Title:           BABY SCULLY POSTED 9/20/03

Author:          FatCat (feedback to FatCat926@msn.com)

Website:         Please visit the wonderful home Donnilee has
                 created to house my stories at
                 https://donnilee.xf-redux.com.  Just follow my name
                 to find my stories.  While you are there, take a
                 peek at the other wonderful stories Donnilee has
                 at her site.  Thank you Donni!

Rating:          G ***WARNING*** DIABETICS BEWARE This is a sweet
                 one.

Category:        V MSR, William fic

Spoilers:        No Carter Requiem ending, season 8 or season 9 in
                 this world.

Archive:         As you wish, but please keep my name attached and
                 let me know where to visit.

Summary:         Scully ruminates on her desire for a child.

Disclaimer:      They aren't mine nor anyone's but CC, Fox, 1013,
                 DD, and GA's.  These works are used without
                 permission, no infringement intended.

Author's note:   A big thank you to Donnilee for the beta on this
                 one.  Check out the great cover she did for it
                 on her site.  Nice work, Donni!


I remember dreaming about being a mother when I was a young girl.
When we were stationed at the Charleston Navel Yards my best friend
was Ellen Rosenberger.  She had six older sisters and was already
an aunt at the ripe old age of seven.  We decided we wanted to
have a husband and a baby when we grew up, just like our moms.  It
became the main 'pretend' we indulged in.

Who would we pick to be our husbands?  Various methods were
considered as a good guideline for our choice.  We tried the apple
stem method: A is for Adam, B is for Bill, C is for Christopher, D
is for David.  We gave that one up when a boy named Zack Roberts
moved in.  We tried Ennie Meenie, Minie, Moe, but gave it up when
we realized how easily we could manipulate the outcome.  We tried
the next boy through the door method, but found a disgusting number
of unacceptable boys pouring through the door in question.  We
decided to let fate take over and began to call our husbands-to-be
Honey and concentrated on the baby.

Not that we had any way to know about how a baby began.  We were
both very protected by our families.  I was held innocent by my
Catholic family upbringing and Ellen was equally protected though
surrounded by all her older sisters.  Babies came from the hospital,
and our baby dolls were as close as we ever got to a real, live
baby, at least until her sister, Hannah, came to visit with her
newborn son.

The reality of a newborn verses the pretend games we had played for
weeks was so completely opposite that I was shocked into giving up
my brief dreams of marriage and motherhood.

I took one look at that screaming, wriggling, red-faced baby boy
and was scared to death.  He was so small.  He was so loud.  He was
so demanding.  He had this bandage on his tummy where his belly
button was supposed to be and a bandage on his penis (although
at that time I think I thought of it as his peepee).  I was more
fascinated by the bandages than I was by the baby.

The final straw came when he shot a stream of urine all over the
baby doll and blanket I was clutching in my arms when his mother
was changing his diaper.  I wanted out of that room before I threw
up.

If this was what having a baby was like, I wanted no part of it.  I
firmly told my friend Ellen this and she looked at me like I was a
traitor.  After all, this disgustingly loud little bundle of joy
was her sister's, thus hers.  She made her choice and I lost my
best friend.  I ran home crying, dumping my urine soaked toys in a
garbage can on the way.

I never told my mom why Ellen and I were not friends anymore.  It
became a moot point when my dad was transferred to San Diego three
weeks later.

I gave up trying to do girl things.  I came to the conclusion that
if I acted like my brothers and became a tomboy, I eventually could
evade becoming a woman and thus a mother.

My life, from that point on,  was spent trying to outdo the boys at
their own game.  Elementary school, Junior High, High School,
College, Medical School, Quantico all became my personal field of
battle.  I engaged the enemy (i.e.: the entire good old boy network)
and through native intelligence and extreme hard work, proved
myself.  I was going to make a name for myself.  I was on my way.
Or so I thought.

I hadn't thought about that memory for years.  It's strange what
you remember in the middle of the night; especially when there are
so many memories you have that you try desperately not to dredge
up.  Your mind will cast for even the faintest glimmer of a thought
that was safe.

I contemplated my current-day status every night around 3:00 A.M.
That was as long as I could sleep before I had to get up to go to
the bathroom again.  I was pregnant and at least one trip to the
bathroom a night was in order during my eighth month.

Unfortunately, sleep was not necessarily going to be happening
again until just before the alarm went off.

I was pregnant.  I still found this thought nothing short of a
miracle.

All those years ago I had decided I definitely did not want a baby,
only to have that conviction be twisted into the painful truth that
I couldn't have a baby by a handful of scheming old men who were
willing to sell humanity down the tubes.  The human female is
capable of ignoring all the basic biological urges evolution had
programmed into our very cells for years, until we begin to close
in on the point of no return and our basic instinct to reproduce
kicks in.

As I approached this point, I had railed against my barrenness.  I
tried every method my precious science offered, even enlisting the
aid of my closest friend and partner, Fox Mulder.  Everything I
tried failed.  I was devastated that I would never be a mother, but
while woman plots and plans, God laughs.

He placed something in my path too large for me to climb over, dig
under, or run around.  True Love.  I knew that sounds trite and
would make even my traditionally old-fashioned mother flinch, but
was true.  I didn't recognize it at the time, but the love I had
felt for and from Mulder was the key.

"Don't give up on a miracle," Mulder told me when the final in vitro
had failed.  His loving support enveloped me and I had clung to him
for comfort.  The soft kisses he rained down on my hair and forehead
soon changed to a more physical expression of the love he had
harbored for me for years.

As surprised as I was by his desire for me, I was shocked more by my
need for him.  At first I pushed all thoughts of love down deeper
into my psyche and clung to the physical as his hands and mouth and
body worshipped me.

It was in the wee hours of the night afterwards that I realized I
felt no guilt, or self-reproach or fear of a relationship with
Mulder.  I felt relief.  I was finally able to face my feelings for
him and had given him verbal and physical evidence of my love.
Could it be that the totally gratifying and overwhelming sense of
completeness my relationship with this man gave me could offset my
pain of being barren?

Things changed for us from that moment on.  Oh, to the outside
world, nothing had changed; we were still the consummate
professional partners.  However, during the hours and minutes we
shared on our own time, we were as much in love as any newlywed
couple to be found in any honeymoon haven in the world.  It seemed
nothing could intrude on our happiness.

Mulder was secure in our relationship, as secure as a paranoid man
could be.  He knew I had committed my heart and soul and total trust
to him.  In this, he was confident.  His fear that one of 'them'
would find out about our love and separate us was only topped by his
fear that my cancer would return and I would be taken from him
forever.

When I became ill in Bellefleur, Oregon, investigating the apparent
return of UFO's to the area, he was beside himself.  He would not
let me return to Oregon to continue the investigation and took
Skinner with him instead.

I will never forget the feelings of desolation and pain I suffered
while trying to find Mulder.  To find true love and to loose it, to
know passion and be denied it ever again was more than I could or
would accept.  My unexpected pregnancy was more of a shock than a
comfort.  How could I face single motherhood?  All my dreams of this
child had included my soul mate, Mulder.  He was at first 'gone' and
then dead and buried.

My feelings of isolation and pain grew and festered as my pregnancy
came to be public knowledge.  The only thing that kept me tethered
to this earth was the child growing inside me.  It was half me and
half Mulder.

And then the call I never expected!  Mulder was alive!  The days in
the hospital and the final weeks of my pregnancy seemed to fly by.
Mulder was Mulder, and he wasn't.  He had suffered a major trauma at
the hands of his abductors.  Their physical torture almost equaled
the mental torture he put himself through.  While he agonized over
who the father of my child could be, I agonized over how he could
question my loyalty, my love.  Yet over and above my pain, I could
feel his.

Mulder was a man who has been self-driven from the time he was a
child.  Events of his youth, his parents ability or lack of ability
to love, and the guilt he's felt over his sister's abduction shaped
him into the man he was today.

The events of the last year have left him unsure of his place in
the world, no longer tethered to a quest and displaced in his work.
Where did a man back from the dead fit in?  If I have my way, he will
fit very nicely into our new life.  A family life.

After the kiss we shared and our long discussion last night, I think
I have finally convinced him that he belongs with William and me.

We were watching television together.  I'd fed William and now he
was asleep in his father's arms.  Our little man sighed and
stretched.  His bottom lip quivered into a pout as he dreamt.  I
watched Mulder's eyes as they misted over.  He could see his
eternity in the face of our son, as do I.  He finally believed.

I couldn't resist a tease.  "Mulder, still have doubts about
William's parentage?"

I grinned at him as I leaned forward and plucked an apple from the
fruit basket Frohike gave me.  He shook his head and smiled.  I knew
that he was on to me and my teasing ways.

"There are a number of tests we could have done that would prove his
DNA match but that would take too long.  I think I'll go back to the
tried and true apple stem method to determine William's father," I
teased.  I picked up an apple and twist the stem as I said, "A is
for A.D. Skinner, B is for Bill, C is for Colton, D is for Doggett,
E is for Ethan, F is for Fox...  Fox, must be fate."

The End