Title: "Return to Reality
Author: Angela W.
Category: MSR
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Mulder, having woken up in the hospital
experiencing partial amnesia, tries to assimilate the
changes that have taken place between him and Scully
during the past year.
Timespan/Spoilers: Assume this takes place sometime
after Season 7 ends, but the main spoilers are for
"Amor Fati" and "Triangle". This is a follow-up to a
previous fanfic of mine, "Reality Check".
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They
are the property of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions.
Feedback: If it's nice or contains *CONSTRUCTIVE*
criticism, feedback is appreciate.
Archive: Feel free to archive anywhere.


 Mulder stirred and opened his eyes. He was either
coming out of a dream or coming into one, he wasn't
sure which. Scully was in bed with him, her head
pillowed on his chest, her knee wedged snugly between
his thighs. 
 The events of the past two days were etched into his
mind in crystal clear details. He'd woken up in a
hospital, with no idea how he'd gotten there or what
was wrong with him. He didn't have amnesia, exactly.
He knew who he was, who Scully was, what they did for
a living. He'd recognized Skinner. But the events of
the recent past had vanished from his memory.
 According to Scully, sometime during those missing
months their relationship had taken a turn in the
direction he'd been fantasizing about for years. She'd
told him they were married. His groin tightened in
pleasurable memory of the things they'd done upon
returning home. 
It wasn't that Mulder didn't believe her. But there
were still some things that didn't quite add up. It
wasn't so much that he thought Scully was lying to him
as that he felt she'd left out a few pieces of vital
information. Which might have been for the best, he
admitted to himself. He'd almost experienced psychic
overload, trying to assimilate the facts that they
were now married but were no longer partners; that the
X-Files had been deactivated again; that he was, after
being an bureau pariah for nearly a decade, once again
regarded as a hotshot agent; and that at some point
during the past year they'd acquired a dog and bought
a house.
Mulder looked closely at his wife's naked body. 
Scully looked as if she'd put on a bit of weight, but
it was distributed kind of funny. He'd had a couple of
chances to see her naked before their marriage, and
her breasts were larger than he remembered. Also, her
lower abdomen was softly rounded, not washboard flat
as it had been. She certainly wasn't fat; clothed, it
had been impossible to tell she'd gained at all, but
in the nude the changes were subtle but apparent.
Every other part of her body - her arms, her legs, her
ass - were the same as always.
 Scully stirred in his arms and smiled up at him. "How
ya feelin'?"
 "Fine. Um, hungry, actually."
 She dropped a quick kiss on his forehead. "That's a
good sign. Just let me run to the bathroom real quick,
then we'll go downstairs and make something to eat."
 Mulder watched in amazed appreciation as she strolled
nude into the bathroom. Shit, he wondered, did Scully
do *THAT* on a regular basis? Simply parade around
nude in front of him? It hadn't surprised him that
Scully was passionate while they were actually making
love; he'd always had a sneaking suspicion she would
be. But he'd also assumed that she'd "cool down"
pretty quickly afterwards, want her space and her
modesty back. He wondered if she was going to jump in
the shower; some women hated to have the smell of sex
lingering on their bodies.
 Instead, she was back within moments. She picked up
her panties from the edge of the bed and his T-shirt
from the floor, pulling both of them on. 
 "That's my shirt," he remarked.
 "I know. I usually like to wear your shirts after we
make love. But if you don't want me to, I'll. . .
 "It's, uh, fine, Scully," he stammered. Jesus! Was he
going to get the entire repertoire of seven years of
sexual fantasies fulfilled in one afternoon? "Do I
usually get another shirt or what?"
 "Usually not," she replied with a mischievous smile.
"I like you bare-chested."
 Mulder controlled the urge to simply drag Scully back
into bed. She was going to think he was some sort of
beast if he suggested doing it again for the third
time in as many hours. And he really was hungry.
 When they reached the kitchen, she asked, "Did you
just want me to make sandwiches or would you rather me
actually cook something? "
 "Sandwiches are fine," he said. If this was another
drug-induced fantasy, like that thing with Fowley and
Deep Throat that Spender Senior had engineered once,
Mulder had to admit the Cigarette Smoking Bastard was
getting better. This time around he was getting
*EXACTLY* what he'd spent the last few years dreaming
about. He was married to Scully. It was strange how
prominently marriage had featured in his fantasies.
Oh, the first year or two they'd worked together
mostly he'd just had sex fantasies. Dreams - sometimes
while sleeping, other while wide awake - of fucking
her in the office, on motel beds, on his couch, in the
shower and about another dozen different locations.
But, as much as he wanted to make love with her, he
didn't want only that. He wanted to share his life
with her.  Every aspect of it. Now, apparently, he was
doing so.
 Scully was stretched up on her tiptoes, reaching to
remove glasses from a top shelf. The position caused
his T-shirt to ride up on her, giving him a peek at
her panties. Without conscious thought, he slid his
hand up under the shirt and squeezed her bottom
gently. When she turned to glance at him with a small
smile and slightly raised eyebrow, he quickly removed
his hand and muttered "Sorry."
 "Why?"
 "For just. . .grabbing you like that. I shouldn't. .
."
 Scully rolled her eyes and placed his hand back where
it had been. "Mulder, you do stuff like that all the
time. I enjoy it. I wouldn't have married you if I
didn't want you touching me."
 "So, Scully," he said as the sat down at the table
with their sandwiches and glasses of iced tea, "do you
like being married to me?"
 "Very much so," she said with a smile.
 "What's been the hardest thing about our marriage for
you?"
 "You mean other than the obvious?" she asked with a
glance at his crotch.
 Mulder chuckled. "The sexual innuendos are my
department, Scully. Seriously, we must have had a few
arguments or problems. Things that caused some
tension."
 Scully looked thoughtful for a moment. "Honestly,
Mulder, I can't really think of anything much. We
already went through all the bad stuff. We already
knew each other so well when we got married, had
already been through hell and back together. Almost
more importantly, maybe, we had already adjusted to
each other's little quirks and eccentricities. I mean,
it was hardly a *SURPRISE* to me that you're messy! Up
until a little more than a month ago, we were
continuing to work the X-Files together. So we did
still have some professional disagreements there, just
like we've always had. But on a personal level. .
.really, Mulder, the only thing that's changed about
our relationship is that I am now *OFFICIALLY* your
one in five billion and that we get to make love with
each other; which means that our marriage has done a
lot more to decrease the tension in our relationship
than increase it!"
 "Okay, maybe words like problems and tension were too
strong. But certainly there were some adjustments we
had to make. Little things like, um. . .who gets the
first shower in the morning or stuff like that."
 Scully grinned at him again. "We solved the shower
problem very simply, Mulder. We share."  Mulder bit
back a groan at the thought of a naked, sudsy Scully
in the shower with him. "But, okay. . .there was one
aspect of our relationship that I guess did require a
bit of adjusting."
 "What?"
 "Finances."
 Mulder was surprised. He thought maybe Scully would
bring up his voracious sexual appetite, his messiness,
his attitude toward her brother - something like that.
But his eidetic memory supplied a nugget of
information he'd read somewhere years ago. Most
married couples fight more about money than they do
about issues like sex, housework and in-laws. 
 "I did notice the checkbook in the den, saw we have a
joint account."
 "Yeah, it's one of the few things you were pretty
insistent about. When we came back from our honeymoon,
we combined all our money into one account. You said
if we trusted each other with our lives, our hopes and
our dreams, we could damn well trust each other with
our money."
 "But you don't approve of my spending habits?" he
inquired.
 "It's not so much that, exactly. It's just that I
never had so much money before and I'm not used to
it."
 "What do you mean?"
 "Mulder, we're practically millionaires! In addition
to both our salaries, there's money coming in from
properties your parents owned, stocks your
grandparents left you, trust funds. . .all kinds of
stuff I never experienced before. I've never been
poor. But military salaries - even those of officers -
have to stretch pretty far to support families of six.
Mom and Dad paid for my freshman year of college, but
after that I had to provide my own financing through a
combination of part-time jobs and partial
scholarships. I took out student loans to pay for my
medical school costs and spent a hefty portion of my
F.B.I. salary paying them back. I've always had enough
money, but this is the first time in my life I've ever
had more than enough. You buy me presents - expensive
presents - all the time. It's nice, Mulder, but it has
taken some adjusting. The idea that I can spend a
couple of hundred bucks on something frivolous like a
dress or a pair of shoes and it's no big deal because
there's plenty more money where that came from. .
.that's a new experience for me."
 "One more question, Scully. I get the feeling there's
something - something important, maybe even as
important as our marriage, that's happened in the past
few weeks or that we expect to happen shortly - that
you're not telling me."
 She nodded slowly. "You're right, Mulder. There is. I
promise it's nothing bad. In fact, it's something
we're both very excited about. If you really want me
to tell you - if it's bothering you a lot - I will.
But I'd really rather wait a few days, to see if you
can remember it or figure it out on your own."
 Mulder smiled. "A surprise, huh, Scully? I guess I
can wait a few days. Give me, say, 48 hours. If I
don't know by then, go ahead and tell me."
 They ate silently after that, but Mulder couldn't
help hoping - praying, even, despite his doubts about
God's existance - that this was actually a return to
reality. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to survive the
disappointment if this was another fantasy. Could he
really be enjoying the privilege of falling asleep
every night to the sound of Scully's soft breathing,
waking up every morning with her in his arms? She'd
mentioned presents and that had been another thing
he'd dreamed about doing. Everytime he'd gone
shopping, trying to find a present for her birthday or
Christmas or to bring her while she was in the
hospital, he'd seen things he'd *WANTED* to buy for
her -  jewelry, dresses, perfume, lingerie. But he'd
settled for less personal gifts, things like videos
and key chains that wouldn't make her uncomfortable,
wouldn't rock the boat of their relationship.
 There was another fantasy he'd often had that was
partially - but only partially - sexual. He wanted to
go out for a jog in the morning, leaving Scully
sleeping in a warm, rumpled bed. Then he wanted to
return and bring her breakfast in bed.  It wasn't
something he'd ever done, or even wanted to do, for
another woman. Then, when she was finished eating,
they'd. . .he wondered if that particular dream had
ever been enacted.

 They spent the rest of the afternoon watching TV,
playing with the dog and talking. And kissing. Mulder
was so entranced by the idea that he could now kiss
Scully whenever he wanted - without worrying that he
might get punched - that he kept putting the theory to
the test. Scully made an omelette for dinner and,
shortly afterwards, announced she was going to go
upstairs and take a bubble bath. 
 Mulder stayed on the couch aimlessly channel surfing
and letting his mind play with the problem of Scully's
big surprise. If it was business-related, maybe one of
them was getting a big promotion. Or maybe they had
finally established actual contact with an
extra-terrestrial race. Maybe the aliens were, even
now, racing toward earth at nearly the speed of light.
Or maybe. . .he sat up a little straighter as a much
more likely scenario occurred to him. Could it be that
they were in the process of trying to adopt a child?
That would explain why they'd left one of the bedrooms
completely empty; if they didn't know the age or
gender of the child who might be placed with them,
they could hardly furnish it appropriately. It would
also explain Scully's use of the word "Daddy" when
they were playing with the dog.
 Mulder decided to go upstairs and see if any of his
theories were correct.
 "Scully?" he asked, tapping softly on the bathroom
door.
 "Come in, Mulder," she responded.
 Mulder entered the bathroom and, immediately, all
thoughts of surprise theories vanished from his mind. 
Scully was in the tub, wearing nothing but bubbles,
and smiling at him.
 "Can I watch?"
 "Sure."
 Mulder stared in fascination. In some ways, this was
more erotic than being able to see all of her body.
The bubbles clung to lots of strategic locations, but
sometimes he'd get a glimpse of the curve of her
breast or creamy skin of her thighs.
 "Scully, can I ask you some stuff about our sex
life?"
 "Of course, Mulder. I know this is a weird situation,
even by our standards. What do you want to know?"
 He took a deep breath. Might as well know now. "Have
I ever asked you to anything you considered kinky?"
 "No."
 "Oh, come *ON*, Scully!"
 "Mulder, you haven't! You've never asked me to do
anything I considered disgusting."
 Mulder snorted softly, but asked his next question.
"What happened to all my videos? You know, the ones
that weren't mine."
 "You gave most of them to Frohike. I think there are
a few in the bottom drawer of your desk. Did you want
us to watch one of them?"
 "You'd do that? Watch one with me?"
 She nodded slowly. "We did one time. Well, part of
one anyway. You'd selected one that was pretty clean,
I guess, by the standards of those things. It was
better than I'd thought it would be, actually. I mean,
there was a plot - kind of a mystery - and character
development and stuff. It's just that the sex scenes
were more. . .detailed. . .than they would have been
in a R-rated movie."
 "You said we only watched part of it. Did it get too
explicit for you?"
 She shook her head. "No. We just both decided, about
midway through the movie, that it would be a lot more
fun to *DO* that sort of stuff instead of watching it.
So we turned off the TV."
 "Earlier today, when we were talking in bed, we
talked about me using my mouth on you. Do you like it
when I go down on you?"
 "Yeah," she said slowly, drawing out the word.
 Mulder grinned. "Do you like to do it to me?"
 "Yeah," she said again.
 Mulder moaned softly at the images and feelings
Scully's assents invoked. 
 "How do you feel about rear entry sex, Scully?"
 "I like it, but I'm not sure we always do it exactly
right."
 He laughed. "What do you mean 'right', Scully?"
 She blushed, the color tinting not only her face, but
her neck and breasts down to the point where they
disappeared into the water. "Well, in books and, um,
videos and stuff, they always show the woman up on her
hands and knees. We've done it that way a few times,
but I really prefer to be lying flat on my stomach,
with a pillow beneath my hips. Or for us to be lying
side by side, sort of spooning. I don't know if it's
because of our height differential or what, but those
ways are more. . .pleasurable."
 "If it's what fun for us, then we're doing it right,
Scully."
 Mulder walked over and sat beside the tub, then
picked up a bottle of body wash and squirted a
generous dollop into his hands, working up a lather.
He took one of Scully's feet in his hands and washed
it thoroughly, then rinsed it. Lifting her foot to his
mouth, he began to kiss her toes softly.
 Scully made a little whimpering sound in the back of
her throat. "You're making me wet, Mulder," she
murmured.
 "You're in a bathtub, Scully. Of course you're wet."
 "That's not what I mean."
 He shot her a wiseass grin. "Somehow, I thought it
wasn't."
 "Want to lose your jeans and join me in here?"
 "I want to lose my jeans and join you, but let's
stick to the bed for tonight."
 Scully smiled and stood up, dripping bubbles. Mulder
dropped his jeans and boxer-briefs, then reached for a
towel and slowly dried her off.
 "Mul-der!" Scully said with a groan. He smiled in
amazement. A naked, aroused Scully practically begging
him to take her to bed - life didn't get any better
than this. 
 Mulder swept the covers back and lay her down on the
sheets. He kissed her deeply on the mouth, then began
to work his way down her body. When he reached the
juncture of her thighs, he slid his tongue into her
and groaned with satisfaction. God, she tasted good!
He kept at it until she climaxed, arching her back and
screaming beneath him.
 Mulder kissed his way slowly back up her body, then
whispered in her ear, "Can you roll over onto your
stomach? I'd like to try it the way we were talking
about earlier."
 "In a minute, Mulder."
 "Need a moment to rest?" he inquired gently.
 She smiled. "No. I want a turn to let you experience
what I just did. Lie back."
 Mulder groaned softly as Scully began kissing her way
down his chest and belly. Scully's going to take me in
her mouth in a minute, he thought dazedly. Wonder if
it'll be as good as I always imagined?
 It wasn't. It was better. At the first light touch of
her tongue, Mulder jerked as if an electric shock had
gone through him. She licked him throughly all over -
not just his shaft and head, but balls, too - before
taking him in her mouth. She was providing the perfect
mixture tenderness and suction and he was about to. .
.
 "Scully, if we have any hopes of actually making it
to the main event tonight, you need to stop."
 She smiled up at him. "Hand me a pillow, Mulder."
 Once Scully has positioned the pillow comfortably
beneath her hips, she turned her head and smiled at
him over her shoulder. Mulder slid slowly into her and
groaned. From this angle she was almost impossibly
tight.
 "I'm not hurting you, am I?"
 "No. Feels. . .so good," she panted out.
 "Scully, I know you said you like to lie flat, but is
it okay. . .would you be comfortable if you leaned up
on your elbows a little bit? So I can hold your
breasts?"
 "Sure, Mulder," she said, rising up. "It's mostly my
lower body I like to keep down."
 Mulder positioned himself carefully. He leaned his
weight on his elbows and forearms, just sliding his
hands up to cup her breasts. He kept up a steady
thrusting, massaging her breasts in counterpoint to
what he was doing lower down. Scully began rubbing her
ass against him in circles, her breath coming in
shallow gasps.
 Mulder felt his wife contract around him and, just as
it had earlier that day, her climax triggered his own.
He gave one final thrust and squeezed both her
breasts.
 Mulder felt something wet on his hands and slowly
slid them to the side of Scully's body. He stared in
amazement and the drops of milky fluid centered in
each palm. The final piece of the puzzle clicked into
place and the truth dawned on him. He'd been on the
right track when he thought they'd left the room empty
so that they could furnish it for a child, but they
weren't in the process of trying to adopt. . .
 Rolling Scully onto her back, he gazed down at her
with wonder, "You're pregnant!"
 She smiled at him and nodded, "Yes, Mulder."
 He bent down to kiss her tenderly and, like a dam
finally bursting, the memories began to flow back into
his mind. The utter terror he'd felt when she began to
be sick again and the sheer joy that had encompassed
him when the doctor had told them her fatigue,
dizziness and nausea signaled not the impending death
they had feared but, instead, burgeoning life.
 Other things returned, too. The weeks they'd spent in
Hawaii shortly after they were married; technically,
assisting the Honolulu Field Office, but for all
practical purposes taking a month-long honeymoon in
paradise at the Bureau's expense. Hunting down a
killer computer program with the help of an eccentric
Texas genius. A joint investigation with Naval JAG
officers on the same ship where Charles Scully was
stationed. A more recent case, involving nights spent
camped out under the desert stars of the Navajo Indian
reservation. He even, finally, had a face to put with
the name of "Chan" that Skinner and Scully had bandied
about in the hospital yesterday.
 Much more vivid than the work-related memories,
however, were the personal ones. Scully calling out
his name as they made love. The sweet, shy smiles she
gave him whenever he suggested they try a sexual
activity that was new to her. And, even more than the
sex - fantastic though that was - the love. Waking up
with her in his arms every morning. Holding hands with
her as they walked through the park. Lying in the dark
beside each other in bed, talking until their voices
faded softly off into sleep.
 "Scully, I remember! Oh God, sweetheart. I'm sorry!"
 "For what?" she asked, perplexed.
 "For being so sexually demanding today! If I'd
remembered, I would have never attempted three times
in one day. You don't think we hurt the baby, do you?"
he dropped a tender kiss on the soft swell of her
belly.
 "Of course not, Mulder. Nothing we did hurt or put
any stress on my abdominal muscles."
 "But you're supposed to be getting a lot of rest. I
know that's what the doctor told us."
 "Fox, all I've done all day long is sleep and eat and
talk and make love with you! I've gotten plenty of
rest. Trust me."
 "Always, Dana. Always."

 Author's e-mail address: tapw63@hotmail.com