By myblackrose
myblackrose@mail.com
 

Rating: G
Category: VA
Spoilers: Vague references to season 8.
Summary: Set roughly sometime during DeadAlive. Scully's
thoughts on how her life has changed. Implied
Mulder/Scully romance.
 

Scully sighed inwardly as she immersed her hands in the
warm water. Her back ached, her feet ached, her head
ached but ironically this was her favourite part of the
day. In fact, she left the dishes unwashed after
breakfast and lunch just so that she could spend longer
doing them in the evenings. She smiled bitterly to
herself. So much had changed. She had only started coming
home from the office for lunch since Mulder... well, he
would laugh if he could see her now; elbow deep in sudsy
water.

A few stray tears dripped into the sink. Scully brushed
her cheeks clumsily, getting soapy water on her face. She
didn't particularly care... her appearance worried her
very little these days. At work she did her best to look
respectable; she had bought herself a few maternity
clothes in her typical style. At home, however, she just
wandered around in sweatpants and string tops, her
swollen stomach protruding between the two. Scully had
never felt the urge to fuss too much about her appearance
but now she cared less than ever. For her, the experience
of pregnancy was tainted by Mulder's absence, coupled
with her ever present worries about her baby. Their baby.
She didn't want to let herself think anything to the
contrary.

She had allowed herself to fall into the rhythm of her
occupation: wash, rinse, stack. She enjoyed it for its
monotony; it allowed her to think properly while keeping
her grounded at the same time. Scully was well aware of
the rumours that went around at work. She knew that she
was the subject of many hushed conversations around the
water cooler. Who had finally melted the Ice Queen, they
all wondered. She had long given up trying to maintain
any sort of dignified front, opting only for hostile
silence as she passed them with her head lowered and a
carefully blank expression painted on her features as she
headed for the basement office, files cradled against her
pregnant stomach. How couldn't they know it was Mulder?
Goodness, most complete strangers made assumptions about
their relationship. She had thought that it was quite
clear how they felt about each other, to others at least,
even though it had taken them almost seven years to admit
it to themselves.

Scully realised that she had been scrubbing the same spot
on the pan for the last several minutes. 'Pull yourself
together Dana.' Scully shook her head a little, bringing
herself back to earth. She couldn't make this about
herself. Heck, most of the time she was on the very verge
of drowning in her own misery; the glaring gap that
Mulder had left, filled with what seemed like a lifetime
worth of tears cried in the space of a few months. Given
the choice, Scully would have died the day that they
buried him, but she had to think of the baby. Her life
was no longer her own, she felt helpless in the grip of
it all. But she had to live for this baby, if for no
other reason than it was her last tenuous connection to
Mulder. At first she couldn't accept it, point blank
refusing to go and visit his grave, to read his name on
that headstone. It was so wrong... He had never found his
truth, his life had been wasted... she never even got the
chance to tell him about their child.

More tears welled up behind Scully's eyes as she emptied
the water down the drain and picked up the dishcloth to
start drying. She still hadn't been back there since the
funeral, but some part of her mind was slowly and
reluctantly beginning to accept that he wasn't coming
back. It was becoming just that little bit easier to walk
into the office and not see him there, leaning back in
his chair eating sunflower seeds or poring over a new
case. Scully cursed herself for accepting it, feeling
that she was betraying his memory; forgetting him too
soon. She couldn't bear to forget him; wanting his
crooked smile, the sound of him cracking sunflower seeds,
the feel of his hand on the small of her back to remain
as clear and tangible to her as they had always been. God,
she loved him still; loved him with all the strength that
she could muster from the depths of her battered soul.
Her heart told her that she would know if he were dead,
that he couldn't possibly be. She felt their connection
as strongly as ever; sometimes in her sleep she could
hear him screaming her name. His voice sounded as though
he was in terrible pain. Her acceptance of his passing
could only go so far. She couldn't absolutely convince
herself. Of course, the admittance of such to anyone else
only earned her sympathetic looks.

That was another thing Scully hated. Being pregnant meant
that everyone treated you like an invalid all the time.
She was sick to death of being offered the nearest chair
when she walked into a room and constantly asked if she
was thirsty or needed anything. Only a precious few like
Doggett and Skinner had the sense not to hover over her
all the time. Doggett would get her something as soon as
she asked, but not before, an insight into her character
that she appreciated. He was a good man, and he didn't
try to replace Mulder but God forgive her, Scully
couldn't help comparing the two. She felt guilty when she
longed for Mulder's insight on a case or just a flash of
his awful sense of humour.

Scully placed the last pan back in the cupboard and
poured herself a glass of water to take her iron
supplement with. Sitting on the sofa in an apartment that
felt as hollow as her heart, she addressed her stomach;
"Just you and me."

'For now...' her heart couldn't help but finish.

Authors Note:
This was my first attempt to write about the most sacred
show that is Files!!!! Harsh
criticism welcome, but don't just flame pointlessly, that
doesn't help me to learn!! Any feedback welcome at
myblackrose @ mail.com