Part I - To Come Between Us ~*~ Journal of Dana Scully February 27, 2000 Mulder is doing surprisingly well considering the loss of his mother and his sister in such a short period of time. I feel sometimes as if my relief matches his, that he is finally at ease about Samantha. His search went on for far too long. It seems as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders these days; there is a lightness in his step that I had long hoped to see. I feared for him at first, for his stability and his sanity after his mother's death. But, as always, Mulder handled his grief admirably. Perhaps he grew used to it over the years, to the feeling of loss. I can only hope that his days of constant anguish have finally ended, especially considering our current endeavor. We find out next week if the invitro fertilization was a success, if these months of pokes and prods and ungodly invasions of privacy have borne fruit. I am terrified of what the results will be, yet I try to be hopeful at the same time. I know that this is my last chance. I have spent nearly all of my money and too much precious energy on the procedure. If it has failed, there is no way I could bear to go through it again, even if I could somehow come up with the money. Besides that, the ova that Mulder recovered are losing their viability with each passing day. I was so angry with him at first for not telling me what he had discovered in the Lombard facility, for keeping it a secret for over two years. At the time, it felt as if he had lied to me, a lie of omission, though I know that his intentions were pure. It wasn't the first time he'd kept something like this from me either. Two years ago, during the case with Emily Sim, he revealed to me that he had known about my infertility for almost a year. I wondered then if he would have ever mentioned it to me had Emily not appeared. When I asked him then why he hadn't told me, he said only that he thought he was protecting me. Sometimes I wonder at the fragility he must see in me for all the "protecting" he tries to do. Not that I don't appreciate it; it means a lot to me that he cares enough to try and save me from harm. It's just frustrating sometimes. But then, what about Mulder isn't? When Dr. Parenti asked me if I had a father in mind, Mulder was the first person I thought of. The only person I thought of. I had no choice but to forgive his altruistic deceptions. How could I stay mad at a man who committed his only crimes out of love? Until Dr. Parenti's inquiry, I hadn't even considered a father for this potential child, but when he asked me... I knew there was only one person I wanted as a father to my child. If Mulder had denied my request, and I think he came very close to doing just that, I could never have asked for an anonymous donor. But Mulder accepted. And now there is nothing left to do but wait. I hate waiting. The more I tell myself to stop thinking about it, worrying about it, the more the fear edges its way into my thoughts. What will I do if the invitro fails? What will happen between Mulder and me if it succeeds? Will he care for this child? Want to be a father to it? Our relationship is at such a strange point right now, wavering between friendship and something so much more... will we lose all that we've built because of my desire for a family? I have no answers to my questions and that scares me. I try so hard to prepare myself for all possible outcomes, to focus on the positives of each, but my desire for a family always reigns, and I find myself praying for a child. Still, my mind wanders, wonders. Does Mulder feel the same way? ~*~ March 6, 2000 Fox Mulder paced around his partner's apartment for nearly half an hour before he finally made himself sit down on the couch. His heart was pounding, his mind was racing, his fingertips itched to pull out his cell phone and dial Scully's number, and he kept running his fingers through his hair to quell the impulse to call her. He had hoped she would return early but Scully was- he glanced at his watch- ten minutes late already. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He stretched out across her sofa and propped his head up on his arm, hoping that the relaxing position would convince his body and mind to settle down. He was nervous about tonight for so many reasons. It had been years since he had really given thought to children- not since Diana, and even then the thought was usually fleeting, never serious. They had talked about it once, decided their careers were too stressful, and she had left him before they ever spoke of it again. Then earlier this year Scully had come to him with a request, a proposal. She wanted him to father her child- *him*, Fox Mulder, the man who couldn't take off his running shoes without tripping over them and nearly breaking his ankle, and he had been so damned shocked, he couldn't even open his mouth to speak. "It's alright, you don't have to answer right now," she had said. "I'll be home all night. Come by when you have an answer." Then she had smiled at him nervously and placed a hand on his shoulder before walking out the door. He was so dumbfounded by what she had asked him, he didn't move from his desk for nearly two more hours. Mulder's first thought was that it was a bad idea. Their work was going really well which meant that they were busy all the time and almost never home. What would happen to their work if Scully had a baby? What would happen between *them* if Scully had a baby - a child that belonged to them both biologically but was created in a test tube? The place they had reached in their relationship was perfect right now, but so new. Mulder feared for the soundness of their precarious rapport if they were to take on something as life-changing as a child. He had kissed her a few times, taken her out to dinner twice, and even contemplated telling her that he loved her, but they were nowhere close to the place where children come up in conversation. They hadn't even had sex. Mulder had sat there at his desk for so long, wondering if Scully wanted him to be a real father to this child or if she was only interested in his relatively spotless genetic makeup. Would the child be hers? Theirs? He loved her and he wanted to do what would make her happy, but he wasn't sure what that was. Mulder wondered if Scully would push him away once the baby was born, if she would transfer out of the X-Files and out of his life. Or maybe having a child would force them into a domestic situation for which they weren't prepared. But the deciding factor had been his love for her; he could deny her nothing. He would go through the procedure with her and no matter what happened, they would work through it. Scully had been so grateful to him for saying yes that he had not regretted his decision for a second. He realized only later why her excitement and relief had been so intense. This was her last opportunity to have a child. The ova that he had found in the Lombard facility would only be viable for so long, and the invitro fertilization process was lengthy and expensive. He sometimes wondered if she would have found a way without him, if she would have gone through the process alone, but he never dared ask her. Their personal relationship fell dormant as they trudged forward, consumed by their work and the numerous hours of the IVF procedures. With a heavy caseload and the stress of the treatments, there was little time left for romance. Mulder loved Scully, but he didn't want to push anything in those months of tremendous vulnerability. Occasionally, he left notes for her on her desk- simple, sweet things that made her smile as she began her work. He would sigh inwardly with relief when she glanced up at him with that little smirk. It was her smile that got him through the day sometimes, that knowing look in her eyes. He flirted with her too, touched her often, kissed her when he was sure no one was looking, but he never tried to take things further. He wasn't sure if it was fear for their future or apprehension about Scully's feelings toward him that held him back, but Mulder kept his distance. He was nervous about what the results of the IVF procedures would do to their relationship. Thinking about the outcome brought his thoughts back to the present where he waited anxiously on Scully's couch. He had been too afraid to ask if he could tag along to the doctor's appointment, and the nervousness now was driving him crazy. He hoped for Scully's sake, and therefore his own he supposed, that the procedures had been a success. Things had been so strange between them two years ago when Emily Sim appeared. He thought of how nervous Scully had acted around him, how she had waited so long before even calling him. He hated that he wasn't involved in that part of her life, that she kept such high walls around the part of herself that wanted children. It was almost as if she was ashamed to admit it. If only she knew just how badly he wanted to share that with her, to be a part of it. When he heard her key slide into the door and flip the lock, he was immediately alert. Not wanting to seem too desperately anxious, he called out to her and stood, mumbling something about having dozed off. Right. As if he could sleep while he waited for news this big, whatever news it was. But when he saw the look on her face, he forgot all about words and nervousness and trying not to seem desperate. He could tell that the news was not good as she entered with slow steps toward him and wide wet eyes. When he spoke, he saw how badly she wanted to cry, and he wished that she would. He didn't like seeing her try to be so strong when he knew she was hurting. "It didn't take, did it?" He wasn't sure how he had gotten the words out of his mouth, but he was glad she wouldn't have to speak them. Her lower lip trembled as she moved to him. She did not deny his words. Her façade of strength faltered for a moment then moved back into place, but nothing could cover the anguish in her eyes. Her next words nearly broke his heart. "I guess it was too much to hope for." Mulder shook his head "no" and pulled her tightly against him. "No," he wanted to whisper, but couldn't quite force it out of his mouth. Damnit, this was unfair. For all the things she had suffered through in her life, she deserved this. She deserved a child if she wanted one. Mulder thought there was no one else in this world who should have her heart's desire more than Dana Scully. "This was my last chance," she sobbed. He hated so much for her to be in pain but he was glad that she let herself cry in front of him. Mulder could feel the grief coming off her in waves as she gripped him with all her might and cried into his shoulder. He closed his eyes and gave her one more tight squeeze before he pulled back. He kissed her forehead gently then replaced his lips with his own forehead in a pose they had struck so many times before. He hoped it would be as comforting for her as it always was for him. "Never give up on a miracle," he said, his voice sounding surprisingly strong to him. Apparently it was what she needed to hear; she leaned in and buried a kiss against his neck and hugged him for all she was worth. They stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other. Mulder wasn't sure how to feel in those moments. Other than the anguish at seeing Scully's pain, he felt completely numb. He had wanted the IVF to work for her, but he hadn't let himself think about it enough to decide what he really wanted. He would figure out his emotions in the morning, after helping her through the night. She needed someone now, and he was determined to be the strength for her to turn to. For now, his numbness would be his own comfort. He broke away from her reluctantly, taking her hand to lead her toward the bedroom. "You should rest," he said. "It'll help." She said nothing, only nodded and followed him into the room. Mulder let go of her hand to turn on the small lamp on the nightstand. The bedside clock showed that it was only just past seven. Good, he thought, it'll probably be the first full night's sleep she's had in weeks. Mulder heard the sound of drawers opening and closing, followed by the whisper of fabric against fabric as Scully pulled out her night clothes and headed to the bathroom. While she prepared for bed, Mulder turned down the blankets and fluffed her pillows. Scully emerged a few minutes later with a freshly scrubbed face and clad in white silk pajamas. Mulder stood at the edge of the bed and reached out to her, leading her to the mattress where he helped her into bed and brought the covers up around her. Confident that she was securely tucked in, he bent down to place a kiss against her cheek and brush her now- combed hair back from her face. "I'll um... I'll be right outside if you need me." He began to back away from her, but was stopped by a soft voice. "No, Mulder," she said quietly. "Stay with me. Please." He was at her side in an instant, kicking off his shoes and sliding under the covers beside her. She curled up against him and buried her face against his chest without a word. Wrapping one arm around her, Mulder reached up with the other to turn out the small bedside lamp. Soon, she drifted soundlessly into sleep. ~*~ Scully woke in darkness; a comfortable warmth rose and fell beneath her cheek... Mulder, she realized. She was sleeping against him, her head resting against his chest, one arm thrown over his torso. In the first few moments after waking, she remembered nothing of the night before. The only thought in her mind was how wonderful it felt to wake against him, to be with him like this. But her ignorance didn't last long, and she soon remembered: the doctor's appointment, the nervousness, the stab in her gut as Dr. Parenti spoke those words... "I'm so sorry, Dana, but it appears the fertilized ova didn't take..." He had continued speaking after that, but Scully had stopped listening. Didn't take... her last chance for a child... she still had to tell Mulder... oh, God... She had tried to prepare herself for the worst but when it actually happened, she realized that there was nothing that could have prepared her. There was no way she could have known how much this would hurt. Deep down, she had always felt that the treatments would succeed, *had* to succeed, after all that she had been through. How much heartache could one person take? Two people, she thought. Mulder was in this boat too. She wondered how he felt now, if he had come to want a child as much as she had. Regardless, she was infinitely glad to have him with her now. She knew it would have been nearly unbearable to go through this alone. He had been there for her tonight, had held her as she grieved, just as she had held him the night he learned of his mother's suicide. She needed him now, maybe more than she ever had before. She reached up and placed a kiss against his cheek, slack with sleep and prickly with stubble. "Thank you," she whispered softly against him. Sinking back down against him, Scully draped her arm over his chest and fell back to sleep feeling completely surrounded by him- safe, for the time being at least. ~*~ March 7, 2000 Sunlight coursed through the partially-open curtain, landing squarely on Mulder's upturned face. He squinted against the offending brightness and shifted in the bed. Why was the sunlight waking him up? His window faced west... He blinked open his eyes and looked around. Scully's bedroom. Alone. He recognized the sound of the shower coming from her bathroom and rolled out of her bed, still fully dressed. Running his tongue over his teeth he thought he would kill for a toothbrush right about now. Instead, he went into the kitchen to make some coffee. If you can't clean it, cover it up, he thought with an ironic smirk. He and Scully both had slept, as far as he knew, through the entire night, something Mulder hadn't thought possible. And yet here he was at... 6:03 in the A.M., having slept a full ten hours. Amazing. Grief could do that to people, he remembered. After Samantha disappeared, Teena Mulder would sleep twelve hours a night, sometimes more. Unfortunately, he himself had experienced the opposite. Mulder rummaged around in the cabinets for coffee, thinking of the news he and Scully had received the night before. He was disappointed to discover that his relative emotional numbness had not worn off with sleep. As he busied himself making the coffee, he tried not to think about how wrong it was that he felt nothing. From the kitchen, Mulder heard the shower water cut off. A cold burst of nervousness rushed through his stomach at the thought of speaking to Scully again. This was it, he realized. This was where they saw how things had changed between them and either dealt with it and moved on or ignored it and pretended that nothing had happened. God, he didn't know which he feared more. Of course they would have to say *something* to each other, and maybe she would figure out that he didn't feel a thing, and maybe she would be angry and maybe she wouldn't care. Mulder couldn't decide which one would be worse, but either way, things were going to be awkward. Mulder was really not looking forward to starting the day. Everything was different now because Scully would never have children, and... *he* would never have children. It struck him then that this had been his last chance as well. If Scully couldn't have children, than neither could he; he certainly wasn't going to have a family with anyone else... Shit. Suddenly, Mulder was angry at the failure of the IVF procedures. Not only were Scully's hopes taken away from her, but the choice for a family that he hadn't even thought to consider had been taken away from him as well. He was furious at fate, at destiny, at whomever and whatever had allowed this to happen. He and Scully had suffered enough for this lifetime... Scully. God, if he was this angry, what must Scully be feeling? He'd only just begun to think about children in terms of future dreams. But Scully had been thinking of it for years, probably for her entire life. Mulder poured two mugs of coffee and set them on the table. In the refrigerator he found some bagels and cream cheese which he prepared with sloppy curt movements, trying to keep his mind off the bitterness that was welling up inside him. He couldn't be a comfort to Scully feeling like this, not if he was angry at the world for being so cruel and angry at himself for not realizing sooner how momentous the implications of these procedures really were. Mulder had never considered Scully's barrenness in relation to his own future, but now that the thought was in his mind there was no stopping it. It was stupid really, that he hadn't thought about it before. And ironic, he thought, that only now did he find the concept of having children appealing, now that his chances for it were officially zero. The toaster dinged and he moved across the room to get the bagels. As he reached in to pull them out, his hand brushed the hot metal. "Ow! Damnit!" He shook his hand and angrily stabbed the bagel with a knife, dragging it out of the toaster. "Mulder?" He turned around quickly. Scully stood behind him, dressed for work, her hair blown dry and styled, her makeup neatly applied. "Scully... you're going to work today?" She had a nervous expression on her face, as if she wasn't quite sure she wanted to. "It's Tuesday, Mulder. I'm going to work." "Scully-" he said, frustration creeping into his voice, then stopped. If she wanted to go in to work, he wouldn't stop her. He didn't want to project his anger at the failure of the IVF onto her. The last thing she needed was to be the object of his irritation. "Fine." She nodded and looked at the coffee and bagels he had placed on the table. "You made breakfast?" She asked. Mulder just shrugged and handed her the cream cheese. "You should spend the night more often." She pulled a knife from a drawer and began spreading cream cheese on her bagel. Mulder smiled briefly, and sat down across from her. They ate their breakfast in silence. When they had finished eating, Mulder stood and headed for the door. He needed time to figure out what was going on inside his head, what he was feeling, how he would deal with his own grief over this most recent loss. He needed time to figure out how to talk to Scully again. He left quickly, not wanting to give her time to bring up any questions he wasn't ready to answer. "I'll see you at the office," he said and walked out the door, leaving a confused Scully behind. ~*~ March 10, 2000 Scully threw the stack of files onto the desk in front of her with a sigh of frustration. She was not in the mood to do paperwork. She wasn't really in the mood to do *anything*, but she wasn't going to give up and go home just yet. She wanted to see Mulder before she left for the weekend and try to wrestle some information out of him. Mulder had barely spoken to her since that night after her doctor's appointment. Every day this week he had been sitting in the office when Scully came in, waiting for her. He would tell her what was on the agenda for the day and then disappear to do God knows what, always coming up with some excuse not to be in the same room with her. Scully was seriously beginning to worry. He hadn't said a word about what happened, hadn't touched her since the night he spent in her bed. He'd been so distant, tense, it seemed. Every time she asked if he was alright, he'd give her some flippant answer. She wondered if he was hurting over the IVF failure just as much as she was but just not telling her about it. If they were both upset, she wanted them to heal together, not pull away from each other. She was already depressed enough without having to worry about Mulder's sudden distance as well. But she had no idea what to think. He wouldn't talk to her. Scully picked up her briefcase and began stuffing the files into them, sure she wasn't going to get any more work done today. She looked at the note Mulder had left on her desk that morning- nothing like the notes he *used* to leave on her desk- and frowned. "Scully- Got some great new info. last night. Didn't want to bother you with it. Meeting w/someone today, then will talk to Skinner. Be back around 3. ~M" Scully looked at her watch; it was almost four o'clock. Just then she heard the door to the office open, and Mulder walked in slowly, shutting the door behind him. He was carrying his suit jacket and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, giving him that rumpled professor look she normally would have admired. Today, however, she had other things on her mind. The expression on his face gave none of his thoughts away and Scully flopped back down into her seat with a sigh. "Glad you could make it," she said, trying not to sound bitter. She didn't want to scare him off; she just wanted him to be honest with her. "Sorry. It took longer than I thought to get to that meeting this morning." "Where was that?" "York, Pennsylvania," he said, shuffling over to his desk to go through some papers there. This was wrong. This was very wrong. He was leaving the state to investigate without even explaining the case to her. "Mulder, I'm your partner." He continued rustling through the papers, seemingly unfazed. "Yes, I know that, Scully." He didn't look at her. "So why won't you tell me what's going on?" She was pleading with him now, and if she had to, she'd ask the dreaded 'what's wrong' question. Scully came out from behind her makeshift desk and walked over to him where he continued to fiddle with his papers and not meet her eyes. "I spoke with Skinner, and he wouldn't approve the case, so it doesn't matter anyway," he said, finally looking up at her. The emotion in his eyes was unreadable. "That's not what I meant," she said. "Then what *did* you mean?" He asked, though she was fairly certain he was sure of her meaning. "I mean, Mulder, that you have barely spoken to me all week. I've been stuck behind a desk since Monday, while you go out and investigate cases without even telling me about it?" She tried not to get her temper worked up, but it was hard while he was playing dumb. "What's wrong?" Uh oh. She'd said the words. His face immediately went blank, and he turned back to his papers. "Nothing is wrong, Scully. We've just been in sort of a funk, case-wise. I've been trying to rustle up something interesting and haven't been doing such a great job, that's all." He picked up the stack he had made while speaking and put it into his briefcase. "Okay," she said, resigned. "I'll see you on Monday unless I hear something from you." With that, she picked up her own briefcase and walked out the door. On her way home, Scully stopped by Starbucks and picked up a cappuccino, her first one in months. Giving up caffeine for the treatments had been misery, and now she nearly moaned at the familiar taste of the foamy java. Hell, if she couldn't have kids, at least she could have good coffee. Mulder had lied to her earlier, she was positive. But it had occurred to her as he spoke that maybe he resented her on some level for the failure of the procedure. Or maybe he didn't want to be around her right now knowing that the failure of the IVF had hurt her so badly. Either way, she was determined now to act strong around him, to keep the pain in her life out of her relationship with Mulder. When she got home, she took out all the paperwork she had packed up and worked on it until it was done, which was sometime after ten o'clock. By that time, Scully was exhausted, but glad that she had managed to keep her mind off of Mulder and everything else but the work for so long. She changed into her pajamas and tumbled into bed. * A strange wind came through the window, making the curtains billow and the overhead fan spin. The breeze blew Scully's hair into her face and woke her with a start. The window was open... She was sure she hadn't opened it last night, but the room felt cold, as if it had been that way for hours. Quickly, Scully slid out from under the blankets to close the window... both windows, she noticed. Papers on her blanket chest had escaped their stack, but as Scully began to pick them up, she noticed the eerie silence that had fallen over the room. And the clock. She stared at its glowing face that displayed those impossible numbers, 6:66. She walked over and picked it up, tapping its side and staring curiously at its switches and dials. Just then the hum of the power coming back on sounded in her ears and the lights in her room came to life. She looked around, confused. Apparently the power had gone out, but her lights shouldn't have come on, and the clock... how had it showed anything at all? She glanced down at the object in her hands. 6:06, it now read. Maybe she was crazy, delirious with fatigue and stress. Scully climbed back into bed, determined to sleep at least until eight o'clock. After all, it was a Saturday. ~*~ Mulder returned to his apartment after his morning jog refreshed and feeling much better than he had when he left. The pre-spring air was still a bit cold, but it had felt good against his heated skin as he ran through the streets of Alexandria. It had been too early yet for the hustle and bustle of weekend traffic which meant the streets were mostly empty. There was a quiet calm over the city on weekend mornings without the weekday commuters hurrying to get to work. Mulder had needed the run to clear his head, and relieve the tension of the past week. He had done a lot of thinking since Monday night, about his life, and about what he really wanted. It hadn't taken long for the import of what happened to sink in, and he was grieving now for the loss of a future that almost-was, for a family that could have been. He had discovered over the past few days that he really did want a family, that he wanted one with Scully, and the irony of his timing was not lost on him. He ached to tell Scully about his discovery, but she had a grief of her own to shoulder. He didn't want to burden her with his sorrow as well. But the run had really helped him to think more clearly. He was coming to terms with the fact that he and Scully would not have a family together, and he was ready to talk to her about it. He had wanted to give her some time before bringing it up, to let her absorb the shock of the bad news and deal with her pain without having to worry about him. The week had been hell for him, and if the look on Scully's face yesterday afternoon was any indication, it had been hell for her too. Mulder considered briefly that maybe he had made the wrong decision in keeping his feelings from her; maybe she would have wanted to know. It was too late now to change the past. He would call her today, and they would talk. Mulder dropped his keys by the phone and went into the kitchen for a glass of water which he downed in one long drink, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth when he had finished. He set his glass in the sink with the stack of other dishes and began walking toward the bathroom. First he would shower, then he would call Scully. He was stopped, however, by the sound of the phone ringing. He trudged back over to the phone with a sigh and lifted the receiver to his ear. "Mulder." He listened as the voice on the other end told him that Donald Addie Phaster had escaped from prison early that morning, that Mulder and his partner's help were needed by the U.S. marshals in the apprehension of the escaped prisoner. Mulder promised to be out on the next available flight to Illinois, but said nothing about Scully. After he had hung up the phone, he stood motionless in his living room. Donnie Phaster. Escaped. The man who had kidnapped Scully and nearly killed her. How would he tell her about this, after the week they had? Guess what, Scully? Not only did you lose your last chance at a family of your own this week, but the man who tried to kill you has escaped from prison! What d'ya say we head on out to the land of Lincoln and dredge up some painful memories? How 'bout it? God, this wasn't fair. Donnie Phaster was more than just an escaped prisoner, he was a poster child for the criminally insane, a monster capable of crimes so gruesome they made Mulder's stomach turn. The last time he and Scully had saught this man, she had been more frightened and upset than Mulder had ever seen her. Donnie Phaster was, as far as Mulder could tell, Scully's worst fear-- a man who ruthlessly and brutally murdered the innocent for no other reason than his own hatred and felt not a drop of remorse. It wasn't fair that she had to hunt him again, especially not now. If this was a cruel joke played by fate, Mulder did not find it funny. In fact, he found it downright infuriating. Shower first, then call Scully, he told himself. He could do this. Maybe he could even convince her to stay here. Mulder chuffed at the unlikely notion, thinking the chances of her staying here were about the same as him being promoted to Director of the F.B.I. He knew she would insist on going with him. And this week would only get worse. End Part 1.