Date: Sat, 20 Feb 1999 15:56:12 -0800
Subject: NEW: Cubed (1/15) by Louise Marin
Title: Cubed
Author: Louise Marin
Email: l_marin@geocities.com
Rating: NC-17 (sexual content)
Category: S, R, A
Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST; Mulder/Scully romance
Spoilers: through season six, up to Ghosts
Disclaimer: Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, Skinner, Samantha, CSM, and
the entire Consortium belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. Not mine!
Archive: Yes, please. Just leave my name and email on it,
and please let me know so I can come visit.
Summary: Scully does a little body-swapping of her own. Can she
and Mulder make it back to each other? Do they want to?
Author's Note: This story takes place around the middle of season
six, but splits off into its own universe sometime before the
events of Two Fathers.
ONE:
January 22, 1999
Approximately 1:30 AM
Mulder followed his partner into his apartment, shutting the door
carelessly behind him. In the entryway, he waited for Scully to
peel off her soggy winter coat. When she finished, he tugged
the coat from her grasp. As he dropped his overnight bag by the hall
closet and hung both their coats on the coat rack, he watched Scully
drift into the living room to sink heavily into his couch. She
leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Thinking that she looked
as tired as he felt, Mulder followed, settling down next to her.
She shifted, resting her head against his shoulder.
Looking down, Mulder saw that she clutched the fruit of their
whirlwind weekend trip to the Virginia State Forest. It was a jet
black cube about the size of Mulder's fist. Scully had not been
able to identify the material, but it was oddly dark, darker than
anything Mulder had seen before, perfectly smooth, and cool to the
touch. It reflected no light at all, as if its blackness was
sucking up the light around it. Small, perfectly circular holes
ran in a line around its center. Mulder carefully slipped the
cube from Scully's hands, running his own fingers over its
surface. His fingertips bounced over each hole, but were too
large to push inside.
Mulder had been surprised to find that he disliked touching the
cube. While its existence and proximity provoked curiosity and
excitement, it also filled him with dread. He rubbed his palm
over the top. It certainly felt otherworldly. Scully would tell
him that, in his excitement, he was tricking himself into feeling
what he wanted to feel, that the spectral air that seemed to ooze
from the cube was a product of his own imagination. He chuckled
to himself. What a pair he and Scully made; a perfect pair.
"What?" Scully asked, still resting snugly against his side.
"Nothing." Mulder rubbed his palm over the face of the cube. The
coldness that it retained even there in his heated apartment sent
a chill down his spine. He leaned forward and gently set the
object on the coffee table. "I'll take it to the guys tomorrow,"
he said, settling back into the couch. Scully kept her eyes
closed as she replaced her head on his shoulder.
"Are you excited about tomorrow, Mulder?" she asked, her voice low
and sleepy.
Mulder smiled. Excitement was an understatement. "What do you
think?"
"Of course you are. I am, too," she said, a smile in her voice.
"I was starting to worry we'd never get them back," Mulder
admitted quietly. "Our files."
"Our files."
Mulder sat still and quiet, listening to Scully's breathing and
taking comfort in her warmth beside him. Her company filled a
hole in him that he rarely found the courage to admit he had.
He did not want to move, to even breathe, afraid she would wake
from her half-sleep and come to her senses. She would get up and
go to her own apartment, her place without him, to sleep in her
own bed.
Mulder was surprised when Scully slid her arm through his. "Are
you okay, Scully?" he asked.
"Fine, Mulder. Just tired." She mumbled something about
mountains and mud and pine needles. "Next time, Mulder, I hope
the alleged UFO crashes closer to civilization."
"Didn't like our little hike, Scully?"
"It rained on us all day, Mulder," she replied. She was quiet for
a moment. Then he heard her say, in a small voice, "So tired,
Mulder. Why did I come up here, anyway?"
"I don't remember," Mulder lied. The article he had wanted to
show her was not very important, and he was loath to say anything
that would make her leave sooner rather than later. When she did
not speak or move, he gently rested his cheek against the top of
her head and closed his eyes.
Mulder sat in relative peace until the phone rang. He snatched
the cordless receiver quickly off the end table. Thankfully,
Scully still did not move while he spoke quietly into the phone.
He said as little as he could, desperately trying not to make her
stir, or make her uncomfortable, or make her get up and leave.
When the call was over, he placed the receiver gently in its
cradle and bit his lip. Excitement rushed through him. He had to
tell Scully the news, even if it meant rousing her and risking the
loss of her warmth at his side.
"Scully," he said gently. "That was Skinner. He has a case for
us. We have to be at the airport tomorrow morning, early. We'll
pick up the file at the office on the way."
Mulder waited for Scully to get up and gather her things.
"Mmm...okay, Mulder," she said in a sleepy voice. Instead of
getting up to go home, she nuzzled her face into Mulder's shoulder
and tightened her grip on his arm. He could not believe that she
would get so close to him, that she would nuzzle him and squeeze
him. He could not believe that he was letting her. But he was
frozen by the warmth and comfort this small intimacy had delivered.
"Are you glad you didn't stop the car and get out, Scully?" he
asked quietly, remembering a two month old conversation that would
not stop picking at the back of his mind. She had asked him if he
ever wanted to stop their quest, their relentless driving toward
some undefined holy grail, and live a normal life. To Mulder's
anxious mind, it had sounded very much like she was the one who
wanted to stop and get out of the car. Now, though, Scully did
not respond to his question with anything but slow, even breathing.
Mulder switched off the lamp next to him, snuggled into the couch,
and leaned his cheek ever so gently back down on Scully's head.
He found comfort in the even pressure of her body leaning against
his. Lulled by her breathing, Mulder let his eyes slip shut, and
sleep took him.
Sometime in the night, the agents shifted. Legs swung up onto the
couch, bodies slid down and stretched out, arms wrapped around
shoulders and waists, and Scully buried her face in Mulder's neck.
Mulder woke up just enough to cover them both with a blanket. He
did not, however, come alert enough to notice the tiny beams of
white light that shot from each of the holes in the mysterious
cube that sat within arms reach on the coffee table. As the cube
began to spin, the rays of light missed Mulder but drew a white
dotted line down the length of Scully's small frame as she slept
on his chest.
(END 1/15)
Date: Sat, 20 Feb 1999 15:57:58 -0800
"Cubed" by Louise Marin - 2/15
email: l_marin@geocities.com
TWO:
January 22, 1999
Approx. 7:30 AM
Scully was still deep within the haze of half-sleep when she
realized that it was Mulder's scent, masculine and sweet, that
filled the air around her. Vague memories of nodding off snuggled
up next to him on his couch shimmied through her muddled mind.
Their bodies were now entwined so tightly, the blanket wrapped so
snug around them, that Scully had no idea where she ended and he
began.
Mulder's long, even breaths told her that he was still asleep and
quite content. She had the vague notion that she should extricate
herself from their little cocoon and leave quietly before he
awoke, but her contentment and his warmth kept her from coming
awake enough to act. She pressed her face further into his neck
and sighed softly with blissful unconcern. Her dreamy mind
concluded that this alone was the most perfect place. She
resolved to stay, just a little longer.
Suddenly, his long arms tightened around her. He turned his head
to press soft lips against her forehead. His morning stubble
raked across Scully's skin, sending a wave of heat straight to her
belly. She nuzzled his neck and then began to fall back into a
deeper state of sleep, lulled by the slow hand that he had started
to run up and down her back. His skin on hers, his callused
hands, felt so good, so warm. She wanted never to open her eyes
and face the real world again.
Moving lower, his hand swept gently over the curve of her hip and
buttocks and then down to the back of her thigh. Scully felt his
chest heave below her, his contented sigh blowing gently across
her face. He whispered her name, her given name, "Dana." His
fingers curved around to play at the soft skin on the inside of
her thigh and then slipped gently into the folds between her legs.
Scully stiffened. Eyes flying open, she gasped as his fingers
stroked lightly against her most sensitive and intimate parts.
She snapped her head up and looked straight into his sleepy, hazel
eyes. "Mulder! What the hell are you doing?"
"What?" he mumbled. His hand stopped moving, but it did not
withdraw. Scully noticed a tiny, sleepy smile curving the corners
of his mouth. If she did not know better, she would have had to
say he looked sated. Suddenly, she was fully aware of their
nakedness. She looked down to see that her bare chest was pressed
up against his, skin against soft, warm skin. When she wiggled
her legs, she was tickled by the hair on his. She tried to ignore
the fact that she was more than a little excited by the presence
of the firm leg that she straddled and by the hand that still
resided between her own legs.
"We're naked," she whispered, her mouth dry.
His smile grew. He leaned forward to place a tiny kiss on her
nose. "Yes," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the
world. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and the fingers between her
legs began to move again.
Scully let out a little gasp and pushed herself off of him. She
quickly pulled the blanket up to cover herself and then sat there
gaping at her partner. Mulder's bare form had been left totally
exposed, but it did not seem to bother him. Scully noticed that
they were no longer on Mulder's couch, but in a bed, a strange
bed, one that she never knew he had. She watched Mulder's face,
seeing him struggling not to look hurt by her actions. He sat up,
leaning forward to put a gentle hand on her stomach.
"How's the little guy?" he asked softly.
Scully pushed his hand away and lifted the sheet to peer at her
body. Her breath caught, and she felt her throat begin to
constrict. Her bare belly had a round and unmistakable bulge.
Her jaw dropped.
"Are you okay?" Mulder asked.
She wanted to say something, but there were no words. She closed
her mouth and nodded, never taking her eyes from her stomach. The
bed shifted as Mulder scooted towards her until she could feel his
breath on her face. His nearness was oddly comforting.
He bent down in front of her, planting a sweet kiss on her
stomach. "Good morning, little guy," he crooned. Sitting up, he
kissed and nuzzled Scully's cheek. She did not pay him much
attention. She was unable to take her eyes from the mystery of
her bulbous and apparently occupied stomach.
"Dana, we have to be at work soon. We should go get in the
shower," Mulder whispered against her ear.
Finally, she looked up at him. "Together?" she managed to rasp
out.
He nuzzled the side of her face and smiled. "Mmm hmm..."
"Mulder!" Scully snapped. She pushed him away from her. "And
wipe that smile off your face!"
Mulder frowned, but then slowly, patiently said, "It's okay, Dana,
you can have the shower first. All to yourself. Well, you and
him." He rubbed a hand tentatively over her stomach. "I'll just
go down and make some coffee." Smiling gently, he leaned in to
kiss Scully on the cheek. She caught him by his chest and pushed
him away again.
"Stop it, Mulder!" she admonished.
He sighed and shook his head. "Okay, I'll go. You don't have to
yell," he said, sliding to the edge of the bed and donning a pair
of blue New York Knicks sweatpants. "You must be having a bad
hormone day, Dana. I read all about that the other night." He
picked up a book off the table next to the bed and held it up.
There was a picture of a very pregnant woman on the cover. "Says
the dads should just get out of the way." He gave her a small
smile and then left the room, taking the book with him. "Yell if
you need anything," Scully heard him call.
When the sound of his footsteps diminished, she slid from the bed
and stood to inspect her stomach. She ran her hand up and down
over the bulge. Tears began to well in her eyes. She guessed she
was about five or six months along.
Looking around the room, she saw the large bed, a well worn night
stand, a lamp, two dressers and a full length mirror. The room
was meticulously neat, except for the pile of clothes next to the
bed. The pile consisted of his and hers underclothes and what
looked like a skirt, a button down shirt, a tie, and some other
personal items.
Scully moved over to the mirror to get a look at herself. Most
obvious was her protruding belly, but she was also surprised by
the face that was reflected back at her. Her hair was longer and
darker, and her face looked rounder and healthier. The wrinkles
around her eyes and across her forehead, the ones that she had
acquired worrying about Mulder, were gone. Her eyes were the same
bright blue, but the whites were pink from the tears she was about
to shed.
She stepped over to the dresser, inspecting the items it held.
Framed pictures were strewn out across its surface. She noticed
that among them was one of her late father and another of Mulder's
parents. When her eyes fell on another picture, the one in the
middle next to the silver heart shaped jewelry box, she gasped,
covering her mouth with an unsteady hand. It was a wedding
picture. The happy couple's faces gazed back at her, grinning
like they were two fools in love. Scully was the bride, and, of
course, the groom was Mulder.
"Oh my God," she said, backing away from the picture. When the
backs of her thighs hit the bed, she sank down to the floor and
closed her eyes. "Oh my God."
Scully stepped into the shower hoping that when she got out, she
would have her life back. She wanted to believe that this was the
most lucid dream of her life and that she would wake up any second
now. She turned the water nozzle all the way into the red,
praying that the feel of Mulder's skin against hers, along with
the ring she had discovered on her finger, would disappear in the
steam. Looking down, she rubbed her hand over her protruding
belly. It was not getting any smaller. Biting her lip, Scully
realized that if this was reality, her stomach was going to be
getting a whole lot bigger.
She rubbed her temples. What was she thinking? This could not be
reality. Reality was back where she and Mulder were partners,
her life was full of adventure, and there was no king size bed in
the bedroom or shaving kit on her bathroom sink.
Bowing her head, she whispered to herself, "I must have finally
lost it."
If this was a dream, and she hoped it was, she wondered what it
meant. Was it a representation of what she truly wanted in life?
Did her subconscious mind truly desire to be married to Mulder and
to be pregnant with his child? Was this all a dream designed to
make her see that deep down she thought that she and Mulder should
be together? When she pinched herself, nothing happened. She
shook her head and went about finishing her shower.
The hot steam entered her nose, calming her raving mind. She
needed to hold on to whatever sanity she had left and figure out
what in the world was going on. She flirted with the idea of
telling Mulder that she was not who he seemed to believe her to
be, but decided it would be better to come up with some theories
of her own before she had to upset him. The last thing she needed
was for him to think that she was crazy, that he should try to
help her. She needed to figure this out on her own.
Scully ran her hand over her stomach again. There was something
in there, something alive. She had yet to feel it move, but she
could feel that it was there. She cradled her stomach gently. A
baby was something she had been wanting these last couple of years,
ever since she had found out a baby was something she could never
have. "Don't worry, little one," she said to it quietly. "I'm
going to figure this out. Everything is going to be just fine."
After getting out of the shower, Scully wrapped herself in a towel
and went to investigate her wardrobe options. The bedroom's walk-
in closet was divided into his and hers sides. Any clothes that
would fit her lived on the left side. The right side, Mulder's
side, was somewhat sloppy, with a pair of pants rolled up on the
floor and a pile of shoes stuffed into the corner. Turning to her
side, Scully found that it was organized the same way she
organized the closet in her own apartment, neat and meticulously
categorized. Luckily, several of the pantsuits there had extra
large waists. She slipped into a navy blue suit and some black
pumps.
Turning back to the bedroom, she looked carefully around. She
recognized some of the furniture from her own apartment. The
dresser and night stand that her mother had given her were there,
as were the table lamp from her living room and her alarm clock.
The bed, the full length antique mirror, the throw rug, and the
chest at the foot of the bed were items she did not recognize.
She began to wonder if somehow this was the future. A sharp fear
darted into her stomach. What if this was the future, this was
reality, but she had somehow forgotten everything that had
happened between falling asleep on Mulder's couch and waking up
with him and their unborn child that morning? How many years
could have gone by?
She scanned the room for a calendar or something that would give
her an idea of the date and the year, but found nothing. Deciding
there were no more clues in the bedroom, she made up her face and
then went out into the hall. There was another room at the end of
the short hallway, the door half closed. She pushed the door open
and peered inside. The room was mostly empty, save for a few
paint cans and some furniture that was covered with white sheets.
Resolving to return to explore this room later, she turned to the
stairs that she assumed led down to Mulder, wherever he had gone.
Placing a hand on the stairway's wooden railing, Scully took a
deep breath. She was uneasy about facing Mulder and his strange
behavior again. But she knew that if there were answers to be
found, he could certainly be of some help.
She took the stairs slowly, not wanting to lose her balance due to
the extra, unfamiliar weight she carried. The staircase emptied
into a small but comfortable looking living room. She could hear
the sound of coffee brewing in a room to her left. Assuming it
was the kitchen, she moved towards it.
Through the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, she
could see Mulder with his back to her as he sat at the round
kitchen table. He had his head bowed, and she assumed he was
reading the morning paper. She had never seen him so domestic.
The sight frightened her. As she approached the doorway, she
noticed for the first time that his appearance was different. He
looked heavier, healthier. The muscles in his bare back were
strong and thick. His hair was much longer, almost down to his
earlobes, but neatly cut. As he sipped from the coffee mug he had
wrapped his hand around, he turned the page of whatever paper he
was reading. Although she could not see his face, Scully knew for
certain that this happily domestic man was not her Mulder.
"Feel better now?" he asked, turning to look over his shoulder.
She nodded and approached him slowly, stopping at his side. She
studied his face as he looked up at her. He wore his gold wire
rimmed glasses, the same ones he had been wearing the day she had
met him. The worry lines that were so prominent on his forehead
and around his eyes had all but disappeared. He gave her a big,
unabashed, but sweet smile and then turned back to his paper.
Noticing that he seemed awfully engrossed, Scully peeked down to
see what he was reading. It seemed to be a cheap, almost home
made publication. She was disheartened to see that there was a
title, but no date, printed at the top of the page he was on. The
paper was called the Paranormal Daily News, and the article he was
reading referred to a blind and deaf woman who could apparently
communicate with the dead. Some things, apparently, had not
changed. Scully chuckled to herself. Leaning against the table,
she continued to watch him read.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Nothing. Are you going to go check that out?" She gestured to
the article.
Mulder turned to her, eyes wide. "Of course not," he said. "You
know I don't do that anymore. Besides, we have an appointment
today." His eyes softened. He gave her another small smile
before shaking his head and turning back to his paper. "Oh, Mom
called while you were in the shower," he added without taking his
eyes from the article.
Mom called. Her Mom, or his Mom? Probably hers. Scully waited
for Mulder to say more, but she had totally lost his attention.
Maybe this was Mulder, after all. Just a different...Mulder. "Um,
did she say what she wanted?"
"Oh, sorry," he said sheepishly. Shaking his head, he smiled a
tiny, self deprecating smile that Scully had seen many times
before. "She wanted to know if you'd need a ride to the
ultrasound today."
"Do I?"
Mulder shook his head. "I rescheduled the appointment with Agent
Doyle."
Scully rubbed her hand over her belly. An ultrasound. Oh my God.
Feeling weak in the knees, she leaned heavily against the table.
"Mulder, what day is it?" Scully asked in a quiet voice. She
really wanted to ask the year, but was afraid of the alarm it
would cause him.
Mulder looked at her with a raised eyebrow, an expression he
certainly must have learned from her. She saw the worry in his
eyes. "It's Monday," he told her.
Scully nodded, noting that it had been Sunday night when they had
fallen asleep on his couch. "The twenty-second?"
"Yep."
Interesting. Based on the fact that the day and the date were
what they were supposed to be, even though everything else was,
well, not, Scully concluded that this was most likely not the
future. She would have to look up the year as soon as possible,
though, to be absolutely sure. Curious, she asked, "Mulder, what
did we do yesterday?"
"You don't remember?"
Scully traced her finger along the edge of the table. "No," she
began awkwardly. "I guess I'm just blanking."
Mulder reached out and stilled her hand on the table. He looked
into her eyes like he was trying to read what was going on inside
her head. "We had lunch with your Mother on Saturday. She
couldn't keep her hands off your stomach." Smiling, he rubbed his
hand over her belly. "Saturday night we stayed in and I made
Chinese for dinner while you cleaned like you like to do so much,
even though I told you you needed to rest. Sunday we got paint
for the baby's room. And then, last night, in case you've
forgotten, we made love. Twice, if I remember correctly." He
grinned at her. She could feel a hot flush wash over her skin.
When she turned her eyes to the ground, embarrassed, he put his
arms around her and pulled her to him, burying his face in her
chest. "Why are you blushing?" he asked.
Flustered, Scully opened her mouth to speak, but was unable to
form coherent words. Mulder-But-Not-Mulder was running his hands
gently up and down her back and nuzzling her breasts with his nose
and mouth. Oh God. She wiggled out of his arms, but regretted
the action the moment she saw the hurt flash across his face. It
was gone as quickly as it came, but she hated herself for putting
it there at all. He had been so nice to her, despite her strange
behavior, and his.
Unable to look at him, she turned and headed for the coffee pot.
He was by her side before she could turn the mug she found on the
counter right side up. "What are you doing, Dana? You can't have
that." He took the coffee cup from her hand.
Scully frowned. "Mulder, what's wrong with you? Pregnant women
can have coffee."
Shaking his head, Mulder opened the refrigerator. "My book says
that too much caffeine can be harmful for the baby." He took a
juice box and two eggs from the fridge.
"It's just a cup of coffee. It won't hurt me...I mean us."
Mulder put the juice box in her hand and set the eggs on the
counter. He bent down to rummage through a cupboard. It was a
nice cupboard, Scully noticed. The whole kitchen was very nice.
Her other self had good taste. She shook her head, trying to stop
her mind from wandering.
"Mulder, what are you doing?"
"I'm looking for the skillet. You should eat something before
work."
Scully sighed. She planted one hand on her hip, using the other
to tug on Mulder's shoulder. When he stood up, he triumphantly
placed a black cooking pan on the counter. His grin fell into a
frown, though, when he turned and saw Scully's face. Pushing the
hair out of his eyes, he took a tiny step back away from her.
"You don't like my mothering," he said, nodding. "I know. It's
just that..." He put his hand gently on her swollen belly.
Scully rolled her eyes. It was a typical Mulder apology, albeit a
sweet one. "No, it's okay. I'm sorry. Well, I mean, you are
the..." Scully had to stop and take a breath. "You're the father."
She tried so smile for him. He was just watching out for his
unborn child.
Mulder answered her with a purely blissful smile of his own, one
that she had never seen before. Perhaps it was born of this
domestic life in which he seemed so comfortable. As Scully took
the skillet from the counter, the hand on her belly moved to run
long fingers gently down her breast. She gasped in surprise,
letting the pan fall to the floor with a blaring clatter. She
jumped at the noise, and so did the baby inside her.
"Oh my God, Mulder!" She wrapped her arms around her belly,
surprising herself by letting out a joyous giggle.
Mulder looked startled. "What? What is it?"
She took his hand and placed it on her belly so he could feel too.
"It moved," she explained, breathless and exhilarated. "I felt it
move!"
Mulder stroked her stomach gently. "We've felt him move before,
Dana. Are you sure you're all right?"
Scully smiled up at him. "Yes. I'm fine. I'm fine, Mulder."
"Good." He pulled her to him, wrapping an arm around her waist
and tucking her head beneath his chin. His skin and hair were
soft beneath her cheek. His smell was intoxicating and male.
Overwhelmed and seeking comfort, Scully wrapped her arms around
his waist, pressing her palms against the smooth skin at the small
of his back.
"Dana, why do you keep calling me Mulder?" he mumbled into her
hair.
Pulling back, Scully looked up at him. He still wore his glasses,
his hair falling over the gold rims as he gazed back down at her.
He looked even more handsome than she remembered her Mulder to be.
She shook her head. She wanted to tell him, wanted him to know
that there was something very wrong. She opened her mouth to
speak, but nothing came out. She needed to figure out what was
going on before she could talk to him about it. There was still
no proof that she was not insane, that either her old life or this
one did not exist at all. When she sighed, frustrated, Mulder
bent to rest his forehead against hers, his arms still wrapped
tightly around her. Scully closed her eyes. He wanted to know
why she called him Mulder.
"I don't know...Fox," she said in a small voice. "I don't know."
She gently pulled from his arms, turning to the stove. "You
should go shower," she said when she had collected herself. "I
can handle my own breakfast, and we don't want to be late for
work." Work. She had heard him mention it before he had left her
alone in the bedroom. At least they still had their jobs. Maybe
she could find some answers at the office.
Mulder, or rather, Fox quietly agreed. "I'll drop you off," he
said. "I have a class at nine and then I took the afternoon off
so I can pick you up for our appointment. 2:30, right?"
Scully's heart sank. They were not partners here, anymore,
whatever. Mulder seemed to work somewhere else entirely. "We
don't..." she started to ask, but caught herself. He would not
understand. "Yes, 2:30," she said, trusting that Fox had Mulder's
eidetic memory and knew the right time.
"Okay," he said quietly. He squeezed Scully's shoulder and then
left her with her thoughts.
Scully was really not hungry. She put the eggs back in the
fridge, took her juice box, and sat down at the table. She rubbed
her tired eyes with the heels of her palms, wondering what the
hell was going on. She was either crazy, or she had lost her
memory. There were no other possible explanations. Instead of
letting herself slip into despair, she pushed her predicament from
her mind and flipped through the baby book Fox had left on the
table. The title was "What to Expect When You're Expecting."
Oh God.
(END 2/15)
Date: Sat, 20 Feb 1999 15:59:17 -0800
"Cubed" by Louise Marin - 3/15
email: l_marin@geocities.com
THREE:
January 22, 1999
Approx. 8:40 AM
Mulder came awake to the feel of soft lips fluttering against his
neck. Scully lay half on top of him, nestled between his body and
the back of the couch. They had kicked the quilt off during the
night, but Mulder was comfortable with Scully draped against him
like a perfect, warm, living blanket. For a man who could never
find sleep, he had slept very well that night.
There was no telling whether Scully was awake or asleep, but her
lips and her embrace felt so good that he remained still and
quiet. Every patch of skin her lips touched went up in tiny
flames. He had never before held Scully for the sake of simply
holding her, as he was now. He could count the times he had held
her at all on one hand. Keeping his eyes shut, he thanked
whatever God might be out there for this rare and precious moment.
When he felt the heat and delicious wetness of her tongue on the
rough skin just below his jaw, his heart's only desire was to
tighten his arms around her and squeeze her even closer to him.
Afraid his movement would make her run, he forced himself to
remain perfectly still, struggling to maintain his imitation of
the even breathing of sleep.
"Mmm...Fox," Scully sighed into his ear.
Surprised to hear his fist name, Mulder recognized the fact that
Scully was not aware of what she was doing. She had to be acting
out in a state of sleep or half-sleep. He had no idea how he felt
about that. Hurt and relief battled inside him. The hurt was
because he knew that a fully conscious Scully would never let him
get this close to her. The relief came because what she did not
know, what she slept through, could not come back to hurt him.
Sadly, he realized that he should not let the situation go on any
longer. If he did, Scully would give him a front kick to the
balls, for sure, and a roundhouse to the head for good measure.
She had moved away from his neck to suckle his collar bone. A
tiny moan escaped her lips, making Mulder work to keep his
reaction in check. Nope, this could not go on. She would kill
him if she found out how much he was enjoying her. Cracking his
eyes open, he glanced down at her face. Her eyes were open, but
filled with a contentment that could only come after a night of
guiltless, peaceful sleep. She picked her head up, her cheek
brushing against his. When she caught his eyes, a grin spread
across her face. "Good morning," she said in a wickedly seductive
voice that he had never heard before. It shocked him thoroughly.
Before Mulder could recover, she dropped her head to nip his
earlobe and to growl into his ear.
Mulder stifled the moan that was growing in his throat. This
siren could not be Scully. For a fleeting moment he flirted with
the idea that his Scully had somehow switched bodies with Kersh's
secretary. The woman had had been eyeballing him ever since he
and Scully had returned from their Area 51 blowout. The thought
fled his mind the second he felt Scully's tongue fill his ear. He
wanted to grab her and touch her, smooth his hands over her back
and her hips, drive her crazy with tiny kisses. Did she know what
she was doing to him? Did she know that it had to stop before he
lost control? Firmly gripping her upper arms, he pulled her up to
look at him. "Scully?"
He watched her eyes come fully open. They began to widen, growing
impossibly huge, round, blue, and afraid. Her fear broke his
heart, and he cursed himself for not putting a stop to this
situation the moment it had begun. He became suddenly, painfully
aware of every place her body touched his. A nervous tingle
traversed his body. It ran through his legs where they were
entwined with hers, through his stomach that pressed warmly
against hers, and through his arms that held her but had to let
her go. Frozen, he stared into her eyes, waiting for the fear to
turn to anger. Her head would clear, her cognizant, rational self
would return, and she would flee his arms, angry at him and at
herself.
But the anger did not come. Her eyes softened, her fear turning
to curiosity mixed with some degree of worry. Her lips parted,
her breath tickling his lips and chin. Slowly, she reached up to
touch his face with soft fingertips, running them down his cheek
and then up to trace the circles under and around his eyes.
Mulder let his eyes slip shut, content under her gentle scrutiny.
Her hand ran through his short hair before settling back on his
cheek.
"What happened to you?" she asked quietly.
"What?"
He opened his eyes and watched Scully's brow furrow like she was
trying to solve a complex puzzle. Then the inevitable happened.
Panic flew into Scully's face as she came fully awake and took in
her strange surroundings and her strange bedfellow.
"Where are we?" she asked.
Mulder's heart sank. She did not know where she was, and she
certainly had not been aware of her actions when she had started
kissing his neck. He was afraid of her proximity, but was also
hurt by her rejection and the unintentional nature of her
affection. A year ago, Mulder would have run, fled the scene,
refused to deal. But they had come too far for him to allow their
relationship to regress even an inch. It was just about perfect
the way it was. They were not lovers, but they were more
comfortable with each other than they had ever been before. He
had never felt closer to anyone than he had come to feel to her
over the tedious months of their hiatus from the X-files. They
had exchanged Christmas gifts, for crying out loud! They needed
each other, and they were there, always.
"Where are we?" she asked again, more urgently.
"It's okay," he said gently, carefully watching her frightened
face. "We fell asleep on my couch. We're at my apartment.
Nothing happened. It's okay, Scully." His reassurances did not
seem to help. Scully's breathing grew quick and shallow, her face
pale. She looked around the room, then back at Mulder. Her eyes
were glossy with unshed tears. Mulder watched as her jaw thrust
out and her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip. Afraid of the
anger he knew was about to explode from her, he slid quickly out
from beneath her.
Turning away from Scully, Mulder rubbed his hand over his face and
then checked his watch. It was half past eight. They would be
late for their meeting with Skinner and possibly late for their
flight. A wave of excitement washed through Mulder's body when he
realized how much this day meant to him, to both of them. He
turned back to Scully, the discomfort between them thankfully
pushed aside. "Scully, we have to get going. I don't want Skinner
chewing my ass out our first day back."
Scully looked up at him from her seat on the couch. Her face was
full of confusion, like she had no idea what he was talking about.
With a stab of regret, he realized that what had happened on the
couch must have stunned her terribly.
"The case, Scully," he said, stooping down in front of her. "You
know, the X-files? We're getting them back today?"
Scully continued to stare at him. "X-files," she said quietly.
Shaking his head, Mulder trotted across the room to retrieve her
coat from the coat rack. "Here Scully," he said, handing her the
coat. She did not move to accept it, so he laid it across her
lap. "I'm going to shower. Go on home and pack. I'll pick you
up on the way to see Skinner."
"Skinner," she repeated in that same quiet monotone.
"Come on, Scully, hurry. We're practically late already." With
that, Mulder left Scully on the couch. He went straight into the
shower, using cold water in an attempt to wash the feel of
Scully's kisses from his skin. Of course, it did not work. He
was so sorry he had let things go on so much longer than they
should have. She had not said anything yet, but he was certain
there was a massive reaming in his near future. He could see the
upset boiling up in her behind those cool blue eyes. Mulder
sighed, deciding to try to concentrate on his excitement over
their new case. Skinner had an X-file for them. Today would be
the day they returned to the X-files. Their break was over, and
his life had purpose once more. Everything would go back to
normal. He was sure the work would help set things back on track
with Scully. It had to.
After showering, shaving, and brushing his teeth, Mulder wrapped a
towel around his waist and headed back to the living room to get
dressed. He was surprised to find Scully still seated on his
couch. Her hair hung in her face as she looked down at her
stomach. One of her hands ran back and forth across her belly in
a slow rhythm, while her other hand clutched the shirt that
covered her abdomen, holding it in a tight fist, her knuckles bone
white.
"Scully?" Mulder called gently, fear gripping his own stomach.
She looked up at him slowly, the hair falling away from her face.
Her expression seemed blank, but Mulder saw pure terror in her
eyes. He ran to her and knelt between her knees. "Scully? What
is it? Are you sick?" He tried to push her hands from her
stomach so he could see. She would not move her hands, but
continued to stare at him, looking like she was going to burst
into tears.
"The baby," she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Our baby's
gone."
"What? What baby?"
Scully did not respond to his questions. She sat huddled into
herself, clutching her stomach. Her eyes were wild, and she
seemed anything but herself. There was something terribly wrong,
something that made Mulder feel ill and afraid. A baby? What was
she talking about?
He tilted her chin up to look at him. "What baby, Scully?" he
asked again.
She whimpered, then looked at him like he was crazy. "The baby
that was here! And now it's not anymore!" she shouted in his
face. Her eyes held a mixture of anger, panic, and confusion.
Mulder had no idea where these emotions were coming from. He was
surprised when she took his hand and placed his palm against her
flat abdomen. Her flesh was tight and smooth. She was anything
but pregnant. To Mulder's paranoid mind, it almost felt like her
stomach, which should be rounded and feminine, was collapsing in
on itself, barren beneath his hand. He would never stop blaming
himself for her infertility. His stomach turned and gurgled. He
was afraid he might have to excuse himself to the bathroom.
Taking a few deep breaths, he tried to pull himself together.
When he searched Scully's eyes again, Mulder had a realization.
Oh God. He tore his gaze away from her. His breathing grew
shallow, and his heart felt like it was going to beat itself right
out of his chest. He could remember two times in his life when he
had been so afraid. The very reason he would protect Scully with
every inch of his life was because he never wanted to feel that
way again. But he did, now. When he had looked into this woman's
eyes, he had realized that Scully was not there. A human being
can only take so much loss and trauma. His beloved partner had
finally snapped. OhGodOhGodOhGod.
When Mulder said nothing, Scully's hand tightened around his where
they rested on her belly. He forced himself to continue to breath
deeply and evenly. Looking back up at her face, he took in her
sleepy visage. There were red rings around her eyes where the
tears were about to spill over, and her hair was rumpled. He
hoped to any God that would listen that she was just disoriented
from a bad night's sleep on his couch, that she did not truly
believe there should be a baby in her belly.
"Scully, was it a dream? Did you have a dream about a baby?
About Emily?" He hated himself for bringing up the lost little
girl that left a hole in his partner's heart, but he thought that
hearing the girl's name might help snap Scully out of her stupor.
"Who's Emily?" she asked quietly. She did not remember Emily, the
child that meant so much to her, the only child she would ever
have. Mulder's heart sank. It did not seem to be a dream that
was causing her disorientation.
When Scully spoke again, her voice was shaky and nearly
hysterical. "This is not our house," she said. "How did we get
here? We weren't here." Mulder blinked back tears at her words.
He was losing her, and he was helpless. She looked carefully at
his face, then reached up to run her fingers through his short
hair. "You're not Fox. You're not really Fox. And the baby's
gone." A single tear spilled onto her cheek. She bit her lip to
keep any others from following. Mulder could see that she was
Scully...but not Scully. She recognized him, but did not
recognize him. What was happening?
Overwhelmed by the terror he saw in her face, Mulder gently took
hold of her upper arms and pulled her to him. She struggled to
push him away, her hands thumping against his bare chest. While
he recovered his balance, he watched her try to stifle a sob.
Mulder desperately wanted to take care of her, to do something for
her. He reached for her again. This time, she let him wrap his
arms around her shoulders and pull her tight against his chest.
"I'm here, Scully. It's Fox," he said into her hair. "It's
Mulder."
"You're Fox Mulder," she said into his neck.
"Yes."
Scully relaxed some in his arms. Her breathing steadied as he
stroked her hair. He took comfort of his own in the fact that she
was letting him hold her. When her sniffles stopped, he pulled
away from her and leaned his forehead against hers in a gesture
that had come to mean so much to them, but that required them to
say very little. It conveyed fragments of feelings they were
never ready to admit. It whispered, 'I want to be near you,' but
little more. It meant that when they were together, their minds
were as one. It was simple, their gesture, but the woman in
Mulder's arms was not. In her current state, she did not even
know that the gesture had any meaning at all, but it seemed to
placate her anyhow. She looked at him for a moment, so close, and
then her eyes slipped shut. She slid her hands up to his bare
shoulders, stroking soft fingers over his skin. She took a few
deep, cleansing breaths, then whispered, "Something happened,
Fox."
Mulder nodded his head against hers. The sound of her voice and
his first name made him uneasy, but, if it made her feel better in
some small way, if it would help bring his Scully back, he figured
she could call him whatever she wanted. All he wanted in the
world was his Scully back.
"What happened?" he asked in a tremulous whisper.
Scully pulled her head away to look at him carefully. She
hesitated, looking like she wanted to speak, but that she found
her throat closed and her tongue unresponsive. Finally, she
swallowed hard and began her story in a strained, quick chatter.
"We...we got the paint for the baby's room. This was, I guess,
yesterday. Then you cooked dinner while I caught up on some
reading and cleaned up the house a little. You wouldn't let me
help with dinner because you wanted me to rest." She took her
hand from his shoulder and ran it over her empty stomach again.
"Then we watched some TV and went to bed. We...we made love and
fell asleep. The baby was fine. You're always worried you'll
hurt him, but I told you he'd be fine and to go look it up in your
book if you didn't believe me. But now...now we're here." She
stopped, looking down at her lap, seemingly deep in thought.
Mulder was glad she was not looking at his face, that she was not
seeing the horror he knew was plastered there. Part of him wished
this was a joke, but he knew Scully better than that. She would
never do this to him. This was real. Her mind was gone, and
Mulder was going to be ill.
He wanted to refuse to accept it. He wanted to tell her that her
story never happened. He wanted to tell her that they had spent
yesterday trekking through the forest searching for his downed
UFO, then riding a plane headed for home. They fell asleep
together on his couch, but they definitely did not make love.
They were not together, or married, or whatever she wanted to
think they were. He wanted to tell her that there was no baby.
Oh God. A terrible regret washed through him. She could never
have the baby that she wanted, wanted so badly that her mind could
not handle it. The bittersweet surprise that it was his baby she
wanted did little to quell the fear and panic that were raging
inside him. He wanted to scream, to just call time out, go into
the bathroom, and spend five minutes screaming and crying and
throwing things. He wanted to tell her that she had lost touch
with reality and demand that she return to him. Taking a breath,
he held himself in check, keeping his mouth shut. The last thing
he needed was to upset her further. Why was this happening? His
partner was lost. He clenched his fists and buried his screams
deep, saving them for later.
Scully's voice came suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts.
"It's a dream," she said quietly into her lap.
Mulder was hopeful. Maybe she was realizing that it was actually
a dream, like he had originally suggested. Maybe she was coming
around, snapping out of it. "Was it a dream you had, Scully?" he
asked again. "Is that it?"
Scully shook her head, giving him a frustrated look. "No. THIS
is a dream," she said through clenched teeth.
Mulder looked at her blankly.
"This, Fox! This apartment. This room. That terrible hair cut."
She gestured towards his head. "I'm going to wake up," she went
on without looking directly at him, as if she were speaking to
herself. "I'm going to wake up and have my house, and my husband,
and my baby. I'm going to wake up and kiss you good morning and
go in to work."
"Work? Do you remember work? The X-files?"
"What?"
Mulder shook his head sadly, then took a deep breath to keep
himself from flying out of control.
"I'm going to go to work...at Quantico," Scully continued. Mulder
could see her physically struggling to be as calm as possible.
The look on her face was still one of upset and fear, but she now
appeared quite lucid. "I'm going to teach my morning class, and
then I'm going to have lunch with Missy."
"What?" Mulder asked a little too harshly.
"Missy," she said as if he should have known. "My sister?
Remember?"
"Oh God, Scully." Needing comfort for himself, Mulder gathered
her into his arms. He buried his face in her hair and let the
psychologist in him make the diagnosis he had been trying to deny
since he had found her hysterical on the couch. She was suffering
from some kind of dissociative disorder. Schizophrenia, probably.
She had created another life for herself because her brain was no
longer capable of coping with the one she had.
Mulder wanted to cry into her soft hair. Why was this happening?
Falling asleep on his couch the night before must have triggered
it. It was the only out of the ordinary thing they had done
recently. But spending a night cuddling together on his couch was
certainly not the only thing that had led to this. There was the
loss of Emily, the loss of all the little Scully's of the future,
a dozen near death experiences, the death of her sister, his quest
that never seemed to end, their own confused relationship. He
wished she had never met him. It was all his fault.
Mulder pulled himself together for what seemed like the hundredth
time since he had woken up with her in his arms. He pushed
slightly away from her, taking her hands in his.
"Scully...Dana..." She seemed to think he was her husband. Her
husband would call her Dana. "Dana, I'm really worried. I want
you to go see a doctor friend of mine." He waited for her to go
ballistic.
"Fox, you ARE the doctor!" she exclaimed, but then calmed a
little. "You don't believe me," she said as she looked down at
their hands.
Mulder blinked at her and shook his head, not knowing what to say.
"This is crazy," Scully went on. "This is a dream. This is not
real and you can't send me to a not real doctor. The only doctor
I want to see is my real gynecologist today at my real 2:30
appointment. I am going to wake up right now." She looked up and
around the room like she expected something to happen.
They both jumped when the phone rang. It was the high trill of
Mulder's cel. He went to the coat rack and fished it out of his
jacket pocket. When he pressed send, he was greeted by a very
irate Assistant Director Skinner. The ranting voice booming from
the little phone made Mulder cringe. Skinner demanded to know
where the hell he was, shouting that he should have been in his
office twenty minutes ago. It was a speech Mulder had heard
dozens of times. He had no idea what to tell the man, so he held
the phone away from his ear and just let him rant.
Looking over at Scully, Mulder noticed the alarm in her face as
she watched him deal with their boss. Her eyes implored him
silently to come back to her. Still holding the phone away from
his ear, Mulder made his way back to stand near his partner. She
quietly slipped her hand into his free one, and they waited for
Skinner to finish.
When the voice on the phone quieted, Mulder spoke carefully. "I'm
sorry, Sir, but I'd rather not talk about this on this line. I'm
leaving now, and we'll talk when I get there." He knew Skinner
had no patience for his cryptic behavior, but there was nothing
else he could tell him. Mulder needed time to come up with a
story that would save his and Scully's jobs.
"Where is Agent Scully?" Skinner asked. "I would have at least
expected her to be on time your first day back."
Mulder closed his eyes. "I don't know, Sir. I'll find her, and
we'll be right there."
"See that you are, Agent Mulder."
Mulder turned off the phone and pulled Scully up from the couch.
Turning her to face him, he looked into her eyes and said, "We
have to go to the office. I want to take care of you, but first
we have to do this or we're going to lose the X-files again, and
we can't let that happen. When you're yourself again, Scully,
you'll thank me for this, I promise." He traced his fingers
gently down her cheek, hoping she would agree to go with him
without any more questions. He should have known better.
"Fox," she asked slowly, "that was our boss?"
Mulder nodded.
"Where...where do we work?"
Mulder closed his eyes and dropped his chin into his chest. He
stopped himself from letting out a long, satisfying sigh, not
wanting to alarm Scully with his frustration. Looking back at
her, he tried to smile. "Scully," he pled with her, "if this is a
really mean joke, now would be a good time to come clean so we can
both start laughing."
"It's not a joke, Fox," Scully said, dropping his hand and letting
out a frustrated sigh of her own.
Mulder nodded. "I know," he said. Taking a deep breath, he
switched gears. "All right," he began as he opened his closet and
started fishing around inside. "We work at FBI Headquarters in a
division called the X-files. We're partners. Our boss is
Assistant Director Walter Skinner. Ah ha!" Mulder pulled a blue
duffel bag from the closet. He took a navy blue suit out of the
bag and handed it to Scully. "You keep an extra suit here just in
case," he explained. "It'll be wrinkled, but there's no time for
ironing."
Scully nodded, dropped the suit on the couch, and started to pull
her sweater over her head. Mulder stopped her quickly, but not
before he got an eyeful of her creamy white midriff and her black
lace bra. He tugged the shirt back down to cover her, put the
suit back in her hands, then nudged her toward the bathroom. She
looked at him coyly. He saw in her face a combination of shock,
apology, and heartbreak before she disappeared behind the bathroom
door.
Mulder sunk heavily onto the couch. He leaned forward, resting
his elbows on his knees and rubbing his hands over his face. He
dug callused fingertips into his eyes and rubbed them too, all the
while asking himself why. Why did this have to happen? Why was
he in danger of losing Scully again? Why now, when their
relationship was so perfect? And why today, the day that was
supposed to be their happy return to work day? Oh God, the X-
files. He could not lose them again. But he would not take them
without Scully, and he was painfully afraid he was on the verge of
losing her for good. If Skinner even suspected she was having
such a severe psychological episode, he would suspend her from the
bureau, and the X-files would be lost. Mulder decided he needed
to stall Skinner and the case he had for them. He needed to get
Scully to a doctor, to get her well, as quietly and as quickly as
possible. He stood and went to the closet, putting on his clothes
and his poker face.
Scully emerged from the bathroom dressed in a somewhat wrinkled
navy blue suit. Her hair was combed, but her face was free of
make up. From across the room, Mulder could see the freckles
sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. She looked very young. He
could tell she had been crying. Her eyes were just a little too
glossy and the tip of her nose just a little too pink. "Fox, I'm
ready," she stated, her voice as steady as he was sure she could
make it under the circumstances.
Mulder nodded, going to the closet to dig out his shoes. He
turned when Scully called to him. "Fox," she said quietly, "we're
not married, are we?" She held up her left hand and wiggled her
bare ring finger. Mulder's heart broke, again. He shook his head
and turned back to the closet, hating himself and hating the
world. Just another day in the life of Fox Mulder.
"Scully, you can't call me Fox at the office," he declared as he
tied his shoes.
"Why?"
"I'll explain on the way." As they walked out the door, Mulder
noticed that Scully still held a hand protectively around her
stomach. Why is this happening, he asked himself for the
thousandth time. Why?
(END 3/15)
Date: Sat, 20 Feb 1999 16:00:39 -0800
"Cubed" by Louise Marin - 4/15 - Disclaimers in Part 1
email: l_marin@geocities.com
FOUR:
January 22, 1999
Approx. 9:00 AM
Scully sat quietly in the passenger seat, lost in thought, while
Fox, the driver, rambled on about Saturday's Knicks game. It was
good to know that some things had not changed.
"You're quiet this morning," Fox commented as they pulled up to
the Quantico main entrance.
"I'm fine," Scully said quietly.
Fox shot her a very familiar look, one that she had seen on Mulder
a thousand times. It was the one that said 'I don't believe you,
not for a second.' When Scully narrowed her eyes at him, he
backed off. "Okay," he said as he threw the car into park. "Here
we are."
Fox made no move to get out of the car, and Scully felt a terrible
emptiness when she remembered that he was not coming to work with
her. About to lose her careful control for the third time that
morning, she quickly gathered her brief case and purse, then
reached for the car door handle.
"Hey, Dana, wait," Fox said, putting a hand on her arm to stop her
escape.
Scully turned to look at him. His face was unreadable, but
focused. All of that infamous Mulder energy and exuberance were
directed solely at her. It was both mesmerizing and frightening.
Giving her less than a second to try to remember all the reasons
she had buried her feelings for Mulder, Fox slipped his free hand
around the back of her neck and pulled her face to his. His lips
slid against hers with a light, silky bliss that only the sweetest
of kisses could bring. The kiss was soft and wet and gentle and
hot and all the things Scully had dreamt of often in sleep, but
had hardly ever allowed to surface into conscious fantasy.
This man, this Mulder that was not Mulder, seemed so open and
comfortable with kissing her that she did not have a chance to
resist or to participate. He just reached over and took and gave
what he wanted, something her Mulder would never do. She loved it
against her will. His kiss made her blood boil and her ears ring.
The world was spinning around her as a flood of warmth poured over
her whole body and into her center. He did all of this to her
without even deepening the kiss to involve tongues, or teeth, or
wandering hands. Breathless, Scully had to pull away before she
was lost.
Their lips parted with a tiny smack. Scully turned away from him
to hide the flush that had crept over her skin. Gathering her
bags again, she realized how ridiculous it was to hide from him.
In this world, this dream, whatever, she was his wife. She must
enjoy his kisses all the time. This thought sent a new wave of
pink across her face, neck, and shoulders. It was all too much.
She tried to push his kiss and her subsequent embarrassment from
her mind. She needed to compose herself, to refocus on the task
at hand. She needed to get back home to her Mulder, her
apartment, her reality. She quickly turned and got out of the
car.
"I'll pick you up at two," she heard Fox call to her. She turned
to see him stretching across the passenger seat to look at her
through the open car window. He was smiling smugly. He had seen
the flush race across her skin, had seen her reaction to the feel
of his lips on hers. He knew what he had done to her, knew that
he had excited her. Scully blushed some more and bit her lip.
She shook her head. "Two o'clock," she confirmed, finding her
voice. "You'll be at...."
"The university," he filled in. "Not at the office. Lecture at
ten. I have my pager, kay?"
Scully nodded. He gave her what she could only describe as a look
of loving adoration, his eyes growing soft as the corners of his
mouth turned up in a tiny smile. Oh brother. He waved to her,
but did not put the car in gear. Scully realized he was going to
sit there and watch her until she was safely inside the building.
She felt like the collar of her light, silk blouse was
constricting around her neck. Her palms began to sweat, and she
felt a strange weight on her shoulders. Abruptly, she turned and
walked from the car to the building's main entrance.
The security guard at the door was surprised to see her. "Agent
Scully, haven't seen you come in this door in quite a while. Is
everything okay?" he asked with a concerned smile.
Scully did not recognize the man, but was flustered by his
questions for only a moment. "I'm fine," she said confidently.
"My husband dropped me off today." The word husband was still
foreign to her tongue. It rolled around in her mouth like a
question she hated to have to ask.
"How is Mr. Mulder?" the guard asked politely.
"He's quite well, thank you." Scully tried to smile at the guard
as she passed through the metal detector.
Once inside, she looked around the large lobby. There were people
bustling in all directions, in and out of class rooms and offices,
standing in line for the elevators, or emerging from the cafeteria
with coffee and a bagel. Scully suddenly realized she had no idea
where she was supposed to be. She moved over to the electronic
kiosk at the center of the large room and scanned the building
directory for her name. 'Dr. Dana Scully, Chairman, Forensic
Pathology, Room 408,' it said. Impressive. She had managed to
move up to the head of her department. She wondered if this was
what would have happened if she had never left Quantico to work on
the X-files.
After making her way up to the fourth floor, she found her office.
It was not large, but was cozy and comfortable. Looking around,
she noticed that, like the house, her office was neat and
perfectly organized, as if she had designed it herself. It gave
her the chills. There was no hint of Mulder anywhere. Scully
touched her lips with her fingertips. His kiss lingered in her
memory, on her skin. There was little she could do to wipe it
away. She tried to focus on something else.
Mentally and emotionally exhausted, she slid into the chair behind
the desk. The desktop itself was very clean. Her papers and
files must have been stored neatly in the file cabinet that
covered one wall. She noticed that on her date on her desk
calendar was January 22, 1999. She was definitely not in the
future, but in some alternate present.
When she turned to the wall behind her desk, she noticed there
were several paintings done on large sheets of white construction
paper. They were not framed and were taped up there with scotch
tape. They were obviously the work of a child, but the use of
color and space made them very vibrant and interesting to look at.
She noticed that they were all signed in big letters by "Jeremy."
Who was Jeremy? The edge of a brown picture frame poked out from
behind one of the paintings. Scully was reaching to move the
painting so she could discover what was in the picture frame when
the phone rang.
The pictures forgotten, she found the phone on her desk and picked
it up. "Scully," she said into the receiver.
"Doctor Scully," an unfamiliar voice began, "I'm sorry to disturb
you, but your nine o'clock class started fifteen minutes ago and
the students are waiting."
"Oh. Oh my! I'm sorry. I must have lost track of the time.
That class is in..."
"Lab C, Doctor Scully."
"Right. Thank you." Scully hung up the phone, took her brief
case, and locked the office on her way out. She was half way to
Lab C when she began to wonder what she would be teaching that
day.
She arrived at the lab to find herself surrounded by concerned
students. "Are you all right, Doctor Scully?" asked a tall, blond
young man.
Scully nodded.
A female student took her brief case from her and set it on the
counter. "We got worried when you didn't show up on time, Doctor
Scully," she explained. Scully noticed that the girl was looking
pointedly at her belly. She realized that her tardiness had
caused the students to worry over her pregnancy.
"I'm fine, everyone. Why don't you all take a seat around...."
she picked up a chart for the 'patient' on the table in the middle
of the room, "...Mr. Waters, and we'll get started." She was
surprised by how easily she slipped into her firm teacher's voice.
She had not taught a class at Quantico in years, not since the
first time the X-files had been closed down.
The students took their seats and looked at her. Some still
seemed concerned, while others just sat there and smiled. Scully
smiled reassuringly back at them, then pulled the sheet off the
body in front of her. The Y incision had been made but not
sutured closed. It appeared they were in the middle of some
demonstration.
"All right, who can tell me where we left off last class?" she
asked.
A young man with glasses explained that they had been analyzing
the body's stomach contents for evidence of poison and that they
had stopped right before moving down to investigate the large and
small intestines. Nodding, Scully picked up the demonstration
where they had apparently left off. None of the students seemed
the wiser. Her pupils hung on her every word, seeming to
genuinely like her and her class. She was grateful for their
approval and their cooperation. Teaching was never very exciting,
but it was easy for Scully, and the hours passed quickly.
(END 4/15)
Date: Sat, 20 Feb 1999 16:01:43 -0800
"Cubed" by Louise Marin - 5/15 - Disclaimers in Part 1
email: l_marin@geocities.com
FIVE:
January 22, 1999
Approx. 9:40 AM
Mulder glanced at Scully. She sat quietly in front of Skinner's
desk, hands folded in her lap, face calm and professional. She
had agreed to say nothing during the meeting with Skinner, and she
looked like she would make good on her promise. Mulder was able
to reluctantly turn his attention to their boss.
Skinner had stood after Mulder and Scully had taken their seats.
He looked down his nose at Mulder, making him feel like the older
man's angry gaze was going to burn a hole right through him.
Mulder swallowed hard and prepared himself to be as vague as
possible. Hell, he figured, it had worked before. In a way,
Mulder was thankful they had Skinner back. Skinner had always
been Mulder's closet supporter, and Mulder had never needed that
support more than he did now.
"Well?" Skinner raged. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"
"Scully and I had a meeting with a possible source early this
morning," Mulder lied.
"And?"
Mulder said nothing. Skinner frowned, shaking his head at the
young agent. Mulder stuck his chin out and stood his ground. He
would not, could not, tell his boss any more than this one vague
lie. Skinner had understood his need for secrecy in the past.
All Mulder could do was hope that he would understand now and let
it go.
To Mulder's horror, Skinner turned to Scully and asked, "Agent
Scully, do you have anything...enlightening...to add to Agent
Mulder's report?"
When Scully hesitated, Mulder's stomach sank, his breath catching
in his chest. Finally, in a surprisingly steady and convincing
voice, Scully said, "Nothing, Sir. Mulder received a call from
the possible source early this morning, and we followed up on it.
We used haste and discretion and arrived here as soon as
possible."
"And you, like Agent Mulder, are not willing to describe the
nature of this 'source'?"
"No, Sir."
Relieved, Mulder let the breath he had been holding fly swiftly
from his lungs. He hoped Skinner had not seen his nostrils flare
or his chest heave. Glancing up at the older man, he saw that
Skinner was still studying Scully intensely. When his gaze
shifted slowly over to Mulder, his eyes narrowed, and his frown
deepened. He was not buying it. "I find it odd, Agents," he
said, "that you both arrived simultaneously late, and that you are
both giving me vague and disgracefully weak explanations. This is
your first day back on the job you have both spent the last eight
months fighting for. If not at least prompt, I expected you both
to be early. Instead I have been sitting here all morning
wondering if you were going to show up at all." Skinner crossed
his arms over his chest, waiting for them to offer up a better
explanation for their tardiness.
Mulder said nothing. He kept a carefully blank face, but afforded
himself one lightning quick, sideways glance at Scully. She sat
there with her usual stoical grace. It was like everything was as
normal as could be. Scully looked cool and professional, probably
waiting to let Mulder have it once they were back in their own
office, Skinner was ranting, and Mulder was itching to get out of
there. It was just like old times. Mulder sighed and resigned
himself to waiting patiently for Skinner's tirade to be over.
Skinner, unfortunately, looked like he was going to grind his
teeth down to the gums. He looked pointedly from Mulder to Scully
to Mulder and then back to Scully. "If there is
something...else...going on here, Agents," he said in a low tone,
"I suggest that you begin to act with the utmost discretion and
with respect for the work."
A cold sweat crept over Mulder's body. Did Skinner just imply
what he thought he had implied? Did Skinner honestly suspect that
he and Scully were... Mulder swallowed and tried to breath evenly.
"Whatever you are implying, Sir, I can assure you that it is not
true," he stated. From the corner of his eye, he watched Scully
carefully for a reaction. To her credit, her expression never
wavered.
Skinner sighed, shaking his head in obvious disbelief. "Listen, I
know you haven't taken your assignments very seriously these last
months, Mulder, but that is going to change right now. This work
is too dangerous to let yourself go. Either of you. You know
this."
Mulder grunted, defeated. There was nothing else he could or
would say to Skinner. As his boss continued his tirade, Mulder's
mind wandered. He wondered about the danger of which Skinner
spoke. He wondered if it was the work that made him and Scully
keep each other at arm's length. He wondered if it was simply the
need to stay focused, to avoid mistakes, to save each other's
lives. No. There were other forces at play, more than just the
physical danger and more than just the work. There was the need
to hold on to the status quo, to keep the one good thing he had in
his life stable and, hopefully, around for a good long time.
There was too much at stake for him to rock the boat and admit his
feelings. What would happen is she rejected him? What would
happen if she left? What would happen if being any closer to each
other was so intense that it destroyed them both? What would
happen if he hurt her... Stop it, he told himself. This train of
thought never got him anywhere. He forced himself to get his mind
back on track. Skinner was still ranting, and Mulder tuned back
in just in time for his griping boss' final blow.
"If you let yourselves get lax, Agents," Skinner growled, "I will
take the files away so fast you won't even remember having them
back. Am I clear?"
When Mulder and Scully again said nothing, Skinner gave a sigh
that sounded like resignation, moving on to the order of the day.
"Yesterday, in Denver, a woman was murdered by strangulation. The
body was dumped in a local cemetery. This is the third such
murder to occur in the last three weeks in the Denver area. When
police arrived at the scene yesterday, they found the daughter of
a Colorado State Senator sitting atop a headstone near the victim.
It was reported that she was in a trance-like state and that she
was babbling incoherently. I would like for..."
Mulder was sorry he had to interrupt now that the man had finally
calmed down. "Um, Sir?"
Skinner shot Mulder a look, then continued talking.
"Sir," Mulder interrupted again, this time standing up to make it
harder for Skinner to dismiss him. "I think it would be better if
we postponed this case a day or two so that Agent Scully and I can
have a chance to regroup and..."
"What? Mulder, what the hell are you talking about?" Skinner
slammed the case file down on his desk. "All right, look, I know
there is something you're not telling me. These lame excuses are
beneath even you, Agent Mulder. Why don't you just come clean?"
Coming clean was something Mulder desperately wanted to do. He
did not want to be alone in this, alone with this Scully that was
not Scully and her potentially dangerous psychosis. But as much
as he wanted to, he could not tell Skinner the truth. Skinner
would take Scully off duty, and Mulder could not bear that,
especially not now, not with the X-files back and their lives
finally returned to them. Mulder shook his head, saying nothing.
Skinner sighed. "A Senator's daughter is speaking in tongues,
Mulder! In a graveyard. With a body. I want you on this case,
and I want you on it this morning!" Sitting back down in his
chair, Skinner slid the case file toward Mulder. "If you don't
leave now, you are going to miss the flight I have arranged for
you."
"But Sir..."
"That's enough, Agent Mulder." Skinner looked over at Scully,
making Mulder cringe. "Agent Scully," he said, "you have been
unusually silent this morning. Do you believe we should postpone
this assignment?"
When Scully glanced at Mulder, he saw it in her eyes. She was
going to cave. Her compassionate spirit had raised its beautiful
head, and she was going to cave. Shit.
"No, Sir," she said to Skinner quietly. "I believe we should
leave as soon as possible. I want to help that girl, and I don't
want to see any more women die".
Mulder could not believe what he was hearing. 'There is no way we
are going to let him send us on this case today,' he had told her
in the car. She had agreed! Damn it, Scully, he thought. He
shot her an angry look, then continued to argue with Skinner.
"But, Sir, despite Agent Scully's compassionate desire to move
forward, I think that..."
"I said that's enough, Mulder. You are dismissed. Be on that
flight." Skinner turned to the stack of papers on his desk.
There was nothing Mulder could do to regain his attention. Taking
the file, Mulder led Scully out of Skinner's office.
"What the hell was that?" he asked, once they were out in the hall
and headed toward the elevator. "How could you agree to go on the
case? We had a plan, Scully." Mulder was angry, but after the
appearance of her familiar and wonderful compassion, a little part
of him could not help but wonder if the real Scully was finally
returning. Please Scully. Please oh please oh please be there.
"Just what I said, F...Mulder. I want to help those people." She
dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. "I need to work, Mulder, to
get my mind off...things. And I'm not going to a shrink, Mulder,
because I cannot be crazy. I can't. My other life cannot all
have been a dream. It can't." She looked around her and sighed,
confusion swimming in her eyes. "But neither can this one. Can
it?"
Mulder was disappointed in her lack of improvement, but he was not
at all unsympathetic to her situation. He squeezed her shoulder
supportively as they entered the elevator.
"Where are we going?" Scully asked.
"We need to go down to the office to pick up a few things," Mulder
replied.
"You know, if we don't go on this case, we'll...you'll lose your
job. It's very important to you, isn't it?" she asked quietly.
"Yes," Mulder whispered, looking down at the floor and trying to
fight the sick feeling in his stomach.
The X-files office, refurbished and repainted, now looked very
much like it had before the fire. Mulder had come down Friday
night, bringing all the files he had reconstructed and all the
paranormal paraphernalia he had stashed at home and at the
gunmen's. Scully had joined him, and they had spent the evening
redecorating.
Mulder had hoped that showing her the office would help to
stimulate her memory. It did not seem to be working. He watched
her dart around, inspecting his bulletin boards, flukeman photos,
alien fetus diagram, and UFO sighting charts as if she was seeing
it all for the first time. She smiled, and frowned, and raised
her eyebrow at everything. He saw confusion and interest on her
face and in her eyes, but saw no recognition. Mulder's heart
broke, yet again.
"Is this really what you...we...do?" she asked.
"This is my life," Mulder mumbled.
"Your life? You must be terribly dedicated," she commented as she
ran her fingers over his leather bound set of Encyclopedia
Paranormal. "I've never been able to believe in this kind of
stuff. It's all just too much."
Mulder rolled his eyes. "Come on, Scully. Who are you kidding?
Do you really mean to tell me that..." Mulder tried to go jokingly
into his usual 'after all you've seen' speech, but had to stop
himself, disheartened. Who was HE kidding? Believer or not
believer, all he wanted was his Scully back, and, skeptic or not,
this obviously was not her. He was beginning to worry that he
would never see the old Scully again.
"He would love this place," she said suddenly. She had stopped in
front of his new 'I WANT TO BELIEVE' poster and was studying it
carefully.
"Who would love this place?" he asked, afraid of the answer.
"Him...you. Fox." Scully shook her head, giving a frustrated
little grunt. Mulder could see the tears begin to fill her eyes
again. He went to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. She
looked up at him, blinking the tears away. "He wants to believe,"
she said quietly. "But you...this is all you have." She gestured
around the office, never taking her eyes from him.
Mulder nodded. "This and you, Scully," he said, his voice
suddenly hoarse with tears of his own. He slid the hand on her
shoulder down to her forearm, where he gripped her tightly. With
his eyes, he implored her to come back to him. "This and you," he
whispered.
"Why?"
Mulder sighed, disappointed. "It's getting late," he said.
"Let's talk about it on the plane."
Scully nodded, and Mulder moved to the door. "What was it we
needed to get down here?" she called after him.
"It's not here," he mumbled.
They were silent on the way to the parking lot, both lost in their
own thoughts. Mulder came to the painful realization that he was
on his own with this, that he would have to try to help her
himself. Having never been a practicing psychologist, he was not
sure if he could, but he knew he would have to try. Maybe on the
plane. The thought of losing her made him ache so much that his
only desire was to scratch his heart right out of his chest. He
had to pull himself together, but he felt so heavy, like he was
made of lead, like eternity would be over by the time they reached
the car.
And, of course, just when Mulder thought things could not get any
worse, he saw the un-holiest of horrors fast approaching him. It
was Marsha What's-her-name from the steno pool. She was on her
way in from a late breakfast, no doubt, and was coming at him so
fast that he was unable to steer himself and Scully away. She ran
right into him, without subtlety and certainly by design.
"Agent Mulder! It's so good to bump into you," the woman purred,
winking at him.
Mulder groaned inwardly, but spoke as politely as he could. "Hi,
Marsha."
The woman stepped close to him, planting one foot between his
legs. She threw her shoulders back, pushing her chest out so that
her breasts brushed against his chest. "I would really like it if
you would come over tonight so we can finish up what we started
last time," she said seductively and, unfortunately, rather loudly
in his ear.
"We're going on a case," Mulder said, not looking at her.
"Well, then, maybe next week." She ran her hand slowly down his
arm, then walked away. The sound of her heels clacking on the
pavement made Mulder's stomach turn. He was afraid to look at
Scully. The real Scully would know what just went on, and they
would both be laughing at the secretary's expense by now. He did
not even want to consider what this Scully might be thinking.
Shuffling his feet, Mulder chanced a glance over at his partner.
She stood perfectly still, but her face told him that she was
about to start screaming or throwing up, or both.
He waited, watching for the start of the onslaught, but none came.
Seconds later, he saw her do something so typical of his Scully
that he actually felt relieved knowing that she was indeed in
there somewhere. He watched, transfixed, as she bottled all her
feelings up inside. The uncontrolled emotions, the need to
scream, and cry, and strike out faded from her face until all that
was left was a look of profound sadness hidden deep in her eyes.
Mulder had a lot of explaining to do to his not-wife. Oh God. It
was going to be a hell of a flight.
(END 5/15)
Date: Sat, 20 Feb 1999 16:02:47 -0800
"Cubed" by Louise Marin - 6/15 - Disclaimers in Part 1
email: l_marin@geocities.com
SIX:
January 22, 1999
Approx. 12:00 PM
At noon, Scully went back to her office remembering exactly why
she had stopped teaching six years ago. It just did not stimulate
her mind the way field work did. Sitting down at her desk, she
realized how weary she had grown standing for extended periods in
the lab. Her legs and feet ached. She could not remember being
this tired after giving a class before. When the baby moved
within her, she realized his presence was the cause of her
fatigue. His presence. Fox seemed to know it was a boy. She
wondered if they had done a test to find out the sex. "There are
so many things I don't know about you, little guy," she said to
her stomach. She rubbed a hand over her belly, and the baby moved
again.
The room was quiet and dim. Scully leaned back in the chair,
closing her eyes. She took a moment to relax and to focus on the
life she now carried within her. It felt like a fullness, like a
part of her had been kept empty and waiting, but was now full and
alive. It was a feeling she had stopped expecting to experience,
stopped dreaming she could know. "Who do I have to thank for
you?" she whispered. It was then that she remembered the cube.
"Oh my God," she said as she sat upright. The cube. Could this
all be because of the cube? Certainly it could not be a dream.
It was too real, too long, and she had already tried several times
to wake herself up. She went over other possibilities in her
head. She could have been having a psychotic episode. Or her
real self could be in a coma, and this whole world, the baby, Fox,
everything, was all happening in her head. Unfortunately, she did
not remember being injured or sick and at risk of slipping into a
coma. Perhaps her old life was the farce, perhaps she had made it
up in her mind, and this was the real reality. How was that for
insanity? But maybe, just maybe, it was the cube. They had not
discovered what it was or where it had come from. Perhaps it had
caused the lines of reality to switch, or for history to be
altered, or...or...something. She was starting to think like Mulder,
she knew, but she had exhausted acceptable logical explanations.
She did not want to believe that she was once again in a coma, and
she could not believe that she was crazy. Never that. All she
had left was the parallel universe theory. Terrific.
The phone rang, tearing her from her thoughts. She picked up,
answering, "Scully."
There was silence for a long moment. "Dana?" the caller finally
asked in an unsure voice.
"Um...yes, this is Dana Scully."
"Dana, it's Sam," came the voice, now friendly and relaxed.
"Sam?"
"You know, your sister-in-law? Dana, are you okay?"
Scully said nothing. Her mind was reeling. Sam. Sam, her
sister-in-law. Her sister-in-law, Sam. Samantha. Samantha
Mulder. "Oh my God," Scully said out loud. Samantha Mulder was
alive and well and her sister-in-law and talking to her on the
phone. "Oh my God. Samantha."
"Dana?" Sam asked again. She sounded worried.
Scully snapped her attention back to the telephone and tried to
sound as calm and normal as possible. "Samantha. Yes, yes I'm
fine," she reassured.
"I'm just calling about dinner tonight. I'll be bringing the boys
after all, so set a couple extra places, okay, Sis?"
Scully was not sure what she was talking about. Dinner at her and
Fox's place, she assumed. She played along. "Sure, Sam, that'll
be fine. What time did you want to come?"
"You and Fox said 6:30. Is that still okay, Dana?"
Before Scully could answer, she heard a boy's voice in the
background of her phone call. "Mom, is that Aunt Dana?" she heard
his muffled voice call out, excited. There was a rustling as the
phone apparently changed hands. "Auntie Dana!" the young,
exuberant voice exploded happily in her ear. "Mom says we're
coming to dinner and I finished that painting of uncle Fox you
wanted me to make. I'm gonna' bring it to you. It's really good.
My best one yet, Mom says. She wanted it, but I told her I
promised it for you and the baby." The boy rambled on, happily.
He was very charming and sweet, and Scully liked him right away.
Remembering something, she turned to the paintings on her wall and
moved the one blocking the picture frame. Inside the frame was a
photograph of two young boys, one about eight or nine years old
and the other about three or four.
"That's great, Jeremy," Scully said, remembering the name that was
signed on the paintings. "I can't wait to see you and your
brother tonight."
"Me too, Auntie Dana. Tell the baby his cousins say hi."
Scully laughed. "I'll tell him, although it's probably going to
be another year before he can try to say hi back."
The boy laughed too. "I know, Auntie," he said, as if he had been
humoring a dumb adult.
The phone was passed back to Samantha. "I'm sorry, Dana," she
apologized.
With an ache in her heart that she did not understand, Scully
realized that she desperately wanted to meet Samantha Mulder and
her two sons. "6:30 for dinner, Sam," Scully said with a smile in
her voice. "Can't wait to see you all."
"Can I bring anything?"
"Just yourself and the kids. And make sure Jeremy doesn't forget
that painting."
"Okay. Oh Dana! I can't wait to see the untrasound pictures,"
Sam said excitedly. "I'll see you tonight."
They hung up, and Scully sat back in her chair. Samantha was
alive, safe, and in her life, and in Mulder's. Where the hell AM
I? she wondered for the thousandth time.
Scully tapped her fingers on the desk, wondering what she should
do until Mulder came to get her at 2:00. She gasped as an
incredible thought struck her. If Samantha was alive here,
wherever this was, then...
She frantically found the Rolodex on her desk and flipped through
it until she found the card marked 'Scully, Melissa.' Scully bit
back tears as she noted that, in this world, Missy had a
California phone number and address. Venice beach, to be exact.
She picked up the phone and dialed with shaky fingers.
The phone rang twice before Scully heard a voice from the past
say, "Hello."
She forced herself so speak, though her mouth was dry and her
throat tight with tears. "Missy, it's Dana," she said shakily.
"Dana! You haven't called in two weeks! What's up?"
Tears spilled silently down Scully's cheeks. It had been so long,
almost four years, since she had heard her sister's voice. "I
just wanted to say hello."
"Is everything okay? How's the baby?"
"Fine. Ultrasound this afternoon," Scully said as she swatted at
the tears on her cheeks.
"That's so exciting, Dana! Will you send me a copy of the
picture?"
Scully could not hold it in any longer. A sob slipped through her
lips. It was soon followed by another. "Missy, it's so good to
hear your voice," she said through the tears.
"Dana? Are you okay, hon? Why are you crying? Is it Fox?" her
sister asked in a concerned voice.
"No. I mean, yes, I'm fine." She sniffled and wiped away more
tears. "I think it's just my hormones going crazy," she lied.
"I'm just having an off day. I wish I could see you, Missy.
Maybe...maybe I could come out..."
"I wish you could, too, Dana. But you know the doctor's orders
about flying while you're still pregnant, kiddo."
Scully's heart sank, fear creeping into her. She was only a
little more than half term. The doctor would not restrict her
from flying unless there was something wrong with the baby.
Sniffling, Scully tried to speak, but found that she could not.
"Dana?" Missy called to her. "Dana, is Fox coming to pick you up
to go to the doctor?" Scully could clearly hear the worry in her
sister's voice. She wanted so badly to ask her what was wrong
with the baby, but refused to worry her beloved sister with her
disorientation and her sudden forgetfulness. She would certainly
think she was crazy.
Sniffling, Scully told Missy that Fox would be coming at 2:00 and
that she would be fine.
"I have to go in to work now, Dana," Melissa told her. "You take
good care of yourself. Call me again on the weekend. I'll have
no more of this disappearing for two weeks at a time, got it?"
Scully could hear the smile in Melissa's voice. She tried hard to
remember her sister's smile, to see it in her mind.
"I will, Missy. I'll call again very soon," she said, then hung
up the phone. Laying her head upon the desk, Scully let the tears
fall. They were tears for the sister she had lost and found and
could lose again, tears for the baby that could be in danger even
as he floated there, tucked snugly inside her belly, and tears for
the sanity she felt to be slipping away faster by the minute.
She was still sniffling into her sleeves when she heard her office
door open and close. It was Mulder. No, Fox. She could smell
him and hear him and feel him in the room. She tried to wipe the
tears away before looking up at him. He was standing in front of
her desk wearing a goofy grin that faded when he saw her tear-
stained face.
"Mu....Fox, what's wrong with the baby?" Scully asked quietly,
unable to be in the dark one second longer.
"What?" Fox's forehead wrinkled, his frown deepening. For a
moment, he looked like the Mulder she remembered and loved.
Scully tried to speak, but her throat constricted. She swatted at
more tears. Fox rushed around the desk to kneel by her side, fear
obvious in his eyes. "What is it, honey? What's wrong?" He
sounded panicked. Scully felt sorry yet again for making him
worry so much about her and her lunacy. She rubbed her eyes
delicately, trying to compose herself before she tried to speak to
him again.
"I can't fly because the doctor is afraid for the baby," she
finally said in the strongest voice she could muster.
Fox gave her a puzzled look, then spoke gently. "Don't you
remember? The doctor said that between your age and the
miscarriage, you fall into a higher risk category, and he wants to
stick around so he can keep an eye on you. That's all." He put
his hand on her knee and rubbed it comfortingly. "There's nothing
wrong with the baby, Dana. He's fine. He's fine."
Scully nodded. "Right," she whispered. "Right."
She was so irrationally relieved that she put her hands up to
cover her face and started to cry again.
"Hey," she heard Fox say. He pulled her hands down and took her
in his arms. "It's okay," he soothed. "It's okay."
Succumbing to his embrace, Scully buried her cheek in his warm
neck. She felt safe for the first time since she woke up in his
bed, their bed. The safety of his embrace was a luxury she would
rarely allow herself in the real world, other world, wakefulness,
whatever. She was afraid of losing her edge to his soft comfort.
She was afraid of losing herself in him. The kiss they had shared
that morning still burned at the back of her mind, but she needed
him near so badly that she could not pull away.
"Where did you want to fly to?" Fox asked, his voice muffled by
her hair.
"I miss my sister."
"Well, maybe we can fly her out to see us soon, instead," he said,
rubbing her back soothingly.
Scully nodded. Her breathing began to return to normal, and the
tears slowed. Suddenly, she found herself chuckling into his
neck. Fox pulled away to look at her. "What's funny?" he asked,
certainly thinking she was one certifiably, hormonally manic,
crazy woman.
"I just can't believe we're having this conversation, Mulder," she
said through her laughter.
Fox looked confused again. Scully wiped the last of the tears
from her eyes. "Never mind," she said, her voice much more
confident. "I'm fine. Why are you here early, Fox?"
Fox smiled the same goofy grin he had been wearing when he had
arrived. "I wanted to take you to lunch, to make sure you eat a
balanced meal and drink lots of water and juice, and all those
other hovering father-to-be things that you hate. Shall we go?"
Smiling back at him, Scully went to gather her things. On the way
out, she asked Fox if he remembered that his sister was coming to
dinner.
(END 6/15)
Date: Sat, 20 Feb 1999 16:04:02 -0800
"Cubed" by Louise Marin - 7/15 - Disclaimers in Part 1
email: l_marin@geocities.com
SEVEN:
January 22, 1999
Approx. 1:15 PM
"Ladies and gentlemen, we'll be beginning our descent into Denver
in approximately fifteen minutes. Please keep your seat belts
fastened, and thank you for flying America West," the Captain's
voice hissed over the airplane's loudspeaker. Mulder watched
Scully carefully out of the corner of his eye. She sat next to
him in the window seat, but might as well have been back in D.C.,
or anywhere, anywhere without him. The uncomfortable silence that
had fallen between them after the incident in the parking garage
had not lifted, but grown more stifling. He had let it go on too
long, not knowing what to say, and he was now very much afraid to
break the silence and try to deal with the situation. Every time
he opened his mouth to speak, to explain, to discuss, his tongue
felt thick and tired in his mouth, and no words could be formed.
Scully had spent most of the flight reading through the case
file, acting like it was the most fascinating document in the
world. This simple fact should have given Mulder some relief. It
was normal Scully behavior, after all. Unfortunately, letting her
withdraw into the work while he sat there feeling sullen and
lonely was not going to improve their situation any. He should
say something, his fear be damned.
They had yet to really discuss their relationship, and doing so
would mean delving much deeper into things than Mulder was
prepared to go. There was so much more to discuss than just the
thing with Marsha. He had no idea what to say to her. Their
relationship was something he had hardly ever been able to explain
to himself. He was not even sure if he even wanted it explained
at this time, labeled, objectified. It was the most important
thing in his life, but explaining it might change it, and there
were so many things in their lives and in their hearts that
required their relationship to stay the same. Not that any of
that mattered, if Scully was truly sick. What was happening to
them?
On top of everything else, he was afraid that, in clarifying their
relationship, he would end up hurting her. It would not be a hard
thing for him to do, dunce that he was. How could he tell his
partner that she was just his partner, when she truly believed
that she was his wife? He was still stunned, but secretly,
sickeningly pleased that her inner fantasy life included being
happily married to him. He had always known she wanted a child,
but never allowed himself to believe that she wanted that baby to
be his. But here it was, her psychosis, screaming at him that
somewhere deep in her psyche she wanted to have his baby. He
shook his head. He just did not know what to say.
Mulder took a deep breath, trying to collect himself. The plane
was going to land in thirty minutes, and he had yet to do anything
to improve their situation. He shifted in his seat, turning
toward his partner. She ignored him. Fix this, he told himself.
Fix this now. He should start with the Marsha thing. That was
probably the reason she was giving him the cold shoulder now,
anyway.
"Fox..Mulder, you don't believe that girl killed those women, do
you? They picked her up when they found this latest victim, but
there is nothing to tie her to the two previous crime scenes,"
Scully said, surprisingly breaking the silence for him. She did
not turn to look at him, and her voice sounded uncomfortable and
shy, but it was a start. He watched her face, but did not answer
her question. Finally, she turned to look at him. Their eyes
caught and held. Mulder could see the need to connect with him
flowing nakedly over her features, more open, but also more
afraid, than he had ever seen Scully before. Guilt pressed
heavily on his heart as he realized how much time he had wasted
since they had boarded the plane being concerned for himself,
blind to the frightening experience this must be for Scully. He
took the file from her and closed it, turning to shove it into his
brief case. When he turned back to her, she looked away and down
at her lap. In her profile, he could see the feelings about to
bubble over. He watched as she carefully fought them. "Is she
your girlfriend?" she finally asked.
"No. No, she's not," Mulder blurted. "It was one date over two
years ago, and I was practically forced into it. But, ever since,
she's had this delusional fantasy that I'm her sex puppy or
something. It's creepy, really, Scully, but normally we laugh at
her when she comes around."
Scully nodded and rubbed her eyes. "Delusional fantasy..." she said
quietly. She shook her head, having to bite her lip to keep from
crying. Mulder wanted to cry himself when he realized it was her
life she was referring to as the fantasy.
"Oh, Scully. I'm sorry," he said. He wrapped his arms around
her, pressing his forehead against the side of her head.
"I don't understand what's going on," she said, her voice
breaking.
"I know. I know." He squeezed her tightly in his arms.
"Am I crazy, Fox?" she asked, pulling away to look for the truth
in his eyes.
The last thing Mulder wanted to do was tell her that she was
crazy. "No," he lied in a whisper.
"But this is not my life."
"Yes, it is."
"No. No, it's not. I don't remember being your partner for the
last six years. I don't even remember you ever being an agent.
There is no X-files division at the FBI. I don't remember any of
this...this." She sighed and looked down at her lap. "I remember
marrying you," she said shyly.
"When?"
"Eighteen months ago," she said, absently rubbing her stomach
where she believed her baby should be. Mulder wondered how many
times his heart could break before there would be nothing left of
him. Somehow, he would have to tell her that she would never have
that baby all over again.
"The wedding was eighteen months ago," she went on. "But now...but
now I wake up one morning and we're not even...we're not..." She
stopped talking and buried her face in Mulder's shoulder, trying
to hide her tears.
"We're not there yet," he finished for her gently.
"I don't understand."
"We're not there, but I think maybe we were heading that way.
We've been friends for a long time, but things have been different
these last few months. I don't know, maybe we never would have
gotten it together. We've both got a lot of problems." Mulder
ran his hand through his hair. "Look, I don't know...I don't know
about our relationship. But I'm not going to leave you, okay? I
can't be without you. I told you that once, but you don't
remember right now." Mulder's heart was heavy and swollen with
sadness. He had always wondered what it would be like if he and
Scully finally managed to talk about their feelings. He knew it
would be terrifying, no matter what, but this was not how he had
wanted it to happen.
Scully shook her head. "How can I not remember any of this life?
And how can I have a whole other life that really doesn't exist?
I know this sounds like classic Multiple Personality Disorder,
Fox, but I'm not crazy. I want you to stop looking at me like
you're scared to death of me. I don't want to be crazy." She did
not pick her head up from his shoulder and look at him, but Mulder
could feel her taking deep breaths next to him. She was trying so
hard to stay in control.
Mulder reached up and stroked the back of her head. Burying his
face in her hair, he squeezed his eyes shut tight. "I don't want
you to be crazy. I don't want you to. You're not, Scully. You
can't be," he whispered. He felt her shake her head against his
shoulder. "Yes," he continued, "there had to be some..." His jaw
suddenly dropped, and he pulled back from her. He wanted to stand
up in the isle and kick himself.
"What?" Scully asked.
"The cube."
"What cube?"
"We fell asleep with the cube on the table. Hold on," he told
her. Keeping a hand on her arm, he picked up the air phone
attached to the back of the seat in front of him and dialed a
number. He squeezed Scully's arm while he waited for someone to
answer. Oh please, oh please, oh please, let this be it, he
thought.
"Lone Gunman," came Frohike's voice over the phone.
"Turn off the tape, Frohike, it's me."
"What's up, Mulder?"
"I need a big, ridiculously important favor. Think you can handle
it?"
"Shoot, G-man."
"There's a black cube in a plastic bag on my coffee table. I was
going to bring it to you guys this morning for analysis, but there
were...complications, and I forgot. Can't get to it now."
"Want it analyzed for anything in particular?"
"Whatever you can find and as soon as possible."
"You got it, Mulder. Where are you?"
"On my way to Colorado on a case."
"An X-file?"
"Actually, yes."
"That's great, Mulder."
"Yeah, I guess," Mulder said tightly. There was a long,
uncomfortable pause. Mulder was sure his friend was wondering
what could be so wrong that he was not excited to have the X-files
back. He'd tell them someday.
"Well, okay, Mulder," Frohike finally said. "We'll get right on
that."
"Thanks Fro. Oh, hey, be careful with it. Don't...ah...fall
asleep near it," Mulder remembered to caution.
"What the hell is this thing, Mulder?"
"I don't know yet," Mulder answered and hung up the phone.
"Who was that?" Scully asked.
"Help, I hope."
(END 7/15)