Joyful are the Waterdrops

By: kim1013
kim1013@netzero.net


Sequel to "Folded Like A Saint"
and "The Present Implies Presence"
They can be found at:
http://www.geocities.com/kemestre/Kim1013.html
CATEGORY: S, A, "Alt. Universe"
RATING: PG
SPOILERS:  Just the two stories listed above,
Requiem, and a small one for S.R. 819.
Can be read as stand-alone, I guess.
ARCHIVE: Yes, but let me know where so I can visit!
DISCLAIMER:  M & S, and Skinner don't belong to me.
Melissa & William belong to me and my imagination.
FEEDBACK:  Yes please!  Feedback is good for the
soul.
SUMMARY:  After 10 years apart, our heroes struggle
with knowing each other again.  Rebuilding is
hard to do.

THANKS:  To Melissa for beta-ing and recommending.  
Also a great big, huge, gigantic THANK YOU!! :o) to
the Mentors in X for the suggestions/corrections.
They made my work better. And to Velvit for a last
look through.
DEDICATION:  This for my sister, Kerrie.


As soon I saw him in the doorway, I realized knowing
him again would be like putting my mouth to a crack
in a glass order to put out a raging fire. Going back
would be a futile exercise; going forward would be a
challenge.  I saw from the way that he looked at my
children - our children - the wind was knocked out of
him - out of his soul.  He narrowed his eyes just a
fraction and I knew he hurt.  There was a deep gash
in his psyche.  

I could almost hear his mind whirl about, trying to
fit the puzzle pieces together. What was he thinking?  
How could an infertile woman have children?  Did she
adopt?  But how could they look so much like her?

We stood speechless, staring at each other, daring
the other to speak.  I turned and asked the kids to
please go upstairs to their rooms.  Melissa and
William reluctantly left me in the presence of the
intriguing stranger.  

I invited him into the living room, and he entered
with trepidation.  He did not know how to act  
either.  I suppose it's a small comfort to me.  
I'm worried about how to even begin talking with him.
I fear we have nothing in common after ten years
apart.  I mourned his loss long ago and I am
reluctant to open my heart and mind to him.  He *is*
a stranger to me now.

~^~^~^~^~^

She looked at me as if I were a phantom, a specter
who didn't belong in the house of the living.  I
could imagine how she felt, but it did not feel the
same for me.  I was in the forest of Oregon just
yesterday and the week that followed my search for
her was just a waking nightmare.  How could I even
begin to explain my situation to her?

I stood, without speaking, at the threshold.  She
took in my appearance with her cloudy blue eyes.
Was my coming here the wrong thing?  I didn't expect
open arms - that gesture was the farthest thing from
my mind.  Relief?  Well, I saw a flicker of
challenge, if only for a moment, but then it was
replaced with caution.  Maybe she thinks I'm a clone.  

I see hesitation in her stance.  I know she is
wondering what do with me--the unknown variable that
must be factored into her life.  My Scully, older but
still the same.  She speaks to me in a husky voice,
inviting me to sit down in her living room.  

I think it's time for me to speak, to break the
hardened space between us.

"This is a nice house.  I like the dormer window," I
say.  How mundane. How plebian.  How incredibly
stupid.  C'mon, I think to myself, is that the best
you can do? She stares at me with wonder.

~^~^~^~^~^

He sits across from me on the recliner while I perch
on the edge of the couch. He looks restless.  I can
tell he's searching for something to say, to make the
discomfort go away.  

Where has he been?  

Such a common compliment from an uncommon man -- but
it's so Mulder. I'm trying to smile on the outside
while I test different words in my mind, unsure of
what I could possibly say to this man.  He behaves as
if this were the most ordinary thing in the world.  
Come to Scully's house and she'll make everything
okay again.  

But I can't; I don't know how or where to begin.

"Mulder . . ." I begin, but my thoughts stopped
abruptly by the blissful, expectant look on his face.  
What did he expect from me -- divine revelation?  

I try again:  "Mulder, how are you?"  

I *cannot* believe I said that.  It's as bad as him
commenting on my house.  I shake my head, warning him
not to interrupt my befuddled thoughts.

I have no idea what to say to him.

~^~^~^~^~^

She says my name and her voice trails off.  I look at
her, hoping for more than my name from her lips.  She
opens her mouth again and asks me how I've been.  
She's struggling.  Scully has no idea what to say to
me.  Her face is slightly flushed and I think I see
the beginning of tears in her eyes.  She blinks them
away as soon as she thinks I've seen them.

And then she asks me how I've been.  I open my mouth
to answer, but she moves her arms, asking me without
words not to interrupt her.

I feel like I've been flattened by an eighteen-
wheeler.  Scully -- my Scully -- has no goddamn idea
what to say to me.  

Oh, God, why did I come here? She has a *life* now,
with the children she's always wanted, and probably
the husband and the golden retriever, too,
although I don't see them. I'm sure they'll show up
soon.

I close my eyes and rub my forehead in frustration as
a small groan escapes from me.  

"Scully, I'm sorry," I say as I get up from her
recliner. " I didn't mean to intrude.  Forget I ever
showed up.  Apologize to your family for me."

I lumber to the door, heartsick and weak with want
for things I know I'll never have.

As I reach for the doorknob, I hear the stairs creak
behind me.  Scully's children are sitting on the
steps, eavesdropping and watching me leave.  The girl
looks like Samantha, but then I'm used to seeing my
sister in the face of every little girl I come
across.  

She looks at me with calm blue-green eyes and her
brother sits, unmoving and unspeaking next to her.

"Where are you going mister?" she says. "I don't
think my mom is done talking with you."  

She looks to the right and I follow her gaze to see
Scully standing in the entrance to the small foyer.  
The boy remains silent, seeming to contemplate the
situation.

~^~^~^~^~^

I still have no idea what to say to him.  He is a
miracle I don't dare believe in for fear he will
disappear, this time forever.  How do I banish
uncertainty and hurt go away in a man that is always
shadowed with them?  What does he expect from me?  

I almost have the requisite two and a half children
with the twins, my life is sadly lacking in other
areas.  There's no bounding dog and husband yelling,
"Honey, I'm home!" as he walks through the door.  
They exist only in my fantasies.

I'm afraid his brave front is cracking; I know so.  
He is as uncertain as I am.  He sighs - or groans -
and massages his forehead with trembling fingers. I
know what's coming next.  Please, Mulder, I think,
don't do this to me again: Don't ditch me.  

How could he believe I would have the perfect life?  
My life changed forever when he did not return from
Oregon.  Anyway, perfection has no place in a life as
haphazard as mine.

He walks to the front door.  I follow him and
hesitate in the doorway.

I hear Missy speak to him, but I pay no attention.  
I'm focused solely him.  Please stay, I plead,
praying that silent communication of ours still
works, I don't know what I would do if you left
again.  I think my prayer is answered because he
looks at me with a lost, sad expression on his face.  

I look toward the stairs and shoo the kids.  I watch
to make sure they are out of earshot.  Bless Missy
for her nosiness, but I do not want her and Will
around if I start to discuss them with Mulder.

I sniffle and rub my hand under my nose like a child
who's forgotten a handkerchief.  

"Mulder, please come back to the living room with
me," I say as I feel more tears form in my eyes.  "I
have questions and I *know* you do."

I try for a weak smile but I can't.

"We could pretend it was the old days and we're
discussing an X-File."  

He stands at the door, hand still on the brass knob
and blinks slowly at me.

~^~^~^~^~^

I could never deny her anything.  

She looks small and helpless framed by the moulding,
but I believe she's as strong as ever.  She must be
in order to say these things to me.  She tries to
smile as she asks me to stay.

I will.

I follow her back into the living room.  This time I
will ask what I have been waiting and wanting to ask
ever since I first returned.  


"Scully, what the hell happened?" I say. "A week ago,
I woke up in my apartment, but things were different.
I could only tell it was my apartment by the number
on the door. Those weren't my things, even if the
layout was the same, and I sure as hell didn't know
the screaming, hysterical woman who opened the door -
- with her key, I might add."

I stopped to think.  "I knew right away something had
happened.  I couldn't figure it out what. My first
thought was of you; I had to get to you.  I headed to
your apartment, taking in the changes that surrounded
me.  Then I saw a newspaper rack and noticed that ten
years passed while the last thing I remember is
searching for a UFO in the forest with Skinner.

"I almost gave up right then but I knew I had to find
you, make sure you were all right.  I finally got to
your apartment; by that time I was a man crazed.  My
whole world had gone on without me.  I banged on your
apartment door and disturbed a few people in the
process.  You weren't there.  You had disappeared
without a trace.
 
"Scully," I say, "I cannot tell you how happy I was
that I found you at last -- It's enough for me to
almost believe in some kind of a God."

I pause to catch my breath and gather courage to
continue.

"When your daughter opened the door, a part me died.  
I knew you had finally found what you wanted: a life,
a family."

I ask her the question I had asked before I began my
story:  "Seriously, Scully, how have you been?  I
really want to know."

~^^~^~^~^~^~^

My brilliant partner does not know, is all I can
think to myself.  He's still bull-headedly thinking I
have the model life.  Doesn't he know that dream died
long ago when I joined the X-files?  Then I dreampt
of truth and justice.  When that dream died, I
dreampt of his return.  Now my dream is real.  Mulder
is the same inquisitive soul he was when he
disappeared, the same as before when he stole my
heart from within the confines of a wall of
skepticism.  He is only older and therefore appears
wiser, with his gray temples and deeper lines on his
forehead.  But he is not wise to the ways of my heart
- not anymore.  

He told me his tale and I believe him.  I stopped
being a die-hard skeptic long ago.  I wish I could go
into his mind and retrieve his lost years. I know how
it is:  three months taken from me changed my life.  
His life changed too, and I can only imagine what he
is feeling:  it's probably a hundred times worse than
I ever felt.  He's stalling to avoid talking about
himself.  His focus is solely on me. I'll allow this
for now, but he won't get away with this for long.
 
"You want to know about me, Mulder?"  I've decided
just to give him the news that he is a father, after
a short introduction there's just no easy way to do
it.  I practiced for a while the year after he
was...gone.  

I still cannot think of him as being taken from me.

"Do you remember the time I spent in Oregon?  How I
kept feeling weak and run-down?"  He nodded as his
face paled.  I thought so:, ten years ago when I
began acting sick, he thought my cancer had returned.  
I smiled thorough newly formed tears.  "I wish you
could've been there to hear my news," I say in a
whispery voice choked with too much emotion.  

"The day after you disappeared, I found out I was
pregnant."

~^~^~^~^~^

The edge of her mouth twitches as if she is about to
smile, but she is still and I see more tears in her
eyes.  

Yes, I want to know about her, about her perfection;
I want to know what she's been doing.  I want to look
at her until I go blind.  I want to dwell on her
because I cannot dwell on myself right now.  When she
tells me of her illness in Oregon, I think I nearly
faint.  I thought those bastards have given her
cancer again.  But she's here now, alive and healthy.  
Thriving, in fact.  They have not killed her.  
Perhaps when I vanished They felt no need to threaten
her anymore.  Maybe my leaving saved her life.

She smiles through the new tears dripping from her
sky-blue eyes.  She's happy.  News?  What news?  The
Invasion was stopped?  Listen, Mulder: *her* news, I
think to myself.  She is so lovely, I notice.  She
was lovely before but now she glows.  Getting out of
a dark basement sure has helped her complexion a lot.
Then what I hear catches up to my intruding thoughts.

"Pregnant?"  I say in disbelief and stare at her.  
"What?  I thought...they took your ova...  How
could?"  I stop.  My brain is frozen.  I cannot
think.  The word keeps echoing in my mind:  pregnant,
pregnant, pregnant.  Was she seeing someone then?  
That time is very fresh in my and I don't remember
that she was seeing someone.  There was that one time
when she and I. . . .  No.  The fates could not,
would not allow Fox William Mulder to be a father;
I'm not worthy to be a father. That time is tucked
away to a sacred place in my heart.  She probably
doesn't even remember the moment.

I feel a muscle in my jaw tic.  Then my face sags.  
He is a lucky bastard, whoever he is.  

~^~^~^~^~^

He's just looking at me.  I don't know if any of my
words are getting to him.  He seems in a trance.  He
blinks once and then again.  And I know which word
got to him.  He seems dumbfounded; no, more like
shell-shocked.  What must he be thinking?  He says
something about my ova and then stops.  I see his
"panic face."  Oh, no.  Don't black out on me now,
Mulder.  I get up, grasp his hand, and lead him with
me back to the couch to sit beside me.  

How could he ever think that I would love someone
besides him?  

I decide just to continue to tell him my story.

"I told Skinner as soon as I found out and asked him
to keep it to himself for a while.  After I got out
of the hospital, I used the resources of the X-Files
to try to find you.  I went back to the Oregon forest
but it was as though you were never there.  No
physical evidence could be found to substantiate that
Skinner saw a UFO.  I had to believe him, he was the
one there, because your disappearance under other
circumstances would make no sense.  CGB Spender was
presumed dead and Marita and Krycek had disappeared -
they apparently wanted no part of whatever had
happened.

"While I was in Oregon I searched - and prayed - for
clues.  I could find none.  I was possessed with the
thought of finding evidence. I needed to know.  I
needed some reassurance that someday you would return
but that didn't happen.  Sometimes it seemed as
though you simply ceased to exist.  I began to think
I had dreamed out life together.  The only
reassurance I had was the life growing inside me, and
the knowledge that I was returned."

I paused and took some deep breaths.  I waited for a
comment from Mulder, but he just sat, stunned.

"I returned to Washington and as soon as Skinner saw
me he made me take some time off.  He was of such
great support and help to me, I don't know if I could
have gone on without him."  

Skinner died of a heart attack two years ago.  The
nanocytes ravaged his body.  His perfect health could
not save him.  I'll tell Mulder this later, he's got
too much to deal with.

"After I couldn't hide my pregnancy, I stayed at home
and Mom came to stay with me.  I wanted to stay at
her house.  She insisted I stay at my apartment, she
said since my life had changed so much already, I
needed a place to feel safe.  I think she was
secretly hoping you'd show up at the door one day.  
Needless to say, that didn't happen.  Mom gave up
hope after a couple of years and I got on with my
life.  I still carried your name next to my heart.  
But Mulder, I believed -- was convinced -- that you
would someday be returned to me."


This is remarkable. I've just told Mulder that those
children upstairs are his, and he's just looking at
me, blinking, saying nothing. I wonder what's
going on in his head behind that sphinx-like silence.

~^~^~^~^~^

The children one floor above me are mine.
I feel a huge smile form on my lips.  How could my
dream have come true?

"Scully," I say, then stop. You don't call the mother
of your children by her last name. "Dana," I say,
"you're saying that I'm their father."


I don't know what else to say.  But then I've felt
pretty flustered this whole encounter and I'm
positive Scully has to be feeling the same way.  What
can I say?  I feel like I've been whacked on the head
and woke up to an alternate reality.  The only one
who makes sense here is me.  That's a hell of a
change.  

I decide to try again - and I hope - get my foot out
of my mouth.

"Scully, you say these children are mine.  How can I
believe that when I - for me, anyway - just started
dreaming about it yesterday?  I wanted to have
children with you, but that was more of a fantasy
because you couldn't have children.  I guess we could
get an egg donor and have an in vitro procedure
done... you know a few years down the line when our
relationship got to that point.  

"It seems utterly ridiculous that I have to contend
for your affections now, after just coming back."

I stop for a moment when another thought strikes me.

"You know, what's really strange, Scully," I say,
slowly, "is that I just got back and I find that I
have to get in line for your affection and time. I'm
not the only one who needs you now, am I?"


Oh God, I sound like a complete good-for-nothing.  
I'm behaving like a husband who had been away on a
long and frustrating business trip instead of a
person who's just been reunited with his other half.  

She's looking at me as though I grew another head.   
I deserve to be shot and booted out the door. I
grimace to hide my emotions.  I actually want this to
happen so I don't have to face the Eyebrow and the
stony expression that goes with it.

~^~^~^~^~^

The reaction is not quite what I was hoping for.  

But I understand I've just given him two shocks:  
William and Melissa.  He covers his eyes and tries to
cower.  He doesn't quite succeed.  He is too big to
hide in the small corner of the couch.  
Should I be angry with him? Should I try to
understand what is happening in his mind?  I don't
know the answers; I can only react.

I smile at him for reassurance as he peeks from a
small crack in his fingers. I wonder if he knows how
hurt he looks - a grown man hiding from me like a
child for fear of punishment that won't come.  He
sees my smile.

"Mulder, this may come as a shock to you, but I don't
*want* those things from you."  I see fear in his
eyes.  I should rephrase that.  

"What I mean is, I want us to be happy and
comfortable with our roles in each other's lives, if
we choose to be.  I realized the longer you were
gone, the harder it would become.  I knew that being
a father to two growing children would be difficult
to comprehend.

"Mulder, you have missed so much of Melissa and
William's lives, but now you have the chance to have
a life with them," I say, softly.  "You have a chance
and *they* now have the chance to know the man who is
so much a part of their lives in spite of being
absent."

I can see the hope in Mulder's eyes, but it fades
fast. He can't bring himself to believe that he could
ever have a place in our children's lives.  I
continue, hoping to reassure him.

"I've told them little about you," I say. "I was
vague about you and happened to you -- or what was
thought to have happened to you.  The truth seemed a
little too 'out there' for a child to grasp."

That is all I can think of to say to him.  Difficulty
is nothing new in his life.  

How could I tell him that I didn't want to show
weakness and humanity in front of those two
representations of my feelings for him?  

How could I tell him, that when they were new-born,
it hurt me so much to look at them and to know that
they may never know the remarkable man that is their
father?

How could I tell him it took me a better part of a
year to want to smile at them and think of what we
could've had together?  

Pain is a part of living, and struggle is nothing new
in his life, but it was new to me when Melissa and
William were born. My life became a lie, my pretty
picture of their father a deception. The biggest lie
of all was to myself: denying the absence of a man
who had so much presence, denying that he was dead
because my heart and soul demanded that he live; yet
the truth was not nearly so concrete.

Mulder does not need to know these things now-I will
save these truths for foggy nights beside the
fireplace when we hold each other and whisper our
fears under the covers, in darkness.

~*~*~*~*~*

She has not told them much about me?  I can
understand that. What can you say to children -- how
could they possibly grasp a farce of a life like
mine?  I have been a non-entity for ten years.  What
could they gain from knowing about me?

Scully trails off . . .  Her eyes deepen in color.  
She's thinking not-so-pleasant thoughts.  I recognize
the look of uncertainty and fear because I have felt
it many times and am intimately acquainted with the
feeling.

I wish I could take her pain, ball it up, and throw
it in a trashcan with a three-point shot.  I wish she
would open up to me more.  But she is an enigma - a
smart, challenging enigma - is part of what draws me
to her.  

"Scully," I say to her, needing to assure her - and
myself - "why don't we do this like we have done
everything else:  We take it one day at a time.  I
can't make promises, *and neither can you*, on how
things'll turn out.  But I do know that I will give
it my best.  If that doesn't work - I'll try even
harder.  I want this life with you.  I don't know
when I realized it but I know that I have wanted this
for what seems like eternity."

I pass my hand through my hair and on down my face.  
I see a twitching in her lips.  Does she want to
smile or cry?  I think either would be a catharsis
for my Scully.  

Continuing on I say:  "This isn't how I pictured us,
but that's the way things are with us.  How many
times have things been difficult for us and how many
times have we shoved those times aside and walked on,
only to find some happiness further on?  We may have
paused for a rest but we never gave up."

I feel drained.  'Checking out' after a ten year stay
in oblivion takes a lot out of a man.  I'll never get
those years back.  It angers me; all I can do is look
forward.  Scully and those kids - my kids - upstairs
are the only things keeping me sane.  My life has
become a joke.  I never thought I would become my own
X-File.

~*~*~*~*~*

I am the only one who can give him peace.  Melissa,
William, and I are the only people to whom he is tied
now.  We may be the only things that are holding him
here, preventing him from running after his own
invisible demons.  Even though his speech has said
all of the things that I need - wanted - hear form
him.  His acceptance has lightened my heart and eased
my fears.

No more conspiracies.  No more lies.  No more search
for elusive truths.  No more questioning your own
motives.  I decide then to give him a life he can be
happy in; a life where he doesn't need look over his
shoulder constantly and wonder whom to trust.

I get up and go the entrance of the living room.  His
eyes follow my movements.

"Missy, Will, come down here," I call up the stairs.  
"There's someone you need to meet."
FINIS

Should I continue?  Let me know!!