TITLE: Vows

AUTHOR: Gwinne

E-MAIL: gwinne@yahoo.com

ARCHIVE: Xemplary, Gossamer, Spookys ok; otherwise ask

KEYWORDS: MSR; Angst

RATING: PG-13

SPOILERS: post-ep for "Existence"

DISCLAIMER: Thanks for eight great years and the opportunity to 

make these characters into my own.  Still, I take no credit for 

their creation.





VOWS



"She needs to get to the hospital."



Despite the seriousness of her statement, there was little 

threat in Agent Reyes' voice, at least to Mulder.  But the 

moment he crossed the threshold and saw his partner, he 

panicked.



He knew birth was messy.  That much he'd gleaned from the few 

prepared childbirth classes he and Scully actually made it to.  

And he knew birth was painful; he was sure he'd never forget the 

sounds of laboring women on the videos, so raw, so primal.  

Still, he wasn't prepared to see Scully propped up in an old 

brass bed, hair stuck to her face in sweaty clumps, tears 

running into the open neck of her shirt.  She clutched the baby, 

wrapped in a blood-streaked towel, to her chest.  He couldn't 

hear the child over Scully's sobs.  Oh God.



"Scully?"  He walked toward her slowly, cataloguing the bloody 

towels piled at the foot of the bed and the butcher knife that 

Reyes must have used to cut the cord.



She looked up at him then, mouth pulled down in that anguished 

way he hadn't seen since Donnie Pfaster first attacked her.  Her 

face was blotchy from the exertion of the birth and her breath 

hitched.  Even in the most intimate moments of their 

relationship, flushed and relaxed in orgasm, she had never 

seemed so vulnerable.  "Scully," he started again, "is it, is 

everything--"



Sudden movement caught his attention, the baby's hand flailing 

in open air.  She's nursing, Mulder realized, that's why it's 

not making any noise.



She nodded slightly and looked back down at the infant.  Mulder 

sat on the bed, bracketed between Scully's bent knees and the 

headboard, running his index finger lightly over the baby's 

scalp.  Despite the layer of vernix and gore that covered its 

body, there was no question of who this child's mother was.  

Strawberry blond fuzz curled under Mulder's hand as he palmed 

the baby's pointed head.  And above the mouth, wet with 

colostrum, sat a nose that could have only come from him.  For 

the first time since Lizzy Gill set this nightmare in motion, 

Mulder felt his jaw clench and stay released.



Pressed against him, Scully shivered and gasped, her thighs 

quivering from exhaustion.  When he reached up, tracing her 

cheekbone with his knuckles, she shut her eyes.  He wondered if 

she would ever look at him the same way again. 



"It's a boy," Agent Reyes said as she washed her hands.  He 

hadn't even heard her come in.  "They're okay.  But I think we 

should get them to a hospital.  I've never done this before," 

she paused, glancing quickly in the direction of Scully's legs, 

"but I don't think she should be bleeding this much."  A hint of 

urgency surfaced above the practiced calm of Reyes' tone.  

Scully would know, he told himself, she'd say something if we 

should be concerned.



"Mulder," Scully finally said, her voice low and worn from what 

Mulder could only imagine as hours of screaming.  In that single 

word, his own name, he heard her every fear and the beginnings 

of relief.  



He rested his forehead against hers until they were almost nose 

to nose, the baby mewing softly between them.  "It will be 

okay," he said.  "I promise."



* * *



"I want to go home, Mulder."  It was the first full sentence 

she'd uttered to him since they admitted her to the ER.  Before 

he could answer, her gaze drifted lower, to the small boy asleep 

in her arms.



"You just gave birth, Scully."



"Plenty of women give birth without ever setting foot in a 

hospital.  I'll be fine, Mulder, you heard the doctor."  Her 

voice still crackled from overuse, but at least she was talking 

to him again.



"Yeah, he said he was amazed everything went as smoothly as it 

did, given the abruption and all."



Seconds after they arrived at the hospital, mother and son had 

been separated for the second time that day.  While the 

pediatrician poked and prodded, giving the baby a near-perfect 

"9" on the Apgar scale, the head of obstetrics palpated Scully's 

abdomen, delivered the placenta, and stitched up what he 

described as "an amazingly minor laceration for an unattended 

birth."  Even now, with Scully cleaned up and resting, Mulder's 

heart still raced.  He wasn't ready.  In the week's adrenaline 

rush to protect her, he'd lost sight of what this moment meant 

for him.  For them.  She'd never said it.  In all these weeks, 

with him shuttling from apartment to apartment, accompanying her 

to birthing classes, and assembling a bassinet in the corner of 

her room, she'd never actually said that she wanted him to be 

this baby's father.



"I'm so tired, Mulder," Scully said, her voice wavering with the 

now-familiar onset of tears.  He'd seen her cry more in the few 

months since his return than he had in the seven years prior.  

The baby fussed a little and Scully cupped his tiny fist inside 

her own.  "Let's go home."



When he'd agreed to be her birth partner, he'd agreed to do 

things her way.  Part of him knew that it was all a fantasy--the 

quiet labor, the water birth in a homey suite--and that the real 

thing would be dangerous and out of her control.  Aliens had 

witnessed the birth of this child; the man who came to kill 

Scully and take her son had stood and watched as she screamed 

and pushed and cried.



If she wanted to go home, they would go home.  "Let me make some 

calls.  I'll get us a plane."



* * *



Mulder wasn't sure what to expect as he opened the door to her 

apartment.  It had been nearly twenty-four hours since he'd left 

Scully and her unnamed son in the care of proud Grandma Maggie, 

already in the kitchen slicing carrots and onions for chicken 

soup.



"You need some time alone," he'd explained, watching Scully 

settle herself carefully on the couch.  How ordinary it all 

seemed, a mother preparing to feed her child, after the surreal 

spectacle of his birth.  He sat on the edge of the coffee table, 

tapping her gently on the knee.



Her hand froze on the top button of her pajamas.  "But you're--"



"I need to check in with Skinner.  There was a situation," he 

paused slightly to let her heft the full weight of the word, 

"down at the bureau.  Besides, aren't I supposed to pass out 

cigars or something?"  He shrugged, pressing his hands against 

his thighs.  They suddenly seemed huge, almost the length of the 

baby's torso.  

  

She forced a smile, and something in his stomach turned.  Mulder 

thought of the baby, how only yesterday he shifted and kicked in 

the warmth of his mother's womb.  It hadn't seemed real until 

now.  



And, for a man who had yet to hold his son, it was all too real, 

the baby's lusty cry and the milky smell of his mother's skin.  

His throat constricted.  As Mulder stood and moved toward the 

door, he paused at her side.  He squeezed her shoulder, running 

his thumb back and forth over the silken material at her 

collarbone.  He needed to reassure himself as much as her.  

"And when I come back, Scully, that kid better have a name."



Now, closing the door and pocketing his key, Mulder took in 

lingering aroma of garlic and spices from Maggie's cooking.  The 

apartment was quiet, quieter than he expected.  No 

overprotective grandmother giving orders to the anxious new 

mother, no baby crying for a diaper change.  Only the balloons 

floating in the corner of the room and the padded carrier on the 

kitchen table indicated that a new baby lived here.  He'd 

wrapped it in Flintstones paper for her to open at the shower, 

"for when we get out of the car" written on the card.



He certainly wasn't expecting to see the guys, stammering in 

embarrassment at being caught in Scully's bedroom.  Somehow, 

though, it all made sense, this odd group of five he considered 

family.  This is it, Mulder thought as the Gunmen headed for the 

front door, it all begins now.  He unclenched his fists and 

walked toward her, seated on the edge of her impeccably made bed 

with the baby in the crook of her arm.  It didn't seem possible 

that she was the same person who, less than two days ago, lay 

sobbing on a bed of sweat and slime.  In her pale satin pajamas 

and robe, she looked almost ethereal.



What did he say to her, the woman whose child he'd agreed to 

father, the woman he'd left to give birth in the company of an 

untrained midwife and a roomful of aliens while he chased the 

bad guys around D.C.?  It should have been him, not Reyes, who 

helped her bring this child into the world.  She could have bled 

to death, he thought, not for the first time, remembering the 

obstetrician's dour-faced warning.  And he wouldn't have even 

been there to hold her. 



"How's everybody doing?" he finally said, asking the standard 

question that would earn the standard reply.



"We're doing just fine."  As she stood and walked toward him, 

only the slightest waver of discomfort in her step, he knew that 

for once she was telling the truth.



* * *



"So what do we do now?" Mulder asked, when their kiss finally 

broke.



"I need to lie down," Scully said.  She leaned heavily against 

his chest, right over her son's restless feet.   



"Everything okay?"



"I'm just achy.  And tired."  Her words were punctuated by 

William's coo.  She exhaled deeply, pulling away.  "I haven't 

been this tired since Antarctica."



Mulder shifted the baby more firmly into his right arm, reaching 

up to stroke her face with his other hand.  "Why don't you take 

a nap for a bit and Willie and I will get acquainted."  



Her eyebrow raised, objecting as quickly as she did to his 

theories about vampires and exsanguinated cows.  She crossed her 

arms tightly over her chest, as if she'd forgotten what she did 

with them before William's birth.



"Will?  Billy?  Bill?"  Scully made a show of clearing her 

throat and moved back toward the bed.  "Okay, then, 'William' it 

is.  Does he have a middle name?"



She paused, pressing her hand into the mattress.  "I thought I'd 

leave that up to his father, if that's okay with you."  



"Seriously?"  He looked up from the baby, almost asleep in the 

cradle of his arms.  No wonder she didn't want to let go of him.  

Scully nodded, shrugging out of her bathrobe and laying it over 

the footboard.



"I suppose 'Elvis' is out of the question?"  As he spoke, he 

walked the baby back to the bassinet, rocking William slightly 

in his arms.  So much for getting acquainted.



"Why don't we stick with names that won't get him beaten up on 

the playground."  Scully piled throw pillows on the floor, and 

Mulder wanted to ask if this was always her nightly routine, if 

he and the baby had changed it.



"Sure.  Okay.  Say goodnight to Mommy, William."  The newborn's 

eyes fluttered and shut, and Mulder placed the boy in his bed.  

He wound the mobile, a gift from Skinner, and 'Twinkle Twinkle 

Little Star' filled the room.  Across from him, Scully pulled 

back the comforter and climbed into bed.



The evening before the baby shower, Mulder had shown up at her 

door with a box of bedding instead of the usual pizza.  As he 

tightened bolts and smoothed sheets lined with clouds, Scully 

told him about that awful night before they found him dead in 

the woods.  She told him how, at the funeral, Skinner had said 

he was sure Mulder was watching over them from the stars, 

protecting them.  "He's been so good to me, Mulder.  I think 

this is his way of saying he's sorry.  And saying he believes."



I'm here now, he'd wanted to say, but it seemed too simple.  

"I'd like to believe, too, Scully, that this baby will be born 

into starlight.  That whoever or whatever is up there will watch 

over him, keep him safe."



Tonight, listening to the soft sucking sounds William made in 

his sleep, Mulder vowed to protect him from someplace much 

closer than the stars.  He closed his eyes, feeling the baby's 

steady heartbeat beneath his palm, then spooned up behind Scully 

on the bed.



"Seriously, Mulder, how did you find us?"



He settled his hand against the gentle swell of her belly.  For 

a moment, he expected to feel the welcome nighttime movements of 

their son.  She stiffened a bit at his touch, and he didn't know 

whether he had hurt her, or if she missed the sensation as well.



"The pilot had a map, Scully.  But there really was a light.  

It's from an observatory on Brasstown Bald, the highest mountain 

in Georgia."



"It does make a better story, you know, for when he grows up."



"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful scientist and a geeky 

prince."



"Spooky.  And why do you get to be a prince?"  She reached back 

and stroked his hip.



"Shhh.  Let me finish.  One day the beautiful scientist came to 

rescue the prince from the evil dungeon."



"You love that basement."



"Scully!"  He pulled her back more tightly against the curve of 

his body and kissed the exposed skin where shoulder met neck.  

"Long story short:  the prince fell madly in love with the 

beautiful scientist but it took him eight long years and a 

miraculous conception to get up the courage to tell her."



"That's no way to end a story, Mulder.  What happens to them?  

Do they live happily ever after?"  Beneath Scully's questions, 

Mulder heard the baby fussing again.



"I hope so," he said, getting up for what would inevitably be 

the first of many times that night.  "Hey, buddy, what's the 

problem?"  William's face reddened and scrunched before he began 

to wail.  Mulder bent his knees, bouncing the little boy as he 

walked back toward Scully, on the other side of the bed.



"Let me take him, Mulder.  He needs to eat."  He envied how 

quickly she had learned to identify what he needed from the 

sound of his cry.  After she unbuttoned her pajama top with 

well-practiced fingers, Mulder set the child squirming in her 

arms.  He watched, transfixed, as the boy latched on to his 

mother's nipple, covering the entire aureole with his small 

mouth.



"Wow."  He sat facing her, hip to hip.



"Wow?"



"I just never pictured this.  Somehow, I always envisioned you 

as the plastic bottle type of mom.  But this, I mean, wow, 

Scully, it's amazing."  He skimmed his finger over the baby's 

cheek and the alabaster skin of his mother's breast.  He rested 

his forehead against hers, just as he had in those first moments 

after William's birth.  "I'm so sorry, Scully."



"For what?"  Mulder felt, as well as saw, the movement as she 

bit the inside of her cheek.



"For everything that happened.  For everything that could have 

happened.  To you.  To him.  I'm sorry I wasn't there."



She swallowed audibly.  "Next time."  In those two soft words, 

Mulder heard the strength of her vow.  It had taken eight years, 

two abductions, a bout with cancer, and his own ill-timed death, 

but they were finally ready to be a family.



"I'll be there from the first dizzy spell to the last push."  He 

kissed her then, sure that this moment was as close to a wedding 

ceremony as they'd ever get.  "I promise."





THE END





Note:  Thank you to alanna, for her geographical insight and 

sharp sense of character, and for pushing me to answer the tough 

questions; to BoneTree, for her keen awareness of image and 

diction, for helping me see how these characters move; and, as 

always, to Scullyfic, birthplace of good ideas.



feedback is like iced tea on a hot summer day; share a virtual 

drink with me at gwinne@yahoo.com