#also sorry about my hastily drawn trumpet. its uh

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

Someday Your Child May Cry

Previously: Question | Preparations | Irrational | Confession | Collateral | Thoughtless | Interrupted | Recovering | Irresponsible

10. Possibility

The second time around, Scully knows more about what's in store, and so the side effects from the hormone shots don’t take her by surprise nearly as much. Her emotional reactions are, once again, drastically out of proportion, to be sure, but she’s expecting them to be, and somehow that makes it easier to handle.

Also making it easier on Scully is the fact that if Mulder and Diana Fowley are spending time together, they're not doing it anywhere that Scully can see it happening. Which, since Mulder is suddenly determined to spend nearly all day every day in Scully's presence, and calls her every evening that he's not haunting her apartment (or keeping her at his with a very flimsy excuse of some file or other that he wants her opinion on), would have to be happening between the hours of two and five in the morning.

Mulder takes Scully out to lunch nearly every day of the week, ignoring her protests that she's brought food to eat from home. Yogurt and bee pollen, he insists, do not constitute a fitting lunch for a potentially expectant mother. This time around, he seems to have decided to take personal charge of Scully's nutrition and hydration. He's forever brandishing granola bars and bottles of Gatorade in her face, and Scully might take offense at the implication that she can't take care of herself... except that, somehow, Mulder's sudden, constant attention to her needs is just so damn endearing.

"Do you have enough space?" he asks her in a double bed in Kroner, Kansas, after a freak tornado and a flying cow have rendered his own room uninhabitable. "I can sleep on the floor, if you need me to. Or out in the car, even." He's actually in the process of throwing back the blankets and climbing back out of bed, and Scully reaches out, seizing him by the wrist.

"Mulder, stay put," she orders him sharply. "There's plenty of room." He hesitates briefly before sinking back onto his side of the bed with a deep sigh. She releases his wrist, but before she can withdraw her hand, Mulder captures it in his own, winding his fingers between hers. She glances over at him quizzically. "You okay, Mulder?" she asks. They've been forced by circumstances to share a bed while in the field on more than one occasion before, and he's never been this jumpy.

"Yeah, fine," he says, but he doesn't let go of her hand. "I just... I keep thinking." She stays silent, waiting, and after a moment, Mulder rolls to face her. "It just keeps hitting me that for all we know, you could be pregnant right at this moment." It's too dark for her to read his expression, but she thinks he's smiling softly. "I know you're trying not to think about it until you're sure, Scully, but that’s proving just about impossible for me."

"Really, Mulder? I couldn't tell," Scully says dryly. "Between your obsessive tracking of every bite of food that passes my lips and your constant questioning of whether or not I need to rest, I had no clue."

"Sorry," says Mulder, ducking his head sheepishly. "I just... I really want this for you, Scully."

Her mind snags on his words like cloth on a stray nail. He wants it for her. Not for them. For a moment, she thinks that maybe this is the perfect opening for the conversation she knows they'll have to have, if it turns out that she's pregnant... but she's hesitant to broach the topic before she knows for certain.

If it turns out that Mulder wants to be involved, even if it's only partial involvement, she thinks they'll be okay. But if he's decided, as she fears, that he wants his donation to be the sum total of his part in this, Scully doesn't quite trust herself to be able to hide her disappointment. Mulder will be able to tell, and with his overdeveloped sense of guilt, he will feel that he's failed her for not being willing to provide something that she has absolutely no right to ask of him. And to be honest, Scully's not sure their partnership could survive. 

Better to wait, she reminds herself, until either she knows for sure, or until she's certain she'll be able to accept any answer with a smile that's at least genuine enough to fool Mulder. So instead of speaking, she gives his hand a gentle squeeze. He pulls their joined to his mouth and presses his lips to her knuckles tenderly, and instead of letting it go, he holds it close to his heart as his eyes close.

They fall asleep with their fingers intertwined on the mattress between them.

--------------------------------

Mulder had planned to give Scully her Christmas gift sometime between Christmas and New Year's- in fact, he had planned to take her out for a nice dinner (nice enough that she could interpret it as a date, if she wanted)- but after dragging her out to a haunted house on Christmas Eve, he feels like he owes her.

Not that he doesn't always owe her, really.

So when she shows up at his apartment door, even though she's only got about four hours to sleep, at this point, before she's due at her mother's house, he decides to go ahead and give her the gift now. And, as it turns out, she's gotten him something, as well, so it all works out in the end.

Mulder goes first, tearing the paper off of a hardcover book- Contact, by Carl Sagan. He grins widely.

"I don't need to ask why this made you think of me, Scully," he chuckles. He's got a copy already, of course, but this is much nicer than his beat-up paperback. "Have you read this?"

"No," says Scully. "But I saw the movie with my mom." She blushes. "It made me think of you." Mulder grins, returning his attention to the book. He flips it over, examining the illustration on the dust jacket, which is immaculate, without a single crease or tear. 

"Hey, is this a first edition?"

"Yes, it is," says Scully. "And, uh... also...." She reaches over and opens the cover to the title page, where several lines have been scrawled in thick, black marker: 

Keep believing. -Carl Sagan

Mulder looks up at Scully, eyes wide.

"I found it at my mother's church, of all places," Scully says. "They had a rummage sale in November, and this was sitting in a box of beat-up books from someone's basement. And I know we said we weren't exchanging gifts this year, but it just seemed too perfect to pass up."

"It is perfect, Scully," he says, putting an arm around her shoulder and squeezing her. "Thank you." He puts the book on the coffee table and nods at the package she's still holding. "I didn't find that at a rummage sale, but I had the same thought as you when I saw it. It was too perfect to pass up." Scully begins peeling off the wrapping paper. She sits there, silent, staring down at the object in her hands, her face unreadable. "And technically," continues Mulder, "I kept my word not to get you anything, because it's not really for you." Still, Scully says nothing, and Mulder begins to get nervous. "Scully?"

"Mulder," she says, her voice amused and hoarse with emotion, all at the same time. She holds up her gift and turns to him, eyes wide. "Where did you find this?"

"On the internet," he says. The handle of the rattle is made from sturdy plastic, while the top is coated in a softer layer, ideal for a baby to gnaw on without hurting himself. It's in the shape of an alien- not the classic, creepy, oval-eyed version, but a friendly, smiling alien, sprouting trumpet-shaped antennae from its head. "I know you're nervous about tempting fate, Scully, but I just feel like one of us should be open to extreme possibilities here. And I think it's safe to say, from past experience, that that someone is gonna be me." Still, silence. "Scully?" Nothing. "Scully, if I've done wrong, I'm sorry, I just-"

It's as far as he gets before she turns and kisses him.

It's quick and sweet, and before he even has a chance to respond, she's already drawn back and is staring at him with wide eyes. He thinks she's surprised herself almost as much as she's surprised him.

This time, it's unclear who makes the first move. All Mulder knows is that suddenly, he's lost in the sweet taste of Scully's mouth. She's got one hand buried in his hair and the other is creeping up the back of his t-shirt. She feels so small in his arms, so perfect, like she was made to fit there, and he's just beginning to lay her back on his couch when she jerks away.

"I should go," she says, hastily gathering up her things, not looking at him. Mulder's heart sinks.

"Scully, I'm sorry," he says. "You don't have to leave."

"I know," she says. "I just... it's late, it's been a long night, and tomorrow's going to be crazy at Mom's, and I..." She sighs and meets his gaze, finally, and Mulder can tell she's conflicted. "I don't want to tempt myself right now, because I can't. Not tonight." She swallows. "Not while...." Mulder nods, understanding: she's not supposed to have sex for five weeks following the embryo transfer, and she's currently on week two.

"It doesn't have to go that far, Scully," he says. "Not tonight." Scully smiles slightly.

"Do you really think we'd be able to stop ourselves?" she asks him, and he knows she's right. If she had allowed him to kiss her for much longer, no force on earth would have been strong enough to separate him from her.

"I guess you have a point," he concedes. She stands, and he walks her to the door.

"I'll see you back at work after New Year's, okay?" she tells him, and his heart sinks.

"I thought maybe we could go to dinner, the night after Christmas?" he suggests hopefully, but she shakes her head.

"I need some time, Mulder," she tells him. "Time to think." She reaches up and gently touches her fingertips to his lips, and he presses a kiss to her hand. "Merry Christmas, Mulder."

"Merry Christmas, Scully."