From: philiater Date: 12 Jul 2003 17:57:59 -0700 Subject: Unlooked For Joy 1/2 MSR Source: atxc Unlooked For Joy 1/2 Author: Philiater Category: MSR, Vignette. AU? Timeline: Early. That's all I can say. Rating: part 1 is PG-13. Part 2 is not. Disclaimer: not mine, never were. They belong to CC and company Beta thanks to Frohike51 and Keleka For Tali on her birthday. And Chicago Lisa. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Sonnet 25 Let those who are in favour with their stars Of public honour and proud titles boast, Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most. Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread But as the marigold at the sun's eye, And in themselves their pride lies buried, For at a frown they in their glory die. The painful warrior famoused for fight, After a thousand victories once foiled, Is from the book of honour razed quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toiled: Then happy I, that love and am beloved, Where I may not remove nor be removed. -William Shakespeare ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* He ran into her in the park of all places. He was in town for a stress management seminar Skinner had forced him to attend after a particularly bad case. He was told he needed a break. A break? He tried to tell Skinner he most certainly did not need a break and that his inclination was to keep searching for their elusive, paranormal killer. But Skinner had set his mouth into a tight line and wouldn't budge an inch. He'd told Mulder that if he didn't attend, he'd close the X-Files and force Mulder take a leave of absence. So, off to Chicago he went. The speaker was a tired-looking man with gray hair who wore tennis shoes and a cardigan sweater. Mulder immediately dubbed him Mr. Rogers. Mr. Rogers stood stiffly at the podium to extol the virtues of taking life slowly and going for long strolls in the park. He spoke in a friendly, monotone voice designed to sell laxatives in TV commercials. It was such a boring speech, Mulder had resorted to mentally tossing pencils into the particle-board ceiling above him. Afterward, they broke up into small groups to 'talk through' their individual traumas and explain how these hidden wounds had reflected on their work. Mulder found himself being sullen and combative with the other participants. Instead of using his psychology training to further their discussion, he used it to needle the other members of his group. A few arguments broke out after Mulder said the only thing a stroll in the park got you was mugged. It got so bad, Mr. Rogers was forced to come over and calm the group down. When Mulder's transgressions were recited by the group, Mr. Rogers gave him a stern lecture on group dynamics that Mulder had heard long ago in a freshman psych class. Mr. Rogers had also said Mulder would fail the entire seminar unless he agreed to do one thing: go for a stroll in the park. Mulder had gaped at the man like he had two heads and asked just how he was going to accomplish this task since downtown Chicago was fresh out of strolling parks. Safe ones anyway. Mr. Rogers had smiled serenely and dragged Mulder out to his beat-up Pontiac. He was deposited in the passenger seat and told to buckle up before being driven away from the ugly stone building where the seminar had been held. They passed miles and miles of streets and made turns down long roads. Mulder quickly became lost in the maze of outer Chicago. Eventually they arrived in what appeared to be a rather affluent suburb. Large houses sat back on immaculately manicured lawns. Skinny Stepford-like wives wearing Liz Claiborn jumpers pushed baby carriages ordered from the Hammacher-Schlemmer catalog. Mulder wondered if this was where the intrepid Mr. Rogers lived. He was still contemplating this somewhat sterile environment when the car came to a sudden stop. A wide, open area of grass lay just outside his window. He was told to get out. At first he thought Mr. Rogers was simply kidding. He just wanted to scare Mulder a little bit by driving him out into the middle of nowhere. He'd smile any minute and tell him that. Any minute. Mr. Rogers repeated the request in a loud voice. He told Mulder in no uncertain terms to stay there, stroll, and he'd be back for him when the seminar was over in three hours. He was also told that his boss, Mr. Skinner, had personally called to make sure Mulder did everything possible to pass that seminar. Mr. Rogers was told he would receive a personal commendation from the director if Mulder managed to accomplish this task. Apparently Mr. Rogers wanted that commendation. He pushed Mulder out of the car and locked the door behind him. Mulder stood in stunned silence on the hot sidewalk in his wrinkled suit and watched the Pontiac disappear. He knew he couldn't get back to his hotel even if he figured out where he was. He had a grand total of five dollars in his wallet and there didn't appear to be a cash machine in this vast park. So he strolled. The park had to cover at least eight city blocks. He passed tennis courts, two ball fields, and a swimming pool without ever seeing the other end. When he got too hot to walk more, he sat on park bench under a large shade tree. The bench was painted green and made of hard-blocked cement. It faced a little playground where children of various ages romped with unrestrained glee. He smiled as he watched them play. *They* knew the real meaning of stress management. A little boy with strawberry blond hair caught his eye. He couldn't have been more than two, but was making a valiant effort to keep up with kids at least twice his age. A game of dodge ball was underway and this little boy kept getting hit. As he watched, the boy went down yet again from a particularly hard throw. He fell backwards into the dirt as the ball hit him and bounced away from the screaming youngsters. Mulder watched, afraid he was hurt, but smiled in relief as the little boy struggled to a standing position. Mulder looked down in surprise to find the ball had come to rest at his feet. He'd been so concentrated on the boy, he didn't see it come rolling over. He stooped to pick it up and met some resistance as small hands made a grab for it too. When he looked up, an enormous pair of hazel green eyes under reddish hair stared back at him. "Aren't you too young to be playing with those kids?" he asked the toddler. The boy shook his head and continued to stare at Mulder, never relinquishing his grip on the ball. Mulder didn't like the fact that this boy appeared to be alone and was now standing next to a stranger. "Where's your mom?" he asked. Just then a familiar voice called a name over the playground din. "Charlie!" Mulder froze. It couldn't be. Not after all this time. Not after nearly three years of separation... "Charlie." And then she was just--there. The sun bounced off her shiny hair, lighting it up to a bold red as she emerged from the tangle of children and parents. She had a sundress and sandals on, looking like an ad for Eddie Bauer Home. She was shielding her eyes against the glare when she finally made it to the bench. Mulder could see that she was so concentrated on the boy, she hadn't recognized him yet. "Charlie, sweetie, I told you not to play with those bigger kids-" She stopped dead when she looked up. Time fell away as they stood looking at each other. Mulder thought his heart would pound right out of his chest. She was here. She was *here*. When she'd left, he didn't know where she'd gone. He knew the Tooms case had spooked her badly; she'd stayed with him that night. Mulder'd had the best of intentions when he invited her over, but those intentions melted away when she crawled into bed and started kissing him. They made love that night because of the acts of sadistic madman. It had been intense, beautiful, and a big mistake. The next morning they could hardly look at one other. Mulder hadn't known what to say, and Scully had left as quickly as possible. He tried to make it up to her, but she remained cool and distant for the next several weeks. One day she just didn't come in. When he went to her apartment, he found it had been rented out. He nearly went crazy trying to find her. Skinner had finally called him to his office and told him she'd left and didn't want to be found. Didn't want to be found??? He'd accused Skinner of knowing where she was, of keeping her from him. Skinner had listened to it all and said he had no idea where she was, that she'd given her resignation and said she never wanted to see any of them again. "She said she had her reasons, Mulder, and that you'd understand." He hadn't understood at all. What happened to Scully had been awful, terrifying, but was survivable. It hadn't seemed any more dire than anything else they'd been through together. The difference, of course, was that they'd slept together. How could *that* be a deal breaker? He knew he could have found her easily if he tried. A couple of hours with the Gunmen and he'd know the color of the carpeting in her new apartment. But he decided to respect her wishes. If he found her, she'd just move again. He'd never understand why she left. Never. As time went on, he was paired with a succession of partners that came and went with surprising frequency. None of them were ever as good as Scully. In his eyes they never could be and they knew it. With more time he got over losing her as a partner, but he never got over the feeling that something fundamental was missing from his life. The ache he carried in the middle of his chest burned like a smoldering ember in a long-dead fire. He was just getting his life together, just getting good again with the X-Files and then--. "Mulder-" she said breathlessly. "Scully." "What are you doing here?" he asked in stunned surprise. "I live here," she said. "Oh." He suddenly felt tongue-tied. He'd rehearsed what he wanted to say if he ever saw her again, but all of that evaporated in her presence. "I-I have to go," she said, grabbing Charlie by the arm and dragging him away. "No!" Without thinking, he reached out and pulled her back. "Why? Why did you leave Scully?" She looked at him with pain-filled eyes. She didn't say anything, just continued to stare at him, her eyes begging him to understand, to not ask her those questions. Then she made a tiny gesture, a subtle turn of her head toward Charlie who was staring up at them. Mulder looked down at the bewildered child. And then he knew. "He's mine, isn't he?" "Mulder-" "Isn't he! That's why you left." "Yes." "Why?" he whispered in anguish. "Not here," she said looking around. They'd attracted something of a crowd. All the yuppie mommies were staring and whispering in small groups. Mulder had the feeling one of them would be pulling a cell phone out and calling the police if they continued. "Okay where?" "My place." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Unlooked For Joy 2/2 Rated R for part 2 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Scully's house was modest in comparison to her neighbors. It was tucked behind a gated community on the other side of the park, and well within walking distance. Mulder trudged along next to her as they slowly made their way through the park. He longed to ask her why she was in Chicago, what had she been doing all this time, and why--why hadn't she told him about Charlie? He looked over at the little boy who was now being carried by his mother. He looked like Scully, but he could see some of himself there, too. Charlie had Scully's hair and ears, but definitely had his eyes and the Mulder nose. Poor kid, he thought. He would have to get the nose. He glanced at Scully, who was frowning. She was clearly unhappy at his turning up out of the blue, but she wasn't trying to run away from him either. He watched as she shifted Charlie to the other hip in an effort to get more comfortable. "I can carry him, Scully." She stopped and gave him a speculative look. He thought she must be wondering if he was there to snatch the kid, that he'd run with Charlie as soon as she let go. But if he'd really wanted to do that, he could have done so earlier. She must have agreed because she nodded and silently handed him his son. Mulder set the little boy on his hip as he'd seen Scully do. He waited for the stranger anxiety that was common at this age to set in, and cause Charlie to cry, but he seemed content enough to be held and reached out to touch Mulder's face. "Nose." Scully smiled. "He has a 'see and say' book that's teaching him parts of the face." "Smart kid." "Yes." They continued walking in an awkward silence past other groups of people playing and yelling just like normal families, blissfully unaware of the private drama playing out between the two of them. As they strolled along, he felt Charlie's downy head slowly drop onto his shoulder. Apparently exhausted from his playground escapades, he was now tired and rapidly falling asleep. It made Mulder feel strangely protective and vulnerable at the same time. They finally arrived at her apartment, a white clapboard and brick building trying to mimic colonial style homes. He saw Scully's fingers shake slightly as she put the key into the deadbolt. Inside he could see the same furniture that had once decorated her old apartment. For a moment he felt like he was back in Georgetown and they were about to sit down to pizza and a bunch of files. Charlie's stirring caused that illusion to vanish. "Let me go put him down," Scully said, taking him out of Mulder's arms. She went down a hallway and Mulder followed her back to the baby's room. A wallpaper border featuring fire engines, police cars, and ambulances was the first thing he noticed. It made him grin. He thought Scully's unconscious mind had caused her to decorate the room with vehicles Charlie's parents were most familiar with. Scully sat in the rocking chair and gingerly peeled the t- shirt and jeans off Charlie's small frame. Mulder could see that he wasn't wearing a diaper, but those new training pants for occasional 'accidents.' His son was almost out of diapers and he hadn't seen him *in* them yet. When Charlie was down to his undershirt, she gently lowered him into the bed and pulled a pastel blanket up to cover him. He stirred slightly and murmured irritated sounds before settling down. Scully patted his back, making soothing noises. "He got too big for a crib. I had to go out and buy him a real bed." Mulder nodded. He wasn't sure what was appropriate to say around Scully. He was about to make a noise of agreement, when a photo on a small table caught his eye. He picked up the small gold frame to see a grainy black and white crime-type photo inside. The picture was of the two of them from a case taken with a flash at night. They both looked dirty and exhausted, but were smiling at something out of the frame. It was a moment of respite in an otherwise harried life. It made Mulder feel nostalgic. God, how he missed her. "You kept this here? Next to his bed?" "I always told him who his father was, Mulder. There wasn't any reason to hide it from him. He looks at that picture all the time." "Is that why he didn't cry when I held him?" "Probably. Charlie's very shy." "So was I at that age," he said absently. He returned the photo to the table and went back to look at his son. Silence settled between them as he stood there next to the crib. Relaxed in sleep, Charlie was a beautiful kid. *His* kid. The shock of that revelation was still reverberating inside his head. He was a father. A father. He felt Scully move away into the living room, giving him some privacy. He continued to stare at his son and probably would have stood there all day, if he didn't have so many questions burning inside his head. He found her in the kitchen making coffee. The sandals were gone, replaced by sensible house shoes. "Talk to me Scully." She turned and gave him a resigned look, one that said 'I knew this was coming.' She brought the coffee over to the wooden kitchen table and set the cups on opposite sides. They descended to their chairs and settled in. Scully stared into the coffee, absently stirring the dark liquid. "I've rehearsed what I was going to say to you so many times, but now that you're here- I don't know how to begin." "At the beginning, Scully." "That's not so easy." "Yes it is." He felt badly pushing her, but he wasn't going to cut her any slack. "When I found out I was pregnant, I didn't know what to do. You were--so distracted by the X-Files and Samantha's disappearance that I didn't think you'd want to know." "Not want to know-?" he started, but stopped when she held up a small hand. "You couldn't deal with it Mulder, not at that time." She said as a statement of fact that brooked no argument. The surety of her conviction shook his confidence. He could have handled it, couldn't he? "Let me ask you something Mulder. Before today, did you ever see yourself as a father? Or me as a mother?" That put him back a little. He hadn't thought about having children. Trying to find Samantha and the X-Files had taken up so much of his time that his relationships tended to be transient at best. He'd always pushed thoughts of fatherhood far to the back of his mind. And Scully as a mother-. "No," he answered honestly. "I didn't think so." He reached out and held her hand, trying to make a connection with her of some kind. She seemed to be separating from him emotionally during this conversation, and he knew that would be a mistake. She tolerated the contact, but her hand remained boneless in his. "The sex had been wrong, we both knew that," she said glancing up at him. "I thought we could get past it eventually, but then the pregnancy happened." He waited for her to continue, hearing the voices of children drift in through the open window. Wind played with the filmy curtains, causing shadows to dance on the yellow walls. "I thought about abortion briefly," she continued quietly. "I wasn't ready to be a mother either, but--I don't think I could have lived with myself if I'd gone through with it." "So you left." "So I left." He shifted in his chair, digesting the information slowly. She was right in so many ways, but he still felt betrayed. "Scully, I know this was hard for you, harder than I could ever imagine, but-" "But?" "But you took my decision away from me. I probably would have reacted the way you thought I would, but if you *had* told me, I'd at least have had the opportunity to make one." She nodded. "Well, it's too late now." "Is it? Is it Scully?" She looked at him intently, tears shimmering in her eyes. He wasn't sure what he was asking, or what he could offer her now. Not much had changed for him in the past three years, but her life had obviously changed a great deal. "What are you saying, Mulder?" "I'm saying I want to be a part of my son's life. I want to help support you-" "I don't need your support, Mulder," she said tightly. "Tell me what you need, Scully. Tell me." He couldn't keep the pleading note out of his voice. He felt her slipping away from him, and he was powerless to stop it. She seemed to crumple into her chair, her shoulders bent forward and her head bowed into her hands. "I think I need you," she finally said quietly. He was shocked by this admission. Scully had never seemed to need anyone, especially him. Of all the things she could have said, that was the last thing he expected. He stood and pulled her out of the chair and into his arms. She protested feebly, but he felt her arms come around and hold him. Her slight body shook and he kissed the top of her head. She seemed to relax a little when he did that, so he repeated the gesture. After the second kiss she lifted her face and pressed her mouth against his. He felt a ripple of surprise, but quickly forgot it as he felt her loosen up completely as he kissed her. She dissolved into him, her body molded completely against his. They stood there holding each other, kissing and touching. Finally Scully pulled back and looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "I need you Mulder," she repeated and ran her hands down to the small of his back and pressed him close against her. "Scully? Are you sure?" In answer she led him down the hall past Charlie's room to hers. The curtains were drawn, making the room murky, but he noticed something else. The spindle bed from Georgetown was here too and it immediately made him feel better. That bed said 'home' to him in a way that nothing else could. She sat on the side of it and pulled him down next to her. He cupped her face in his hands and looked at her in the semi-darkness. She was beautiful, simply beautiful to him at that moment. It was as if the past three years hadn't existed at all and they were back in his apartment. Remembering their first time brought him up short. A hasty romp under stress was one thing, but two-. "Scully, I think we should stop." "Why?" "Charlie." "He's asleep Mulder," she said as she made a move to kiss him. "No, I mean we don't want another Charlie now." She pulled back and gave him a serious look. "I can't have any more children." "Why?" "Charlie was a difficult birth. They couldn't stop the bleeding afterward, so they had to do an emergency hysterectomy." "I'm sorry Scully." "Don't be. I wouldn't trade Charlie for anything." He smiled at her. "I think I love you, Scully." Leaning forward, he kissed her gently, afraid his need to touch her would make him hasty or clumsy. She returned the kiss, opening her mouth to his. There was no going back now. He mapped out the places he longed to kiss again: her forehead, nose, and chin. The skin of her neck beckoned him lower; its soft warmth was a balm to his broken heart. She smelled of fabric softener, sweat, and subtle perfume. He felt lost inside the haze of her body and tried to press himself against her, mold her into him. He fumbled with the zipper on the back of her sundress, and managed to slide it down without breaking contact with her skin. He felt her give a little laugh and pulled away to complete the disrobing. She stood and let the dress fall away, revealing smooth white skin. Mulder swallowed the dry lump in his throat and that clumsy feeling was back with a vengeance. He reached out and pulled her close until her breasts were eye level. With her help, he unhooked her bra and discarded it behind her. Her breasts were fuller than he remembered, but no less exquisite. With infinite care he leaned forward and drew a nipple into his mouth. Scully's hands went immediately into his hair and she gave a startled 'oh.' After that he was mindless, lost in the feel and scent of her body next to his. Somehow his clothes came off and were cast aside with hers. Then she was lying flat on the bed and he was poised over her. "I-I want," he began. "What?" "I want you so much." "Then come here." He surged into her, feeling like his whole body would shatter at the sensation. He moved forward slowly, slipping deeper and deeper inside her until he was lost. Rhythmic instinct took over and she matched him, pulling up to meet his hips. He felt the first waves of her orgasm pulse around him and the pleasure it gave him was excruciating. When he came, he felt like crying or shouting, and realized he'd done both. "Scully!" Afterwards she held his weight easily, murmuring into his ear and wrapping her arms and legs around to hold him tight. "Don't let go," he murmured. "Don't let go." "I won't." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Most men became mindless after sex, preferring to lapse into a semi-comatose state. Mulder's mind, on the other hand, got charged up. A hundred thoughts ran through his mind about Scully, Charlie, and what they were going to do now. "Why Charlie?" "Hummm?" Scully lay in his arms and didn't appear to have any pressing thoughts at all. "Why did you call him Charlie?" "Well, Mom always said my brother Charlie came out of the womb screaming when he was born. So did your son." "He's a great kid, Scully." "Yes he is." "How did your Mom deal with this?" "Not very well. Dad died just a few months before I got pregnant. She wanted me to stay around so she could help, but I couldn't. She's pretty traditional and I think she'd have wanted me to tell you before I was ready." "And you were ready to tell me now?" "You came looking for me, Mulder." "Actually I didn't." She turned over and faced him, wide awake now. A frown line formed between her eyebrows that meant what he was saying just didn't compute. "Then what were you doing in the park?" "It's a long story, but let's just say, I'm failing a stress management seminar right now." She shook her. "I think you're going to have to explain that." "Later," he said and bent down to kiss her softly. When he broke the kiss, she smiled. "Agent Mulder, are you trying to distract me?" "Yes." They kissed for long moments, enjoying each other and the stillness of the afternoon. Mulder didn't want to think about seminars, Mr. Rogers, or anything that would interfere these fleeting moments together. Eventually he knew they'd have to face reality. He'd been deprived of enough time with her as it was. He couldn't leave it alone. "Scully?" "What?" "Where do we go from here?" "Where do you want to go from here?" That was his Scully, echoing his questions back at him so he'd have to answer for himself. "I don't know. It's all so new, but I want to try and work it out." "Even if it means I stay here and you go back to Washington?" His immediate reaction was to protest and tell her she needed to come back with him, but Scully that stubborn look on her face he knew so well. He wasn't going to win any arguments today. "Whatever makes you happy, Scully." "Really?" "Really." "And the X-Files?" "One day at a time, Scully. This won't be a stroll in the park." He laughed in spite of himself at the terrible pun. He'd have to tell Scully what it meant some day. Some day. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* End I took this idea from a thread at the Haven a few months ago. Hope you like it!