From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Thu, 28 Aug 2008 21:04:28 -0500 (CDT)
Subject: Time Between Moments by Adrienne
Source: direct

Reply To: davephile@yahoo.com


Title: Time Between Moments
Author: Adrienne < davephile@yahoo.com > 
Date: Aug. 29, 2008
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: S8, S9
Classification: VRA, MSR
Keywords: Mulder/Scully
Archive: Anywhere, in its entirety
Summary: Time exists between moments, shaping three lives.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine and belong to the 
higher ups. 
Author's Notes: This is intended to bridge the miserable, 
undefined gap between Existence and Nothing Important Happened 
Today. I'm taking all liberties here, despite what canon might be 
or how that gap has been interpreted. Deal. Many thanks to 
Marigold, my fabulous beta and even more fabulous friend.
_______________________________________________

Existence
Mulder can feel his heart beating in his chest, his blood racing 
through his body like he's just run several miles, yet all he's 
done is tell her how he feels, what he knows is the truth. There 
were times in the past when those inches between them felt like 
miles, but now he breaches them so easily when all their defenses 
are finally down.

He leans in and the disbelief on her face fades to hope. Her lips 
are soft and she's still for a moment, her eyes fluttering 
closed, before opening her mouth to his kiss. And there's that 
feeling he's been so desperate for over the past few months. 
Completion, a chapter finally closed.

"So what does this mean?" She pulls away from him, searching his 
eyes.

"I think it means I'll be changing a lot of diapers." He nuzzles 
his nose against hers, needy again for the touch of her lips. She 
kisses him softly, once, and smiles.

"You might as well start now," she says.
_______________________________________________

It's late in the evening and William has gone down for his three-
hour nap between meals--three hours if they're lucky. Mulder's 
nervous, though he tries to hide it by distracting himself with 
arranging various items around the living room. He doesn't want 
her to think he expects anything; he knows the doctor's rules, he 
knows what she's been through. He's an expert at masking how much 
he wants to touch her, to be close to her. He's done that for 
years.

But Scully pulls him to the couch and kisses him full on the 
mouth, her hands on his cheeks, the tip of her tongue teasing. He 
kisses her back as their hands reacquaint with familiar 
territory. Her palms smooth down his broad shoulders and rub his 
chest.

"We're making out, Scully," he whispers in her ear, his hand 
sliding up her pajama shirt. Warm, soft skin, all the way up to 
the firmness of her breast. She gasps a little and it sends a 
chill down his spine.

"Does it turn you on?" She leans in to kiss his neck. He breathes 
out slowly.

"Probably too much." He knows that's true, blood rushing to 
certain parts of his body he'd rather not acknowledge right now. 
"Scully, I know we can't do too much, but...I want to kiss you 
all over. Just kiss you."

"I think I can handle that," she says, kissing his forehead.
_______________________________________________

They're quiet in the bedroom, moving by the light from the 
cracked bathroom door. Scully turns her back to him while she 
unbuttons her white silk pajama top, pushing it down her 
shoulders. He unhooks her bra and slides the straps down, then 
pulls her back against his bare chest. It feels new; it feels 
exactly like his dreams.

"I look different," she says. "Different from before."

Mulder rubs her stomach in gentle circles. "You're beautiful."

"You haven't seen my stretch marks yet." She lets out a small 
moan when his hands reach her breasts. He feels the hair rise on 
the back of his neck.

"Turn around and show me then," he says.

Scully faces him, meeting his eyes expectantly. He looks down at 
her stomach and raises his eyebrows. "I don't see any."

"Look closer." Her toes are twiddling as he crouches down, his 
eyes wandering along her abdomen, fingers following heated skin 
along the waistband of her panties. She shivers.

"Nope, nothing. Oh, wait." He presses his cheek against her 
stomach. "Is that...you mean that little thing?" He smiles and 
looks up at her and she's got tears in her eyes. He stands up and 
hugs her. She melts into him.

"I'm not going to let you go," he says with the softest laugh he 
can manage. "You and your silly stretch marks."

Hungry Larval Lepidoptera
Mulder's belongings migrated to her apartment an overnight bag at 
a time as he built a nest for himself there. It's completely 
surreal to him: Scully as a mom, him being a dad, having a baby. 
Their baby. It almost feels too good to sit on the couch, just 
the three of them, while she reads The Very Hungry Caterpillar 
aloud because "it's never too early to read to your child." 
William kicks and gazes and drools.

That afternoon he finally convinces her to take William for a 
walk around the neighborhood. She breathes in deeply, the first 
time she's been out in days, the late spring air fresh and 
inviting. The sun warms their shoulders. He pushes the stroller 
and her hand slides around his arm.

"This feels nice," she says. It's the first time he's heard her 
say that.

Girls Like Him
The knock on the door is unexpected. Scully leaves William on the 
floor on his blanket and peers through the peephole, concern 
turning into a smile.

She opens the door to Skinner, a baby-blue wrapped gift tiny in 
his large hands. "Agent Scully. I was just in the area and 
thought I'd drop this by."

Her smile widens as he awkwardly holds the gift out to her. She 
blushes as he does and moves aside for him. "Come in. William's 
awake."

"Thanks," he says, walking in and making his way to William. He 
crouches down and lets William wrap his tiny fist around his 
finger. "Hey there, partner."

Mulder walks in through the kitchen at the sound of Skinner's 
voice; his hair is still damp from his shower and he's barefoot. 
"Hey, Uncle Walter. What brings you by?"

Mulder notices Skinner startle a bit; the man rises and recovers 
quickly from the shock. "Agent Mulder. Mulder. I just brought..." 
He motions to the gift Scully's holding in her lap on the couch. 
"I brought that. I should be going."

"Well, let me open it with you here," Scully says.

"I've got somewhere to be," Skinner replies, shifting on his 
feet.

"She's got quick hands. Mulder arches an eyebrow. "For unwrapping 
gifts."

Scully gives him a quick glare and pulls the paper off the box. 
Mulder walks over to William and sits next to him, grabbing a 
colorful plush ball from the coffee table and dangling it in 
front of his face.

Scully opens the box and laughs. Mulder looks at her and then at 
Skinner, who has turned a slight shade of red. She holds up a 
blue onesie, beaming.

"'Chicks dig me,'" Mulder reads outloud. "Do those come in an 
extra-large?"

Skinner smiles, self-conscious. "My assistant picked it out. I 
might have had final approval. There's a gift card in there too. 
Whole Foods. Some organic grocery store she goes to all the 
time."

Mulder sees her struggle to hold back her tears as she smiles. 
"That's wonderful. I love that store." She shakes the onesie. 
"And I love this too."

"Good," Skinner says, his voice a bit gruff, his sensitive moment 
apparently over. "Well, I'll look forward to seeing you back in a 
few months, Agent Scully. And Mulder, next week, right? Stop by 
my office when you get back."

"See you then," Mulder says, his eyes on his son.

Sleep When the Baby Sleeps
The Monday morning sun rises and she stretches her toes like a 
cat, her hand tangled in his hair. They're both enjoying the 
relatively new feeling of a workweek sans work. Despite the 
stresses of new parenthood--sleep deprivation, diaper changes, 
William's random inconsolable crying fits--there's been a good 
amount of time in bed together. They take her mother's advice, 
sleeping when the baby sleeps, curling around each other, 
enjoying the feeling of fingers exploring ridges of muscles and 
ticklish spots.

"Have I ever told you that I think you're pretty cute?" He 
cuddles against her side, nuzzling her neck.

"Are you coming on to me, Mulder?" She lazily traces circles on 
his back.

He kisses her earlobe. "Maybe."

"I'm in my maternity underwear. And I haven't showered in two 
days."

"Way to take it down a notch, Scully." He rolls over, turning his 
back to her. He smiles and waits.

"I'm sorry. You know what, Mulder?" He feels the bed shift under 
her movement.

"I'm not sure I want to know any more."

"I think you're pretty cute too," she says, sliding an arm around 
his waist, her bare breasts against his back. She kisses the nape 
of his neck and he closes his eyes to the tingle of her lips on 
his skin.

The Eventful Return from the Market
Mulder comes home from the market with eighteen out of twenty 
items on her list and finds her crying in front of the fridge. 
Scully looks at him and laughs a little, then lets out a sob.

"Scully, what's wrong?" He drops her canvas shopping bags on the 
floor, hopes the eggs didn't break, and pulls her into his arms.

"Mulder, everything's so different." She pushes her forehead 
against his chest. "I look horrible. I don't even put makeup on 
anymore. I'm hungry but I don't know what to eat. I'm so 
exhausted, my uterus hurts, my breasts weigh three pounds each 
and feel like lead weights...and don't you dare crack a joke or 
I'll hurt you."

And she's crying and sniffling into his shirt and he knows this 
is some kind of normal post-partum behavior, but he's still not 
quite sure what to do or say.

"You don't look horrible," he finally says.

"Mulder, don't lie to me." Another sob escapes her. 

Wrong answer, he thinks.

"Scully, I...here. Can you sit on the couch?" Mulder leads her to 
the sofa and grabs some tissues from the coffee table. She buries 
her face in them and he strokes her hair.

"I'm so tired, Mulder." She blows her nose.

"Scully, go sleep," he says, rubbing her shoulders.

"But he...needs...me." The tears start up again.

"Scully, William's asleep. He doesn't need you right now."

"But you need me."

He pulls her head to his chest with a deep sigh. She shakes in 
his arms, slowly calming.

"Scully, you need rest. I'll get up with William. There's pumped 
milk in the fridge. Now I'm going to tuck you in, and I expect 
you to stay in bed, all right?" He lifts her chin and she nods, 
wiping tears away.
_______________________________________________

Mulder's in the living room dozing off when he hears William 
start to fuss. At first he thinks it's part of a dream he's 
started, in which William is one of three kids, the other two 
running around in a spring green field while he and Scully sit on 
a wooden porch, watching at ease.

He walks into the bedroom and lifts William from the bassinet, 
rubbing his back.

"You got it?" Her voice is muffled by her pillow.

"Yep. Sleep."

The boys make their way to the kitchen, where Mulder drops a 
bottle of breastmilk into the bottle warmer and makes his way to 
the living room. He lays William on the couch and changes his 
diaper amid kicking legs and impatient warnings.

They settle on the couch with the bottle. William protests at 
first before accepting the bottle with a reluctant suck. "I know 
it's not your mom, but it's the best I can do," Mulder says. He 
pulls William snug against him.

"I hope you don't mind me talking while you're eating, 
but...we've gotta have a man-to-man here. And this is the only 
time we can do it. So here it goes."

William sucks hungrily on his bottle and Mulder chews on his 
cheek.

"Your mom is an amazing woman and you might not realize that for 
a few years--it might take a few years to sink in, how truly 
amazing she is--but you're lucky to have her and she's more than 
lucky to have you."

William seems transfixed, his blue eyes focusing on his father's 
face.

"Sometimes she gets a little cranky, like when the barista shorts 
her on sugar-free hazelnut syrup in her latte, but we take the 
good with the bad. You'll learn that about women."

Mulder looks away, thinking about what to say next. He knows that 
this makes no sense to the kid but feels an urge to tell him how 
he feels. That maybe he'll remember the look in his eyes more 
than the words from his mouth. He meets William's eyes again.

"There are going to be times when mom looks sad, but that's 
usually because of me, so don't think it's your fault. Your mom's 
been through some really bad shi-- really bad stuff. But I think 
we've turned a corner here, just between me and you."

William finishes his bottle and Mulder picks him up, placing him 
on his shoulder. He pats his back, waiting for the burp, and is 
surprised at how loud it is when it comes. "That's the Scully in 
you," he murmurs into the boy's hair.

"Don't tell your mom I said that."

Turning the Corner
"Kersh says my life's in danger, by the same people who 
threatened him."

They're standing in the living room. He watches her slow 
meltdown. She glances around the room like she's searching for 
spies. 

"Do we know who these people are? Their motivation?"

"No, we don't." He shuffles his feet, runs his hand through his 
hair. He can feel the frustration building around her. He'd known 
how she'd react--he'd been nauseated the entire ride home 
thinking about telling her about the latest shit to hit the fan.

"Well...how can we possibly...Mulder, I can't believe it. I 
won't," she says, glaring at him. 

"Scully, we've got to take this seriously."

She throws her hands in the air and turns around, walking toward 
the window.

"You know, I knew things were too good. I knew I was too happy. I 
should have known better. Mulder, I am so tired of building up 
our ivory tower just to have it knocked down again."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," she says, running her finger over the 
desk, checking it for dust.

He takes a deep breath. "Scully, I...it's been suggested that I 
might be a danger to you and William. If I stay here."

She turns around, her eyes narrowed. "Mulder."

He stares at her. He knows better not to look away.

"You're not leaving me again." She squares her hips toward him, 
assuming the stance she takes when she wants to appear larger, 
more intimidating, to knock him down a little. It works and he 
rubs the back of his neck.

"Scully, I need to find out who's behind these threats. And it's 
not safe for you or William with me here."

"That is exactly why you're not leaving me again, Mulder. It's 
not just me any more. You left me behind when you went to 
Bellefleur--"

"You told me I could go to Oregon."

"Did I have a choice? Do I ever?"

He breaks their gaze at last, eyes shifting to her bedroom 
doorway. The biting anger in her hushed voice throws him back 
decades to the quiet fury he could barely make out, ear pressed 
against the heating vent in his bedroom, his parents downstairs 
hissing and repressing, hiding and concealing.

"And now you've made a decision already that you're going to 
leave me again. Do you even care how that feels? I know..." She 
pauses, her shoulders falling forward a bit. "I know I come 
second, after the quest. I always have. But William, Mulder."

Second to the quest. The words hit him painfully hard.

"This is not about a quest."

"Yes, it is. It's your quest for the truth. Listen to me. That 
truth is right there in my bedroom. Your son. You can stop 
looking for other miracles to fill the void."

He sighs, a notch too loud for their surroundings. "Scully, what 
void? Is there some emptiness you're seeing in me you care to 
tell me about? I wouldn't leave...I'm not leaving because I need 
something more. I'm leaving to preserve what we have."

"What will we have? We aren't whole without you here."

He feels the little crack in his heart expand a little more. 
"I'll come back, Scully, and we'll be whole again."

"Mulder..." She shakes her head, as if tossing away the bits of 
concession that have begun clinging to her. Her hand meets her 
hip as he approaches.

"You don't know why you put up with me, do you?" he asks. He 
tucks her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her 
cheek.

"I gave up trying to answer that question about five years ago," 
she says. She turns her face away from his fingers, biting her 
lip. "I need a moment."

She walks down the hallway to the guest bedroom and closes the 
door. Mulder sits down on the couch and closes his eyes, his mind 
tired of searching for a way to keep the tower from crumbling.
_______________________________________________

Mulder gives her fifteen minutes before he knocks on the door of 
the guest bedroom. "Scully, open the door."

"You need to respect my privacy, Mulder."

"Scully, open the door."

He knows raising his voice a few decibels will get her attention. 
She yanks it open. "You wake that baby, you're breastfeeding him 
yourself," she hisses. She doesn't look at him, her eyes glassy 
and cheeks reddened.

He enters the room and scans the moonlit landscape. Large boxes 
with their contents displayed colorfully on the sides--a high 
chair, a bouncer, a baby swing--all of them piled into a corner. 
She has a blue layette in her hand and she tosses it to the bed. 
A few stuffed animals are scattered across the white quilt, and 
in between the pillows at the head of the bed, an heirloom doll 
with black yarn curls lies snug in its niche.

He gently pulls her to him. Scully presses her cheek against his 
chest. He shuts his eyes and focuses on breathing her in, feeling 
the wetness of her tears.

"I can't do this alone," she whispers, her voice cracking.

He draws her closer, one arm around her back, the other around 
her shoulders. He kisses her hair.

"Scully, if there's one thing I have faith in, it's your 
strength."

"Mulder...I'm tired of being strong." She sniffles against his 
chest. "I'm exhausted by it. You have no idea what it's like..." 
She stops and her body tenses in his arms. She's holding back 
sobs. It takes her whole body to do it.

He does know, but he doesn't remind her. There was the gold cross 
glinting from his fingers as he stared across an expanse of 
roaring coastline. The feeling of loss as he looked into the 
pitch black sky on Skyland Mountain, knowing she was up there 
somewhere, enveloped in the same darkness that had an icy grip on 
his heart. When he watched the respirator jerk her body, 
supporting her fragile life in front of him. He knows what it 
takes to think you've lost everything yet keep trudging on, in 
hopes for the final break, the clouds beyond the storm.

"Ssshh, Scully." His fingers stroke her hair, rough on silk. Her 
arms tighten around his waist. "I'm sorry."

The Second Set of Last Hours Together
She watches him with William on her hip as he packs the last of 
the bags. Nearly every piece of him he'd carted over to her 
apartment during the past weeks is tucked away in her matching 
black luggage.

"Can I take these with me?" He's twirling a pair of her panties 
around his finger, red lace. She arches an eyebrow with a smile.

"Don't get caught wearing them."

"Don't worry. They'll be safe and sound under my pillow."

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "Maybe it's a good thing 
he's leaving," she tells William.

7 p.m.
They sit at her kitchen table across from each other, an unusual 
change from traditional on-couch dining. The scent of vanilla 
candles mingles with the spice of Indian food, carefully removed 
from its Styrofoam carriages and onto her plates. It almost looks 
like they've made it at home.

Mulder watches Scully as she works through her chicken tikka 
masala, chewing slowly. Sometimes her eyes close with enjoyment. 
He loses all interest in what will probably be his last decent 
meal for a long time.

She notices. "Mulder, why are you staring at me? I thought you 
liked curry."

"I do, Scully. Just thinking." He digs in to show her, an 
appreciative forkful. She isn't buying.

"About?" She takes a sip of water. 

"About how beautiful you are," he says.

She pushes the food around on her plate, eyeing him. "As often as 
you say that, do you ever think about anything else?"

He sticks his fork in his rice. "Of course I do, Scully. 
Like...basketball, baseball, Internet porn, life in general...and 
your breasts. In ascending order of importance."

"My breasts rank over life in general?"

"Yes. Yes, they do."

She looks down at her chest and tries not to smile. "If you say 
so."

10 p.m.
They're lying on the couch, her head on his chest. He holds her 
close and watches firelight play over the smooth, pale skin of 
her back.

"There's a bank account in both of our names at Bank of the 
Northeast. I left the information in your top desk drawer." His 
fingers trace her spine.

"Mulder, you need that money for yourself."

"There's plenty there for both of us."

The fire crackles and he closes his eyes, tilting his head back 
against the arm of the couch. His neck crackles in relief. The 
weight of her body puts him a little more at ease. He rubs his 
bare foot against hers.

"My life insurance policy is there, too." 

He feels her chin push into his chest.

"Please don't." Her voice is soft, a little desperate.

"Scully, we have to think about these things. Just in case."

"I don't want to think," she says, her cheek pressed against him 
again. "I want to listen to your heart beating."

11 p.m.
"What are we going to do?" Scully kisses him after asking what, 
for most people, would be a simple question. They're clinging to 
each other on the bed. It seems safe there, a place where 
everything seems to slow down just enough to feel the inkling of 
hope beyond hurt.

"Right now?" His hand travels to her bottom.

"No. What are we going to do after you've stopped running? If you 
stop running?"

Mulder had dreamed up about a dozen possible answers to that 
question, ranging from cattle ranching in Colorado to living on a 
houseboat in Tahiti. Those two were the least likely, but dreams 
nonetheless. "What do you want to do?"

"I want a little house."

His heart aches. He kisses the top of her head.

"I want a little white house in the middle of nowhere, where I 
can feel everything."

"Okay."

"Can I have it, Mulder?" Her arms tighten around his neck.

He's desperate for actions to be easier than words and tries to 
sound convincing, sure of himself. "Yes."

12 a.m.
A quiet cry rouses them from a hazy, restless entanglement of 
limbs.

"He's got my appetite," Mulder murmurs against her hair.

"I don't think he's asking for pizza," she breathes, kissing his 
chest and rolling away.

He turns on his side, memorizing the lines of shadows on her bare 
back as she swiftly changes fussy, hungry baby. She brings 
William to the bed, lays him down, the back of his soft cotton 
pajamas against Mulder's chest. William is squirming, rooting as 
Scully lies on her side, guiding her nipple to his eager mouth. 
He latches on, she breathes out, and his wiggling stops as a tiny 
fist lands on the soft skin of her breast.

"I'm next in line." Mulder watches and doesn't try to hide his 
amazement at mother nourishing baby, this little piece of them. 
He meets her eyes, knows there's a laugh in there somewhere. Her 
cheek is smooth and cool under his fingertips, her lips warm 
against his palm.

3:05 a.m.
"I'm going to tell them I told you to go." Her voice is soft from 
the other side of the bed. He's been staring at the ceiling for 
eons.

"Who's them?"

"Skinner. Agent Doggett. My family."

"Why?" Mulder turns on his side and sees she's been staring at 
the ceiling too. He wishes they could see past the roof, into the 
stars. He runs his fingers down her arm and slides his palm 
against hers, threading their fingers together.

"Because I don't want them to think less of you for leaving. As a 
father. As..." She falters and he squeezes her hand. There is no 
labeling what he is to her, what they are to each other. They 
just exist together, the left and right chamber of the same 
heart.

"Scully, we've never cared what anyone thought."

"Mulder." She turns to him with a small smile. "You never cared. 
And then there was me, cleaning up the messes, rebuilding 
bridges, answering the questions you left in your wake."

"My little FEMA Scully."

They lie in silence, her hand on his chest.

"I'm going to miss you like hell." He barely hears her, her voice 
is so soft. His brow knits and he feels a pull in his chest, 
tight and deep. 

"Me too," he says, craning his neck to meet her lips in a slow 
kiss. She's soft, gentle, and it reminds him of the first time 
they kissed, the nervous butterflies in his stomach, wings 
beating change. She lingers on his bottom lip, her eyes closed.

Later.
He knows she's still awake. Her breathing is shallow, impatient, 
her body wedged against his in stillness. The clock stopped 
having meaning several hours ago; he refuses to give it that 
power, knowing time will dictate them too strongly in the 
morning. Right now they are floating in ephemeral moments. 

"I'm thinking about Bellefleur, when you came to my room, shaky 
and sick. How I held you just like this, and I was aching to give 
you everything you've missed, everything you've ever wanted. And 
Scully, it blows my mind that inside you already, that spark of 
life had begun. That you were carrying our son and we didn't even 
know. It blows my mind."

"I know." She pushes her back into him as they struggle to get 
closer.

"Are you afraid?" He's not sure he wants to know, but he needs to 
know.

"Are you?"

"I asked you first."

He knows it's hard to come up with words to describe their fears. 
They don't usually talk about them--most are too real or too 
overwhelming to face. She takes her time answering. "I'm afraid 
you won't come back, that something will happen and you'll be 
lost again, and this time there won't be any answers. No 
miracles. Just me waiting and wondering what to tell him about 
what happened to you."

He presses her lips against her ear. "I'll do everything I can to 
make sure I come back."

"I know."

It's quiet. He knows what's coming.

"Are you afraid?" she asks.

"I'm worried something will happen while I'm gone. I'm worried 
that I can't protect the two of you while I'm not here."

She grasps his hand and works her fingers into his fist. "We'll 
be okay."

6 a.m.
"Is that the sun?"

"No." She buries her face in his neck.

"You going to shower with me this morning?" He feels her breath 
against his skin, giving him goosebumps.

"Mmmm. William's going to be up any minute. I'd better not."

"Scully, I miss you all soapy and naked."

"Mulder...I miss you already."

He leaves the warmth of their bed for the cool tile of the 
bathroom.
_______________________________________________

He dries off and wraps a towel around his waist, anxious to find 
her. She's standing in the living room with William on her 
shoulder. Her eyes are set on the luggage waiting for its 
departure. He kisses William on the head, her on the lips.

"What do you want for breakfast?" she asks. William lets out a 
tiny cry. "Not you. I know what you want."

"I'll have what he's having."

She laughs. It's been too long since he's heard her laugh. "God. 
Mulder, food. Solid food."

"Pancakes?" Scully always puts honey on her pancakes instead of 
syrup, despite her understandable aversion to bees and bee 
products. It makes them deliciously sticky. The last time they'd 
had pancakes they had to shower afterward.

"I can do pancakes. But you'll have to wait until he's done. 
Squeaky wheel gets the grease."

Mulder kisses her again. "Scully, I love you."

"See that? All that time, all I had to do was make you pancakes."

The smile that he wishes could last forever stays in place for a 
few more minutes than usual.
_______________________________________________

They're at the table with their pancakes and honey. Mulder's got 
William in a football hold on his forearm while he eats the 
pieces she cut for him.

"When's the train leave?" She takes another bite and sits back in 
her chair.

"11:07."

She glances at the clock. 8:30. "You need to leave soon."

"The cab'll be here at 9:30." He takes a drink of vanilla soy 
milk and hastily eats another piece of pancake.

Her jaw tenses, her holding-it-back look. She blinks once. 
"Okay."

She takes the gift card from Skinner out of the pocket of her 
robe and pushes it across the table to him.

"Scully, you--"

"Mulder. Don't argue with me. Just take it. It's the only way I 
can make sure you get fed."
_______________________________________________

He's lying down on the floor with William, who wiggles on a blue 
blanket speckled with planets and stars. He's got a white bunny 
with long ears suspended over his son, talking about farmers and 
carrots and "What's up, Doc?" in a tiny voice he's never used 
before but seems appropriate for rabbits.

She sits on the couch, her legs folded under her, staring off 
into space. He's aware of her stillness, her mind whirring away 
at possibilities, her coping mechanisms in overdrive. Time 
passes, unrelenting, when moments like this should stretch over 
eternity, over pain, over loneliness. Mulder uses his bunny voice 
and baby listens, imprinting, he hopes. He has a lot of hopes.

"Do you think I'm a bad father for leaving?" He lowers his voice 
and shakes the bunny at William as he says it.

"Are you asking him or me?" 

He looks at her. "You. For now."

She breathes out, pulling her hair behind her ear. Then she meets 
his eyes. "No."

She breaks their gaze after a few seconds, focusing instead on 
something too far away to see.
_______________________________________________

His luggage--her luggage--is loaded up in the taxi he's taking to 
the train station. He's tipped the cabbie for an extra moment and 
takes the stairs two at a time.

He finds her in the bedroom, watching over the bassinet. Mulder 
runs his fingers over the sleeping baby's chest, feather light, 
afraid to wake him. Then he pulls on Scully's hand and leads her 
to the apartment door. He can feel her resisting a little and he 
turns to her. She looks down at her toes and he clenches his jaw, 
trying to recall all of the beautiful things he'd planned to say 
at this moment.

"I'm gonna come back...Scully, look at me."

She looks up at him and loses her first tear. He feels the 
pressing need to continue, in case he can say the one word, the 
one turn of phrase that will put her at ease. He presses his 
mouth against her ear, holding her close.

"I'm gonna come back and we're going to have that little house 
that's just big enough for the three of us, an hour from the 
ocean and an hour from the mountains. As soon as he's walking 
I'll teach him how to throw a baseball. We're gonna have to go to 
the Little League World Series in Japan to watch him pitch and 
we'll have popcorn with no butter, and you'll stand up and scream 
at the ump for a bad call or two. We've never been to Japan, 
Scully, can you believe that? And when he's not pitching 
fastballs, you're going to teach him how to read JAMA and play 
Operation."

"I hate that goddamned game," she whispers.

"Scrabble. You'll teach him how to play Scr--"

She's on her tiptoes and moves her head to catch the rest of the 
words with her lips, pulling his head down and sliding her tongue 
into his mouth. She nudges against him and he smoothes his hands 
up her back, closing his eyes, his mind frantically working to 
categorize the smell of her skin, every taste, the texture of her 
tongue and her teeth, her urgency. Classify it and store it for 
later, on those nights when he feels like he's the only person 
left in the world. In that dark, wood-paneled motel room where no 
one will come knocking yet he lies awake expecting. She will be 
there, tucked neatly away.

He tries to pull away but she holds fast with a whimper into his 
mouth, fingers threaded through the back of his hair. Even 
breaths against his skin, her lips caressing, translating secrets 
between then for safe keeping. She holds him there, taking in her 
memories as his hands slide over the rigid muscles of her back.

Their foreheads meet.

"Go," she breathes. They breathe.

_______________________________________________
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