him.
That, she would never be able to bear.

Mulder droned on about his frustration and loneliness without her.
She continued to hear and not listen while seeking refuge in the
decor of the office.  Dr. Teddy Tovacek adorned the room in
natural tones of brown, tan, and hunter green.  Everything was
stylish, yet inviting and neutral.  There was overstuffed
furniture and hanging plants which kept the books and snapshots of
his family company.  And as hard as she tried, Mulder's words
continued to seep in and invade; they were words like "anger" and
"trying" and "confusion."

Scully was in her own brand of hell.  Her feelings and thoughts
were private.  The reserved nature she clung to had been erected
over years by her professional dedication and the seclusion she
found in being a bright driven woman in a man's world.  At one
time, she thought she had lost the need to wrap it around her for
protection.  When Fox Mulder, the man who fought the world, turned
away from the fray to accept another person into his life, she had
let herself go just enough to leave some part of those defenses
behind.

Still here she was needing them all over.  Except, now in order to
reclaim her respite with him she would have to shed them again,
becoming vulnerable with a stranger as well.  Scully had spent the
last two weeks since Catherine's birth convincing herself she
could do it.  Remembering all the silent promises she made to her
daughter, she focused past the distance and tried to listen to the
man facing her.  After all, whether or not her pride would admit
it, that part of her that belonged only to this man longed to
listen and understand him again.

He sat facing her in clothes that would always undo her, his
weekend wear she had called it: jeans, a t-shirt, and his leather
jacket.  Simple and unkempt, but they were more Fox Mulder than
any G-man suit could ever hope to be.  In the early days of
touching, these were the clothes that were removed with clumsy
hands and a forceful abandon.  In fact, she would swear he would
drive out of his way to his own apartment in order to change after
work because he knew the kind of response he could get from her.
Mulder had been right nearly every time...

"It's a fair question Dana."  The low, ultra-smooth tone of Dr.
Tovacek shook Scully from the thoughts leading her to the
frustration playing out in her hips as they shifted restlessly in
her chair.  She looked first to the man speaking and then to
Mulder.  The disappointment was evident in the fallen corners of
his lips and the crease between his brows.  He thought she wasn't
listening.  And for the most part, Scully was guilty.  If he only
knew her thoughts had been consumed by past intimacy, she was
certain he would have forgiven her.  But now was the worst time to
broach that subject.  The wounds were being laid bear and they
demanded to be dealt with.  Besides, she reasoned as she shrank
from the warmth of those private memories, there was no guarantee
they would ever share moments like that again.  Why torture them
both?

"I'm sorry?" she mumbled and turned to see irritation on the part
of the therapist's face.

With a bit of an obvious sigh, Tovacek echoed Mulder's last
thought.  "What I hear your husband saying is that in the wake of
your steadfast refusal to talk to him about your marriage or
anything else, he's at a loss as to why you agreed to meet him
here today."  Raising two fingers to the salt and pepper temples,
the original question was repeated.  "Why *did* you decide to
come?"

This was a moment of real truth.  If she was going to make an
honest effort, the honesty had to start here.  Scully cleared her
throat and attempted to smooth imaginary wrinkles from her navy
jumper.  "It was something Mulder said..."

Tovacek interrupted, "Why don't you speak to your husband?  Tell
*him*."

Another in a line of impossible tasks, she screamed in her head.
tilting her head back, Scully felt Mulder's confused and hopeful
eyes calling to her's.  While she hated herself for it, she didn't
want to deny him and offered him the tiniest access to the depths
of what was going inside.  "It was something you said...just
before Catherine was born."  She was talking.  Scully could see
the realization settle into Mulder's face.  It became calm and
unimposing.  He was trying not to pressure, trying not to expect
too much from her.  It made her miss him.  "It was true, about me
not having even contacted a lawyer."  Shame crept into Scully's
cheeks and she looked away to confess the lie he had known about
for weeks.  "I used the pregnancy as an excuse to hold on without
feeling guilty or weak...when I was really just afraid of
closure...of being committed to walking away from you."

There.  Done.  She was talking.  And as she sensed a bit of
victory dance over her, Scully saw the color drain from Mulder's
face and mixture of sadness and worry fall over him.  With his
next question, he made it clear he had really only heard one of
her words.  Slowly, mournfully, Mulder spoke to her, "Scully, do I
make you weak?"

Perhaps the road was longer than either had realized.

***

November 16th
12:04 pm
Mulder s Apartment

Weakness, and anger, and effort.  They had all come before this
day had been possible.  Mulder took the waning seconds before the
arrival to throw stray dishes in the dishwasher and underwear in
the hamper in the bedroom.  They were the only derelicts left from
his day long cleaning frenzy.  Housekeeping had quickly fallen by
the wayside after Scully left.  But he had thrown himself into the
task to return their home to just a hint of its former self before
she saw it again and Catherine came home for the first time.

No, Mulder chided himself.  This is not Catherine's home.
Expectations can make demands and demands prohibit healing if it's
to come.  Tovacek's words rang from ear to ear and kept time with
Mulder's feet shuffling over the hardwood floors with no real
destination.

A month of counseling had brought his little family to this day,
their first full day together.  It was the latest therapy
assignment.  The counselor had made a habit of giving Mulder and
Scully "assignments" between each of the sessions.  At times, the
whole damn thing had felt humiliating.  The first few sessions had
been nothing more than controlled shouting matches with pride-
bound tears finding an opening from time to time.  As the anger
abated and honest talking had begun, so too had time with his wife
outside the confines of Tovacek's office.  At first it had been
lunch with Dana and the baby in a public place.  Then dinner at
her apartment.  Each "date" grew a little longer than the last.

And while Mulder looked forward to each one, they ended in equal
parts frustration and joy.  Frustration came in the knowledge that
they would end.  Frustration in that there never seemed to be
anytime with Scully alone.  There was always Catherine to deal
with whether it be feeding or changing or whatever task demanded
parental attention, the kind of attention Scully seemed determined
to prevent him from giving to their baby.  She was always
correcting him with Catherine and hovering without touching.
Scully rarely left Catherine alone with Mulder.  Yet, there had
been those rare few seconds when he was able to just stare at his
daughter; the use of the word still scared him.  There had been
seconds when Catherine became quiet in his arms and held her
father's eyes as sweet prisoners in the knowing connection they
had shared since the first time he held her less than a day old.
A knock at the door was the beginning of the day's roller coaster.

***

7:13 p.m.
Mulder's Apartment
	
Scully placed Catherine on the bed gently hoping she wouldn't
scare her awake.  This was going to be the first time that she and
Mulder had been together, and alone in what seemed like a very
long time.  She sighed heavily.  10 months to be exact.  She
looked down at the tiny miracle sleeping soundly on the bed she
and Mulder used to share, and in all likelihood the very bed
where she had been conceived.  She was so tiny and so fragile.
Dana placed a soft kiss on her fingertip and then ran them through
the soft down crowning her daughter's head.  "Sweet dreams," she
whispered softly, and left the room.
	
"I think  she's finally asleep."  Scully cast a slight smile in
Mulder's direction as she entered the living room.  "She gets
grumpy when she's tired."  She looked away from Mulder who was
regarding her carefully from his seat on the couch.
	
Feeling a slight tension, Scully drifted over to the small window
in the apartment that had been their home, rather than going to
join Mulder on the couch.  Her eyes drifted to the street below;
the thoughts, images, and emotions of their "family" day still
swirling nauseatingly around in her mind.
	
Mulder remained sprawled across the couch.  He was tired too.
"Were you able to fix something on the bed for her?"  Shifting in
his seat, he felt guilty.  "I haven't exactly bought stuff for
her... for when she's here or whatever.  I.. umm... wasn't sure if
it would be... right ...or whatever."
	
"She's so little she doesn't move much, a few pillows usually stop
her from going anywhere.  You can buy whatever you want to Mulder.
She's your child too.  And no matter what happens between us that
will never change."  Scully continued to stare out the window, an
edge of sadness caught in her voice.
	
"Maybe, you could help me make a list.  Or even go with me to pick
some things out.  Can you see me trying to choose a crib?"  It was
another of his attempts at humor, looking for a crack in the
armor.
	
"Mulder, If you can buy me a negligee you can buy Catherine a
crib."  Scully's words were intentionally cold; she wanted him to
share the pain she had been feeling for the past ten months.
	
Mulder raised himself from the couch and edged towards her.  He
was getting bold and the familiar grin was creeping into view.
"But one is practical and the other for pure entertainment.
Besides, the negligee didn't come with instructions in four Asian
languages."
	
"But one of them does come with a commitment."  She was fighting
dirty, and she knew it.  But she was exhausted, bone weary, all of
the built up frustrations came seeping out into the light from the
dark place she'd been storing them for so long.
 	
"Apparently, today's time for pulling punches is over."  He
stepped back.  "And for the record, as far as I'm concerned both
of them come with a commitment."
	
"Underwear is disposable Mulder - something easily abandoned,
forgotten about.  A child isn't.  And if you weren't afraid of
this kind of commitment you would already have bought her a bed."
	
"My not buying her a bed has NOTHING to do with not being
committed to her...My not buying her a bed has everything to do
with not knowing from day to day if she'll be here long enough to
use it."  His arms were crossed.  He was putting on the armor.
	
Scully turned to face him.  "Do you honestly think I would keep
her from you?  You can spend as much time with her as you choose.
You just don't choose a whole hell of a lot."  She ran a hand
through her hair and turned back to stare out the window trying to
keep her voice calm.  "What will happen to her if what we have
here doesn't work out?  Would you still want to be a part of her
life?"
	
Taking a cue from her efforts to be calm, Mulder paused to regain
himself.  "No. I don't think you would keep her from me and it's
not that I don't want to be with her.  It's that I want to be with
*you* so badly... I worry about every little thing I do or say.  I
try not to push you, to demand time.  I'm afraid it'll scare you
or make you angry."  He flung his arms up.  "It's just, you know
how to take of her.  I'm still learning.  I'm not sure I can
handle her by myself.  I know I don't want to.  Not without you."
He shook his head not sure if he had been able to express what he
meant with the words in his head.  "And as for 'this not working
out,' it isn't a consideration.  I'm betting everything on the
assumption that it will.  I'm not willing to give up as easily..."
He caught himself before the accusation went any further.
	
Scully spun on him catching the unspoken inculpation.  "But in
order for THIS to work out Mulder, you have to want Catherine too.
She is not just a piece of baggage that I lug around with me every
where I go.  She's a child Mulder, a living breathing human being
who, though unaware now, will someday grow up to turn and judge
you and I."  She could feel her voice rising and fought to keep it
calm.  "You can't just turn your back on her because what we have
doesn't work out.  You have to be willing to accept her now for
who and what she is, a part of you and I.  And leaving our home
wasn't easy.  It didn't come anywhere as simple to me as you
telling me to kill our baby did to you."
	
Mulder's sharp, deep intake of breath almost echoed in the room.
They were about to go through this yet again.  "How many times do
I get crucified with this Scully?  How many times?  I never told
you to do any such thing."
	
The denial always stumped her.  He had never actually used those
words.  He had never actually used any words to describe the act.
Therefore, her thoughts took a detour in order that she might
remain angry and in control of her emotions.  "You still don't get
it do you Mulder? That little girl sleeping in there is more
important to me than life itself.  If you can't accept her for
herself, and not simply for the fact that she has to be with me,
then I don't want to be with you."  Scully wiped away a stray tear
that managed to escape her tightly held facade.  "I don't want her
to grow up knowing that the only reason you accepted her was
because I forced you to.  What do you think that would do to her?"
	
Mulder had begun shifting from foot to foot, but stopped abruptly
and looked directly into her eyes.  "I know exactly what that kind
of relationship with her father would do to her."  His stare
penetrated her and let her know how disappointed he was that she
could be so forgetful.

End Part 4a




From s_anders@ix.netcom.com Tue Mar 11 16:42:49 1997
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: REPOST: A Thimble for Peter (4b/7)
From: Anderson <s_anders@ix.netcom.com>
Date: Tue, 11 Mar 1997 22:42:49 GMT
--------
A Thimble for Peter (4b/7)

by

S. Anderson (s_anders@ix.netcom.com)
and
Cheryl De Luca (cheryld@inforamp.net)

Category: MSR.  Serious Angst

Rating: R (maybe for language and adult situations)

Spoilers: TFWID, Leonard Betts (maybe), Memento Mori

	
Scully blinked, trying to break the ired spell he was weaving.  "I
know you know, Mulder.  That's why I find it so hard to believe
that you would put your own child through this."  She searched
every contour of his face, trying desperately to find some light
of understanding.  "There's something in you that prevents you
from making a complete commitment to me, to us.  And it is so
utterly overwhelming that I don't know how to fight it."  The way
her hands fidgeted before her as she said the word "fight" pled
for him to understand how much it was hurting.
	
His voice softened to the tone she could never fight. "Scully," he
got closer.  "I don't know how to be more committed to our family
in the state that it's in.  I've given up everything in my life to
fight for this.  I spent every free moment of your pregnancy
sneaking information on your condition, because you wouldn't tell
me yourself.  I've told a total stranger everything I've ever
thought about being married to you in hopes he would help me find
some healing in all this.  I've begged you to do the same and met
you effort for effort.  And finally, in the month and a half our
daughter has been here, I've given her more time and attention,
both physically and emotionally, than any other single person I've
ever known.  Except for you."  His face contorted, the glimmer of
anger grew, providing the roots for his frustration.  "Jesus
Scully, I sacrifice it all everyday for a wife who seems more at
peace when she's acting like she doesn't want me than she does
when I'm with her!  Hell, and you ask why can't I accept
Catherine?"  He began to pace back and forth.  Quick and angry
little steps motivated him momentarily until he halted and stared
at his wife once again.  "I'll tell you the truth.  It's easier to
accept her every time the three of us are together.  At least with
her, I know she wants me."  His hands found his hips.  "How much
more committed could I possibly be?"
	
"But you're not Mulder.  That's the whole point.  You say you
accept her but everything you do and all of your unspoken words
contradict that, the things you hide inside, but show on your
face."  Scully shook her head, a soft sigh of amazement slipping
out of her mouth. "Our family is the way it is because you
wouldn't commit, couldn't commit.  And you know what the sad thing
is?  I don't even think you realize it.  This..."  She shook her
head, and drew a connection between them with her hand.  "This all
happened too fast.  It was hormones."  She began to tremble.
"Sexually driven."  She shuttered furiously.  "Something born out
of a need, desperation - I don't know what.  But it wasn't love on
your part Mulder.  You're too focussed on other things."  Tears
began to flow now.  "I don't know what I was thinking.  What WE
were thinking and now we've gone and involved another life in
this.  OH GOD..."  She turned away, her voice choked with fear and
sadness.  "This whole mess is so sordid and painful.  I've just
realized myself why you didn't want Catherine... It wasn't because
it was too dangerous for us.  It was because if you ever had to
leave, if someone or something more important came along you could
go with no strings attached."
	
Mulder was at a loss.  This was going far beyond his attitude
about their daughter.  It was substantially bigger, if that were
possible.  Moving to place both hands on her shoulders, regardless
of how she might have felt about it, he made sure he had her
attention.  "You spend so much time telling me how I feel.  And a
year ago I would bet the world that you were right.  But in the
past five minutes, you've done nothing but prove you may not know
me at all."  As if he were her father, "You're not angry at me for
struggling to be a father."  He shook his head and saw her
temptation to shake hers with him.  "You're just plain frightened.
And I need to know... Frightened of what?"
	
Scully dropped her eyes to the floor below her feet, her
conflicting emotions a mass of chaos. She needed to be honest with
him, because this is something she would never say to him in front
of their counselor, but at the same time to open up to him, to
tell him her fears and show him her pain would leave her
incredibly vulnerable. She gazed at him for a moment with unshed
tears pooling in her eyes.  When she finally spoke her voice was
soft and tentative.  "I'm frightened that this.... "  She motioned
between them again.  "This isn't what you really wanted.  That
what you did want is dead along with all of the delusional, and
tragic romantic notions that go with it."  Her statement hit
Mulder like a ton of bricks.  "And that since you can't have what
you really wanted you settled for this, which is about as far from
perfect as you can get.  Believing that what you were looking for
wasn't out there anymore anyway."
	
Mulder's mind drifted back to a field, an old farm house, and a
young woman named Melissa.  He closed his eyes for a moment and
then shook off the feeling of sorrow the image forced on him.  Her
doubt was brutal.  The more she spoke, the more she assaulted
every tender admission he had ever made to her.  Scully was not
only questioning the strength of his promises and proclamations,
but the very honesty of them.  Was that even possible?  He would
find out.  "Scully, answer me this...am I a liar?"
	
"No." She said emphatically. That's one thing that she could never
accuse him of.  He moved to hold her, but she backed away knowing
his touch would hurt.
	
Taking her by the arms again, he forced their closeness.  His chin
rested on the top of her head.
	
"I just think that sometimes people see what they want to see.
It's a point of denial Mulder. I remember Tennessee so clearly
sometimes.  When we were there in Apison, I told Melissa I
couldn't understand how she could share her husband with 5 other
women."  She leaned into him slightly; her body betrayed the
feelings he still awakened in her.  "Well I can't share mine with
a ghost that he believes in.  It's colored every element of our
relationship from the beginning, because all along it has felt
like some sort of rebound.  And I can take a backseat to Sam, but
not to promises of what might have been from the collective of a
delusional and the man I love."
	
Dropping his head to her ear, "The only thing you share me with is
your fear... and every day, a little more with our daughter.  Do I
wonder what Melissa might be in some unknown future?  Of course.
But no more so than I wonder what you might be, and now what
Catherine might be."
	
"Mulder, the woman was psychotic at best.  And you want so much to
believe, that... that you allowed yourself to be drawn in.  Did
you ever question any of the histories you built in your head?
Did you do the math or ever consider other explanations for what
you experienced?  She moved back from him, still trembling.  "And
what Catherine is Mulder, is our daughter.  Someone who deserves
all of your attention and love, not just discards from a ghost.
Maybe I could have dealt with that, but I don't want Catherine to
have to."
	
Maintaining his grip on her he pulled Scully closer. "I saw in
Melissa the possibility that I wouldn't have to spend the rest of
my life, any life alone.  I saw the possibility that I wouldn t
have to be without passion and a home.  I saw in her a reason for
some of the emptiness."
	
"God, Dana.  Melissa showed me what could happen if I let this
life drift by.  That I would have to settle for one brief moment
of finding what's right.  I couldn't let that be the end all be
all of my existence.  Seeing her.  Experiencing what I experienced
with her taught me that.  And when I realized I couldn't settle
anymore, there you were.  The only woman I fathomed being with for
as far as I could see."  His breath was warm and lulling as he
whispered softly into her hair.  "I told you once that I might
never know what was 'supposed to be' or what 'would be' and that I
couldn't give what wasn't mine to control.  But Dana Scully what I
can control, this life I have right now, I have given to you along
with all the things we might be.  So, if fate meant me for
something different," he paused to make sure she was listening,
"then you should know that even if I never did anything else for
you, I renounced fate.  At some point, you have to forgive
me and accept that gift.  It's still yours for the taking."
	
Scully moved reluctantly from his embrace. "You know Mulder, I
love you so much that sometimes I want to put aside all of my
doubts and believe for you.  I can feel the emptiness.  I know how
strongly you feel that an element of your life is missing.  And I
know that element is Samantha, nothing more.  I also know that
believing what you do some how fills that void - But I want to
fill that in our lives.  I want to use the family we created to do
that."  Scully swiped at the tear tracks down her face.  "I'm so
tired of fighting ghosts."  She crossed her arms across her chest
protectively.  "If Sam is out there, I will do everything I can to
see that you find her, but I can't live with 'what might be's'
hanging over my head, and to me that feels like what I've been
doing.  I feel like I have been kept at arms length throughout our
marriage, and then Catherine was born and is an out for you.  Am I
wrong?"
	
Mulder was tempted to smile. Could they possibly be about to agree
on something?  Instead, he reached across the canyon that was the
two feet between them and faintly traced the side of her face.
"You're so worried about Melissa. You're so afraid of whatever she
might possibly represent to us in an indeterminate future..."  His
hand drifted back as he ran his fingers through her silky hair.
"Even if I could - I wouldn't want to spend this life with
Melissa, I want to spend it with you."  Mulder kicked himself
mentally, damning himself for his own willingness to believe
whatever was thrown his way.  He stared at his wife, the woman he
loved more than he ever thought possible.  "I never wanted an out
from you, Scully."  He paused and looked away.  "Catherine.. I
think.. I mean.. The thought of her.  This tiny life and my
responsibility towards it."  He shook his head again as expressing
himself became more difficult.  "At some point she scared me so
much that I wanted to run... My family, my father -  gave me my
own ghosts to fight... and I want to do that.  But it has to be
with you and no one else.."  He leaned in resting his forehead
against hers.  He closed his eyes, his voice dropping to a painful
whisper, "Do you know that the only thing that truly terrifies me
is the thought that I won't be able to do that, and more and more
the thought of living without this family we've started "

He moved away, the feel of her so close making him ache. The
uncertainty of their future focussed it and made the suffering
dull and prolonged. He swallowed hard. "I miss you so much." His
voice broke, betraying a hidden passion. "I miss the feel of you
along side me in bed..."  His stomach lurched in panic.  This was
going way too far.  He thought he would surely scare her out of
the room.  But in all honesty, how much more damage could he do?
"I miss the touch of your skin against mine, your smile, your
laugh, all that we shared. I love you," he said with an unwavering
surety. "And I want you more than anything imaginable. But still,
my feelings won't mean a damn if you can't forgive me.  It's a
choice you have to make before we can go anywhere from here.  It's
all in your hands Dana."  An uncomfortable silence fell over the
room, as he looked past her and out through yet another window for
some sort of escape. He didn't want to look at her face or see the
hurt he'd caused her, marring it.
	
"I do want to forgive you, Mulder!"  Her shoulders shook as her
restraint completely dissolved, and tears turned into sudden sobs
that rumbled out between her words. Mulder had never seen his
Scully like this before.  Not in the face of joy or evil. There
had been plenty of times this type of agony would have found a
place in their journeys, but she had kept it at bay.  Only now it
seemed impossible under the weight of it all.  Trembling hands
reached to cover her face, "I honestly do... Sometimes I can't
even think, there's been so much said and done.  I can't keep it
straight in my mind.  I don't know where to start."  Before the
mask of fingers was in place, he had crossed the space and was
holding her.  Permission had not been asked.  And for that, her
first reaction was shock.  In the end though, she was glad, glad
that he had the strength she did not. Pride be damned.
	
Mulder was careful not to crush her despite the desperate need to
do so.  The first thing his mind could register was how close her
face was to his own buried in the shallow nape of her neck.  When
he felt he could not hold on any longer without scaring her away,
he moved to release her.  As their cheeks passed each other, one
of the multitude of tears running down her face brushed against
the very corner of his mouth.  Mulder could have tasted the salt
if he dared.  Instead, a wonder broke around him as the full drop
cooled itself along its run down to his chin before it was
absorbed by the skin there.  Memories were no longer necessary to
re-live the completeness of possessing a part of her, of being a
part of her.  He was living it right then and it wasn't enough.
	
Cupping her wet face in his hands, Mulder tilted it toward him and
held her mouth a breath's space from his own.  "Maybe *we* could
start here..."  Fear was evident in her eyes, but he was going for
broke.  It had simply been too long, even if this sent her flying
for Never-Never Land.
	
Their lips met under his direction.  While he passed on drinking
in the first shared evidence of her grief, it was inescapable now.
The tears along her lips lubricated the tiny, delicate movements
Mulder coaxed from them.  A first kiss of passion, a last kiss of
death, neither could compare to this first kiss of forgiveness.

Mulder wasn't surprised when the woman in his arms broke away
suddenly. He knew he was pushing things.  He was virtually waiting
for her defenses to catch up with her body.  The rush to gather
her things was clumsy.  Mulder did not move to help.  Chivalry
would have to understand, he wasn't going to help her run away
from him anymore.  Loaded to the point of imbalance, Scully
stopped at the front door when she heard his voice. Turning to see
his calm, if not darkly joyous face, she heard him say, "I'll see
you on Tuesday?"  Their next appointment.
	
If he had been unsure of his decisions this evening, her response
dispelled any regret.  It was a short, but unbroken "On Tuesday."
No smile, but no dread either.  She spun back to the door and
Mulder caught Catherine's sleepy eyes while her head bobbed with
her mother's frantic attempts to open the door and leave.  They
were wide and deep with the green that fascinated him every time
he saw them.  And with the knowing expression of wisdom reserved
only for her father, Catherine Scully redefined his definition of
hope.

End Part 4b