Headers and Notes in Part 1 Part 6 of 12 Two Days Later Georgetown University Medical Center Georgetown, D.C. March 10, 2001 9:45 am Scully rubbed her back as she and her mother took their first steps out of the elevator and headed down the hospital corridor. She then spread her feet a little further apart; remembering that doing so often eased the near-constant backache somewhat. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother grin, and shot her a warning look. "Mom," she said admonishingly, with no small amount of indignation. She fumed silently to herself, almost grumbling under her breath. They had already had a discussion about her mother's continual comments and looks regarding her pregnancy back at her apartment. It had begun almost immediately after her mother's arrival to drive her to the hospital, all due to the maternity dress Scully had chosen to wear. So chosen because it had been a gift from her mother, and she knew it would please her to no end to see Scully wearing it. While the color... a deep navy blue - was certainly one of hers, the style most definitely was not. A corduroy jumper with matching Peter Pan collared blouse, it had set her mother to cooing disgustingly over her. Scully had been very close to turning around and changing, and had told her mother so. Feeling like a terrible child the entire time, but unable to stop herself. To make matters worse, her mother had been cheerfully accepting and sympathetic, patting her back and telling her it was just her hormones. She was so unbelievably tired of hearing about her hormones. It was bad enough when she used them as an excuse, but to hear others doing it for her was even worse. "I'm sorry, honey," her mother said then, pulling Scully from her recollection. "I can't help it. You look," she paused, and Scully could see she was fighting another smile, "cute." She then lost her battle with the smile, grinning again. "You're waddling, Dana." She sounded so happy, so cheery, so damned pleased as she said the words that now made Scully cringe every time she heard them, having heard them far too often lately. As much as she loved being pregnant, oddly enough, she was getting very tired of the looks and comments she received not only from family, friends and acquaintances, but complete strangers as well. People had even gone so far as to lay their hands on her belly while remarking about her size, or predicting the sex of the baby due to how she was carrying. For someone as private as she, it was an intrusion. Thus far she had accepted it with remarkable aplomb. Or at least she thought she had, recalling her forced smiles that she knew had to look more like pained grimaces, and her tight voice uttering polite banalities in response. Scully gritted her teeth to bite back the snarky remark on the tip of her tongue, and forced herself to straighten up as she walked, resuming her earlier strides. "I do not waddle, Mom." "What would you call it then, dear?" her mother asked, her voice filled with amusement. Scully shot her another look. Though her mother's face was placid, her eyes danced with her suppressed laughter, and at that, Scully had to smile a little. Her mother, while definitely concerned about her unmarried daughter, who had also been rather unforthcoming about details, was quite ecstatic about the impending arrival. And now that Scully had finally told her Mulder was the father, and he was out of his coma and well on the road to recovery, she was even more so. Her enthusiasm was often contagious. Though at this particular moment Scully was not feeling overly amenable to cheer or enthusiasm. She already wanted a nap, and for some reason was craving coffee, something she had not indulged in since learning she was pregnant. She had not slept well the night before, and could actually be called cranky. In fact, she was pretty sure she had heard her mother mutter that very word, along with the dreaded 'hormones', as they had left her apartment. Which is why she refrained from replying, worried her response would be far harsher than the situation warranted. Fortunately they were now just steps away from the door to Mulder's room, so it did not really matter. Scully lifted her hand as she continued forward, with her mother on her heels, intending to push the door open. But before she could do so, they were brought to an abrupt halt by loud voices from within, followed by a resounding clatter. She recognized Frohike's particular brand of swearing, having caught the words 'stubborn punk-ass', and she was reasonably certain the person that had loudly groaned 'shit' had been Mulder. Flicking a glance at her mother, she shoved the door open and burst in. To see Mulder's bare ass peeking out from the back of his hospital gown as he lay sprawled face-down on the floor, his head turned to the side away from her. She went from cranky and concerned to overwhelmingly amused in mere seconds, and had to slap her hand across her mouth to stifle her giggles. Somewhere in the back recesses of her mind she was embarrassed for him too, but amusement was in the forefront at the moment. Beside and slightly behind her, her mother snickered, then turned the sound into a cough. There was a rustling noise a second later, and Scully glanced over her shoulder to see that her mother had turned so that her back was to the man lying with his backside exposed to the world. Giving him privacy, and a smattering of dignity, she supposed. Though really, it was far too late for dignity, she thought with a smirk, eyeing Mulder's white tush, hanging out for the room to see. Still sexy though, if a bit on the skinny side. Concern returned with a rush when Mulder still made no move to get up or to cover himself, and she moved forward to check on him, her foot knocking aside a metal jug lying on the floor. It was probably what had made the loud noises she had heard, along with the rolling table that was lying on its side a few feet away. She imagined that Mulder had risen to his feet, gotten weak, and tried to use the unstable furniture to hold himself up. Obviously that had not worked. Frohike, who up until this point had also been just standing there and staring slack-jawed at Mulder, rushed to her side, and quickly offered his hand to assist her in lowering herself to the floor. Not an easy task, Scully thought, as one part of her body lurched forward too far, and she started to fall on top of Mulder. Her hands came out to halt her downward descent, and landed square on his butt, making her blush. He jolted at the contact, making an odd whimpering-grunting sound, and then groaned again. She quickly pulled her hands away, shuffling her feet a little for better balance, and then flicked a glance over her shoulder at her mother, who fortunately had not yet turned around again. "Mulder?" she said softly, leaning as close as she was able, one hand now braced on the floor. "Are you okay?" Mulder grunted. "I'll live." He then sighed loudly, and added, "Seriously though, I'm okay Scully." Frohike, who was still crouched beside her, snickered suddenly and cracked, "Yeah, his nose broke the fall!" Scully shot him a reproachful look, but he merely grinned at her, unabashed. Mulder took exception to the remark, of course. "'Hickey, you can forget about ever getting your grimy paws on my video collection." Scully and Frohike exchanged guilty glances unseen by Mulder. She had given Frohike all of Mulder's tapes, the ones jokingly referred to as 'the ones that weren't his' after Mulder had been missing for almost two months. He had shown up at Mulder's apartment one night while she was there cleaning and moping, despondent and clutching a bottle of whiskey. Just like he had once shown up at her place on a long ago night when it had been believed that Mulder was dead. "Sure, Mulder, whatever you say," Frohike said, lifting his hand to pat his friend on the back. Seeing the gown partially opened, he quickly averted his eyes, his hand falling back to his side. "Hey, buddy. Why don't we get you back up and into bed?" "That sounds like a very good idea," Scully remarked. "Seeing as unless the doctor's orders from last night changed drastically, which I sincerely doubt by the way, you are not supposed to up yet, are you?" "Uh..." was Mulder's response. Because Mulder could not see her, and he was technically still an invalid, although at this point 'idiot' seemed more fitting, she pinned her glare on Frohike. Who quickly put his hands up and squeaked nervously, "It was his idea! I tried to stop him." "Fine," Scully sighed. It wasn't worth the effort to argue, and more than likely Mulder had been his usual bull-headed self and tried despite Frohike's protests. Now, she, on the other hand, would have called for reinforcements in the form of restraints. They had been very effective during past hospitalizations. And in a few other instances, she thought with a blush, remembering that one night at her apartment... Oh, don't go there, Dana, she told herself, and cleared her throat. "Let's just get him back into bed." She turned her head and said, "Mom? Can you give us a hand?" "Certainly, dear," her mother replied. She turned around and Scully saw her eyes go briefly to Mulder's exposed bottom and then flick away. "Perhaps..." her voice trailed off as one of her hands waved at Mulder while she studiously looked elsewhere. Scully snickered softly and reaching out to grasp one side of Mulder's gown, tugged it across to overlap the other, covering him up. Mulder gasped, and then moaned in a low voice, "Back door?" "Wide open," Scully said cheerily. "Your mother?" he moaned next. "Right here," Scully said with that same cheer, at the same time her mother spoke. "Hello, Fox." Mulder sighed. "Hey, Mrs. Scully." Scully gestured for her mother to take one arm, while Frohike automatically moved to Mulder's other side to grasp that arm. Scully remained where she was, one hand on his back, also holding his gown shut, and the other getting ready to support his belly when they lifted him. "Okay, Mulder, we're going to do this on three. Don't try and take all your own weight, let us help you." Scully shifted her bulk and got ready to stand. She knew she really should have gone for an orderly to help, but knew Mulder would balk at anyone else witnessing his embarrassing position. He was also likely to attempt to get up on his own while she went to get that help. "Okay, everyone? One. Two. Three!" On three, they smoothly lifted Mulder, who found his footing and then wobbled slightly within their grasp, and got him swiftly to his bed. He helped them get him perched on the edge of the bed, whereupon Scully and her mother assisted him in swinging his legs up and onto the mattress. Scully flipped the blankets over him, vaguely aware of her mother and Frohike leaving the room, and looked sternly at Mulder as she tucked them gently at his waist. Or tried to look stern anyway. For Mulder wore the saddest hound dog expression she had ever seen on his face, with the accompanying lower lip pout that rarely failed to melt her heart. "Oh, Mulder, what am I going to do with you?" she sighed, lifting one hand to touch his cheek. "Love me?" he asked. "Already covered," she whispered, and leaned in to nip that pout with her teeth. After soothing it with a kiss, she pulled back a little to try her glare once more. "Mulder, try that again, and the restraints will be put in use." He had the nerve to bring his hands to his chest and gasp, fluttering his eyes. "Why, Scully. With you almost 8 months pregnant and me still in my hospital bed," he said with mock scandal in his voice. "Oh, man!" came Frohike's disgusted voice. He had apparently come in while they were unaware. "My virgin ears." Mulder barked out a choked laugh, while Scully blushed furiously. "I'll see you later, man," Frohike said then. "Me and the guys will bring you something to eat for dinner." He bowed slightly to Scully, and then winked, making her blush even more. They both said their goodbyes, and watched the little man walk out the door. It had barely swung shut when it opened again, and her mother walked in and towards the bed. Scully stepped back to let her mother kiss Mulder hello, smoothing the skirt of her jumper down, which had ridden up when she had leaned in to kiss Mulder. Her mother immediately launched into chatter. *** 9:45 am Mulder was already regretting the stubbornness that had brought him to his feet over Frohike's vehement protests. His legs were trembling like a newborn colt's, and it was only sheer will that kept him standing. Not that he would admit that, of course. Sheer will also had him attempting to take a step, one hand leaning heavily on the table where his breakfast tray had rested not too long ago. Success swelled in his chest. His argument the night before with the doctor against waiting another day or two before attempting to walk on his own was validated. He felt vindicated, triumphant. So much so that he removed his hand from his only support for his next step. When it too went off with only a slight wobble, he lifted his head and flashed Frohike a smug, 'I told you so' grin. Perhaps he was a little too smug, for his knees started to fold. He lurched forward, heard Frohike yelling, too far away to be of any help, "I knew this was too much. You goddamned stubborn punk-ass!" He was unable to retort, for he was busy falling into the rolling table, sending it over and down to the floor with a bang. The metal jug that had rested there, thankfully empty, went flying, landing with a spectacular ringing clatter. He followed the jug down to the ground, barely getting his hands up to brace his fall, or at least some of it, and landed face-first with a grunt and a bellowed, "Shit!" Although the ground was cold and hard, he had no strength left to attempt to rise. He did manage to turn his head to one side, breathing heavily through his nose. His sorely abused nose, which had smacked into the floor after his palms had hit, halting part of his rather rapid descent. Even the sounds of someone entering his room were not incentive enough to get him to move. He was just going to lie there for a few minutes, find his wind, and the energy and strength to get up again. The smothered giggling, which he immediately identified as belonging to Scully, had him cringing internally. Busted. Crap, shit and damn. He'd managed to convince Frohike not to say a word to anyone, especially Scully, but now she'd actually caught him in the act. Well, sort of. But the evidence before her, namely him lying face down on the floor, certainly pointed to what he had attempted. On the heels of Scully's giggle was another laugh of sorts, a snicker, but he quickly forgot to wonder who it could be as he heard the metal jug kicked across the floor, startling him. A moment later he sensed Scully at his side, just before cool, delicate little hands landed on his butt. He was caught off guard by the surprising amount of weight that followed those hands, pressing down on him, and he exhaled loudly with a very unmanly squeaking sound. A memory flitted through his head of Scully saying 'Are you sure it wasn't a girlie scream, Mulder?' and he groaned. It didn't register right away that her hands had been touching his bare flesh. He heard Scully moving, felt the weight leave him, and then heard her ask, "Mulder? Are you okay?" Ah, Scully concern. He loved Scully concern. In the past it had often led to Scully comfort in the form of soft touches and occasionally even a hug. And when their relationship had progressed to an intimate level, Scully comfort had often been in the form of pretty damn good sex. He took a moment to consult with his body. Other than his very bruised pride, and a sore nose, he thought he was all right. That same pride had him grunting, "I'll live." Remembering it was his own fault for being in this position, and that Scully could easily snap as be concerned, he sighed and tacked on, "Seriously though, I'm okay, Scully." Frohike, who had been surprisingly silent since he had fallen, probably cowering in the corner from the possible wrath of Scully, chose that moment to pipe up with, "Yeah, his nose broke the fall!" Jeez, what were buddies for. Mulder could not let the nose remark slide. His nose had been the proverbial thorn in his side all his life. "'Hickey, you can forget about ever getting your grimy paws on my video collection," he stated, emphatically he hoped. There was a pregnant pause then, no pun intended, and he was just about to say something when Frohike finally replied. "Sure, Mulder, whatever you say." He sounded a lot closer than Mulder had placed him, like he was actually beside Scully, not in the corner. A moment later Frohike added in a rather exuberant voice, "Hey, buddy. Why don't we get you back up and into bed?" Scully quickly added, in her best prim Doctor, no-nonsense voice, "That sounds like a very good idea. Seeing as unless the doctor's orders from last night changed drastically, which I sincerely doubt by the way, you are not supposed to up yet, are you?" Uh-oh. Apparently the Scully concern wasn't a shoe-in. "Uh..." he started to say, and when nothing brilliant came to mind, he gave up. The next thing he knew, Frohike was whimpering and blubbering. "It was his idea! I tried to stop him." Glad she had found another target, Mulder wisely remained silent, though he snickered to himself as he imagined Frohike squirming under one of the patented Scully glares. But she deflated rather quickly instead of going in for the kill, disappointing him slightly. As long as he wasn't on the receiving end of a Scully lecture, he could enjoy it. She wanted them to get him back to bed. To be honest, he wanted to be back there too. Her last sentence caused an alarm to ring in his head. Mom? Did she just say Mom? When he heard, "Certainly, dear," in Mrs. Scully's lovely voice, he knew she had. Could this get any worse? When he felt Scully's hand tug his gown across his back, he knew it certainly could. He was pretty sure his ass had been hanging out for the world to see. Just perfect. He exhaled harshly and managed to say, "Back door?" "Wide open," Scully replied. Clearly amused. "Your mother?" He had to ask, maybe he'd only dreamed hearing Mrs. Scully's voice. He heard her reply, "Right here," along with Mrs. Scully's, "Hello, Fox." It had been a faint hope anyway. His mother had raised him to be polite when with his elders. She had probably never anticipated it would happen while he was laying buck-ass naked on the floor, but manners were manners. He sighed. "Hey, Mrs. Scully," he said. In no time at all he was up and back in his bed, having briefly enjoyed the feel of Scully's hands on his belly and back, just above his ass. He then got some of that Scully concern he had been pining for. She tucked him under his blankets, trying to look angry, but failing, and then laid her hand on his cheek. " Oh, Mulder, what am I going to do with you?" She didn't sound angry, or even resigned. Mostly just amused. "Love me?" he suggested. "Already covered," she whispered, and then stunned him by leaning in and nibbling on his lip. A second later she kissed it tenderly. Ah. Nice. But then she pulled back and that glint was back in her eye. "Mulder, try that again, and the restraints will be put in use." She did keep him guessing. Impulse had him teasing her, his hands at his chest in mock protest. "Why, Scully. With you almost 8 months pregnant and me still in my hospital bed," he said, and put just the right spin on his words. He didn't get to hear her comeback though. What he did hear was Frohike's pained, "Oh, man! My virgin ears." Mulder hadn't even seen him come back in the room. Mulder couldn't help laughing, and was amused by the blush that quickly stained Scully's cheeks. Frohike left after promising to return later with the guys and some dinner, and Mrs. Scully walked in to replace him. She came right over to the bed, and Scully moved aside so she could plant a kiss on his cheek, hands fixing her...what the hell was she wearing? He managed to reply to Mrs. Scully's greeting, if somewhat distractedly; unable to take his eyes off of Scully and her...was that a dress? It looked like a tent. As the grin threatened to overtake him, he returned his gaze hurriedly to Mrs. Scully. Laughing at Scully would not go over well, he knew that for certain. Mrs. Scully chatted for a few minutes, and then said she was going down to the cafeteria to get a coffee and to bring Scully back some juice. She kissed him on the cheek again, bussed Scully as well, and left. "Hey, you," he called to Scully, who was staring absently at the door through which her mother had just left. "Hmmmm?" she said, and then jolted a little. "Sorry," she apologized. "Just thinking." "About what?" he asked, sliding over on his bed and patting the mattress beside him invitingly. "All sorts of things," was her rather vague answer, although she did walk (waddle) over to join him. "Like what?" he persisted, and held out his hand to help her up onto the bed. "Stubborn pig-headed men..." she said, her voice tart. Oops. "...how happy I am you're awake..." Softer now. Awwww. Redemption. "...restraints..." Teasing. Hmmmmm? Intriguing. "...kissing you senseless..." Breathy. Not too hard to do. He was halfway there all ready, just from her previous comment about the restraints. "Scuhleeee..." he whispered. "Come here." He reached up as she leaned in towards him, and let his hand slide under her hair to cup the back of her neck. Their lips met. As they kissed, he let his fingers play over her skin, searching for her implant scar. He did that frequently. To reassure himself it was still there, to remind himself of how precious her life was. He found it easily, and something else. There was another scar right beneath the one from her implant, bigger and bumpier. Newer. He pulled back sharply. "Scully, what the hell is that?" *** 10:10 am Scully hummed low in the back of her throat as Mulder's warm fingers stroked over the sensitive skin of her neck. But then she tensed slightly, for the action was both a pleasure and a disturbance. That area was extremely sensitive, as was her scalp, and she loved to feel his touch there, something that delighted him to no end. But at the same time, she knew he was also searching for her implant scar. She knew that the little scar was an anchor of sorts for him, much as her rounded belly had become to her. And it brought up bad memories, which she could usually suppress. It didn't matter this time. Because Mulder's fingers had just found not only her implant scar, but also the one from where John had cut the Christ slug out from her. For an instant she was transported back to that hot, stinking bus in a barn in Utah, her mind scrambling with panic and hysteria and fear. Screaming at Doggett (John) to cut it, cut it out NOW! Terrified for herself, for her baby. She was jerked back into the present by Mulder pulling free and hissing, "Scully, what the hell is that?" Damn, once again she was not ready for this. After their long talk two days ago, she had told Mulder a bit more about John Doggett, and some of the cases they had worked on. She had not gone into very much detail however, nor had she told Mulder of her first meeting with John when he had hidden his identity from her, and tried to tell her rumors about Mulder with other women, and she had thrown her cupful of water in his face. Scully straightened slowly, her hand sliding to her belly and seeking its comfort, and took a deep breath. "It's a scar, Mulder," she said calmly. Halfway knowing it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull, but needing to work things out in her mind, to find the words to tell him what had happened. "I know it's a fucking scar, Scully," he barked, the hand that had been at her neck now gripping her forearm. "How the hell did you get it?" She blinked rapidly, strangely not upset at his apparent anger, even though he had surprised her - with the volume of his voice, his rough touch, and his coarse language. She knew the anger masked his deep concern, and that in all likelihood, he somehow felt a sense of guilt. "Mulder," she said, and placed her free hand on top of his, still wrapped around her arm, just above her wrist. He jerked at her touch, his eyes flicking from her face to where he gripped her, and she saw the hazel orbs widen and then fill with distress. He released her quickly and sagged back into the pillows, both his hands coming up to rub over his face and cover his eyes. "Christ, Scully, I'm sorry. I didn't... " "Mulder," she repeated, interrupting him. She raised her hand to grab one of his and interlace their fingers together, looking earnestly at the one eye she could see. "It's all right, I'm fine. You didn't hurt me. And I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said it that way." He exhaled heavily, and allowed his other hand to fall from his face, dropping to his lap. Much more softly he said, "What happened, Scully?" "I went to Utah to investigate an unusual death after getting a call about a consultation, and my car broke down in a small town without a reliable telephone service," she began. "*You* went?" Mulder interrupted, his eyes intent on her face, his voice rising slightly again. "Where was your so-called partner?" Scully tried to contain her wince, and was only partially successful. "He...uh, Doggett...John was still in Washington." She looked down at their entwined hands and cleared her throat, embarrassment staining her cheeks for what she was about to admit. "I didn't tell him about the case." "Scully!" Mulder exclaimed. "You ditched him?!" She winced again and raised her head, cheeks reddening further, to see him regarding her with a mingled look of smugness and shock. "I wouldn't call it a 'ditch' per se," she sniffed. "They called for a forensic pathologist, he wasn't needed." "Scully," he said admonishingly. Chidingly. Scully sighed. It still was not easy for her to remember that time, and what could have happened to her, and to the baby. "I was having a difficult time accepting him as a partner, Mulder. You were missing, there were so few leads to follow, and we still had assigned cases to solve." She did not add that she was early into her pregnancy, suffering terrible all-day long sickness, and barely sleeping. "The people of the town where I was..." she almost said held hostage, and changed the wording in time, "...stuck, worshipped this worm-like creature, this slug, as the Second Christ. They chose me to be its host." Mulder's grip tightened on her fingers, nearly crushing them, and he sat back up, his body tensed. "They what?" he said, his voice harsh. "What do you mean they chose you to be its host?" He swallowed noisily, then whispered, "Do you mean they put that thing inside of you?" Scully brought her hand up from her belly to cover their clasped hands, squeezing slightly in the hopes he would ease up on his tight hold of her other hand. "It entered through my back, at the base of my spine, and was traveling up towards my brain. Doggett...John showed up, and snuck me out of the house where I was being held, and I made him cut it out of me. That's the scar you felt, where he had to cut it out." "Jesus," he exhaled in a rush of air, starting to sag back down again. He snapped straight again though before laying completely back, and released her hand. The next thing she knew she was being hauled against him, her breath whooshing out. She had to gasp a bit for air when his arms wrapped tightly around her, hugging her fiercely and rocking her from side to side. "Jesus," he repeated over and over, his face buried in the hollow of her neck and shoulder. Scully smoothed her hands up and down his back, feeling his shuddering throughout her body. "I'm okay, Mulder," she told him. "There was no infection, and the baby was not effected at all. They're just scars now, Mulder." He did not say anything, merely squeezed her tighter, if that was possible. The baby kicked in protest of the extremely close contact, and she felt Mulder start in surprise, his head jerking up. He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. "Is that...was that the baby?" She nodded, and brought her hand up to rub at the abused spot. "That's some kick he's got," he said, bemusedly. "Or she." He was now watching her hand as it moved in tiny circles high on the left side of her belly. After a long moment, he brought his hand up, nudging hers aside so that he could take over the gentle massage. "Mulder," she said quietly, once a few minutes had passed. "I know you were disturbed by the fact that I had another partner while you were gone, and that you seem prepared to dislike John, but you don't have to. He's a good man, and he has been a good friend to me, just as Skinner and the guys have been. I want you to give him a chance, please. For me." He lifted his other hand up and touched her chin lightly, lifting it so that he could look into her eyes. "Well, I guess you'll have to bring him by one of these days, huh?" Scully smiled. "I guess so." She grimaced then, for not only had the baby given her another healthy kick, but her back was also aching as usual. "Hey," Mulder said softly, and slid over on the bed again. "Come up here with me." It took her a few minutes of rather graceless maneuvering, but she managed to get herself arrayed beside him on his bed, her legs up alongside his. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she nestled her head into the natural crook he had created. His free hand rested atop hers on her belly. They sighed in unison. *** 10:45 am Mulder had noticed that Scully touched her belly a lot... light, fleeting brushes as if she were reassuring herself the baby was actually there. He supposed that was normal for all women to need that contact, he really did not know, but thought also that for Scully it was needed even more, that at some times it must seem to her like a dream. Having been told she was barren had been a very hard blow, and then after attempting IVF and having it fail, she had probably seen any chance at having a child of her own fly out the window. He could easily recall her quiet desolation the night she had told him the second attempt had failed, recall telling her to never give up on a miracle, as she had asked him if he remembered doing so two days ago. His memories of before had been fuzzy at first, but they were crystal clear now. Except for during his abduction... he had none of those at all. He shook his head slightly, shivering a little. He wasn't sure if he wanted to remember them. Nor did he want to think about that now. He'd rather concentrate on the woman snuggled against his side on his hospital bed. Mulder stared at their hands, lying on her belly, still now. He had also noticed she rubbed her belly with tiny circles, almost a massage, quite often too. Knew it was because some of the baby's kicks were actually a little painful. His hand twitched slightly, and felt the nubbiness of her corduroy dress, and remembered with a grin his earlier thought about it being a tent. "Hey, Scully," he said softly, not sure if she was awake or not, for he could not see her face. She moved her head against his shoulder, almost nuzzling him, and gave him a throaty, "Hmmmm?" in reply. The sound momentarily distracted him from his planned agenda, to tease her about her attire, because it was the one she often made when sleepily drowsing after sex. He let his eyes close, mind flipping through the extensive catalogue of each and every time, trying to find his favorite. It was not easy. Their lovemaking had always been exciting and fresh and new, no matter where or how, or how often. The word 'new' stuck in his head, and made him think of making love to Scully now, nearly 8 months pregnant. Of her rounded belly, skin soft and smooth as it stretched to accommodate their baby. Of her much larger breasts, that called out for him to cup and squeeze. Of her fertile and ripe, the essence of woman. Mulder had to shift a bit, as blood ran south, and take a few deep, slow breaths. He did math equations in his head, too, and that helped some. Scully's hand moved beneath his then, and he opened his eyes to see her stroking her belly in those little circles, but slowly and almost absently. Each circle of her hand against the corduroy made that scratching-scritching sound from his childhood, and reminded him of what he had been about to say before he had been so delightfully sidetracked. "Scully?" he said, keeping his voice soft just in case, and rubbed another spot on her belly in tandem with her movements. "Yes, Mulder?" she responded, still with that drowsing, sexy voice. He plucked at the fabric over her belly, lifting the small bit pinched between his fingers slightly. "New fashion statement?" She huffed out a breath and then snorted. "Hardly." She waved her free hand in the air over her body. "I look ridiculous in this. It's not me at all." She then smoothed it flat over her belly, fixing the part he had disturbed. Her voice grew softer, fond. "But my mom gave it to me, and she was so happy when I wore it." She sighed and added, "I didn't have the heart to tell her it's just not my style. I'm much happier in tights and long jerseys or sweaters when I'm not working. Or just one of your tee shirts at home..." She continued talking, but her voice faded away to the background as he pictured her strolling around her apartment wearing his tee shirt. Just his tee shirt. He started doing math equations again. Something else struck him then, and he interrupted her soft monologue. "Scully, you said when you're not working. Are you...did you..." his voice trailed off, not sure exactly what he was asking. "I'm not on maternity leave yet, if that's what you're trying to ask," she said, and lifted her head to look at him. "But I took a leave of absence when you were induced into coma." Mulder brought his hand up to gently stroke her cheek, brushing aside the section of her hair was clinging to her skin. His thumb barely grazed her lip, but that small contact was like a spark of electricity to him. Scully shivered slightly, and he knew she had felt it too. Mulder slowly brought his face closer to hers, as Scully tilted her chin up, offering him her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut, but he kept his open. He loved to see the expressions flit across her face. For a woman who was normally so rigid and contained, able to control her emotions in almost any situation, she came apart for him. He ran the tip of his tongue very lightly along her bottom lip, and her warm, mint-flavored breath washed over him as she sighed his name. There was a hint of a plea in the sound, which made him smile slightly, and do it again. This time his name came out more as a demand. Obligingly, he pressed in for an open-mouthed kiss. His hand cupped her head, which was tilted to give him better access, and she rolled onto her side, her belly pressing into his abdomen. She made the whimpering sound he had grown to love, and strove to hear each time they made love. Her hand came up to slide through his hair and rest at the nape of his neck, holding his lips to hers. Deeper. His tongue stabbed at hers. She retaliated by sucking on it, making him whimper. He had missed this, missed her, so much. Knew she felt the same way. A loud, startled gasp intruded rudely, and they broke apart, both of them turning to look at the door. Mrs. Scully was there, her cheeks scarlet, hands laden with two bottles of juice. "Oh!" she said, sounding stunned. "I'm so sorry! I'll...I'll be...I'll come back." "Mrs. Scully!" Mulder called, his voice cracking mid-way through like a teenager going through puberty. His hand went up to scrub at his lips, wet from Scully's kiss. But it was too late, she had exited rather quickly. He groaned, and fell back onto his pillows, hand coming up to cover his eyes. He was surprised to hear Scully's muffled giggle. He dropped his hand to peer at her in shock. "Scully!" he said with mortification. "Your mother just...just..." "Just caught us necking?" she finished for him, still giggling. Her cheeks were flushed, but from her amusement he gathered it was due to their kiss, not being interrupted by his mother. Which he could not understand. "Scully," he said again, and repeated her words, with more emphasis. "You're mother just caught us necking!" "Mulder," she said dryly, and waved her hand over her belly. "I'm sure she's realized we do kiss. And more." She ruffled his hair affectionately, making him feel about five years old. "Relax, Mulder. Believe me, she's seen a lot worse." Huh? He perked up, interested. "Do tell, Scully," he said, waggling his eyebrows at her. "Later," she teased, and eased herself off the bed. "I've heard that before," he sighed. "And I'm still waiting." He was referring to her comment after he asked if he could touch her breasts. She laughed as she smoothed the jumper down once more. "When you're home. I promise." Her voice was husky, and she even threw him a wink before heading to the door. "I'm going to go get my mom. Be back in a minute." He smiled as he saw her waddling. Just as she grasped the handle of the door he called out, "Hey, Scully. Quack, quack." "Watch it, mister," floated back to him as she left the room. Oh, I do, he thought with a smile. *** One Week Later Scully's Apartment Georgetown, D.C. March 17, 2001 10:00 am Their progress down the hall to her apartment was a slow one, the odd silence broken only by Mulder's scuffling footsteps and the click of his cane. The cane was his only concession to the still-lingering occasional weakness of his body. Mulder stumbled, pitching forward, and then righted himself. Scully sucked in her breath and instinctively started forward to grab him, despite his insistence that she let him do this by himself. She stopped when he caught himself with one hand against the wall, and her own hands fluttered uselessly in the air for a moment before she forced them down to her sides. His shoulders slumped for a second as he blew out his breath noisily, and then rose when he sucked in a fresh lungful, and he started anew. She followed behind him, as close as she could be without interfering, ever ready to leap to his rescue. There was no thought about the logistics of an 8-months pregnant woman trying to stop a much taller, and still heavier man, despite his recent poor health, from falling. Just that she was there if he needed her. In one hand she clutched his overnight bag, her own strides lopsided due to its weight, having retrieved it from the floor where it had been dropped when he stumbled. The last steps were completed without incident, although Mulder sagged against the wall beside her door while she unlocked it. His breath was harsh and uneven, and he was pale, his forehead dotted with perspiration. Pushing the door open, she indicated with the hand holding her keys for him to enter first. Another deep breath, and then he pushed himself free of the wall and shuffled inside and over to her couch. With a groan, he sank down into the cushions, his head dropping to rest on its soft, plush back. The cane fell to the floor with a soft clack. Scully closed and locked her door, and put the overnight bag down to one side, to take to her bedroom later. Feeling awkward, she stood there staring at his disheveled chestnut hair, trying to decide what to do first. After the doctor had come in the day before and told them Mulder would be released the following morning, they had decided it would be easier for him to stay at her apartment. But they had not discussed the logistics of that stay. During their relationship, he had stayed the entire night on several occasions, usually leaving very early in the morning to go home and shave, shower and dress. On a rare weekend, he had stayed until noon. As she had also done at his place. Living together had been a subject not often broached, for they were both very independent people who had gotten used to their solitude. And in effect, that was what he would be doing now, for a little while at least, until he was completely recovered. Beyond then, she did not know. "Scully?" Mulder murmured, and she blinked in startlement. He had cranked his head to one side and was regarding her bemusedly. "Are you okay?" "Uh...yes, I'm fine," she mumbled back, embarrassed to have been standing there woolgathering. She shook her head slightly to clear the cobwebs, and shrugged out of her jacket. With it in the crook of her arm she moved to stand before him. "Take off your jacket and get comfortable," she said softly. "I'll go fix us a snack." Mulder sat up and shrugged out of his jacket, handing it to her with a quiet, "I can help. You shouldn't be doing everything." He slid his body forward, gathering himself to stand. Scully stopped him with the gentle pressure of her hand on his shoulder. "Mulder, it's okay. I'm a lot more energetic at this time of day. I feel fine." Which was entirely true. Lately, after an initial slow start each morning, she was blessed with a period of energy and spunk that lasted until lunchtime. Then she needed a nap. Except when she had the occasional bad sleepless night, in those cases she was miserable the entire day. She moved her hand from his shoulder up to ruffle his hair. "You just wait until this afternoon, I'll be wrestling you for that couch." She said the last words teasingly, a smile on her lips. "Oooooh," he breathed out, looking up at her. "Can we be naked then?" She barely managed to contain her grin. God, she loved this man. Pale, weak and just out of the hospital, and he was already putting the moves on her. If his exhaustion weren't as obvious as the rather large nose on his face, she'd take him up on his offer. "I don't know, Mulder. You were embarrassed the other day when my mother caught us kissing. What do you think she'll do if we're naked on my couch?" His eyes widened comically, and this time she did grin. "Way to kill the mood, Scully," he chuffed at her, bottom lip jutting out in a mock pout. "We had a mood?" she joked back, enjoying this sudden feeling of light- heartedness. It had been so very long since she had been able to play with him like this. "Well I was working on one," he said piteously, slumping back into the cushions. "When you regain all," and she made sure to emphasis the word 'all', "your strength, we'll have all kinds of moods." "Sure," he sighed, lifting up his puppy dog eyes. "Sounds like another one of those later deals you keep promising me." If he only knew how much she wished it was 'later'. Maybe because her increased sexual appetite during her second trimester had not been appeased it had leaked over into this trimester. Maybe it was the fact that it had been a long time. Maybe it was just because he was Mulder and she was Scully, and they belonged together. Whatever the reason, she wanted him. Wanted them. Desperately and passionately. It was hard for her to say that though. And it was really not the right time. So instead she said lightly, "It is. For now." He smiled at her, a gentle smile, and said, "I know, Scully." His hand reached out and grasped one of hers, hanging limply at her side. He squeezed her fingers, then leaned forward a little, bringing her hand, palm up, to his face. He pressed a kiss directly in its center and then released her. "I know," he repeated. Scully looked down at him, loathe to move. "I love you," she said suddenly, her voice quiet and calm. They had proclaimed their love before, in the hospital just recently, and at various times in their steadily growing relationship, but today she had never felt the truth behind those words so much as she did right at that moment. "I know," he said again. It was not necessary for him to declare it back to her, they did operate that way. And it was obvious in his expression, his demeanor, his very being regardless. Scully smiled again, and he smiled back, reclining back against the couch cushions once more. "I'll take care of these," she said, gesturing to their coats, "and then get that snack. You put up your feet and rest, okay?" "Okay, Scully," he replied, and shifted his upper body so that he was not lying against the pillow at the arm of the couch. A second later he lifted his legs and swung them up, careful to keep his still shoed feet hanging off the couch. The carefulness and thoughtfulness of the gesture had her sighing quietly. Then again, she had railed at him in the past for failing to keep his shoes off of her furniture, so it was probably self- preservation that prompted the move. It still touched her heart, either way. She turned away, finally, and moved down the hallway to put away their coats and then fix their snack. *** 10:30 pm Mulder flicked off the bathroom light and shuffled out into the darkened hallway. His feet were bare, and the coldness of the hardwood floor had his toes curling slightly in reaction. He hesitated, wavering just slightly, and flicked a glance towards Scully's bedroom, where low light shone from within. Scully had already finished in the bathroom, having used it before him, so he assumed she was already in bed. She had been yawning steadily for the last hour or so as they sat together on the couch, her feet in his lap, and had not argued at all when he suggested retiring for the night. To be honest, he was glad, for he was rather tired himself. They had not done much all day, except relax on the couch, and nap for about two hours after lunch, although he had read over a few of the case files she and Doggett had worked on during his absence. He was still waiting to meet the man, and intended to ask Scully to invite him over soon. As he moved towards her bedroom door, one hand automatically rose to slide along the wall for support, and when he stopped in the doorway, it clutched the frame as he stared inside the room. His other hand scratched absently at his tee shirt-clad belly as he saw that the covers of her bed were pulled back invitingly on both sides, and the lamp on her night table was on at a low setting. But he did not see Scully. A sound from behind him had Mulder turning his head to see her approaching from the direction of the kitchen. Her voluminous pajamas almost hid the bulge of the baby. Almost. They looked damn cute too, the pant bottoms rolled up at least twice, the sleeves as well. And because she had bought them so large, the vee of the top dipped to her significant cleavage, tantalizing him with the vision of her smooth, creamy skin and the shadow between her breasts. There was the briefest of stirrings in his southern regions, but he knew they both were not ready yet. Soon though, they would be. Forcing his eyes away from that temptation, he saw that she was carrying a tall glass of what looked like water. Seeing his curious gaze, she said, "I get thirsty at night. I know it only makes me have to use the washroom more, but my throat gets so dry." Mulder smiled slightly. More? She seemed to go every hour, at the least. She seemed to easily read the gleam in his eye, as she always could. "Hey, buddy," she said dryly. "You'd have to go all the time too if you had all this extra weight sitting on your bladder." She came to a stop beside him. "Besides, it's not very nice to make fun of a pregnant woman." "I'd never!" he said in a mock-affronted tone. "But just in case, let me make amends." He had seen her rubbing her back again as they had headed down the hall for the night. "How about a backrub?" Her moan of thanks was heartfelt. "Please!" she said, and then handed him her glass. At his raised eyebrow, she indicated the bathroom. "Pit stop." He hid his chuckle by turning it into a cough, although he knew she wasn't fooled, and then said, "Bring your lotion with you." "Okay," he heard as he walked slowly and carefully into her bedroom, the water held firmly in one hand. Mulder placed the glass on the coaster atop her night table, smiling at such an obvious Scully thing to do, and crawled into her bed. He slid over the cool sheets to his side, propping himself up on his elbow, and pushed the covers even further down with his feet to await her. The distant sound of water running in the pipes announced she was done, and then moments later she was padding into the bedroom, the requested lotion clutched in one hand. She sat down on the edge of the bed with one of those cute little grunts, though he never told her he thought they were, and handed him the lotion. He put it down beside him, and held out his hand to help her lie down and get comfortable. This took a few minutes, for she wiggled a lot to find the right position, and she had to adjust the pillow that she rested her bent knee on it just so. Her little sigh and the way she rubbed her head into her pillow signified she was ready. His free hand grasped the hem of her pajama top and tugged. "Lift," he said quietly, and when she had shifted her hips a bit, pulled it further up, baring most of her back. It was awkward pouring the lotion in his hand while still reclining, but he managed. Tossing the bottle aside, he rubbed both his hands together to warm the lotion up, and then smoothed them over her middle back to start. Scully sighed again, and wiggled a bit more, rounding her back. He continued at that location for a few minutes, feeling her slowly relax beneath his touch. He slid his hands downward, nudging the waistband of her bottoms down a bit, and starting working on her lower back. Her little humming moans and sighs were wonderful indicators that he was doing a good job, and he smiled, pleased. Soon though, his hands and arms got tired, and he had to stop. Leaning forward he pressed a kiss on her spine before straightening her bottoms and lowering her top back into place. Her thank-you was drowsy and low, and he quietly murmured, "It was my pleasure." He put the lotion on the other night table at his side, and realized the lamp on her side was still on. Scully's breathing was even and deep already, and he did not want to disturb her, so he sat up slowly and leaned over her to switch it off. Settling back down beside her, he inched a little bit closer, spooning himself around her body. He put his hand on her hip, and she automatically raised her arm enough for him to slide his hand down to cup the low curve of her belly. A gentle bump against his hand was the baby's goodnight. He lifted his head and brought it down near her hip, feathering his fingers lightly over the spot. "Goodnight, baby." Moving back, he brushed a light kiss on Scully's cheek, close to her ear, and whispered, "Night, Scully." "Mmmmmm...night, Mul...der," Scully mumbled back. His eyes drifted shut, and sleep overtook him. *** End of Part 6 of 12