TITLE: Is That Oil There Is? 
AUTHOR: Addicted2fanfic 
RATING: PG 
GENRE: Vignette, MSR, fill-in for Sea. 8 Vienen 
SPOILERS: Vienen, First Person Shooter 
DISCLAIMER: These wonderful characters do not belong to me. 
FEEDBACK: addicted2fanfic@hotmail.com 
ARCHIVE: Sure 
SUMMARY: Scully meets the Agents returning from the Texas oil rig. 
Mulder POV 
LENGTH: 10K 
VIOLENCE CONTENT: 0 

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I've been an FBI agent too long to be in an airport and not scan the 
crowd. Usually I'm not looking for anyone in particular. Bomb 
threats, and hijackings happen at airports. Besides, no one comes to 
meet my flight. Once in the waiting room, I check for Agent Doggett. 
Wait. There. A flash of red. Scully is waddling towards me. 

Unencumbered by luggage, her arms go around my waist and she sighs 
"Mulder." then starts her current mantra, "Thank God. Thank God." 

She pulls me tighter to her and I'm glad I'm not wearing a dress 
shirt. The buttons would mark her fair skin. She exhales and pulls 
away far enough to see my face. Then, she utters those three little 
words. 

"Where's Agent Doggett?" 

For some reason this is important. Aye aye, Captain Scully, 
human periscope Fox Mulder reporting for duty. Scully's learned to 
use my height to her advantage. 

I spot Doggett on the other side of the gate. I point with my chin, 
since my hands are full of carry on and Scully, and I'm not willing 
to let go of either. 

"Agent Doggett." I call to the man who got to see the Black Oil up 
close and personal on that Texas drilling rig. We had spent hours 
together, first on the rig, then on the plane. The last thing 
he wanted to do was spend more time with me. I can hardly blame 
him. Seeing the Black Oil left me trying to fit this new piece of 
information into what we already knew. I wasn't sure how much to 
tell him, how much he would understand, how much he could bring 
himself to believe. 

Catching his attention, I shout "Agent Doggett," over the deplaning 
passengers, "Agent Scully wants to talk to you." 

Scully disengages herself before Doggett gets through the 
throng. As soon as he gets close enough, she grabs his arm and leads 
him to a seat against a wall of the waiting area. I follow in her 
wake, unable to decode her quiet murmurs. He bends his head, 
listening intently, courteously. 

Doggett is a good investigator. Scully was right to trust him. 
Together we made it off that oil rig. Continuing survival may not 
demonstrate his investigative skill, but it's a good indicator. 

Scully carefully lowers her bulk into a chair as Agent Doggett 
upends his suitcase and sits in front of her, face to face, pushing 
up the rolled up sleeve of his long sleeved tee shirt. Finally, she 
seems to notice I am still here. 

"Stand right there Mulder," she says, eying a spot to my right and 
then pinning me in place with a glance. "This won't take long." 

Aha. Scully has cased the joint before we arrived. I move so that 
I'm between them and the surveillance cameras. Scully produces a 
syringe from her voluminous trench coat pocket and plunges the 
needle into Doggett's vein. Doggett grunts at the sharp intrusion. 

"My other patients never complain, Agent Doggett." She jokes. 

"Like hell I don't" I interject, stepping on her punch line. Only a 
recently dead man would have a pathologist for a doctor. 

When one vial is full, she attaches another, slapping a label onto 
the first one with her free hand. How does she do that, juggling the 
syring and two test tubes and a label? Three vials of blood later, 
John is covering the bandage in the crook of his arm 
by pulling down his sleeve. He doesn't seem sure this is necessary, 
but he's willing to go along. 

I'm tired of standing on one foot and the other. Scully nods to me, 
telling me I can move now. She's done. 

"I'll call you as soon as I get the results," Scully tells him.  The 
vials are in her pocket and Doggett grabs his suitcase. Before 
leaving he asks "What about him?" 

"He'll get his." Scully tells him, the corners of her mouth upturned. 

Leaning close to her ear I whisper "Promises, promises." I'm 
gratified when she shudders. Maybe her ears are just very ticklish 
now. 

"I'm parked in the short term lot, Mulder," she says, and I struggle 
to stifle a short joke I'm sure she wouldn't appreciate. Her advanced 
pregnancy requires flat, low shoes and she looks up to me now more 
than she used to. 

Argh, busted. She caught me assessing her maternal physique, her 
rounded body and puffy ankles. Puffy ankles? 

"Sit Scully. Stay here." I order her as if she was an over-eager 
puppy. Parking my carry on by her feet, I return to 
the check in counter and snag an airline employee. In no time a 
motorized cart pulls up and I load Scully, myself and my luggage on 
it. After giving directions to the driver I sit back, wriggling 
myself onto the 
narrow seat. 

"Mulder," she starts. "This really isn't..." I don't let her finish. 

"Hush," I say. "I still feel waterlogged Scully. Just let me use 
your excuse while I can." I smile at her. She accepts my 
disingenuousness and relaxes into the seat. I wonder if she'll let 
me hold her hand? I push my hand between us. The seat has us 
comfortably squished together. Doesn't she have 
a hand somewhere in that coat, sleeve, pocket? 

"Mulder?" she looks at me appraisingly.  "What are you looking for?" 

Embarassed that she probably doesn't want to do something as 
juvenile as hold hands in public, I mutter, "Yeah, your hand." 
Louder I say "Nothing, forget it," and put my hands together in my lap. 

Scully must have heard my initial comment because her hand is on my 
arm, working it's way down the sleeve of my leather jacket. I move 
my hand to capture hers, and close my eyes to enjoy the ride. 

At her car I extend my hand for the car keys and open the passenger 
door, settling her in, strapping down my most precious package. 
Stowing my bag in the back seat I start the car, and smirk "Your 
place or mine?" 

"Neither, actually," she sighs. "Take us the Gunmen's." 

Huh? 

As much as I'd like a shower and something other than airline food, 
Scully knows my curiosity gets fed first. To the Gunmen's it is. I 
haven't been there in a while. 

"Your wish is my command," earns me a Scully snort. 

The guys let us in with a minimum of security falderal. Hmm. 
Someone must have called ahead. 

I trail Scully through the guy's rats nest of cabling and computers 
they call an office. We enter a well-lit room at the back that I 
can't recall having seen. Equipment lines the walls. Medical 
equipment? Scully, exchanges her trench coat for a lab smock and 
perches on a tall chair in front of a pristine white bench, a 
hypodermic already in her hand. 

"Yeah, yeah," I tell her. "I know the drill." She smiles at me and I 
grimace as the needle bites into my extended forearm. In no time the 
vials are full, labeled and keeping company with those from 
Agent Doggett. 

Scully busies herself preparing the samples for testing and I excuse 
myself to hit the little gunmen's room. 

Wandering back through the graveyard of computers I spot Langley, 
and mosey over to see what is on his screen. Looks like a red-haired 
cyber vixen blowing the crap out of some bad guys. 
A really strange bad guy that looks like a cross between a mummy and a 
worm. 

"Does she know about this?" I ask quietly, glancing around to see if 
Scully's in the room. Langley is too engrossed in the game to even 
register my presence. Sheesh. Did these guys really miss me? 

With his eyes still glued to the screen, Langley replies, "You mean 
this?" he nods towards the screen. 

"Yeah, she knows, and as long as her cut of the royalties are 
regularly deposited in her account, and your cut in yours, it's good." 

"Where's mine?" 

"Your percentage? Ask Scully. She handled your account." 

"No, no. My copy of the game!" 

Langley smiles and reaches behind us, handing me a CD-ROM with an R- 
rated cover. 

"Scully approved this?" I gesture to the cover art. 

"Not exactly, man." Langley admits. "We didn't use that on the copy 
we gave her." 

"Smart move. Is it any good?" 

"Yeah, dude. It's a kick ass game. Uses some of your moves 
with Matraiya, as well as other cases. Scully let us use her image, 
and helped with the action. We used her part of the 
royalties to outfit that lab you were in. Wait till you play it, man. 
You'll know." 

Clutching my new favorite game I return to the lab. She's 
checking the slides and looks up from the microscope. 

"And when," I start, all wounded and huffy, "were you going to 
tell me about THIS?" I thrust the CD in her line of sight. 

Glancing up, Scully spots the CD. No reaction, not even a flicker, 
and certainly no guilt. My theatrics seem to have less 
impact on her these days. 

"Oh. That." 

"Honestly Mulder, I'd forgotten about it," her eyes return to the 
slides. 

"Sales must be good," I say, pointedly taking in the roomful of 
sophisticated equipment. 

"So they tell me," she murmurs. "I gave the guys a list and they 
came up with this. I think they may have fudged the numbers." 

Her voice becomes muddled as she attempts to bend over her bulk and 
check the microscope again. 

"And the game. You had time to do that?" 

Picking up the slide and carefully setting it in the test equipment, 
she turns off the microscope and sighs. "At first I thought they were 
just trying to take my mind off the fact that you were gone. It never 
occurred to me they were serious about the game until they had it 
programmed and running. They'd invite me for dinner and pick my 
brains." 

"Yeah," said Frohike, entering the room, and glancing fondly at 
Scully. "It was the only way I could make sure she was eating 
properly." 

I snort "Your cooking, proper? You probably gave her heart burn and 
she was too polite to chalk it up to your chili, writing it off as 
morning sickness." 

Shit. Morning sickness. I'm still adjusting to the reality of Scully's 
pregnancy. I feel I still have a place in her life, but I 
mourn what I've missed. Oh god, I missed so much. My gut twists as I 
realize the milestones I've missed. 
Missed the sonogram. Missed the first time the baby moved. Missed 
holding her head over the toilet. I grieve even for that. I could 
have helped. She might have let me. 

She must be thinking along the same lines, because her look, when 
she catches my eye, is sweet and sad. Sad for what we missed, but 
enjoying today's sweetness. My eyes fill with unshed tears. 

Fortunately she puts her head back to her work before my tears are 
obvious. Hormonal Scully's waterworks start easily. 

Looking at Scully now I memorize each curve, each rounded glorious 
part, storing this image with the others I have archived. Hmm. Her 
ankles look a bit too curvy. 

"That's enough for today Scully. Time to put your feet up." 

"Almost done." She's cleaning up, putting instruments into the 
autoclave and setting the timers on some test equipment. 

"Mulder? Call Doggett. Tell him I said there's nothing to worry 
about." 

"That goes for you too," she smiles tiredly at me. 
"I'll be ready to go when you finish that call." 

Mission accomplished, I help her off with her lab coat, and she 
leans back against me. God, she must be exhausted. 

"Take me home, Mulder." 



Fini