Small Impossibilities
By Leyla Harrison

Disclaimer: I do not own Mulder, Scully or Skinner.  If I mention anyone
else in this story, I probably don't own them either.
Classification: V, A, MSR
Spoilers: Requiem, all things, En Ami...basically, a general knowledge of
this whole season up to the finale.  You do watch the show, right?  <g>
Rating: I wish I could say I'm going to be conservative here, but I
can't.  NC-17.  I'm sure you can live with that.  But there is a plot
here, I promise.
Summary: Scully remembers.

Notes: OK, I just watched Requiem and I confess  I shrieked.  Loudly.
I'm a little slow, so I confess it took me a while to take a lot of the
little details from the episode and put them together and come up with
the obvious.  I've calmed down now. Kinda.  There's something to be said
about an episode that had me fully engaged throughout  when I start
talking to the TV (as in, "Mulder, what are you doing!  Go back!  Step
away from the light!!") I know I'm back into it again.  And you know
what? I'm glad to be back.

This is how long it's been since I've written a fanfic: 1) I don't even
have a beta reader anymore.
2) When I ran a spell-check, the words "Mulder" and "Scully" came up as
being misspelled.  Then I realized that the last time I wrote a fanfic I
still had my old computer.  Good grief!!

***

I remember the night it happened.

I woke up in the middle of the night with a start.  For a minute, I had
no idea where I was, and it confused me.  A scratchy blanket was draped
over me, pulled up to my neck as if I was a corpse in a morgue.  My
limbs were stiff, and the room was almost completely dark.

Then I remembered.

I was on Mulder's couch, in Mulder's apartment.  It smelled like him;
the room, the blanket, the air.  That ever so slightly musky smell that
is almost like regular air, but with a twist.  I always could tell when
Mulder's been in a room because of it.  It's almost as if his scent
trailed after him like bread crumbs.

The room was humming.  I realized that it was the pump from the aquarium
in the corner.  I pushed the blanket off and sat up from my awkward
position on the couch where I must have fallen asleep.  I was touched
that Mulder put a blanket over me and let me sleep instead of waking me
up. Anyone else would have woken me up and told me to go home.  But then
again, Mulder isn't anyone.

Mulder and I both have had issues with sleep deficiency; it's a trait we
shared and yet never talked about.  We'd both been haunted by
nightmares: not the kind that wake you up in a cold sweat, but the kind
that don't let you fall asleep.  The last time I had found Mulder
sleeping was when he had put his head down on his desk in the office.  I
had left him there, even though he only got a quick nap before the phone
rang twenty minutes later.  During those twenty minutes, though, I sat
across from him and watched him sleep, knowing that I was giving him a
gift, and knowing that he would at some point return the favor.

And that night in his apartment, he returned the favor; he allowed me a
night's sleep, at least a half-night, which was better than nothing.  By
the luminescent hands of my watch I could tell that it was almost three
in the morning.

I've always been the kind of person who looks a gift horse in the
mouth.  That night, instead of feeling completely grateful, I
felt...pain.  The muscles in my back were screaming in pain from having
slept in such an awkward position.

I got up and crept through the darkened apartment, into Mulder's
bedroom.

He was sprawled out on the bed, on top of the sheets, wearing sweats and
a t-shirt, breathing evenly.  A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of
my mouth.  I passed the bed and went into the bathroom, where I shut the
door quietly behind me and turned on the light.

Mulder's bathroom had a dimmer switch, which made me immensely happy for
some reason.  I dialed the light down low and avoided the mirror,
because I was afraid that I wouldn't recognize the face I saw in the
reflection.  But when I looked, I did recognize that woman in the
mirror.  It was me, Dana Scully, hair tousled and eyes rimmed with dark
circles from lack of sleep.  I turned away.

What I needed, I thought to myself wearily, is a nice hot bath.

A bath is something I don't allow myself in my own home anymore.  In
hotels, on cases, whenever I'm not in my own house, I take a bath.  But
not in my house.  It's pretty obvious why.

And there I was, in Mulder's apartment  where I couldn't have felt any
more safe.  I eyed the bathtub and decided to go for it.  Of course,
there was no bubble bath or essential oils.  Not in Mulder's apartment.
Mulder had a plain white shower curtain and those stick on non-slip
shapes at the bottom of the tub.  Mulder had picked blue turtles.

I started to run the bath and squeezed some of Mulder's shampoo into the
running water.  The water foamed up instantly I got a quick whiff of
MulderSmell again.  I sighed contentedly and pulled off my clothes and
ease myself into the tub.

When the tub was full, I turned off the faucet and sank back into the
bubbles.  It was like being in a tub full of Mulder and I found that it
was the most relaxing thing I've ever experienced.  I closed my eyes and
leaned my head back against the tile wall, luxuriating in the warmth of
the water and feeling the tension in my back melt away.

"Now that's a sight you don't see every day."

My eyes blinked open at the sound of Mulder's low voice.  He was
standing in the doorway.

I moved to cover my breasts, because I was unsure of how much privacy
the bubbles were giving me.

"Don't," Mulder said and stepped into the bathroom.  Only two steps,
small ones, and then he sat down on the floor and stared off at the
wall, his eyes away from me.  "I heard the water running, but I didn't
think I would actually have the guts to come in here."

He was so conversational that I almost thought I was imagining the whole
situation.  "Why is that?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Because I knew that you would be in the tub.  Naked."

And I felt naked.  Even with the bubbles, even with his eyes averted, I
felt like Mulder had already taken a snapshot of me with his eyes and
was examining each and every detail in his head.

I decided to try to change the subject.  "Thank you for letting me
sleep.  I was exhausted."

"You're welcome."

Mulder turned on the floor and scooted over so that he was sitting
beside the tub, right next to me, looking right at me.  The room was
hot; I could feel beads of sweat on my neck and my forehead from the
steam that had risen from the water.  I swallowed hard.  He was being so
casual, as if he had spent a thousand baths next to me like that.

"Mulder  "

"You can't take a bath at home."  A statement, not a question.  I nodded
my head, unable to speak.  "Because of him?"

I took a deep breath and let it out.  Mulder's eyes were searching my
face.  We never talked about Pfaster after that day, not once.  It was a
closed subject.

"Yes," I admitted.  I wasn't surprised that Mulder knows.  Somewhere in
my heart I believe that Mulder knows everything about me.  "My back was
sore from being on the couch," I told him.  "I just wanted  "

"I know," he said, and dipped his hand into the water.

I felt his fingers brush the inside of my arm.  Underwater, Mulder's
fingers stroked, gently, lightly.  I know his touch  he had touched me
before  but never like that, and never underwater.  He was being
feather-light, so careful.

"Are you sorry, Scully?" he asked.

I wrinkled my brow.  It was hard to think with him stroking my arm like
that.  "Sorry about what?" I asked, unsure of what he was talking about.

"Sorry for the choices you've made.  Sorry about the X-Files.  Me."

"I don't know, Mulder.  I don't know how I feel about the choices I've
made."  His fingers had stilled on my arm, and I looked up to see fear
on his face.  "I do know that I'm not sorry about you."

"How can you say that?" he asked quietly.  "Everything you've lost
because of me  the X-Files.  How can you not be sorry about that?"

I thought of all the things I've lost because of my work on the
X-Files.  They ran through my mind in a jumble that night, blurring
together at the edges.  They formed a vague picture, and around the
picture is a frame made up of Mulder, which is perfectly clear.  I could
barely look at the picture  but the frame was what kept drawing my eyes
back.  I almost don't know how to say it.

"Because of you," I said simply, hoping he would understand.  "I lost
everything  but I found you."  I realized that my throat was tight with
impending tears.

His hand came out of the water and he reached for me with both hands,
pulling my body towards him, sloshing water over the side of the tub.  I
gasped, startled, and he kissed me, roughly.  I didn't stop him.  I
didn't push him away.

My mouth needed him.  I needed him.

I pulled him closer, feeling my breasts rub against his t-shirt.  The
edge of the tub was the only thing keeping us apart, and I could feel
Mulder struggling to his knees to get closer to me.

I pulled my mouth away from him for only a moment.  He was breathing
hard, and his gray t-shirt was dark in places where the water made him
wet.  "Scully  " he said, dragging his eyes down and looking at me,
exposed and soapy from the waist up.   "Jesus, Scully."

"I have to get out of the tub," I told him.  "I'm getting you wet."  He
reached into the tub and parted my legs, sliding a few fingers over me.

"I'm getting you wet," he responded, and I couldn't answer.  I ducked my
head, feeling unbearably shy, and unbearably aroused.  He pulled his
hand back and slid his arms under my hips, lifting me up.  I almost
squealed, but as soon as I was out of the tub he set me on my feet.

I could feel the rivulets of water streaming down my body and I made no
attempt to cover myself.  Mulder stood still, looking at me, his eyes
taking me in.

In the bedroom, the light was on low.  I knew he was behind me,
following me, looking at me.  I turned and sat down on the edge of the
bed.  Mulder pulled his wet t-shirt off and threw it aside.  He stepped
closer to the bed.

"If the X-Files brought me this," I managed to get out, "then I'm not
sorry, Mulder."

It was all he needed to hear.  He dropped to his knees and parted my
legs.  I wasn't completely expecting that, and I gasped when I felt his
hot breath on my inner thighs.  His tongue found its way right to my
core, expertly parting my folds with his fingers and licking gently, but
steadily.  A low moan escaped from me as he carefully avoided my clit.
He circled around it in precise circles.  I closed my eyes and braced my
arms on the bed.  I felt slick, from the mixture of his saliva and my
own wetness, and he continued his work.

I opened my eyes for a moment and saw the top of his head, and I touched
his hair, running my fingers through it.  He lifted his head slightly,
which shifted his tongue so that it was closer to my clit, and I cried
out, closing my eyes.  His mouth was practically humming against my
flesh.

"Open," he mumbled, and I opened my eyes again.  He worked his mouth
closer to my clit, and his eyes looked up, fixed on mine.  It was
torture.

"Mulder," I moaned, "please..."

He obliged me, and his lips sucked hard on my clit.  The sensation was
overwhelming and I felt like I was exploding.  He parted his lips
slightly and slipped his tongue between them, stroking my clit.  His
hands were holding my thighs, and it didn't take long for the
stimulation to set me over the edge.  My orgasm peaked and I couldn't
bear it.  I screamed.

Mulder didn't stop, but he did slow down the pace.  His tongue slowly
moved back and forth over me.  I was physically twitching as my second
orgasm followed immediately on the heels of the first.

Mulder released me, kissing the inside of my thigh, and then kissed my
mouth.  I could taste myself on him, and I was still breathing hard.  He
helped me lie down, moving our bodies up to the top of the bed so I
could rest my head on the pillow.  The whole room smelled not just of
him anymore, but of me as well.

He kissed me gently, suckled my lips.  I kissed him back, and then
leaned my forehead down and let it rest against his.

"I want to make love to you, Scully," he whispered.

"I..." I felt so overwhelmed already; sensation was still rippling in my
body.  I thought I needed a break.  But he did make love to me that
night.  Twice.  The first time was moments after my orgasms; he rose me
fast and hard, his eyes losing focus at the end, and he threw his head
back and cried out my name as I rocked below him, proud and flooded with
emotion.  The second time was an hour later, after I had dozed off.  I
felt him slipping into me again, sliding in and out of me slowly until I
was fully awake.  We moved slowly like that for what seemed like hours,
our bodies connecting, both of us unwilling for it to be over.

That night, I slipped from Mulder's apartment in the dawn, in a storm,
not knowing why I had left him there to wake up alone, but knowing full
well that things would never be the same between us.  There could be no
such thing as a one-night stand between us; I knew that and so did he.
I left knowing that there would be many more nights that we would sleep
between sheets that smelled of sex and of each other.  I knew he would
understand.  That night, I needed to think.

***

We went back to Bellefleur.

It was there that I started feeling sick.  At first, I thought the
worst.  When you've lived through cancer, you don't walk around with
dizziness and a cold and then think you're just catching a flu.  You
think it's back.  You think it's growing, spreading, killing.

I came to Mulder's room the first night I was sick.  I went into his bed
easily.  I was used to it already  sliding into his bed, having him
come up behind me and wrapping his arms around me.  But he was different
that night.  Scared.  Scared for me, and scared in a way that had
nothing to do with cancer.

He was scared of what it was doing to me emotionally.  I hadn't realized
it  when I had been holding Teresa's baby  that he had been watching
me.  I had become a pro with babies at that point.  Holding them.
Cooing to them.  It didn't hurt anymore; not as much, anyhow.  I had
spent time with Tara and Bill and Matthew, and it helped.  Helped ease
the pain.  Somewhat, anyhow.

But there was no easing the pain for Mulder.  He carried the torch of
blame for everything that happened to me  he always did.

"I want you to go back, Scully," he had said.

And then we both went back, and then Mulder decided for me that he
wasn't going to let me go back to Oregon  didn't want to jeopardize my
safety because of my history as an abductee.  It was only after he left
that I put the pieces together and realized that he was the one in
danger.  I realized it and then fell into a dead faint in the arms of
the Lone Gunmen.

I woke up in the hospital.  Scared out of my mind.  The doctors assured
me that I was fine.  There was no cancer that they could see on blood
tests.  I sat up, struggling in the bed, telling them I wanted x-rays.
CAT scans.  Nuclear medicine scans.

"We can't do that," the doctor told me.

I squinted at him.  "I'm a medical doctor," I told him.  "You can do
that.  I'm asking you to do that."

"We don't want to put the baby at any risk," he said, and my heart
dropped into my stomach.

"What?" I asked in a whisper.

He looked at me carefully.  "You weren't aware that you were pregnant?"

Tears filled my eyes.  "You must...you must have made a mistake.
There's...no way I can be pregnant.  I'm..."

"Well, there must be a mistake, because you're pregnant.  8 weeks, to be
exact.  It's very early, so you'll need to be careful about any undue
stress..."

I stopped listening for a moment and counted back in my head.  Not like
it mattered.  Mulder and I had been sleeping together for about 8 weeks,
and there had never once been a discussion about taking precautions.  We
didn't think there was a need to.  Both of us hadn't been sexually
active but once in the last seven years, and there was no chance of me
getting...

I bit back a sob.  Mulder.  I had to talk to Mulder.

***

Of course he was gone.

Skinner had looked down for a minute and when he looked up again, Mulder
was gone.  I heard it from the Gunmen before Skinner came to me in
tears.  A sight I never expected to see.  And the words that came out of
his mouth  that he would not deny what he saw out there in the woods in
Oregon  were just one more thing I never dreamed I would hear.  He was
taking the loss of Mulder personally.

"I lost him," he said.

I was almost numb.

"We'll find him," I said, but as I spoke, tears clogged my throat.  I
blinked.  "I have to," I added.  Quiet.  Firm.

And then I told Skinner about the baby.

I couldn't help it; when I told him, I could feel the tears spilling
over my eyes just as the words tumbled out of my mouth.  The emotion
that had been locked in my heart since I had been told the news came
loose when Skinner came into my room, looking so distraught.

I was going to have a baby.  After everything I had lost  everything I
thought I had lost.  There was no explanation as to how I had gotten
pregnant.  None.  And yet  three doctors ran three separate tests.
Three blood tests said I was pregnant.  Two ultrasounds showed I was
pregnant.

I stared at the ultrasound screen, grainy in black and white, and saw
what Mulder and I had created.  It was so incredibly small.  So tiny.
And yet so alive.

I was going to have a baby.

And Mulder was missing.

***

In my hospital bed that night, I dreamed of Mulder.

"I'm having a baby," I told him, in the basement of the Bureau.  "I'm
pregnant."  My eyes brimmed with tears as I told him.

He stared at me.  "Scully, you  " he stuttered.  "You can't get
pregnant."

"I know, Mulder," I said, touching him arm.  "But I am.  I'm pregnant.
I don't know how, but..."

"Are you sure it's mine?" he asked then, and my blood ran cold.

I woke up in a cold sweat.  The room was spinning.  I pressed the call
button in a panic and the nurse came into the dark room.  "It's all
right," she soothed.  "You're all right."

When I fell back asleep I went right back into my dream.  I was in my
apartment this time.  I looked around and my suddenly spacious rooms
seemed too small to hold a crib.  The walls were tightening in on me.  I
stretched my arms out and could touch each wall as it grew closer and
closer.

The walls squeezed me into a small square, and then I was out in the
woods in Bellefleur, in the dark.  Laser pointers were set up in the
trees, casting odd red lines of light into a maze.  I was alone.

Off in the distance, I could see a light.  I wandered towards it.

I felt a rush of cold air over my body, as if I were seeing something
for the first time.  Skinner, off to my left, looking around
frantically.  "Sir?" I called out to him, but he didn't respond.  He
stared right through me.  I looked around, back towards the light.

There were people in the light, crowded into a small cluster.  And
Mulder.  He was stepping closer to the edge, closer to the circle of
people inside...

"No!" I screamed.  "Mulder!!"

He didn't hear me either.  And then he stepped into the light.  And was
gone.

***

I woke up to see the sunlight filtering into the room.  Skinner sat at
my bedside, his eyes closed, his head tipped to one side.  "Sir?" I
asked quietly, and he stirred.

"I...I just wanted to make sure you were all right," he said.  "I must
have fallen asleep."  His eyes were red rimmed and dark baggy circles
had taken up residence there.

"We have to find him," I said, firmly.

"I know, Scully, but your doctor said "

I pushed the covers back.  "I need to get out of here.  I can't work
from here."

"Hey, hey," Skinner said, taking my arm as I tried to get out of bed.
"Where are you going?"

"To the office," I said.  "If we're going to find Mulder, we aren't
going to be able to do it from this hospital room."

"Your doctor hasn't said you could go home, Scully."

"I'm fine," I insisted.

Skinner looked at me.  "We don't even know where to look," he finally
said.  "I wouldn't know where to start."

I sighed heavily.  "Well, we have to start somewhere.  Anywhere."

***

"Are you sure it's mine?" Mulder had asked me in my dream.

What the hell was that all about?

Of course it's yours, Mulder, I thought angrily.  Who the hell else's
would it be?

And then I remembered.  The Smoking Man.

I had woken up in different clothes than I had gone to sleep with.

Oh God.

***

The baby is Mulder's.

I'm going to find him.

My mantra.



END