by beduini

Rating:  G

Category:  Sc/Sk (implied), MSR

Spoilers:  Requiem and All Things

Archive:  Please ask me first.

Disclaimer:  The X-Files and its characters are the property of Fox.
Peter Pan is the property of the Children's Hospital London.

This story was first posted in parts, starting with "Dana".  This is
the complete version, including "Dana", "Dana II" and "Dana III".
 

~Dana~
 

He calls her Dana.

Sometimes he calls her 'honey', or 'sweetheart'.  And when he talks
about her to others, he almost always refers to her as 'my wife'.

Dana.

They have been married for three years.

Some mistakes you learn the hard way.  His first wife left him
because he couldn't leave work at the office.  Now he carries home
with him to work - it goes everywhere with him, actually.  But work
never crosses the threshold when he walks into the four bedroom, two
and three quarter bath home in Rockville.

That is his refuge, his sanity.

On his desk sits a picture of the two of them, his family,
everything that is important in the world represented by one 5x7
color portrait.  She is smiling in the portrait, a truly happy
smile, her brilliant sunset-colored hair cascading down the side of
the boy's head.  The boy is smiling, too, and there is a prominent
chip in one of his front teeth from the time he fell down at the
park.

If somebody had told him three years ago that he would be head-over-
heels in love with a child he would have laughed until his sides
hurt.  He never expected to love anyone as much as he loved the boy,
although he'd loved the boy's mother for longer than he'd like to
admit.  He wouldn't have believed that one day she would be his
wife, sharing his life and his bed.  For him, she was always
destined to be Scully, as in Mulder and Scully, Scully and Mulder.

He calls his wife Dana.

He thinks she is happy.  They have a fine home, a luxury sedan and
an SUV parked in the garage.  They have dogs and a back yard with a
grill for cookouts on summer holidays.  They have family and a few
acquaintances they call friends.  They have comfort and stability.

She cries in the shower.

He never mentions it, but he knows.  She doesn't act any different,
and never says a word, but he knows.  She will silently disappear
into the large bathroom adjacent to the master bedroom, locking the
door behind her.  She will stay until the water is cold and her skin
wrinkles with over-saturation.  And when she has finally cried
herself empty, she will emerge wrapped in her thick cotton robe, her
clear blue eyes rimmed in red the only indication that it had ever
happened at all.

Until the next time.

There are other things...things he only thinks about when he is
alone.

She keeps her eyes closed when they make love.

She never says 'I love you,' except to the boy, but she will reply,
'me too' when he says it to her.  He knows the horrors of her former
life.

They talk about him sometimes, but she never mentions his name.

Him.

Mulder.

She asked him the night they become lovers, the night Mulder was
officially declared dead, if he believed Mulder could return.  He
could have lied to her, fueled her hope, but he didn't.  He wanted
her too much.

She never placed blame for losing him.  It was his responsibility to
look out for him in her absence.  Mulder wouldn't let her go, had
feared for her safety, so she sent him to protect Mulder in her
absence.

He lost him.  And she never blamed him for it.

She married him.

The boy needed to be a part of a family, she had said.  He needed
something more than eleven hours of daycare followed by three hours
of mom.  He needed a father, a male influence.  So when he asked,
she said yes.  She married him.

They have been married for three years.  She and Mulder were
partners for seven, lovers only a month.  Still, the boy is his.
Mulder's son.

He didn't expect it would come to this, standing outside of a
hospital room, his life changing forever just by walking through a
door.  He should have called her as soon as he found out, but he
couldn't do it.  He wanted to be sure, he told himself.  He wanted
to save her the trauma of rushing to the hospital only to be
disappointed once more if it turned out to be someone else.

He wanted it to be someone else.  As much as he blamed himself for
losing him, he wanted it to be someone else.  Anybody else.

As the door opens and a nurse emerges, he catches a glimpse of the
man in the bed.  It is only a glimpse, but enough of a glimpse to
know.  He draws a shaky breath and steps to the side, sweat beading
on his brow.  Procrastination will not change anything, nor will it
keep things the same.  He knows what his wife keeps buried deep
inside her heart.

He pulls out his cell phone and speed dials the house, and she
answers with a preoccupied "hello..."  The sound of childish
chattering, a dump truck with squeaky wheels being pushed along the
hardwood floor and the 137th viewing of 'Peter Pan' filters in from
the background.

"Fly, fly, Peter!"

"No.  I gave my word."

He turns, walking down the hallway, taking a moment to remember the
simple beauty of her voice and the boy's laughter and Peter Pan.
His family.  His life.

"Hello?" she says again, unsure.

"It's me, Dana," he says, removing his glasses to pinch the bridge
of his nose between a thumb and forefinger.

He calls her Dana.

But she will always be Scully.
 

~Dana II~
 

They had never gotten around to sharing their feelings.  Not openly
anyway.  "I'm not going to risk losing you," was about as close as
he had come.  His voice broke as he said it and her heart had broken
along with it, preventing her from arguing with him.  It was one of
the last things he'd said to her.

Her own feelings had been overwhelming and intense, but it was
something she kept to herself.  He knew that her feelings were
strong, but she'd held them inside.  For what, she didn't know.
Habit, maybe.  Fear.  It didn't make a lot of sense now, nor did it
change what happened.  Nothing made much sense now, and she did not
hurt any less for the omission.

Still, he had known.

They created a child together.  It was an act that spoke of all that
they didn’t.  An act of love, expressed through sighs and gasps and
hands desperate to touch and hold and pull each other closer.  A
miracle child, a child that neither believed could be created.

Tangible proof.

Adam is in the backyard, filling buckets of sand in the sandbox and
carrying them over to the slide, watching the small grain roll down
the incline before going back to the sandbox to refill his bucket.
The sound of his high, sweetly off-key voice drifts in through the
open window as he sings something about a monkey.

She never really had been able to understand all of the words to
that song.

As she watches him through the window, intensely focused on his
task, she tamps down the shudder of nervousness that makes its
presence known in her stomach.  Adam has been told stories about his
father since he was old enough to listen without losing interest.
He developed that skill earlier than most children his age.

He got that from Mulder.

He wants to know everything about his daddy.  'You will have that,
Adam,' she vows.  She hadn't told him his daddy was coming for a
visit today.  She didn't know how to answer the questions that he
would ask, or maybe she was afraid to, so she didn't tell him.  Let
him ask, and let Mulder answer his son for himself.

It will be awkward, she knows.

Her husband will be steely silent, blaming himself for more than he
ought to.  They have not spoken of what this means, having Mulder
back.  There is awareness that something elemental has changed
between them, regardless of what has not been voiced aloud.  She is
unable to look him in the eye for any length of time.  What she sees
there in his eyes, in the clench of his jaw, is that he is worried
his family is falling apart.

His family.

Her family.

Mulder's family.

Mulder will ask those questions.  He has not verbalized any of them
yet, but since his return his eyes have conveyed his surprise, hurt,
anger and remorse.  He is trying to make sense of this missing time.
He is trying to understand.  She knows the questions will come.

The question is, how will she respond?

She does not know.

She does not make excuses for her choices.  She holds all of the
accountability.  And now, she is the one who will have to make a
choice between a new life and an old one, or a newer life and a
renewed older one.  This is inevitable.  She had made a choice once,
and she will need to make another.

She will have to choose.

Outside, the sounds of car doors closing brings her focus back on
the immediate and she turns from the window, moving into the front
room to meet them.  Her stomach flutters at the anticipation of
seeing Mulder walk through the door.  Seeing him out of the confines
of his hospital bed.  Seeing him meet his son for the first time.

Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
When she opens her eyes again, he is standing there in the doorway.
Broad shoulders held straight, deliberate hazel eyes burning into
hers.  It is all there in his gaze, the things that were not spoken
along with the things that must be.  Just behind him her husband
pauses, watching her, waiting for Mulder to cross the threshold.

They never spoke about their feelings, but they knew.  They all
knew.

Just as they all know now.
 

~Dana III~
 

Her fingers touch his as she hands him the coffee mug but he
pretends not to notice.  He is alone with her this morning in the
third floor bedroom of her suburban home, her husband out back,
driving a tractor mower over the ample lawn.  His son rides on the
seat in front of him, pealing with high-pitched laughter that rings
up above the drone of the mower through the closed window.

Scully smiles softly at the sound.

He finds the entire scenario confusing, amusing and frightening.
It's all too normal.  This domestic bliss is an alternate universe
not unlike one he'd experienced before, only instead of his own home
and family, this time he is dreaming up one for Scully.  One he has
no place in.  He expects he'll awaken to find himself somewhere
else...he's not sure if he's more frightened that he will or that he
won't.

"When did you find out?"  He asks her, his voice is still hoarse
from misuse.  He doesn't elaborate, knowing she doesn't need him to.
Standing together in the sunlight streaming through the window, they
watch the man and boy cross the lawn below.

"The day after you left."  She turns her face up to his.  "I would
have told you if I'd known before."

He nods, considering her words and biting his lip when she looks
back down into the yard.  "And it would have made my purpose that
much more urgent."

She presses a finger against the glass as if she were reaching out
to touch the boy.  "I know."

He knows she believed as much as he did at the time that going out
into the woods that night was the right thing to do.  Just as he
knows that she did what she thought was right while he was away.  It
doesn't make things any easier for him to accept now.  The emotions
are too strong, and he feels like he is buried alive.  Dead for all
intents and purposes, but for the existing.

He turns away from the window, setting the coffee mug down on top of
a dresser and crossing the room, putting distance between them.  She
crosses her arms in front of her chest, her lips pursing in
disapproval.

"I should go to a motel," he mutters, picking up a knick-knack and
turning it over in his hands.  He thinks it used to sit in his fish
tank.

She turns her back to the window and looks at him.  Reading him.  He
holds her gaze, daring her to argue.  She can't be any more
comfortable than he is with the situation, with her son's father
sleeping in the attic and her husband sleeping alone in the master
bedroom.  She doesn't know he knows that last bit, having learned by
accident when he'd crept downstairs in the middle of the night to
sneak one more look at his son, finding her curled around the boy
under a Peter Pan comforter.

He has a son.  The truth still takes his breath like a punch in the
gut.  Scully conceived his child, carried his child.  Gave birth to
his child.  Raised his child.

Adam.

The boy still carries his surname.  His name, his hair color and the
shape of his mouth.  He calls the other man poppa, though, the man
who would still be sleeping in the same bed with his wife had he not
reappeared from legal, if not physical death.

He remembers seeing a motel on the main drag before they turned into
the residential area.  It is within walking distance.  Maybe he'd
just keep on walking.

Of course she picks up on what he is thinking.  "Don't," she says
from across the room, her eyes still on his.  "Don't do this,
Mulder."  He starts to ask her what she is talking about, but she
continues, "I survived your absence once, don't make me go through
it again."

He doesn't have an answer for that.  She survived him, isn't that
enough of a reason to move on?  She survived and he is dead and they
should just leave it alone.  Except he can't.  Not with Scully and
his son still existing on the same planet.

There is a long stretch of silence where minutes pass.  She turns
her head and looks back out the window while he examines the carpet.

"I never told him," she admits softly.

He studies her profile, wondering how she managed that feat and
knowing her well enough to believe it all the same.  How could she
bear a child and bury a partner but still keep a secret that big?
 
She continues, "All existing legal matters were voided when the
court declared you deceased."  She swallows and looks over at him.
"I want you to know that."

He doesn't know what to say.  He knows she consolidated every asset
he possessed into a trust for their son.  Of course she would save
it all for the boy and take nothing for herself except a fish tank
toy - he would never expect her to do otherwise.  Still, it goes
beyond the issue of his estate.  She's alluding to other legal
issues.  She's giving him his walking papers, so to speak.

"So I sign some documents and I get my old social security number
and credit rating.  That won't change what's done.  I've lost more
than three years of my life.  And you're..." he pauses, his voice
softening and hitching even though he tries to make it steady.
"Married."

She doesn't meet his gaze this time, remaining silent a long while.
"It's true that life went on in your absence, Mulder.  I know
something about what you're going through, but I also know you still
have the rest of your life ahead of you."

He smiles sadly and fixes his gaze on her face.  "Other than my son,
what do I have in my life to look forward to, Scully?"

His eyes remain on her, waiting for her to say what he needs to
hear.  She lets out a long, slow breath and takes a step toward him.

"Mulder..." she begins, but doesn't continue.  When she looks up at
him, her expression changes under his steady gaze.

He can see she knows what he wants to hear.

Her eyes are pleading for a delay but he won't back off.  Not this
time.  After everything he's been through he needs the one thing
that he has always been able to count on - his center.  If he's not
going to have that, he needs to know and he needs to know *now*.

"What about you, Scully?" he asks, forcing lightness into his voice.
"Status quo?"

She does not reply, and the tension in the room rises exponentially,
causing him to shift his weight on nervous feet.

"When I left, we were..." he pauses, his delivery emphatic.  The
distant sound of the lawn mower suddenly cuts out and dies, and they
both stop breathing until the engine starts up again.

Her breathing is loud and heavy, and he closes his eyes briefly,
shoring up his resolve.  Whispering, he finishes slowly, "I know the
law says 'till death do we part', but I'm *not* dead.  And neither
are you."

"Mulder..." she begins in her factual voice, but he takes a step
toward her, interrupting before she can state her argument.

"Just tell me if we're going to sweep this under the carpet and
pretend it never happened, or if it's possible for us to pick up
where we left off.  I know there are a lot of things to consider,
but if you tell me now it's not possible, Scully, I'll respect your
decision and leave it alone."

She brings a hand up to her mouth and sniffing back a sob, simply
nods.  The gesture could be interpreted either way, but the look in
her eyes speaks volumes.

She steps forward and he takes the last step toward her, pulling her
close.  Her arms wrap around his waist as she burrows her face into
his chest, pulling him closer.  Outside on the lawn, Adam squeals
with delight and Mulder lays his cheek against the top of her head,
sighing one word in unmeasured relief.

Scully.

 
beduini2@yahoo.com

Notes:  Quacks to Lari, Jewel, Rah, Melly, Sagan and Sybil for beta,
inspiration, support, commentary and stalking (not necessarily in
that order).  Thanks to everyone who wrote privately and asked for a
complete trilogy.