Classification: Scully Angst

Rating: "G"

Spoilers: If you have not seen
"Requiem," turn back now.

Summary: How does a "barren" woman
become a mother?

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are
not mine. They belong to Chris
Carter, 1013 productions, and Fox
Broadcasting.

Thank You's go out to The X-Scenes
group. Your talent and friendship
always brighten my days. Also, to
Alcott for the invitation.
A special and enduring thanks to
Georgia-Where would I be without
the world's finest beta reader?
 
 
 
 

"Once upon a time, there was a
little baby-"
 

     The baby that sits upon his
mother's knee is cared for, loved.
One can tell in the easy way his
mother rubs his back and trusts him
to another's care. She is so secure
in her ability to nurture, to
protect. She is a natural. I know
that I am not.
 

     It has nothing to do with my
physical inability to be a mother.
I have never been drawn to this
soft, pastel world of babies. As a
girl, I preferred playing outside
with my brothers and garter snakes
rather than dolls. I never babysat;
I was too busy.

       I often work now in darkened
places, the shine of a flashlight
my only way to see. My clothing is
dark and severe; there are no baby
pinks in my closet.

        Perhaps fate has known me
better than I know myself.
 

         She is handing the baby to
me. I feel like I might be better
at handling a rattler from The
Church of Signs and Wonders. I look
up at Mulder for a moment of
encouragement, and then turn my
attention to this terrycloth-clad
bundle who now sits upon my lap.
After offering a toy that does not
seem to enthrall this tiny one, a
song escapes from my lips.

          I can feel Mulder's eyes
upon me, though they are not their
familiar, leering selves. This
time, I can sense something I never
have before in the countless times
I've felt his gaze upon me. It is
almost as if I can read his
thoughts. They are filled with
pictures of us--me, him, a perfect,
little child. It is a fairy tale
that begins, "Once upon a time," a
dream that will never come true.
 

"Once upon a time, there was a
little baby-"
 

      I went to Mulder once before
in a motel room in Oregon. Like a
frightened child, I longed for him
to reassure me, to comfort me. That
night seven years ago, he could
only stand there while I threw
myself into what I had expected to
be open arms. His stiffened gesture
told me so much more about his
hurting soul than his words ever
could.

      When we began, I was the one
with an open heart. "Trust" seemed
to be my middle name. The years
have not been kind, but his
beautiful mind has more than made
up for it.
 

        I come to him again,
therefor. I am seeking warmth, both
physical and emotional, even if
it's the last thing I'm willing to
admit. I did not own up to my need
for him after our first night, our
only night as lovers. That is why I
could not face him in the morning.
I only wanted to remember his
touch, his insistent, constant
touch. I could not handle
negotiations of what we were to be
to each other after that night.
 

        And so I am polite to him
as he spoons himself around me
while we lay upon his bed. I say,
"Thank you," to him for his
tenderness. I try to caulk the
cracks in the dam that holds back a
timeless sea. His quiet whisper of
how I have lost so much, how there
needs to be an end, is a soothing,
rhythmic lullaby. I permit myself
to be comforted, to be babied, to
be treasured. I allow myself to
finally love him.
 
 

"Once upon a time, there was a
little baby-"
 

      Mulder is gone. Skinner's
words and trembling lip only
confirm what I already suspect.

       Yet, I am not alone. There
is a life within me. How? Why?
These are questions I do not allow
myself the luxury of answering
right now. Those answers will come.

        There is presently only one
focus for my thoughts. It is the
very reason I am still here, bound
and determined to both find my
partner and to be a good mother to
this little one, our child. That
focus is his love.

         First, it was the love of
the quest, the respect for the
journey. Then, it was his love for
me. It has transformed me, taken me
through the stages of naivete,
bitterness, and healing. It has
brought me here, to this day, and
for this moment, when I must get
past my fear of loving too much: My
fear of thinking beyond me to
thinking of "we," both me and our
child.

     Love, his love for me, like
truth, will save me; it just may
save us both.

 END.
 
 

Thank you Sue for the idea!

Feedback: Please encourage me as I
spend the next couple of months
knitting booties for the new Mulder
kid on the block! joemimi@prodigy.net