Inherently Given(3/3)

<Footnote. Wal-Mart is a very cheap discount retail store. Cathy Lee
Gifford is a TV personality whose name is used to promote a line of
clothes. Apparently they are actually quite nice..presumably Mulder just
didn't see Scully in orange...>

Mon Jan 06 1997
See part one for disclaimers.

Inherently Given.

by Michelle Hiley and Vickie Moseley.
fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk, vmoseley@fgi.net

Part Sixteen. The Vultures Lie In Wait.

Time and place unspecified.

"So?"

The man behind the desk drew on another cigarette, watching the agent
before him. A good informant this one.

"We've successfully managed to get our man onto the team. He's been with
their Dr. Robert a long while, as a research assistant. He managed to
get himself picked as one of the junior doctors in attendance."

"And...ah this Dr. Robert does not suspect?"

"No."

"Has our man examined Mulder at all?"

The agent shifted uncomfortably. "No sir. They are only having Dr.
Robert attend them, until the actual birth. But we have obtained
photocopies of Mulder's medical notes, and Dr. Robert's observations."

"Good." His boss reached for the file. "And our insider will be there
for the birth itself?"

"Yes."

"It will suffice. Very well, you can go now."

The agent gratefully left, closing the door behind him. The man in the
chair leaned back and smiled to himself. It all seemed to be going
very....satisfactorily. He wondered how Mulder and Scully were taking
this. Mulder especially. Was he humiliated? Almost certainly. Scared?
He'd be a fool otherwise. And his relationship with Agent Scully....well
that was taking an interesting turn. He glanced down at the photocopied
marriage certificate. <I wonder what they'll put on the birth
certificate?> he wondered. <Which is the mother?>. He laughed quietly to
himself. It would be a shame to lose Mulder in childbirth, a great shame
considering what a worthy adversary he was, but this experiment was
worth it. The medical knowledge to be gained was enormous, and on a
personal level the image of Mulder pregnant amused him. He pushed aside
the marriage certificate and picked up a photograph of Mulder in the
safe house's garden. <You're showing quite nicely now, Fox> he thought.
Idly he wondered what Scully would do if she lost her husband. <Come
hunting for you most probably>. Well, he'd deal with that if it
happened.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in Dr. Baker."

The doctor quietly entered. "You sent for me, sir?"

"Indeed. I have just been talking about you. I'm told you've managed to
get in as part of the medical team. I expected nothing less of course.
You've been fully briefed by Dr. Philipe?"

"He informed me of the notes you want me to take, yes. I'm to call you
as soon as is discretely possible after the birth? And get further
instructions then?"

"Yes. If the child is healthy, then it and the parents are of no further
interest. We'll leave them alone to raise it. No reason to remove them,
and I've always had reservations about killing Agent Mulder. Do you
think he'll survive the experiment?"

Dr Baker shrugged. "It's hard to say sir. He has a very high chance of
survival in my opinion."

"Good. And the baby?"

"Harder to judge, but so far the pregnancy seems to have been normal."

There was a chuckle from behind the desk. "Normal is not a word I
usually associate with Agent Mulder, Dr. Baker, now less than ever. Very
well. You will keep us informed of anything you learn, and you will call
us after the birth. If the child is, as you put it, "normal", then you
will be recalled."

"And if it isn't normal?"

"Then, we shall just have to see, won't we?" The man smiled, cruelly.

End part sixteen.

From fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk Mon Jan 06 05:52:02 1997
See part one for disclaimers.

Inherently Given.

by Vickie Moseley and Michelle Hiley.
vmoseley@fgi.net, fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk

Part Seventeen. All We Have To Look Forward To.

The safe house.
April 18th 1997.
3:17 pm.

"What are you doing?" Dana Scully asked, standing in the doorway of one
of their spare bedrooms. Mulder looked up from his seat on the bed,
surrounded by all the boxes and spare clothes and things yet to be
unpacked from the wedding.

"Goin' through that box Mom sent," he replied absently. He was rummaging
through a large packing carton that had arrived just the day before from
his mother in Connecticut, sorting the items into piles. Already, there
was an impressive array of baby clothes forming a mound at his feet. She
knelt down beside him and gingerly picked up a tiny sleeper set,
imprinted with little teddy bears. She drew it to her nose and took a
deep breath, a gentle smile lingering on her face as she put it back on
the pile.

"She must have washed these before she sent them. They smell like they
just came from the dryer," she commented, mostly to hide the very
sentimental feelings that were rushing through her at the moment.

"Yeah, Mom's a real neat nik," he agreed, not noticing the beautiful
expression on his wife's face. "We should probably wash the stuff before
we use it, though. Germs and all," he added.

She grinned at that. Mulder, worried about germs - would wonders never
cease? "Oh, most definitely. Just point out which pile is new-born
clothes and I'll wash them and put them in the little dresser in our
room. That should hold us until we're able to move back home." They had
decided to stay at the safe house during Mulder's six week recovery from
surgery and then move into her apartment, since it was the only one with
two bedrooms. Eventually, they would have to go house hunting, but for
now, that was pretty far down their list of priorities.

She picked up the pile of 'new-born' items and started counting the
little play and sleep jumpers, T-shirts and sleepers that were neatly
folded, ready for their new owner. "Were all these yours?" she asked.
Then she picked up a little blanket sleeper in a bright pink shade with
bows all over it.

He blushed, slightly embarrassed. "Ahem, I think some of that belonged
to Sam," he intoned. She laughed at his expression of distaste. "Or it
better had," he mumbled under his breath.

"Well, that's great, because we can sort the stuff out by gender and
then we're set for whatever we get," she said happily. "These things are
in _great_ shape," she told him.

"Mom's a pack rat. And I think she goes through every year and washes
EVERYTHING. Aw, God, look at this! I don't believe it! I looked
everywhere for this when I was packing for Oxford," he shouted and
pulled out a rather dirty looking half of a plaster of Paris leg cast.

"Oh, gee, how did you live overseas without one?" she asked, not
bothering to disguise her sarcasm.

He shot her a disgruntled look. "Do you have ANY idea what this is?" he
demanded.

"One half of a dirty leg cast," she said flatly. "And it still reeks!
What was your mother thinking, putting that filthy thing in with the
baby's clothes?"

He pushed himself off the chair so that he towered above her. "Dana, do
you KNOW what you're saying? This is PRICELESS! It's my most prized
possession from my childhood!" He paced before her, cradling the plaster
of Paris in his arms and stroking it fondly.

"Wish I'd heard this story BEFORE I married you," she said with one
eyebrow raised at him in disbelief. "Mulder, during my ortho rotation, I
could have got dozens of those things. Enough for you to build an
igloo," she said, restraining the amusement in her voice.

"No, it's not just the leg cast, Scully! It's the signature on it. See,
right here, just below the knee bend?" He held it down for her to look
at. She took it hesitantly in her hands, grimacing at the smell and the
feel of the dirty plaster. A piece the size of her little finger nail
broke off and she shot him an apologetic look. Then she stared at the
scribbling in the area he was pointing. "Rippie Oaksen?" she read
uncertainly.

"REGGIE JACKSON!" he howled. "Reggie Jackson! Mr. October! Homerun
hitter for the New York Yankees! Come on, Scully. Don't tell me you
don't know who Reggie Jackson is! I won't believe it," he said
defiantly.

"Oh, Reggie Jackson!" she said with a happy grin now in place. She had
never seen Mulder this excited about anything so....normal. "Sure, I've
heard of him. Billy had his baseball card. Wow, Mulder, how did you get
him to sign your cast?"

"This was the summer I broke my leg. I was playing ball and the pitcher
was a real jerk. I knew that if I got him flustered, he'd throw wild and
I'd either connect with the ball or make it to first on a hit batter
pitch. So I gave him the finger. Made the little sucker so mad, he threw
that ball like a rocket. It hit me in the leg and broke the bone. God,
did that hurt. I wasn't quite 11 when it happened. I thought I was gonna
die. Then, when I came to in the hospital and they told me that I'd have
to wear this cast for the rest of the summer, I _wanted_ to die," he
said emphatically, getting into the story.

"Mulder, even then you had a propensity to get in over your head," his
ever faithful, but much wiser wife clucked at him.

"Yeah, Mom said pretty much the same thing. Anyway, I moped around for a
week in bed, basically being a real pain in the butt. Mom and Dad moved
my bed into the living room so I could watch TV. I watched baseball. I
lived for it. Dad brought me books of statistics and I memorized them. I
would quote them to Mom and Dad in the evening - probably drove them
nuts doing it, too. Anyway, toward the end of August, Dad came home from
a business trip and said he had a surprise. A minute later, there was a
knock at the door and there stood Reggie Jackson! He was visiting some
people on the Vineyard and my Dad had sat next to him on the Ferry
coming to the island. Dad told him that I was laid up, and asked him if
he had time to stop by. He said sure, anything for a fan. He stayed
about a half hour, signed my cast and told me that making the pitcher
mad at you was a sure way to end up in the hospital. After that, the
rest of the summer didn't seem all that bad. But boy, I was really
stupid, getting hurt like that. I asked for it," he said with deep
regret in his voice.

She stood up and took the cast from his hands and looked at it with
reverence. "We need to get a glass box or a display case for this," she
said quietly.

"It's pretty dirty," he conceded finally. "Not exactly something you'd
show with the good china."

She shook her head. "No, not the good china. But the broken bat that I
have in Mom's attic. I got it in 1985, the year the St. Louis Cardinals
were in the World Series with the Kansas City Royals. I wasn't a real
fan of either team, but it was my first World Series Game, and the guy I
was dating knew the manager for the Royals. He got me the bat. I kept it
in my dorm room all through med school."

"What position did you play?" he asked, sitting down and pulling her
onto what little lap he had left.

She perched on the end of his knee. "Catcher. I wasn't that great. I did
better at third base, but I liked the equipment the catcher got to wear.
And Ahab had gotten most of it when Billy was pretty young, so I was the
only one who could still fit in it all," she smiled, remembering. "You?"

"Right field. I had the arm to be a pitcher, but I thought they were all
a bunch of wusses. Never wanting to run the bases, always complaining
about their arms hurting. I threw just as hard, just not as often." He
was rocking her now, lost in his own memories.

"So, what position are we gonna teach this one?" she asked, lovingly
patting the bulge of his stomach.

"I don't suppose we can teach him or her to be a sports 'announcer',
could we?" he asked sheepishly. "I don't want to spend any time in the
Emergency Room."

She chuckled at his discomfort and gave him a light hug. "Sweetheart,
kids hurt themselves. It happens all the time. We can't keep them in a
bubble. What kind of life would that be? Think of how it grates on us
when we think the other is getting too overprotective. Can you imagine a
person with TWICE that factor in their genetic makeup? Gives me the
shivers just to think about it," she said with a mock tremor.

"So what are you saying? The way the two of us end up constantly under a
doctor's care, we have that to look forward to - only worse?" he moaned,
truly distressed.

She laughed again. "Well, maybe these are recessive genes we're talking
about and the dominant genes will make our children more cautious than
we are," she reasoned.

"Think so?" he asked, and really wanted an answer.

She sat for a moment, thinking back over the last few years. All the
evidence weighed against it. "Nah," she said slowly shaking her head.
"We're in way over our heads," she conceded.

He sighed deeply. "Well, at least I married a doctor," he said, nuzzling
her in the back of her neck. "That should help a little."

"I don't know about you, but I plan on being hysterical when it happens.
And all my friends are pathologists," she said with a shrug.

"Then we'll have our insurance company recommend the doctor and hope he
or she doesn't check our track record"

She laughed. "I guess we're going to have to change our name, because
the name 'Mulder' has been inscribed in every hospital and doctor's
office across all fifty states," she said, giving him a truly evil grin.

Laughing he squeezed her gently. "Nope, I like my surname. Maybe we can
hope they have short memories. I know, we'll deny everything!" he said
in triumph, and was rewarded by Scully's groan as she slipped off his
knee and helped him finish sorting the clothes, each wondering what
their child would look like wearing them.

End part seventeen.

From fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk Mon Jan 06 05:52:46 1997
See part one for disclaimers.

Inherently Given.

by Michelle Hiley and Vickie Moseley.
fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk, vmoseley@fgi.net

Part Eighteen. Reflections.

The safe house.
April 24th 1997.
3:14 pm.

Dana Scully examined the newly washed and rehung curtains with a smile.
Finished. A few days ago she had felt the need to do some Spring
cleaning, and this was the last job, the spare room Mulder had slept in
before they had become lovers. Mulder had been amused by her cleaning
spree, and insistent upon helping, and she'd managed to find plenty of
non-strenuous jobs to keep him busy. Now he was sleeping, and she had
come in here to hang the curtains and take pride in a job well done. She
glanced around the neat and tidy room. Even the closets had been cleaned
out and aired. Moving across to close the closet door, she noted what a
good job Mulder had made of it, catching sight of her reflection in the
carefully polished mirror as she did so. <You're looking good,> she
thought to herself. Not that she was old at thirty three, but their
lifestyle usually took it out of her, the injuries, the late nights.
There was the faintest trace of shadow under her eyes, <not surprising
given how much I worry over Mulder>, but otherwise she looked well.
Months of rest, and the pleasures of marriage, agreed with her. Unlike
Mulder, growing bigger with their child every day.....

Scully felt tears spring to her eyes, and sat down on the bed, watching
the woman in the mirror do the same. She couldn't allow herself to dwell
on that. The pressure of all this had already caused her to break down
in front of Mulder when they'd found out, and in front of her mother at
Christmas. She needed to be strong, not weak. But then again...Mulder
was asleep, her mother was at her own home.....there was no one to see.
Perhaps it was time to face those feelings and deal with them. She'd
already accepted the worries she had for Mulder, those she could share
with her mother. But this...she couldn't tell anyone this. They'd think
her selfish, uncaring.

How could she tell anyone how bitterly jealous she was?

She looked at herself in the mirror, running a hand over her smooth
stomach. Thirty three. And, finally, she was going to be a parent. But
she wasn't the one carrying it. She wasn't the one forming that bond.
Maggie was becoming a grandmother, but it wasn't Dana whom everyone was
fussing over. She was finally fulfilling one of her secret dreams, a
child with Mulder, but in a cruel twist she was being deprived of her
natural part in all that, and could only stand on the sidelines, feeling
neglected and left out. Dana started to cry, bitterly. She couldn't tell
Mulder how she felt. And in a way she was happy for him, happy that he
was getting the chance to experience carrying a child. But she felt old,
and barren, and useless. Was she was never going to feel that first kick
inside her, never going to watch her own body swell and change as the
baby grew? She loved this child that was on the way, loved it dearly. It
was hers as well as Mulder's. <But it should have been *ME*,> screamed
her mind. She subsided into sobs, pressing her face against the pillow
and never hearing the ajar bedroom door open softly.

Mulder stood in the doorway, trying to decide what to do. He'd woken up,
and decided to come looking for his wife, but had heard her crying as
he'd crossed the landing. Now she was weeping to herself, and he didn't
know why. What was wrong? Did she cry like this in secret a lot? He
couldn't decide whether to just tiptoe away or go to her. But as he
watched her, her body shaking with sobs, he couldn't bear it.

Scully abruptly found herself being lifted off the bed, and turned
around, and before she realised what was happening she was being cradled
against her husband's chest as he sat beside her on the bed. Mulder
shifted awkwardly, trying to fit her against his bulging stomach, as she
wiped her hand over her eyes and tried to stop crying.

"Shush. It's OK. It's OK, Dana," he murmured, stroking her hair. She
gulped, and put her head against his shoulder, trying to think what she
was going to say.

"I'm sorry Fox. I guess, I was just tired. And I'm worried about whether
we'll be able to cope, when the baby's born...." She trailed off.

Mulder looked at her, shrewdly. "No you're not. You don't come and cry
in secret over something like that. Especially as we've discussed how
we'll cope. So what is it, love?"

She didn't reply, and his face fell. "It's me, isn't it? You're
regretting this aren't you? Marrying me I mean?"

Scully looked at him, aghast. "No! Of course not!" Her own pain was
momentarily forgotten as she hastened to reassure him. "Oh Mulder, how
can you think that? I love you."

"Then what is so terrible that you can't talk to me about it?" he asked
gently.

She didn't want to tell him, but one look at him made her realise she
would have to tell him the truth, if she was to reassure him she still
loved him.

"I just feel...well, I feel envious."

"Envious? Of who? Of what?"

"Of you," she said quietly. "Of the pregnancy."

Mulder opened his mouth to say something flippant, about her being
welcome to the morning sickness and the tiredness, when he caught sight
of the wistful, sad expression on her face. Of course. He should have
realised it. Some psychologist he was. *She* should have been the one
carrying this gift to him, not the other way around. He'd felt pleased
and proud that he could give this to her, and glad of the attention
Margaret had given him at the prospect of a grandchild. But Dana must
have felt increasingly left out, even more so than a normal "father"
would feel. He should have noticed.

"I'm sorry, Dana. We've been leaving you out, haven't we?"

She shook her head. "I just felt a little...well, left out, yes. But it
wasn't your fault."

He rocked her, gently. "Yes it was. I should have realised you'd feel
this way. I know I will next time."

"Next time?"

"Sure. You don't want this one to be an only child do you?"

"I....I haven't thought...I've been too wrapped up in this one..."

"Well, I want our baby to have a little brother or sister. And if you
think I'm going through this again, you've got another thought coming.
Next time, Dana Katherine Mulder, it is *your* turn to throw up, and be
unable to climb the stairs easily, and give up all your favourite
foods."

She wiped her eyes again and grinned at him. "You're just trying to make
me feel better."

He nodded. "Yep, I'm just telling you the fun parts." His expression
became more serious. "Honestly though, I *would* like another baby. And
next time, I'd rather like to be a regular Dad and see *you* carrying my
child. How about it?"

"Let's get this one out of the way first. Then maybe," she smiled. She
slipped her hand into his. "Thanks Fox."

"Anytime," he replied, kissing her forehead. "And next time....."

"Next time?"

"I'll hang the drapes and you can sit and do the closets...."

End part eighteen.

From fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk Mon Jan 06 05:53:37 1997
See part one for disclaimers.

Inherently Given.
by Vickie Moseley and Michelle Hiley.
vmoseley@fgi.net, fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk

Part Nineteen. If April Showers Bring May Flowers, What Do May
Flowers Bring?*

The safe house.
May 1st 1997.
5:55 am.

Fox Mulder awoke in the pale early morning light and smiled down at the
sleeping person nestled in his arms. It felt good to wake up with his
partner. He only regretted that they hadn't done it sooner, like
sometime before they were about to become parents.

But the thought of all the time they'd missed out on didn't darken his
mood today. The sun was just peeking out over the tree tops, already
brushed with a green tinge of spring. He had slept well, it had been a
warm night and they had left the bedroom window open a crack. He kissed
his wife's sleeping head and attempted to extract his arm from under
her. She frowned without opening her eyes and wrapped her own arms
around him in an effort to keep him beside her.

"Bathroom, Scully," he whispered in her ear. She immediately released
him and rolled over onto her back. Even in her sleep, Dana Scully knew
that you didn't deter a pregnant person from making their 'appointed
rounds' to the bathroom.

He did have to go to the bathroom, he ALWAYS had to go to the bathroom
these days, but that wasn't the real reason he was getting up at the
crack of dawn. He had something important to do. He pulled on his
sweatpants and threw a ratty old jacket over his T-shirt before grabbing
his sneakers and heading for the kitchen, quickly turning on the water
in the downstairs shower to cover any noise. He was out the back door
before he knew it.

The small garden at the back of the house was still looking a little
winter weary. It had been a hard winter, with lots of snow, and some of
it was still lying in piles near the privacy fence, protected from the
spring sunshine. As the daily temperatures crept upward, the little
piles grew smaller and smaller. It was a daily reminder of the coming of
summer and he welcomed it.

He was looking forward to summer. Usually, Fox Mulder ignored the
passing seasons. Frequently, weather was more of an inconvenience to
him. It seemed that they were always called to cases in the north lands
in the middle of winter, and equally oppressive, to cases in the south
and southwest in the dead of summer. He and his partner were constantly
fighting dehydration from too many hours in the blazing sun, or
bronchitis and ear infections from long exposure to wind and rain and
snow. This time, the winter had made it near impossible for them to
venture outside the little haven of their safe house sometimes. And he
was feeling decidedly affected by cabin fever.

He knew exactly what he needed to break out of the 'winter doldrums'
and, as an added bonus, put a smile on his very pretty wife's face. It
was something he had spied the day before, on one of his walks around
the backyard. He was no longer able to go running, Dr. Robert had been
adamant about it. So he had to content himself with walking on the
treadmill they had set up in the corner of the living room, or walking
around the backyard. It was a bit confining, but it was better than
sitting inside all the time, and he took several walks during the day to
relieve the leg cramps that had started plaguing him now that he was in
the third trimester of the pregnancy.

He walked around the perimeter of the privacy fence and a boyish grin
blossomed on his face as he saw what he was looking for. It wasn't as
easy to stoop these days, but he lowered himself as much as he could and
reached when he couldn't get further down until he had his prizes firmly
in his grasp. He held them gently, not wanting to damage them. He had
learned long ago how fragile these things were and he had no intention
of spoiling his surprise by bruising the offering. He made his way
quickly back into the house and set about finishing his project.

Some writing paper, a couple of well placed staples and a paper towel
were pressed into service. With expertise born of long years of practice
as a small boy eager for approval, he finished his 'package' and placed
the small splashes of color tenderly in the folds. He stood for a moment
and remembered how often he had done this little ritual as a boy. He
must have been four the first time, when his father had told him the
'secret'. After that, he never missed a year, even when times at home
had been tense, at best. It was the one comfort of childhood and
something he'd looked forward to sharing with his love.

He brushed the memories aside, and grinning like a madman, he tiptoed to
the front door, opened it as silently as he could, and placed his
present on the doorstep, right on top of the morning edition of the New
York Times. Slipping inside, he rang the doorbell and hammered on the
door, and then shut the door silently behind him.

"Get that?" called a sleepy voice from upstairs at the sound of the
doorbell.

He ducked into the bathroom and turned the water up to full blast. Just
to make sure she understood, he yelled "What? I'm in the shower," at the
closed door. He laughed at the sound of mild cursing as she untangled
herself from the sheets and threw on her robe. She stomped all the way
down the stairs and he was almost doubled over with giggles as he crept
into the hall behind her, stopping just in line of sight of the front
door.

She looked out of the peephole first, her gun, he now noticed, firmly in
her right hand. When she couldn't see anyone, she went to the window and
pushed aside the curtain, shaking her head at the absence of anyone.
Finally, with a resigned shrug, she opened the door and looked around,
her gaze ending at her feet.

There, on top of the morning paper, was a little paper vase of crocuses,
the first flowers of spring. Brilliant purple, yellow and orange fought
for dominance in the tiny bouquet. On the little vase, which really
resembled a paper cone with a handle, were the words, in script as
familiar to her as her own: "Happy May Day - from your Secret Admirer"

He got his reward when he saw her face light up. She stooped and picked
up the flowers, leaving the newspaper ignored on the doorstep. With
great care, she examined each tiny blossom, tracing each petal carefully
and feeling the silky smoothness with a happy smile.

He didn't even bother with the ruse of a shower any longer. He casually,
he thought, wandered through the hall and acted as if surprised to see
her standing in the doorway. "What is it?" he asked, straining to appear
nonchalant.

She smiled a truly enigmatic smile. "Nothing," she replied, and tucked
the flowers in the pocket of her robe. "How about I make omelettes for
breakfast?" she asked, not looking at him because she knew the smile on
her face would give her away.

"I thought Doc said to stay off the fat. Aren't omelettes on my 'after
the baby' list?" he mused.

"Just once won't hurt you. Besides, you look like a man who could use a
good omelette. And maybe we could take a drive later. See the
countryside a bit. We've been cooped up far too long," she offered.

He smiled at her back as he followed her into the kitchen. "My, my, you
are being awfully nice to me this morning. Is there some reason for all
this pampering?" He knew he was stepping over the line here, but
couldn't resist the temptation.

She spun on her heel and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, I just
realized I married the most romantic man in the world, and I figure I
better do everything in my power to keep him happy," she answered and
kissed him on his chin.

"Mom used to make me pancakes on May Day," he said in a mock pout.

"Take the omelette and be happy, Mulder," she warned.

"Yes ma'am," he said and helped her with the eggs.

End part nineteen.

*Pilgrims :)

<Footnote from vmoseley:

Russian marches and Maypoles notwithstanding, it was a long held
tradition in my family that on the first of May, a young man would bring
flowers *in secret* to the woman he sought to marry. It was soon revised
to a children's game, where we would make the little paper vases and
fill them with lilacs or tulips or any flowers available and put them on
the doors of friends and relatives.>

From fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk Mon Jan 06 05:54:27 1997
See part one for disclaimers.

Inherently Given.

by Michelle Hiley and Vickie Moseley.
fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk, vmoseley@fgi.net

Part Twenty. I'm Going To Mother's.

The safe house.
May 16th 1997.
9:00 pm.

Dana Scully had her arm firmly around her husband's substantial waist,
but he still wasn't putting any weight on her. "Mulder, give it up and
just *lean* on me, for God's sakes," she growled.

"I will not! I'll crush you, Scully. I weigh a ton. I'm fine, I just
need, aghhhh....." He stumbled through the door and landed with a
creaking groan on one of the kitchen dinette chairs. "These things
weren't meant to hold this much weight," he grumbled. The red haired
woman before him all but ignored his disgruntled state. She was busy
untying his sneaker laces and pulling off his shoes.

"I told you that you'd been on your feet too long," she chided. She held
up his foot so that he could see past his bulging midriff to his ankles.
"I've seen smaller watermelon," she added, a definite undertone of
disgust coloring her voice.

He glared at her and pulled his foot out of her hand. "Thanks,
*sweetheart*," he growled and gingerly rose to his feet. He was sitting
again in a second. "Shit," he exclaimed.

"Don't even try to walk on them for a while. And put them up on the
other chair. It's the only way to get the swelling to go down," she
said, getting up and getting a glass from the cupboard. She poured him a
full twelve ounces of milk and sat it in front of him, accompanied by a
oval shaped pink pill. He glared down at the objects in front of him,
making no move to handle either of them.

"Mulder, drink the milk and take the vitamin," she said sweetly, or as
'sweetly' as she could manage from between gritted teeth.

"No."

"Mulder, what has gotten into you today?" she cried. "You've been in a
foul mood since you woke up this morning. Now, you know what the doctor
said...."

"Screw you! I heard the damn doctor. And I don't want any milk. I hate
milk. I may never look a cow in the face again!" He folded his arms
across his chest, resting them on his stomach and let out a puff of
breath.

Scully tossed her head back and rolled her eyes. He was so infuriating
at times. And the times had been getting closer and closer together. She
knew it was going to be rough on him. No other man had ever done what he
was doing. <Maybe God was right. Men just can't take motherhood,> she
thought ruefully as she took the glass of milk and poured the contents
into the carton in the refrigerator, then rinsed the glass and filled it
with an equal amount of orange juice. She placed this in front of him
with an upturned eyebrow, waiting for the next complaint.

"Is that the calcium added crap you bought?" he asked, scowling at the
glass.

"Mulder, orange juice is orange juice. What the hell difference does it
make? There's probably enough fertilizers in it to grow turnips in your
intestines, so just drink it and take the pill, please," she pleaded.

"I don't want orange juice," he said evenly. She hated when he did this.
He was being difficult just to be, well, difficult.

She tried to rein in her anger. He wasn't feeling well. The pregnancy
was harder than they had expected. The doctor assured her that
everything was going well, but she was getting worried that Mulder
seemed to be having more discomfort than women she had known at this
point in gestation. To put it plainly, some days he could barely get out
of bed, he felt so awful. His ankles were constantly swollen, his hips
and back were having trouble adjusting to the added weight of the baby.
Muscles that on most men remained firm and taut were being stretched
beyond their capacities and were making sure he knew that. And he hadn't
been sleeping well, troubled by nightmares that he refused to share with
her. In short, he was miserable. And there was very little she could do
but be nice to him and help him get through it.

"Mulder, what do you want? You name it, I'll get it for you," she said
and tried for a smile. It almost worked.

He regarded her for a moment before speaking. Finally, he looked her
dead in the eyes. "I want....a beer."

That was the last straw. Dana threw up her hands and rolled her eyes.
"Oh, yeah, great idea. Tell you what, why stop at a beer? Let's get a
bottle of rotgut whiskey and get the kid *good* and sloshed!"

He was getting red in the face, but Dana wasn't noticing. She stalked
out of the room, her patience at an end. He followed.

"You wanta know what *else* I want, Scully?" he taunted. "I want my
couch! I want my couch and my TV and my VCR and my TAPES, Scully! I want
my tapes!" He watched in satisfaction as she froze in her tracks. He
liked the reaction, so he let his emotions carry him forward.

"And I want potato chips, Scully. I want meat, *red* meat. *Cow* meat,
Scully. No more of this 'chicken' and 'fish' and 'brain food' crap
you've been making. And SEEDS, Scully! It's been forever since I've had
sunflower seeds," he cried, pinning her against the wall between his
arms and staring her down.

"Too much salt," she spat out at him and ducked under one of his arms to
continue down the hallway.

"And you know what I really want, Scully?" he shouted at her. "I want to
go to a bar and pick up the first woman I see and have mad, passionate
sex with her in some hotel that rents by the hour and not even ask her
name!" He heard the words ringing in the dimly lit hallway, but couldn't
quite believe that they had come from his own mouth.

"So what's stopping you?!" she shouted and ran upstairs into their
bedroom, slamming the door so hard that it shook on its hinges.

*****

Three hours later. (Midnight).

Dana woke up, her pillow still slightly damp from her tears. It took her
a moment to remember why she was crying. Then it all came back. A stupid
argument. From the tone of his voice, she knew Mulder hadn't meant any
of what he said. Well, he probably *did* want some sunflower seeds, and
maybe, if she got the unsalted kind, she could indulge him a little.
Ignoring her own creaking body, she pulled herself off the bed and
walked over to the bedroom door. The sound of the knob turning echoed
off the empty hallway walls. Except for her own footsteps, the house was
silent. That was strange. Mulder liked 'white noise' - if it wasn't the
television, it was the stereo or radio or something. <Maybe he fell
asleep on the couch,> she reasoned and wandered downstairs into the
living room, ready to kiss and make up.

The living room was empty. As was the kitchen, the hall, the three other
bedrooms and both bathrooms. Was he out in the backyard at midnight? It
was when she checked the yard that she noticed their car was missing.

"Shit!" she said angrily.

She went back into the kitchen and saw the note, taped to the cookie jar
in the middle of the table.

"I've gone to Mom's. Don't wait up."

*****

Interstate 95, somewhere in Delaware.
May 16th 1997.
10:30 pm.

Mulder pulled the car out of the gas station and made his way back onto
the interstate. The six pack of beer he'd just bought was sitting on the
seat next to him, along with a copy of Playboy and some magazine that
he'd never seen before, but the airbrushed photo of the woman on the
front told him all he needed to know about the contents. He glanced over
at the objects sitting there almost as if at any moment they would grow
teeth and bite him. But something foggy took hold of his mind and he
reached over one-handed, pulled a beer out of the plastic ring, popped
the top and took a big swig.

Then immediately spat it out all over the steering wheel.

What the hell was he doing?!

Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. With a feeling of pure
disgust, he tossed the open beer out the window of the speeding car and
a few seconds later, the rest of the six-pack and the two magazines
followed. He felt a brief twinge of guilt at the crime he was
committing, but if some bored highway patrolman pulled him over, he
would gladly take the $500 ticket as just punishment. He just didn't
want to be in the same car as those items.

What was happening? Why had he got so angry at Dana? He barely
remembered the argument. That alone frightened him, usually he
remembered every second of his day. Not today, though. For several days
now, he'd have brief moments of forgetfulness. He'd put it down to being
preoccupied. But with what? He slept most of the day, if he did have any
energy, he used it watching television, mostly the all sports channels.
And why did he get mad at Dana? <She was hovering,> a bitter voice in
his mind niggled at him. But was it hovering, or was she really just
being concerned for his, no, their welfare?

He was getting so confused. All he really wanted to do was get to Mom's
house. It was calling him, like a beacon in the night.

*****

Greenwich, Connecticut.
Mrs. Mulder's residence.
May 17th 1997.
1:00 am.

"No, Dana I haven't seen him. Now tell me, exactly what happened?"
Mulder's mother asked, concern heavy in her voice. She hadn't seen her
son and daughter-in-law since winter, although they had called
frequently. She knew they had busy lives, with their jobs and being
newlyweds and with Dana expecting. It was a shock, to say the least,
when her daughter-in-law called her, frantic, looking for her son, after
not having seen them for so long.

Dana sniffed and blew her nose. She had been crying for the last hour.
Calling his mother was a long shot, she knew that. Mulder hadn't told
his mother the truth about the baby, and was going to let his mother
think that Dana had carried their child, once the baby was born. They
had made an occasional phone call, but nothing other than just passed
pleasantries, and Mrs Mulder had been lead to believe that the safe
house was a "holiday home", and that they spent most of their time in
Washington. Now, Dana had thrown caution to the winds in an effort to
find Fox. She was no longer angry, just very, very worried about her
husband. But she still didn't feel she could confide everything to his
mother. She didn't think he would, either, but his note had said 'I've
gone to Mom's'. All she wanted now was to make sure he was all right.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you so late. We had a fight," she finally
confessed, holding the phone tight to her ear. "It was silly, really.
Just a little spat that all married couples have, I suppose. I went to
the bedroom and fell asleep. When I woke up, three hours later, he was
gone," she sniffed again. God, she hated crying all the time. It seemed
like that was all she did these days. "And his cell phone isn't on."

"But why would you think he'd come here?" Mrs. Mulder asked innocently.
"I've not seen him in months. Did you check your office? I'm sure I
don't have to remind you how much of a workaholic he is sometimes," she
smiled. "He might be there, even at this time."

"No," Dana assured her. "I don't think he'd have dared go into the
office. And I'd have heard if he did." Then, realizing how that must
have sounded, she added. "We're on vacation for a couple of weeks. You
know how vacation time builds up on government jobs. If we don't take
the time, we lose it. Our boss told us to take the time or else. So if
he showed up at work he'd have been ordered home by security, and I'd
have been told to try keeping him there." <Nice save,> she congratulated
herself.

"Nothing's wrong with the baby, is it, dear?" his mother asked, her
voice starting to betray signs of worry.

"Oh, no," Dana hastened to say. "I'm fine, the baby's fine, I just need
to find Fox." Dana could hear the sigh of relief over the phone.

"Well, then you might want to call his friends. I know my son, Dana.
He's not the type to just 'run off'," Mrs. Mulder said confidently. "I'm
sure he's somewhere safe."

Dana bit her lip to keep from screaming. <I hope I know my child better
than this woman knows hers,> she prayed.

*****

Margaret Scully's country home.
May 17 1997.
9:30 am.

Maggie Scully had risen early, breakfasted and was engrossed in making
banana bread when the doorbell rang. Concentrating on her task, she
didn't hear it at first, until it was joined by insistent knocking. She
quickly made her way to the door, drying her hands on the towel tucked
into her jeans.

She opened the door to find her very pregnant son-in-law, teetering
dangerously on her doorstep. His eyes were half closed, and from the
smell, he'd indulged in at least one beer, most of which was probably on
his shirt and sweat shorts.

"Fox? What in the world?" she asked, as he pushed past her, tossing a
pillowcase with what looked like just laundered clothing onto the sofa.
She had been expecting him for some time, since Dana had called in the
middle of the night, frantic to find him. When she glanced at her watch,
she realized he'd really made pretty good time on the road.

"Mom, can I stay here?" The look of absolute sorrow in his eyes tore at
her heart. But there were more important matters right now, and one of
them was getting him off his feet.

"Start at the beginning," Maggie begged after she had settled her
son-in-law down on the sofa, propped on pillows and with his feet on the
coffee table. She'd have to wash the sofa cover to get the 'brewery
smell' out of it, but at the moment, that was the furthest thing from
her mind.

"I can't do this," he said evenly. "I thought I could, but I can't. It's
not working, Mom. She hates me. I'm fat, and ugly and she has to do all
the work. I can't even help with the groceries. And we haven't made
lo--," he stopped quickly, grasping for another subject. "She cries all
the time. She doesn't think I hear her, but I do. She's not happy. And
neither am I."

"Fox, have you been drinking?" Maggie asked, but she made sure the look
on her face was not one of condemnation.

Mulder shook his head slowly no. "I bought a six pack at a convenience
store, popped one open, took one swig and threw the rest out the
window." He looked down at his shirt with a mixture of sadness and
amusement. "I'm not that graceful these days. I spilled half of it on my
shirt on the way out. I'm not drunk, Mom, I'm just tired. Tired
and....scared, Mom. I get these thoughts in my head, and I just get so
mad and I don't even know why." He looked up at her with a look of pure
sadness.

Maggie smiled at him and stood up, taking his hand and pulling him into
a standing position beside her. "Fox, you are exhausted. More than
anything right now, you need to sleep. Let's get you upstairs and to bed
for a nap. I have a feeling things will seem a whole lot better after
you've gotten some sleep." Mulder didn't look at all convinced, but was
too tired to say no.

As soon as Maggie had him settled in the upstairs bedroom, she headed
for the phone. She called the safe house first, but there was no answer.
She tried Dana's cell phone, but it was switched off, Maggie guessed her
daughter was too distracted to remember it. She was about to call
Assistant Director Skinner when the phone in her hand began to ring. It
was Mulder's mother.

"Dana called me last night. I guess she told you Fox was missing? She's
frantic, Margaret. I didn't know what to tell her. She didn't tell me
who she was going to call next, but I think she may be trying to contact
some of Fox's friends."

"Well, I have Fox here with me," Maggie assured her. "He's fine, but
he's exhausted. I've got him laying down."

"Margaret, what is going on? I mean, Dana was convinced that Fox would
come to me, but I have no idea why. I've talked to him several times,
but I haven't seen either one of them since the wedding. Dana assured me
the baby was all right, but she sounded so worried about Fox." Mrs.
Mulder's concern was back again, now that she was talking to Maggie.

Maggie bit her lip to keep from telling the other woman the whole story.
"It's just a lovers' quarrel, I'm sure of it. They're both a little
emotional right now, with the baby due soon. I think it's harder on them
than they thought it would be. I'll call her cell phone one more time
and see if I can get her. She's probably on her way here right now. And
I'll make sure they call you, to let you know everything is all right,
OK?" Fortunately, Mrs. Mulder seemed satisfied with that.

Maggie didn't have long to wait for her daughter. She arrived just three
hours later. Maggie had finally raised her on her cell phone, to
discover that she was already on the road to her mother's, but they
hadn't spoken much on the phone, aside from Maggie assuring her that Fox
was safe and asleep in her brother's old room. That was enough for Dana,
at least for the time being. But Maggie sensed the situation was far
from over and put a pot of soup on the stove. It was going to be a long
day, she was certain.

*****

May 17th 1997.
12:35 am

"Mom, is he up, yet?" Dana asked, not even stopping to give her mother a
kiss 'hello'.

Maggie smiled indulgently. "No, sweetheart, he's still asleep. What did
you expect, he drove all night long to get here. And you did, too. Why
don't you go upstairs and lie down with him. I'm sure he'll sleep better
with you near him, anyway," Maggie said, and gently pushed her daughter
toward the stairway.

"I don't know, Mom. He was pretty mad yesterday," Dana hesitated.

"Yes, I'm sure. And he was pretty miserable this morning when he showed
up on my doorstep. So go up there, wake him up and make up. And don't
either of you come down those stairs until you accomplish that, hear me,
Dana?" she said in mock gruffness. Dana nodded solemnly and trudged up
the stairs, reminding her mother more of a teenager who didn't want to
finish their homework than a wife going to bed with her husband.

Dana pushed open the door and regarded the back of the man sleeping on
the bed. He hadn't even bothered to take off his running shoes, he had
collapsed on the bed and fallen asleep immediately, from the looks of
him. The way he was curled, she could tell he was hugging one pillow and
had one crooked under his topmost leg, to keep himself and the baby
balanced. The sight of him made her heart melt. Quietly, she slipped off
her shoes and climbed onto the bed with him. She started to put her arm
around him, but he shifted and rolled over awkwardly to face her.

"What took you so long?" he whispered hoarsely, with a slightly amused
expression.

"I got side-tracked," she retorted. "I forgot which 'Mom' you would run
to." She snuggled close to him and wrapped his shoulders in her arms.
"And you took the car!"

He grunted in surprise. It hadn't occurred to him he'd left her
stranded. "How did you get here?"

"I took a cab into town and borrowed a car from the local FBI field
office. Had to get Skinner to call and threaten them, told them I was on
a drug bust and my partner was away following a lead."

"Well done." He held her close, trying to find the words.

"Mulder? Do we need to talk?"

"No. But I need to apologize," he said firmly. "God, Dana, sweetheart, I
don't know what came over me! I mean, I would never....you've got to
know that I'd never, ever...."

She cut him off with a finger to his lips. "Shhhhh. You know by now that
I trust you, Fox Mulder. I know it's hard on you. You didn't want to run
off and get 'laid', Fox. You just sort of wish, well, maybe that you
could have a little of your old life back. I remember when Bill's wife
Karen was pregnant the first time. She used to pull all of her really
slinky dresses out of the closet, lay them out on her bed, and cry. She
thought she'd never fit in them again. She thought she'd be huge
forever. I think you're just having some of those same kinds of
feelings. Only for you, well, you've still got a nice dose of
testosterone swimming around in your veins, so there's no way to tell
exactly *how* that might be affecting your emotions." She kissed him
gently on the nose and he moved his head so that he connected with her
mouth. The next kiss was anything but gentle. It was hungry.

Dana let herself get caught up in the kiss. It was like it had been at
Christmas and New Year, back when making love was even possible between
them. She rolled over and he leaned down on her, his hands moving all
over her body and it felt so good and right and then...a swift kick from
his stomach and all activity ground to an immediate halt.

Dana started to giggle at the 'little intrusion', until she looked into
her husband's face. He had gone sheet white and his expression was one
of tremendous pain. Slowly, he rolled off her and back on his side, but
he curled up hugging his stomach with an agonized moan.

"Fox? Fox! What is it? What's the matter?" she demanded, all but leaping
over him so she could see his face. She landed on the floor next to the
bed, kneeling down so that she could see him better.

In the short seconds that had elapsed, Mulder's face was covered with a
fine layer of sweat. His eyes were clenched shut against the pain and he
was breathing in shallow gasps. "Hurts....Scully.... please..." he
begged. In a instant, Dana was on her feet, running into the hallway.

"MOM! Mom, get the phone up here fast!" she shouted down to the kitchen
and then ran back to Mulder's side. He was panting now, not really able
to get any air into his lungs. She was afraid he was going to pass out
at any moment.

"Dana, what's the matter?" Maggie asked as she skidded to a stop at the
bedroom doorway. A quick look at the bed and she tossed Dana the
cordless phone, then ran over to take her daughter's place next to her
stricken son-in-law. "Fox, honey, can you hear me? It's Mom,
sweetheart." Over her words of comfort, Maggie could hear Dana talking
to Dr. Robert. "Dana's talking to the doctor, now, Fox. Just hang in
there. We're all here to help you, sweetheart, you know that."

Dana moved her mother aside and grabbed at Mulder's throat, staring at
her watch and counting the beats of his heart. "120 plus, Doctor.
Breathing labored. Pain in the lower quadrants, both of them, from the
looks of it." She was silent for a moment. "No, I have no idea." She
squatted down to be on the same level as Mulder. "Fox, have you passed
any blood? Please, love, it's very, very important." He slitted his eyes
open and shook his head in a jerky no. "No, Doctor, not yet. This is too
early, my god, what are we going to do?" She moved into the hallway to
finish making arrangements to have Mulder moved to somewhere with
medical facilities.

Maggie looked down at her son-in-law and let the tears slide down her
cheeks. She loved this young man, almost as much as if she had given
birth to him herself. And suddenly, this little 'adventure' didn't seem
quite so funny. <Dear God, what have they done? What have they done,
being so foolish to assume they could dabble in Your works? This was a
horrible mistake, God, but please remember, he didn't to this to
himself. And please, please remember there are *two* lives at stake
here, Fox and the baby. Please don't be angry with Fox and the baby.
Please, _please_ keep them safe.>

Dana touched her mother's shoulder gently to get her attention. "Mom,
Dr. Robert thinks we should take Fox to Bethesda Naval Hospital. He can
get his team together quickly and they can use the security level to
keep privacy intact." There were tears in Dana's eyes, but Maggie could
tell how much her daughter was struggling to remain calm. "I'm sorry,
Mom. You can't come with us. The best I can do is ask you to wait by the
phone so I can call you when we know something."

"You know I will, baby. I'll be right here waiting," Maggie said and
gave her daughter a hug. "You just take care of Fox, and don't worry. I
have a feeling everything will work out just fine."

Dana nodded and then hurried back to sit with her husband. In a matter
of minutes, three paramedics had Mulder loaded in the ambulance.
Margaret could only stand in the doorway to her home and continue to
pray.

Mulder was in pain and it was driving Dana crazy. She was pushed into a
corner of the ambulance, the paramedic riding in the back was closest to
Mulder. He had attached a blood pressure cuff and was taking a reading.

"Ma'am, what's the nature of the problem," the young man asked, not
taking his eyes off the B/P monitor as he spoke. He looked at her when
the silence lasted too long to be easily explained. "Ma'am?"

"How much did Dr. Robert tell you?" Dana asked quietly, glancing up to
the front of the ambulance and noting that the other two paramedics
seemed too preoccupied to be listening.

"I know this is an unusual case. I don't know all the details," the
young man answered honestly. "But at the moment, he's losing pressure
fast and I should probably be looking for internal bleeding. Now if you
could give me some help here, I think it will help him a lot. Doc said
you're a MD, too, or was he wrong?"

"No, he was right," Dana answered. She chewed on her lip, all the while
watching the contortions of Mulder's body. He looked like an extremely
overweight man who was undergoing a bad case of indigestion, but that
diagnosis could cost him, and their baby, their lives. In order to help
them, she needed to enlist the aid of this young man. "What's your
name?" she asked.

"Pharmacist's mate Alan Redmond, ma'am," he said and she could almost
hear the salute that he would have given her, had his hands not been
otherwise occupied keeping Fox alive.

"Well, Redmond, what I'm going to tell you is probably going to make you
question my sanity, but before this ride is through, I'm certain you'll
question your own," Dana said and then quickly explained her husband's
condition and why the symptoms were so life threatening.

Redmond wasted no time and dug through the equipment box, finally
pulling out what Dana recognized as a fetal monitor belt. "Let's see how
the little fella's taking all this," Redmond said, fastening the belt
around Mulder's middle and attaching it to the box above the gurney. To
his credit, the young man asked no questions that weren't related to the
current crisis. Dana noted that all three men must have been hand picked
by Dr. Robert.

The fetal monitor showed the baby's heartbeat at 75 beats per minute,
far too slow for seven months gestation. Dana held her breath. The
thought crossed her mind that she might lose the baby, or Fox, or both.
Her chest constricted as she held back a sob. It would do absolutely no
good to anyone if she lost control now.

It had been a while since her three month stint in maternity in medical
school, but she had been 'boning up' on the literature lately. She
pulled down the professional calm that she often used during emergencies
and ordered an IV with blood substitutes and medications to increase the
blood pressure in both Mulder and the baby. Then she sat back and prayed
she'd done the right thing.

*****

Bethesda Navel Hospital.
May 17th 1997.
1:40 pm.

Dr. Robert was waiting at the ER entrance and led the gurney through the
maze of hallways to a set of double doors marked 'Level 3 Quarantine'.
Before she could enter, Dana had to scrub and gown.

"You aren't going to take the baby now, are you?" she asked as soon as
she joined Dr. Robert. He was doing a sonogram on the baby and was
making some calculations on a small laptop nearby.

"I sure don't want to. Look, Dana," he said, pointing to a vein that was
feeding blood to the area of the intestine that was serving as a
makeshift placenta. "Right there. I think that might be our bleeder." He
looked grimly at the picture on the screen and shook his head. "Leslie,"
he said to a nurse standing nearby that Dana hadn't noticed. "Tell the
guys to get ready. I think we can stop the bleeding without taking the
baby. It's only about 4 lbs right now and the lungs are nowhere near
ready," he added for Dana's benefit. He turned back to the nurse before
she left. "And get Mrs. 'Taylor' a place where she can stretch out. This
may take a while."

****

Bethesda Naval Hospital.
May 17th 1997.
6:00 pm.

Dana had paced the hallways so long that the wax on the floor was losing
its gloss. Leslie had been by every half hour to let her know how things
were progressing. Fox was under general anesthesia. They were repairing
the vein using a tiny incision and a specially designed laser, but it
was still time consuming because they were having to keep the blood flow
to the baby at a constant level. Dana understood all of it, the
procedure, the precautions, but it didn't stop her from being anxious
and frightened.

Her stomach grumbled loudly and she realized she hadn't eaten anything
since lunch on Friday. It was now dinner time on Saturday. She was near
some vending machines, so she dug through her purse to find her wallet
and get a sandwich from the machines. That accomplished, she put her
wallet back in her purse and her hand caught on a small object that she
had tucked in there.

A small silver rattle.

Fox had ordered it from one of those home shopper networks. It was a
small thing, but he saw it and wanted to buy it for the baby. It had
come in the mail as she was going out the door to shop for groceries and
she had stuck it in her purse so as not to lose it. Now, it lay in her
hand, catching the overhead florescent lights and shining with a
brilliance she hadn't thought possible. The little rattle, such a simple
thing. Usually played with and discarded early in childhood. One day it
would invoke memories. To Dana, right then, it gave her hope.

"Dana."

She looked up to see Dr. Robert. He was still wearing surgical scrubs,
but he had taken the cap off and his graying hair was mussed from the
experience. He looked tired, but happy as he pulled up a chair next to
her.

"It's over. Baby and Fox are doing fine, just fine. We were able to stop
the bleeding and not compromise the, well, I hate to call it 'intestine'
but that's what it is. I don't expect any more problems until delivery,
provided Fox follows orders." He gave her a serious look. "I want him
completely off his feet, Dana. This was a close call. The synthetic
hormones that are slowly releasing in his system are at open warfare
with his own male hormones. It's confusing the hell out of his immune
system, trying to figure out which is the 'invader'. They suppressed his
immune response, but now that the baby is getting bigger, well it's a
big mess. But we need time. The baby needs at least four more weeks to
let the lungs develop fully."

Dana sat there for a moment in shocked silence. "No wonder he's been
such a bastard lately," she murmured, then blushed when she realized the
doctor heard every word. "I mean, he's been so.....emotional," she
hastened to correct herself.

"No, you were probably right the first time," Dr. Robert laughed. "Think
of it, Dana. He's having all the emotions attributed to pregnancy AND
all the emotions of an expectant father. It's a wonder the poor guy
isn't suffering from multiple personality disorder."

Dana nodded glumly. "Can I see him? Is he awake?"

"Just barely. Go on in. I want to keep him here tonight. Then, tomorrow,
we'll make arrangements to chopper him up to the safe house. There's too
much traffic, even on the quarantine floor, for me to want to keep him
here for long. Besides, he'll be more comfortable at home." Dr. Robert
pulled her to her feet and gave Dana a quick hug. "This, too, will pass,
my dear. In sixteen years, when he's sitting up at half past midnight,
ready to call out the Bureau to find his wayward child, I'm sure he
won't even remember this."

Dana laughed softly at the thought of Mulder, with a shotgun over his
lap, waiting for their son or daughter to walk through the living room
door. <Oh, God, what if this baby inherits my brothers' penchant for
getting into trouble,> she moaned silently. That thought, too, made her
chuckle. <I can only hope,> she added silently.

*****

6:15 pm

Dana pushed the door open and stepped into the private room. Since he
really wasn't in quarantine, it wasn't necessary to wear protective
clothing around him, so she was just wearing the gown and not the mask.
Mulder was laying on his side, toward her, his eyes closed, but not
clenched in pain any longer. He blinked his eyes open when he heard her
footsteps on the tile floor.

"Hey there," he said hoarsely.

"Hey, yourself," she returned and took his hand up to her mouth to place
a soft kiss on his palm. "You really like to stop my heart, don't you?"

"Ah, c'mon, Dana. This was nothing. Not a mutant or MIB in sight. What
was there to be scared of?" he asked, shifting slightly so he could look
at her more closely.

She wondered if she'd been fair to him, encouraging him to go through
with this. Much as she loved him and their child, some days she wished
he hadn't had to go through all this, even if it meant they'd never
admitted to each other how they felt.

Then she looked at him. He had wrapped a hand protectively around his
stomach, and was smiling down at it. Then he raised his eyes to hers,
and she saw her own feelings for him and their child reflected back at
her, as he took her hand and placed it on top of his stomach, resting
his own hand atop hers.

"We're all still here, Dana," he whispered, as he gripped her hand and
closed his eyes.

She brought his hand up to her lips and placed a kiss there again. As
relieved tears slipped down her face, she sat next to him on the bed and
watched him drift off to sleep.

End part twenty.

From fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk Mon Jan 06 05:55:25 1997
See part one for disclaimers.

Inherently Given.

by Vickie Moseley and Michelle Hiley.
vmoseley@fgi.net, fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk

Part Twenty One. The Voice Of Doom.

Offices of the Lone Gunmen.
May 24th 1997.
3:30 pm

Byers listened intently to the voice on the phone, nodding grimly.
"Zeke, I don't know what to say," he said at last, a tone of
defensiveness in his own voice. "I thought Frohike e-mailed that to you
last week. He told me he had the article finished." Byers switched the
phone to his other ear and listened some more, then shifted some papers
on his desk. "What?" he asked suddenly. "Nothing from Langly, either? I
don't believe this! We have to mail this sucker _out_ in two days, how
the hell do they expect to get it printed if they haven't given you the
articles?! No, I know you can't answer that, Zeke, it was a rhetorical
question. No, rhetorical, not historical it means....ah hell, it doesn't
matter what it means, I've got two necks to wring. I'll talk to you in
an hour. Yeah, bye." He hung up the phone and fumed.

"Frohike!" Byers yelled at the top of his voice. That alone should have
alerted the little man to trouble. Byers was the 'official' publisher of
the magazine that barely paid for their conspiracy addictions and seldom
had to invoke his power. Usually, he just nodded mildly when his two
cohorts came to him with their outrageous ideas for various articles.
They did all the work, did all the research and wrote the articles. He
read them over, toned down or punched up as needed and that was the end
of it. Lately, he had been tied up doing a series of articles on a nerve
gas dump in Western Oregon and he hadn't even bothered to edit their
stories, relying on them to do it themselves. But the one demand was
that all articles reach the printer 48 hours before the magazine was due
to print. 48 hours was two hours ago and the printer was now informing
him that the June issue was about to be printed with all blank pages.

A second "Frohike!" failed to produce the required result. Byers got up
from his chair and went over to the other side of the office to find the
small 'technogeek' that he called his friend. "FROHIKE!" he yelled
again. Finally, a semi-balding head peeked over a computer terminal.

"Yo," the little gnome replied. "Something wrong?" he asked innocently.

"Damn straight something's wrong! That was Zeke, the printer. He doesn't
have your article. Or Langly's for that matter. Where is he, by the way
and what the hell is going on here!? We do have a magazine to run, you
know!"

Frohike blinked. He'd never seen his friend this angry before. Well,
once, but then how was Frohike to know that the woman he was stalking
was Byers' sister? And besides, that incident was long forgotten and she
hadn't even bothered to press charges.

"What's the problem?" Frohike asked again.

"It's the 24th, that's the problem," Byers explained, trying to regain
his composure. "The 24th. Deadline. You know. The magazine. If Zeke
doesn't get your article and the one Langly was working on, we'll have a
two page magazine this month and I doubt our subscribers will find that
very funny."

"Oh," the little man said sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I sort of lost track
of time. Gimme a couple of hours and I'll have that article, I promise,"
he said and quickly went back to his computer, signing off as fast as he
could and pulling up the word processing program. Byers stood over him
and watched him work for a minute before shaking his head and going off
to look for the other 'prodigal' writer. He found him in the next room.

"Damn it," Langly exclaimed, twisting the joystick in his hands and
grimacing almost as if it was a physical battle, rather than just a
cyber one. "Shit, when did you get this good?" he demanded of some
unknown opponent. He sighed and let out a breath in frustration as the
death's head grinned at him from the screen. "That makes it four in a
row," he said with sorrow.

"Langly! Where is that article on crop circles near the Illinois
Statehouse?" Byers asked impatiently. He could tell his friend had been
'gold bricking' again, playing computer games instead of working.

Langly looked up, surprised. "Is it the 24th already?" he asked in
shock.

Byers made a great show of pointing out the date on the computer screen.
Langly grimaced again. "Shit. Sorry, Byers. I've got it all finished,
really. It's all up here, in my head. I just need....."

"A couple of hours, yeah, I've heard it already," Byers said with
disgust. "Look, Langly, I need that article. I want it done, and done
now. OK?"

"You got it, chief," Langly said with a mock salute and turned on the
word processing program to begin the article.

The office settled into silence once again.

Byers sat down and remembered that he still had his editorial notes to
compile. It was the last article for the magazine and he usually did it
after he had read the other articles, so that he could mention them in
it, a sort of 'promo' of the issue. Since the articles were still in the
writing phase, he had to do something different. He'd seen an
interesting questionnaire that might just fit on the page, something
about a popular television show and how you could tell how paranoid you
were on a one to ten scale. He went on-line to find the site so he could
download it.

His mail icon was blinking. He had new mail. <Well, it won't hurt to
read a couple of messages,> he thought.

Two hours later, Frohike finished the last of his article. Langly had
his done only five minutes later. They faxed them both to Zeke and
relaxed. Their part was done, they could go back to what they had been
doing. Not ten minutes elapsed when the phone rang. Langly jumped to
answer it. "Lone Gunman," he said and turned on the tape. "Oh, hi, Zeke.
Did you get the crop circle stuff? Yeah, and Frohike's article? Great.
So what's the problem? No kidding. No, I had no idea. Yeah, I'll make
sure he gets it to you. Thanks, Zeke. Later."

Langly crossed the room and whispered something to Frohike, and they
both went and stood grinning behind their well dressed associate. He was
engrossed in the tug of wills taking place on the computer screen in
front of him. Frohike shook his head in amusement and picked up the
phone, while Langly watched Byers who was still completely oblivious to
their actions. Frohike put the phone between himself and Langly so that
both of them could hear the conversation. Finally, someone picked up on
the other end.

"Agent Scully. Please go unplug the computer in Mulder's room. Tell him
Byers can't play anymore, he has to do his homework," Frohike said with
a wink to Langly. "And Dana....this baby can't come *too* soon. At this
rate, we probably won't have a July issue, either."

Dana walked into the bedroom and regarded her husband. He was sitting up
in bed, his 'doctor imposed prison' as he referred to it, with his
laptop perched precariously on his stomach. He looked up as she entered
and turned his head to accept the kiss she placed on his cheek.

"Who was that on the phone?" he asked, still engrossed in the game on
the computer screen.

"Langly and Frohike. You've been shut down, my love. They have to get
the magazine out and it seems that you are causing some delays," she
said with a wry grin.

He looked down at the screen as it went blank and frowned. "Damn it. And
I was winning," he whined.

Dana sat on the end of the bed. "Hey, I thought you were going to do
some research into your Satanic cult thesis. You are so close to your
doctorate, Fox. You should take this time to finish it. Then you
wouldn't feel like sitting in bed is such a waste," she pointed out with
a helpful tone to her voice.

"Yeah, you're right. I should do that," he sighed with resignation.
"I'll be fine, sweetheart. Really. I'm just a little bored, that's all."
He pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it softly. "Go on back to
what you were doing. I'll be fine, you don't have to entertain me," he
said with a grin.

She ruffled his hair, placed a kiss on top of the tousled mass and left
the room to go back to her own work.

"Now," he said to the walls when he was sure that his wife was out of
earshot. "I wonder if Skinner is on-line?"

End part twenty one.

From fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk Mon Jan 06 05:56:31 1997
See part one for disclaimers.

Inherently Given.

by Michelle Hiley and Vickie Moseley.
fbi_basement@hiley.demon.co.uk, vmoseley@fgi.net

Part Twenty Two. The Stork Only Rings Once.

The safe house.
June 24th 1997.
5:20 pm.

Pace. Pace. Pace.

Dana Scully reached the far wall of the living room, and turned to cross
the room again. Six paces one way. Turn. Six paces the other way. Turn.
In the doorway, Maggie hid her smile as she waited for the kettle to
boil.

"Dana, if you don't stop that, you're going to make yourself dizzy," her
mother warned.

"But where *is* he?" Dana growled as she turned the corner and came back
across the floor.

Dr Robert had called that morning, having received the results of the
bloodwork and ultrasounds he'd performed two days before, and announced
it was time to "get this show on the road". Fox had calmly accepted the
fact, and had gone back to playing computer games with Byers over the
internet, but Dana had been unable to hide her nerves, and an
exasperated Fox had finally asked Maggie to take his wife downstairs and
stop her hovering. Now she watched as Dana, the normally cool and
composed doctor, tried to deal with a situation she felt no control
over.

"I just can't work out what's taking them so long!" Dana spun on her
heel, and faced her mother. She knew she should be happy. But in all
honesty, she was scared out of her mind. For the past two days she had
been reading every OB posting on the internet, when she could get Mulder
off the modem from one of his nightly games of Doom III. She had watched
vid clips of C-sections, she had read all the possible complications and
their treatment. She felt like she could probably perform the surgery in
her sleep. But she wasn't going to be the one doing it.

Dr. Robert had brought up the whole team that last time he'd come, and
Fox and Dana had met most of them briefly when Fox had experienced the
complications that required him to be bedridden. They all seemed
extremely competent and caring. And she didn't know any of them from
Adam.

What if one of them was working for the consortium? It was a fear that
she had never raised with either her husband or the Assistant Director.
What if this was all a plot to kill him, in a truly vile manner? It
would be so easy. A slip of the knife and a punctured artery that would
result in rapid blood loss. They were performing the surgery in the
middle of their spare bedroom, for God's sakes! It wasn't like they had
a blood bank nearby. If he started bleeding, it would be minutes before
the helicopter could get them out and on the way to Bethesda Naval
again. And by that time, she could lose him.

Both of them, she reminded herself. Both of them - Fox and the baby.
They had tried to hold back on decorating the nursery at the safe house.
After all, this wasn't their home. A simple bassinet and a changing
table would have to suffice for the time being. Dana knew that her
mother had taken care of preparing a beautiful nursery at her apartment
back in DC, all in bright primary colors. Dana had ordered most of the
furnishings out of catalogs and off the internet. She couldn't wait to
see it. She could hardly wait to use it all.

But all of that planning could come to only heartbreak if something were
to happen now. How could they assume that this would all come out all
right? It was all preposterous from the outset. Mulder was a man. He was
pregnant. What if the 'back up systems' that had been created inside
Mulder weren't enough to provide all the nourishment the baby needed?
What if problems arose later in life? What if....?

She'd tried not to show her worries to Mulder. Though she didn't know
why she'd bothered. He'd sat there, smug and unconcerned, while she'd
fretted and paced, and tried to control herself, and not show him how
she felt. Her mind went back to the conversation of a few minutes
ago....

"Mulder? You OK?" she'd asked.

He'd nodded, and raised an eyebrow at her pacing. "The Bureau will
charge us for a new carpet if you wear a hole in that one," he'd
commented. "Damn, Byers, you've been practicing," he muttered and
shifted a few keys on his keyboard. "But I've got you now," he said
gleefully, and pounced on the keys with a fury. "Yes! Gotcha, sucker!"

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to get so excited," she'd warned
in a low voice.

"What excited? I'm just playing a game. For God's sakes, Scully, will
you calm down? I mean, you shot me once and you didn't get this upset
about it," he'd pointed out, still not looking up at her.

"I thought we agreed not to mention that little incident," she said
icily.

"And I thought we agreed that we were adults and weren't going to go off
the deep end when the stork came, too," he shot back with a triumphant
grin. "Guess you forgot that part, huh?"

"I am not going off the deep end," she countered. "I'm just..concerned."

"Well stop being concerned. There's nothing to be concerned about." He'd
grinned, and she'd lost it. She had to wipe that smug grin off his face.

"Let's see how cheerful you are when they hook up the IV," she'd
snapped, and immediately felt guilty. Mulder however just stuck his
tongue out at her, as Maggie cautiously poked her head into the room.

"Great!" Mulder said, brightening as he saw his mother-in-law. "Look,
Mom, will you take Dana downstairs please? She's driving me mad."

Dana had given him a look that made it very clear that if he hadn't been
pregnant, he'd have been wearing his teeth as a necklace. Maggie had
gently taken her daughter's arm, and to her surprise Dana hadn't
resisted. Fox had nodded to them to go, saying he'd call if he needed
them. Now she was at a loss to know what to do.

"The kettle's boiled." Maggie's voice cut into her thoughts. "Come into
the kitchen and help me."

Dana dragged her mind away from Mulder and tried to pay attention to
what her mother was doing. "Mom, we don't use boiling water in births
anymore. Not now."

"We do when we are making the father a glass of iced tea," said Maggie
firmly. "I think brewed iced tea is so much better than sun tea. It's
stronger." She lead Dana into the kitchen, and poured the hot tea over
the ice in the metal pitcher, listening to the crackling sound with a
smile. Then she poured the warm tea in a glass filled with ice, and
pressed the glass into Dana's hands.

"Dana, I know. You're worried. But drink this, and stop pacing. It'll be
fine."

Dana looked at her mother in anguish. "How can he be so calm? We talked
about this, he knows what to expect. They'll hook him up to an IV, stick
a catheter in him...then there's the epidural. What if they screw up? He
*insisted* on the epidural, rather than the general!"

Her mother nodded. "Well, he wants to be awake for the birth."

"But he won't even be able to see anything much! Not that he'd want to
see anyway, once they start poking around," Dana grumbled. "And he won't
be able to move his legs for twelve hours! Do you have any idea how he's
going to be, with tubes sticking out of him, unable to move?"

Maggie grinned. "Insufferable I expect."

"And they'll have to cut right across his stomach..." Dana's voice
trailed off as Maggie hugged her.

"I know. I've had Caesareans, remember?"

Dana opened her mouth to reply, when the doorbell rang. Maggie stepped
back as her daughter flew to the door, to admit Dr Robert and his team.
Maggie went into the living room, while Dana ushered them upstairs,
returning briefly to hug her mother again.

"It looks like this is it. You're sure you're OK, waiting down here?"

Maggie nodded. "There are too many people fussing up there as it is.
I'll be fine. I'll get the phone if it rings, and I'll watch a movie.
It'll keep my mind occupied. Tell Fox good luck."

"Tell him yourself," Dana said quietly, and caught her mother's eye.
Together, they followed the medical team upstairs.

"So, Fox are you nervous?" Dr. Robert asked as he started setting out
the instruments they would use to administer the epidural.

"I wasn't until Dana started telling me bedtime stories about
deliveries," he groused. "That settles it. I'm the one who puts the baby
to bed," he shot at her over the doctor's shoulder.

"Dana, are you OK?" Dr. Robert asked as he saw her nervously wringing
her hands.

"Fine, just fine," she said, not very convincingly. "Marc, are you sure
you don't want to do this with a general? I mean, so much can go wrong
with an epi," Dana said, as her gaze fell on the needle that would carry
the medicine into her husband's spine.

"Dana, relax. Epis are the only way to go with a C-section. No worries
about respiration, no fear that the baby gets too much of the anesthetic
- I wouldn't do a C-section under a general now if you held me at
gunpoint," he said with a laugh.

"Don't give her any ideas, Doc," Mulder muttered just loud enough for
Dana to hear. She shot him a vicious look and he quieted immediately. Dr
Robert cleared his throat and looked queryingly at Maggie, unsure
whether she was staying or not.

"We'll be doing the Caesarean now."

Mulder and Scully looked at one another.

"It'll be OK love. I'll be here holding your hand. It won't take long.
And we'll have a beautiful baby afterwards, thanks to you."

Maggie crossed the room and kissed Fox on the forehead. "I'm going to
wait downstairs Fox. This room's crowded enough without me as well. Take
care, OK?"

He nodded, and Maggie could see the nervousness behind his eyes. <He's
not as calm as he looks>. "Sure. Thanks Mom."

Maggie patted her daughter reassuringly, and left the room. Dana put her
hand softly on Mulder's shoulder, and he leaned in against her hand,
both silently apologising to the other.

Dr Robert smiled. "OK, Mulder, here's what's going to happen. Dave here
is going to administer the epidural. It's like an IV...."

"In my spine," Mulder said with a gulp.

"Well, yes, generally speaking. But believe me, it's a safe procedure
and Dave has done thousands of them," Dr. Robert assured him.

"On a guy?" Mulder shot back, eyeing the needle with a great deal more
trepidation than he had earlier.

"Actually, yes. We use epis for all sorts of surgeries these days. OB is
the most common place to find them, but we use it in orthopedics, too,"
Dave answered. "Just relax. Now, let's get you laying on your side.
Dana, why don't you come over here and provide something nice for him to
look at," Dave said with a smile. When he had Mulder on his side he
moved the hospital gown aside and spread something cold on his back.

"That's just betadine. Cleaning up here a little," Dave said, chatting
merrily. Mulder reached out and grasped Dana's hand. He smiled up at her
and gave her a wink.

"Ready to be a mom?" he asked softly.

She nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. "You ready to be a dad?" she
asked him.

"Never more ready," he assured her.

"Just a little stick," Dave announced and Mulder flinched at the pain.
"Hold still for me. That's good, that's good. Arch your back a little
more, Mulder. Good, terrific. OK, a little pressure here," Dave kept up
a running dialog as he administered the medication.

Dana felt Fox's hand clench hers and saw his eyes slam shut against the
pressure. "Are you all right?" she whispered in his ear. His nod was
almost imperceptible.

"OK, all done," Dave said triumphantly. "Great job, Mulder! Here, let me
tape this down and then you can sit up and relax a little while we get
the operating theatre set up. You guys got names picked out?"

"Well, we know it's NOT going to be Fox," Mulder said with a grin as he
adjusted in the bed.

"Gee, only 49,999 more to eliminate," Dave said with a laugh. "Better
get to work on that. We'll need it for the birth certificate."

"We're waiting to see what sex the baby is," Dana explained with a
smile.

"Oh, yeah, I remember. You guys still don't know the sex. You could have
found out months ago, you know."

"We like finding out the old-fashioned way," Mulder said.

"That's the ONLY thing 'old-fashioned' about this birth," Dave laughed
and patted Mulder's shoulder. "You two just try to ignore us while we
make a mess of things," he said and went over to help Dr. Robert and the
rest of the team.

The team became a flurry of activity. In short order, Dana was gowned,
Mulder was draped, and all the members of the team had gone to their
assigned spots, checking instruments and medications. A blood pressure
cuff had been slipped up onto Mulder's arm, as well as an external fetal
monitor.

"We're going to put this right around your neck here," the doctor who
had been introduced as Nate said as he slipped an oxygen mask over
Mulder's head. "If you get dizzy or feel a little faint, just tell me
and I'll put it up where you can use it. We'll probably have it up there
during surgery."

In minutes, Mulder's right arm was secured on a board. A second IV line
was added to the first and he saw the pump next to his head. "What's
that for?" he asked.

"We're gonna give you a little extra something to relax. It's in
addition to the epi. Not to worry, OK? You won't feel a thing," Dave
said.

"Marc, B/P's dropping," a young woman who Marc had called Beth said in a
sotto voce.

"Well, I knew this was going too well," Marc said in mild disgust. "OK,
put the O2 up. Dave, you got a handle on this?"

Nate moved the mask onto Mulder's face, covering his mouth and nose.
Dave was injecting a syringe into the IV line. "Under control, Marc.
Mulder, you might feel a little woozy here, but it's nothing to worry
about, OK? It's just medicine to get your pressure up. Just keep
breathing normally and everything will be fine."

"Marc?" Dana asked anxiously over her surgical mask.

"It's OK, Dana. This happens sometimes. We'll get the pressure up before
we proceed. Hey, I thought you guys couldn't be scared," he teased.
"That's what Walt Skinner told me."

"Sewer mutants, morphing aliens, homicidal twins and green blood filled
with retroviruses don't bother us," Mulder quipped from beneath the
mask. "It's just natural stuff like giving birth that sends us into
heebie jeebies," he said and winked at Dana again.

This time she smiled back, even though he could only see her eyes. She
reached over from her spot close to his head on the left and squeezed
his hand. He wouldn't let it go.

"Pressure's stablized, Marc. All systems GO," Dave joked and the rest of
the team all smiled in unison.

"OK, folks, let's make history," Dr Robert said calmly and moved the
knife into position to make the first incision.

It all happened so quickly that no one had much chance to comment. A
long incision across Mulder's stomach, then moving aside some internal
organs, another incision and Dr Robert was lifting their baby out of the
sac.

"Congratulations. You have a lovely little girl."

The two agents just stared at the perfect miracle that was their
daughter. Eventually Dana was coherent enough to speak.

"Is she OK? I mean....she looks fine to me, but I'm not a
paediatrician...."

"She's normal and healthy. Here. You two get to know her while I stitch
up after her." He passed the baby up towards them and carried on. Scully
found her voice again.

"It's a girl," she said, her voice shaking with emotion. "A baby girl.
We have a baby girl, Fox. Oh, look at her, she has your hair."

The baby, once Beth had wiped her off a little, did indeed have a shock
of dark hair. But her eyes were her mother's. Mulder fumbled with the O2
mask so that he could get a better look. "She has your eyes. And look,
she's got your nose, thank God," he said with a shaky laugh. The team
broke into chuckles with them.

Dr Robert straightened up and tossed something into a basin. "And there
goes the birth sac and the implant that was releasing the hormones. It's
all normal in there again, Fox." He grinned. "No more excuses for being
grouchy!"

As Marc closed the incision and the neonate specialist Tom fussed over
the baby, no one noticed that Nate slipped quietly from the room.
Abruptly Dana gasped.

"What is it?" asked Mulder, panicked.

"Mom! I forgot Mom!" Dana rushed downstairs, not noticing Nate who had
sneaked past the closed living room door and exited from the kitchen.
"Mom! Mom!"

Maggie was in the hallway a moment later. "What? What is it? <Oh dear
God, don't let anything have happened.>

Dana's face broke into one of the biggest smiles Maggie had ever seen.
"You have a granddaughter!"

*****

The safe house.
June 25th 1997.
2:00 pm.

The day before had been a busy day, though Mulder and the baby had slept
through it. Dr. Robert and Tom had been in early in the morning and
declared both baby and father to be doing just fine. The room was clean,
Maggie had briefly been in to play with her granddaughter, and now the
baby lay in Mulder's arms, squinting at her father while her mother and
grandmother were calling everyone they couldn't reach the day before
with the news. He crooned to her, making up words and music in a song
that came straight from his heart, as Dana walked in. She smiled,
watching as Mulder reached for a small soft toy the Gunmen had given
them, squeezing it to make it squeak as their daughter looked up. Dana
made a mental note to check it for listening devices.

"Mulder?"

"Yes?" Mulder was busy playing with his little daughter. "You know
Scully, she looks like you. What'll we call her?"

Scully smiled. "We'll figure something out. Look, while you were talking
to the doctor, Skinner called."

Mulder's face darkened. "What did he want? You look worried."

"It's just that..well, he thinks it would be easier all around if we
just told everyone that we conceived this child in a normal way, and
that we filled out the paperwork saying that I am its mother and you its
father."

"He just wants to deny it all, huh?"

"Mulder, he has a point. Imagine how she'll feel being pointed out as a
freak. We'd get no peace."

He thought it over. "You're right. It would be hell. But when she's
older...especially if we have children the normal way and you give birth
to her little brother or sister some day....can we tell her then?"

Dana smiled. "OK. Now get some rest." She crossed to the bed and kissed
her weary husband. "Mulder, you've had a long pregnancy, and a difficult
birth. You'll be just fine, but you need to sleep. I'll bring you some
food first, and we can bottle feed our baby at the same time."

"I guess I can't claim to be eating for two anymore huh? Can I at least
have some decent junk food now, instead of all that healthy stuff?"

She smiled. "After the gift you just gave me, you can have whatever you
want."

She drew him and their child into the first of many embraces. Mulder
snuggled up against her, as she reached down to stroke the baby's face.

"Had any ideas for the name?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not unless you'll let me call her Dana."

"Might get confusing. But thanks. You're right though, she does look
like me a bit."

Mulder looked up at her. "Who do *you* look like, Scully? You don't
resemble your mother much."

She laughed. "No, I look like the Scullys. Like my father's family.
They're the blue-eyed redheads. And I've seen pictures of my grandmother
at my age, my Dad's mother. I look a little like her, too."

"She's still alive isn't she? Your Mom has mentioned her."

Dana nodded. "Yes, though she's very frail. She lives in California. I'd
like us to take a trip out there sometime soon, if that's OK with you.
Grandma Sarah won't forgive us if we don't introduce the newest Scully
to her." She paused, and looked at Mulder, seeing her idea occur to him
as well.

"Sarah?" she asked, a little unsure.

"Sarah Dana," he replied. "After her mother, and her great grandmother.
Unless.....reckon we should add a Margaret in there too?"

"Don't you dare." Maggie had come into the room, unseen. "I like my
name, but Sarah Dana is quite enough for her to cope with." She grinned
at them. "Grandma Sarah will be thrilled. Thanks."

"Then that's settled," Mulder said happily.

Dana nodded, and got up. "I'll get you and Sarah some food then."

"You will do no such thing Dana," Maggie's voice was firm. "I will fetch
a meal for Fox, a good unhealthy meal at that. Burger and fries?" She
saw his eyes gleam in anticipation. "And some sunflower seeds. I brought
a big bag with me. I'll bring you something too Dana, you look half
starved. And I'll fetch Sarah's bottle. *You* will stay right here, with
your husband and child, and relax." She swept out of the room.

Mulder grinned as Scully watched her mother leave.

"That told me, huh?"

"Yep. But mothers have this way of being right. And now Sarah and I
would appreciate it if her mother, and my wife, climbed onto this bed
and relaxed along with us."

Scully smiled and obeyed, as Mulder with his daughter snuggled in the
crook of his arm leant back against her, the three of them a family.

End part twenty two. Epilogue follows.

<Footnote from the authors.

The authors would like to reassure their readers that the choice of name
for the baby is in *no way* influenced by "The Field Where I Died". We
named the baby right back in April 96, and she's named after our
proof-reader Sarah Johnson (Ra Enright). She doesn't get paid, but she
does get a baby named after her...>

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Inherently Given's Epilogue: And There Is A Love.

J. Edgar Hoover Building.
FBI Headquarters.
April 18, 1999.
10:15 am

Fox Mulder put down the file folder that he had been straining to read
and glared at the phone. In complete defiance to his mental commands,
the phone refused to ring. He glared at it even harder and contemplated
picking it up and banging it against the desktop again to see if it was
working.

It hadn't worked the last time he did that, but it sure made him feel
better.

He was worried. And with good cause. His partner of several years, wife
of two and a half, was late. Very late. Late for work, although part of
that was his fault. He had gotten up at the usual hour, taken his run,
gotten little Sarah up for her breakfast and purposefully let Dana
sleep. She'd been so tired lately.

He knew it was probably nothing. He was tired, too. They had just come
off a horrendous case that had taken them out of town for the better
part of a whole week. Both of them had spent at least a good part of
each evening pining for their tiny daughter. Talking to her on the
phone, held lovingly by Grandma to her little shell ear, and listening
to her chatter at them had helped a bit. But inevitably, it had also led
to the tears that came in the middle of the night.

"Damn it, I gotta stop that. Scully's gonna think I'm losing it, the way
I cry all the time when we're not at home," he berated himself once
again.

But after the tears, came the comfort. And that _always_ brought a smile
to his face. His wife was the best 'comfort' he'd ever had. Since they
had been out of town almost ever other week lately, they'd had plenty of
time to 'comfort' each other.

His mind flew back to the time, almost three years ago, when his wife
had been not only his comfort, but his stalwart. His rock to lean on.
Being pregnant had been exciting, and looking back with the insulation
of time, it had been wonderful. But he could never have done it without
her. He couldn't imagine not having her, and little Sarah, in his life.

His eyes rested for a minute on the picture frame on his desk. It was a
double frame, in cherry wood. One side, as always, contained the picture
of Samantha that always rested on his desk, wherever he was. The other
side contained a more recent photo. Taken professionally at Christmas,
it was the three of them. Mulder was sitting to the right, his arm
around Scully's waist. Sarah sat in Scully's lap and mugged happily for
the cameraman. The look on his face said it all. The once tortured soul
had finally found a little peace. They made a very happy family.

Not that he had forgotten about his promise to himself to find his
sister. That responsibility would never leave him, not until she was in
his arms again. In fact, he now had another reason to bring her home. He
had a little niece he wanted to introduce to her. And a sister-in-law
that already loved her as if she were her own flesh and blood.

As he thought of the time that he would finally see his sister again, he
heard the door open behind him. He turned and saw his wife walk in with
a Mona Lisa smile plastered across her face.

"Where've you been? I was starting to get worried," he said, getting up
and taking her briefcase, then giving her the once over with his eyes.
She still looked tired. And a little pale. She come down with the flu
and it just wouldn't leave her. She'd been throwing up for over a week
now and it was starting to worry him tremendously. But looking at her
now, he had to admit that she didn't look sick. In fact, if anything,
she looked....radiant.

She smiled as he got her a cup of coffee and put it down on her desk
without taking a sip. "I was still throwing up this morning, so I
decided I better take your advice before you dragged me to the doctor by
my hair." She chuckled at him as he shook his finger at her.

"I told you I wanted you to go *last* week," he reminded her.

"Yes, and when you wanted me to go, we were in the middle of a case and
1000 miles from home. So I called Carole up and went this morning. I was
lucky to get in on such short notice."

He frowned at that a moment. Carole was her gynecologist. Mulder had met
her once at a party they'd had when they bought their house. <Why is she
going to her gyne?> he wondered to himself.

"So, what is it? An infection? A virus? What?" he asked anxiously. He
was worried. If Dana was pushing herself too hard, with caring for Sarah
and working full-time, he might have to put his foot down. As division
head, he might make her take some time off. And he'd been meaning to ask
Skinner for some help. A clerical, at the least, would give them both a
break from some of the paperwork they had to file each month. He made a
mental note to call Skinner as soon as Dana told him what the doctor
said.

"It's not an infection. And it's definitely not a virus," she said. That
Mona Lisa smile was back. Only this time, the intensity of it was
blinding.

"Dana, spit it out before I write you up for insubordination AND turn
you over my knee. And this time, you won't enjoy it as much as you did
in Portland," he warned.

"OK, here it is. We can't go to your mother's for Thanksgiving this
year."

"Dana, it's April. Why are we planning Thanksgiving already?" he asked
with exasperation. Then her smile made him suspicious. "Is there a
_reason_ we can't go to my Mom's for Thanksgiving?"

"Well, Carole doesn't want me traveling that far right then," she said
cryptically.

"And the reason that you can't travel wouldn't have anything to do with
your proximity to a maternity facility, would it?" he said, breaking
into a totally goofy smile.

She laughed softly. "See, I knew you were a great investigator. Not to
mention, incredibly sexy," she said as he enfolded her in his arms and
kissed her on the head.

"Another one," he murmured into her hair. "We have to get another crib."

"And another high chair, although Sarah will probably be using a booster
seat by the time this one's able to sit up. She'll be old enough for a
youth bed by then too."

"We can get one of those double strollers, as well. Sarah would love
that." He lifted her chin and kissed her.

"Hey," she said in mock seriousness. "I thought that was off limits in
the office."

"Special occasion. You know I love to break rules." He hugged her
tighter. <Now I _have_ to get Skinner to get us some help down here,> he
reminded himself.

"So, you're happy?" she asked as she pushed back so she could see his
face. The look in his eyes told her everything she wanted to know.
Still, she wanted to hear him say it.

"I couldn't get happier without massive quantities of drugs involved,"
he laughed. "And the best part is that this time I get to watch over you
instead of the other way around."

"And don't forget about the drapes," she reminded him.

His mind flew back to the afternoon, sitting in the little bedroom of
the safe house. She'd been crying, wanting so much to go through what he
was going through. He'd made her a promise then, and it applied to more
than just curtains.

"Sweetheart, believe me, I haven't forgotten the drapes. I've been
counting the days."

*****

The Mulder family home.
December 2nd 1999.
11:13 am.

Fox Mulder cradled his child in his arms, as he carefully sat down and
smiled at his wife. Dana smiled back at him. Parenthood, they'd
discovered, was both demanding and at times nerve racking, but they
wouldn't have missed it for the world. He reached over and smoothed the
child's dark hair, placing a kiss on its forehead. His son opened his
eyes, regarded his father and promptly fell asleep again.

"Another dark haired one," Dana said teasingly. "He looks exactly like
you, you know."

"Ah, but we got a redhead as well," he laughed, grinning at the twin
baby that his wife was holding. Dana laughed with him, shifting in the
bed as she breast fed their youngest daughter. She had to agree with
him, they seemed to have almost duplicated themselves this time. A dark
haired little son with his father's features (she'd had to reassure Fox
that it was a *nice* nose), and a redheaded blue-eyed daughter, the
image of Dana. Both different in looks from Sarah, all three equally
beautiful and precious. A good variety.

"How are you feeling now?" her husband asked her.

She grimaced again. The home birth had gone well, but she was sore as
hell from it. "Sore".

He nodded, in genuine sympathy. "At least you can move afterwards.
Still, I never knew it took so much time the normal way. Sarah's birth
was what, five minutes by Caesarean? I had it easier, at least there."

Sarah, hearing her name, looked up from the floor where she was playing
with her toys and pulled herself to her feet, holding onto her father's
leg. Fox carefully placed his son back in the bassinet, and pulled his
elder daughter onto his lap, catching Dana's eye as he did so. The same
thought crossed both their minds.

"Remember the day Sarah was born?" Fox asked softly.

She smiled. "How could I forget it? My Mom downstairs trying to keep
calm, Dr. Robert reassuring me, and you acting like a grouch. It was one
of the longest and happiest days of my life. Though today equals it."

"I was not grouchy," he replied teasingly, in a mock offended tone. "I
am *never* grouchy."

Dana made a face at him, causing Sarah to giggle. The little girl
stirred on her father's lap, wiggling to get a better look at her new
brother and sister, and smiling he held her so that she could stroke the
new babies' faces. Finally she got bored, and he took her downstairs and
left her with her grandmother, who was cooking.

"It was quite a day," he agreed when he returned. "Dana, do you remember
what we discussed the day after? That if some day we ever had other
children, we'd tell her how she was born?"

She nodded. "Yes. But she's still too young to understand, let alone
keep it a secret." She looked into his face, but he didn't look upset.
"But then you didn't mean to tell her now, did you."

"No," he agreed. "I just wanted to know if you still felt the same. If
you want to.....well, to claim to have given birth to all three of
them..."

She shifted the now sleeping baby in her arms and placed her in the
bassinet next to her twin. Reaching over she took Fox's hand. "Fox, I
love all three of our children equally. Sarah's no less special to me
than the others, just because I didn't carry her. Are the twins any less
important to you?"

He shook his head mutely, unsure where the conversation was going.

"But the fact remains you have a very special bond to Sarah, and she
deserves to know it. One day, Fox, we will tell her, when she's old
enough to understand and to keep it quiet. Hell, maybe one day medicine
will have advanced to the stage where men often bear children. We know
the people who helped create Sarah were working on it, and Dr. Robert
has been working on research. Perhaps a time will come when you can tell
people the truth and they'll not bat an eyelid. Either way, we *will*
tell Sarah."

Fox thought of his beloved dark haired little daughter, so sweet a
moment before, engrossed with her toys at his feet. "I hope she isn't
repulsed by it."

"She won't be," Dana reassured him. "At least, I hope not. She ought to
be proud of what you did for her, and there's already a bond between
you. She's your daughter, Fox. Accepting the strange should come as
second nature."

"But she's yours as well, Dana" he quipped, unable to resist. "Sceptical
Scully's daughter. She's already questioning the existence of Santa
Claus, and she plays all the time with that doctor's outfit my mother
bought her. You think she'll believe this?"

Dana looked smug. "You don't think I kept some proof out of Skinner's
hands? I've got documents and notes still carefully hidden. And she
*will* believe us, because I, her mother, will tell her that I'm...her
father? Mother? I still haven't figured that one."

Fox, kissed her. "Both. We're both, to her and the others. So now,
there's the big question."

"Which is....?"

"What the hell are we going to name these two?"

The End.

Authors' final note:

"Inherently Given" was conceived on 9-10th April 1996, and finally
completed nine months later on 4th January 1997. Coincidence or X-File?

Thank you for reading, and goodnight......

(curtains close).