Chapter Text
It’s not that it’s merely pitch black; it’s more that there’s a distinct lack of existential life all around him. There’s no light, no color. No sounds, no smell. No sensation of touch.
But then, there’s a subtle draft of air against the silhouette of his face. There’s the touch of an electric undercurrent on the full length of his arm, the pilomotor reflex that leaves goosebumps on his skin. There’s a whisper of sound.
A soft breath. A touch. A finger strolling on the full length of his arm that’s thrown over his face. A murmur.
His olfactory neurons kick in and he can smell the scent that is so familiar to him – orange blossom and vanilla musk. His amygdala translates it as pleasant and comforting. It gives him purpose and makes him feel grounded. It’s a smell that he’s come to associate with partnership.
“Mulder…” the hushed calling directly in his ear is almost too low, but he hears it. Her voice also has a hold on him, it’s somewhat of a Pavlovian reflex.
“Scully?” He asks with his eyes still closed. He feels her fingertips waltzing again on his arm, from his wrist to the edge of his T-shirt sleeve, and his eyelids react, fluttering open. The world seeps into his consciousness, but he’s still a bit sleepy. “I must have dozed off. I was waiting for you to get back,” he comments as forces himself to blink a few times, still lying on her couch, trying to come fully to his senses.
Saturday | December 12, 1998
Scully’s Apartment, Washington, D.C.
18:49 hours
When he’s finally awake, her face is much closer than he expected – usually, he’s the one to initiate this kind of intimacy, this kind of action that screams I’m toeing the line between partners and more, see? But here she is, so close that he can’t even spot her lips without having to shift his eyes to look down. Here she is, and her eyes are so intense, they hold him hostage; he can’t look away.
Yes, it’s in her eyes. Her eyes, so sparkly and watery, so filled with astonishment and mirth, they tip his brain about the message he’d been waiting for, the only thing he needs to know right now. This is why he came to her apartment in the first place: to wait for her return from her doctor’s appointment.
The IVF lab results.
He sits up, determined to be present and alert for the news she brings him. He holds her arms, maneuvering her body into a comfortable crouch before him, his knees touching hers and his hands squeezing her as tight as the pressure he feels onto his heart right now.
“It took, didn’t it?” He wets his lips with his tongue and holds his breath for her answer.
She bites her lips and nods, and when her head falls forward and her forehead lands on his, the tears that slip from her eyes create a fascinating waterfall that lands directly onto the top of his jeans-clad thighs. Her grin escapes, glad to finally be allowed out of the confines of her mouth.
Her words sound happy and generous. “Mulder, I’m pregnant.”
At her admission, Mulder gifts her with a wide grin of his own, one that reflects the purest form of joy he’s felt since he was 12 years old. Instinctively, he pulls the mother of his offspring onto the couch, to sit by his side. Foreheads glued together, his hands find her cheeks underneath the curtain of her copper hair, the tips of his long fingers caressing the nape of her neck. “I don’t care if you insist this is science, Scully; in my book, it’s a miracle.”
She lets out a throaty laugh as her arms find their way to his shoulder of their own accord, bringing him closer to her as she kisses his cheek and neck, then embraces him again. “Thank you, Mulder. Thank you for making this happen.”
He’s got half a mind to throw in an inappropriate quip about how all he did was the same thing he already does everyday, only this time he aimed for a lab cup, but he refrains. He knows how much this means to her and, somewhere deep in his soul, he knows she asked him to do it because she wanted him to have this too, something of palpable meaning in his life. An actual, real legacy.
“Thank you, Scully,” he murmurs into her neck. He pulls away enough to stare deep into her eyes, to show her that he understands the significance of this act, of this moment. “Thank you for considering me worthy of this.”
Her eyes shine with renewed tears, and her heart radiates tenderness. Her emotions are too strong for her impossibly frail armor. She looks exactly like she did in his hallway a couple of months ago, when she’d argued that she was holding him back and he’d stunned her into vulnerability by admitting that he needed her, in spite of (actually, because of) her strict rationalism and science. His love and adoration for her had felt so overwhelming in that moment that he’d been propelled into searching for her luscious lips with his own. He still thinks she’d let him kiss her, if that bee hadn’t sneakily interrupted them.
Well, here they are again, and again Mulder is powerless to resist the urge to merge their lips together.
The buzzing sound of the intercom breaks the silence that hovers in the apartment and, alas, they’re interrupted once again. Scully’s cheek crimson adorably, and she slips from their mutual embrace with silken hands and a whispered, “Excuse me”.
Once again, she didn’t actually deny him. But Mulder wonders if maybe this is the universe’s way of showing him he needs to get his timing right.
When he looks towards the redhead, she’s anxiously standing by the door. “My mother is coming up,” she tells him uncomfortably. “An impromptu visit.”
His eyes close as he remembers the voice message on her answering machine. “Yeah, she called about an hour ago to say she hadn’t heard from you in a while and that maybe she’d stop by. Something about being nearby for an appointment, I guess.” He runs his hands over his own face in frustration, then gets up from the couch. "I should go."
“Wait,” she implores immediately, a hand out in his direction. "I don’t know that I can act as if there’s nothing going on, Mulder. I wasn’t expecting her tonight,” Scully admits, more open with her thoughts than she usually allows. She circles the sofa in her living room to run off steam as she waits for the inevitable. “I mean, I never even mentioned it to her that I was considering in vitro. I thought I’d cross that bridge if and when I needed it, but I never expected it to be so… immediate. I mean, I haven’t even planned on how to explain it all to her.”
Mulder intercepts her on her makeshift track course, the pressure of his hands on her arms enough to calm her down a little. “You tell her what you want to tell her, Scully,” he advises her in a soft, understanding tone. “I’ll support you no matter what. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” she admits with eyes closed, trying to regulate her breathing.
“Right now, I think you need some time alone with your mother in order to decide what’s your best course of action here,” he continues in his velvety voice, palms still snaking up and down her arms. “Then maybe some alone time for yourself – we can hash out next steps later, okay?”
He places the softest of kisses to her forehead, showering her with unconditional love. She shuts her eyes and basks in his compassion, pulling him into her and urging his lips to never leave her skin.
Eventually, he pulls his face away from hers, allowing both of his hands to slip down her sides and rest millimeters away from the curve of her backside. “I’ll wait for your call whenever you’re ready; it doesn’t have to be tonight.”
Scully is looking into his eyes when the doorbell rings. Her stance shifts, and she nods once at him. I’m ready, she tells him without words before making her way to her front door.
He follows her closely, offering her this last moment of personal support. When Scully finally opens the door, he’s the first one to say something.
“Hi, Mrs. Scully,” he greets his partner’s mother, as if welcoming her to her daughter's apartment were an everyday occurrence.
Maggie apparently hadn’t gotten the memo. “Fox! I didn’t expect to find you here,” she expresses her surprise in her usual polished but warm manner. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that Dana had company, I should have–”
“No need to apologize, Mrs. Scully,” he assuages her easily. “I was just leaving, actually.”
“Are you sure?” the older woman asks, glancing at her daughter for confirmation.
Scully mutely nods with a forced smile, a nervous energy oozing out of her pores.
“Dana is all yours,” Mulder confirms with a polite smile, already stepping around the matriarch and out the doorway.
Margaret walks in and Scully is about to close the door when Mulder briefly turns back to look at her. He throws her a faint nod and an affiliative smile before walking away, no words of goodbye.
There never was goodbye between them anyway, she thinks to herself as she locks the door.
And now, as of tonight, we only have new beginnings.