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Scully sits on the edge of her bathtub, her head hanging down between her knees, trying to take slow, measured breaths. Her head is swimming, and she feels as though, at any moment, she may vomit what little breakfast she's been able to manage. She tells herself that the nausea doesn't mean anything, that it's just because she's upset, that it's too early for a little upset stomach to mean... she can't complete the thought, not even in her mind.
The pregnancy test sits innocuously on her bathroom sink, five inches of pink and white plastic that could spell disaster in so many ways. It's not that she doesn't want kids- she does- but now? This is the worst possible time. She's just starting out in her career, just getting her feet wet in the field, and she has so much she wants to accomplish before she even thinks about starting a family.
And Ethan... she's finally free of him, and the end hadn't been neat and clean. Not at all. He'd taken nearly two weeks to move all of his things out, trying to talk to her every time he'd shown up to get something he'd "forgotten," until finally, Scully had done a complete and thorough cleaning of her apartment and had boxed up every last vestige of Ethan's existence in her life, presenting him with his remaining belongings and demanding his key. And just in case he'd made a copy, she'd had the locks changed for good measure.
If she's pregnant with his child, and she keeps it, she'll be anything but free. She would never have thought it of Ethan before they'd met... but now, after his behavior over the past few months, she doesn't doubt that, if she has his child, he will have no qualms about using that child as much as possible to exert control over her. She can imagine him pressuring her to leave the field, leave the FBI, threatening to sue for custody, trying to claim that the dangerous nature of her job makes her an unfit parent. She's kicking herself for getting involved with someone like him, for not seeing him for what he was sooner. He'd hidden his controlling tendencies so well, for so long, that she hadn't had a clue until the moment she'd expressed a desire to move from Quantico into the field. If she'd had Mulder's profiling capabilities, she wonders, would she have known earlier?
And Mulder. God. That's a whole other side of this mess that she hasn't even begun to consider yet. She'd been impressed with how well he'd managed to hide his glee over Ethan's departure, and it made her like him all that much more that he hadn't immediately jumped straight into asking her out himself. He'd offered for her to stay with him on several occasions, when he'd found out that Ethan was still showing up at her apartment, but he'd also made it perfectly clear that he wouldn't try anything while she was there. Not unless she wanted him to. He's made certain that she knows what he wants, and now he's waiting patiently for her to set the pace.
But will he still want her when she's swollen out to here with another man's child, and all of the messy entanglements that will come with it? Will he still be interested, knowing the type of drama that will surely be an inextricable part of co-parenting with someone as insecure and controlling as Ethan? Does Mulder even like children? She's only ever seen him with the ones they've met in the field, and while he doesn't seem to have any trouble relating to them, she's fully aware that that doesn't automatically translate into wanting to have any of his own. She's certainly seen enough of his lifestyle to know that it's not exactly suited to parenthood.
Scully checks her watch. Five minutes have passed, more than enough time. Standing up slowly on legs that don't feel nearly strong enough to support her weight, she crosses to the sink and, heart in her throat, looks down at the pregnancy test.
Negative.
She lets her breath out in one great sigh, but her relief is not complete, not by a long shot. She's well aware that she's not in the clear yet, that her period is only two days late and it could very well be too early for an at-home test to work. She remembers her friend Ellen going through three negative tests before finally getting a positive, back when she'd gotten pregnant with her first child. She decides to make an appointment with her doctor for a blood test, just to be sure, so that she can stop worrying.
One ten-minute phone call and lots of begging later, however, she's been unable to get an appointment for any earlier than a week. She takes it, reluctantly, figuring that if her period shows up before then, she can always cancel.
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Mulder's buoyant mood is only slightly deflated by Scully's inexplicable grouchiness. He knows from talking to her that she's finally managed to evict Ethan from her life and her apartment once and for all, and until today, she's been positively giddy. She's flirted with him more in the past week than she has over the entire duration of their relationship thus far, and three days ago, she'd surprised him- pleasantly- with a chaste (but sweet) kiss on the cheek when he'd shown up in the morning with coffee and a bagel for her.
Mulder had gotten out of bed this morning determined that today would be the day, that once the arrangements for their flight to Washington are made, he's going to take the plunge and ask her out. Nothing serious- just dinner tonight, before she goes home to pack. He's put off, initially, by her demeanor, but he decides to forge ahead all the same. Who knows, maybe her mood is because he's taken too long to ask her out, and she'll be excited that he's finally decided to get a move on. He plows through his explanation of the strange events in Olympic National Forest, then smiles beguilingly at her.
"Come on, Scully," he says. "It'll be a nice trip to the forest." She still looks unconvinced. "I know it's not exactly a romantic bed and breakfast... but hey, maybe there's one of those up there and we can stop on the way home." He grins to show he's joking, but even so, what little vestiges of a smile she still had are instantly gone. She hunches her shoulders. Alarm bells sound in his head, warning him to back off, to give her some space.
Naturally, he doesn't listen.
"Speaking of which," he says, "I was wondering... would you like to get some dinner with me after work?" She looks down, avoiding his gaze. "I promise not to keep you out late. I know you'll want to pack and get to bed early." Still, she won't look at him. "Scully?" She sighs.
"Mulder... it's not a good idea just now. I'm sorry." He's completely flabbergasted.
"Has something... Scully, has something changed in the past couple of days? Because forgive me if I'm off base, but I don't think my asking this should come as a surprise." Scully begins gathering up her things.
"I can't talk about it right now, Mulder. There are things going on...." She looks at him, finally, and the sadness in her eyes bowls him over. Something is very, very wrong. "I'm sorry," she says again. "I just can't. Not now."
He doesn't trust himself to speak. He feels completely blindsided, as though she's led him on, and now she's yanking the rug out from under him. Anything he says now is not likely to be a reflection of his best self. He snatches up his briefcase and yanks his coat down from its hook.
"I'll see you at the airport," he manages to ground out. He throws open the office door, and Scully stands to follow him.
"Mulder-" But he shakes his head, not looking at her, and strides off down the hallway before she can say another word.
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It's no wonder he's short with her when she confronts him over letting Spinney leave with the extra gas. Between his own guilt and his lingering anger with her, he's primed to go off... but still, telling her to "cut the sanctimonious crap" was well over the line. He doesn't need the hurt on her face to tell him that... but perversely, her hurt only makes him angrier. He channels it into prepping the cabin for dark, and by the time they're all situated inside, he's calmed considerably.
Near dawn, with Moore snoozing uneasily on a cot against one wall, Mulder joins Scully where she sits on a second cot. For a moment, they don't speak... but finally, Mulder reaches out and tentatively takes Scully's hand in his. She doesn't throw him off.
"I'm sorry," he says, keeping his voice low. "Not just for making a decision without you. I'm sorry for the way I acted in the office." She hangs her head. "I thought you'd been waiting for me to ask you out... I guess maybe I read the signals wrong." She shakes her head.
"You didn't, Mulder," she says, flipping her hand over and lacing her fingers with his. "If you'd asked me two days earlier, my reaction would have been a lot different." He frowns, confused. She raises her eyes to meet his. "I'm five days late, Mulder. There's a chance I could be pregnant."
Whatever he'd been expecting, it's not that. He swallows hard. "How big of a chance?" She shrugs.
"I took a test, the morning before you asked me out, and it was negative... but it could have just been too early for the test to pick it up. I have an appointment with my doctor for a blood test on Monday." With the hand not holding his, she toys with the hem of her shirt, unraveling loose threads. "It could just be stress. Between everything happening with the breakup, and Jack dying, and everything else... it wouldn't be the first time I've missed a period because of stress." She looks up at him. "There's a pretty good chance it's nothing. But if it's not... it's not what you signed up for, Mulder. I wasn't about to get involved with you- no matter how much I want to- until you knew exactly what was going on." He nods.
He knows this is where he's supposed to tell her that it doesn't matter, that he's on board for anything as long as it means he gets to be with her... but the words just won't come. And the longer he stays silent, the more he can feel Scully pulling away from him. But she's right: this isn't what he'd thought he'd be signing up for, and he needs to think carefully about what he does next.
Across the cabin, Moore grumbles and sits up, rubbing his eyes. He nods at them.
"Why don't one of you guys try and grab a few hours' sleep?" he suggests. "I'll stay up for a bit." Mulder withdraws his hand from Scully's and stands up, motioning for her to lie back.
"You go ahead, Scully," he says. "I... I don't think I could sleep right now." She nods, not meeting his eyes, and lies down, rolling to face the wall and leaving him alone with a jumble of thoughts he can't even begin to puzzle his way through.
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"I told her it was going to be a nice trip to the forest." He looks down at her, lying perfectly still, her porcelain skin covered in painful red burns. He's got plenty of his own, he knows just from looking at his hands, but it doesn't hurt anywhere near as much as the crushing guilt he's feeling.
The doctor suggests that Mulder might be more comfortable back in his bed, but he refuses.
"I need to be here when she wakes up," he says.
"That could be awhile yet, Agent Mulder," says the doctor.
"I don't care." The doctor looks as though he'd like to argue further, but finally, he gestures to a chair in the corner of the room.
"Suit yourself." He leaves. Mulder crosses to the chair and slowly drags it across the floor until it's right next to Scully's bed. He sits down, taking her limp, cool hand in his, being careful to avoid brushing his fingers against the worst of the burns. He leans as close to her ear as he can.
"Scully," he whispers, "I don't know if you can hear me, but I just want you to know: whatever happens, whatever it ends up looking like, whatever you need me for... I'm all in." He finds an unhurt patch of skin at the corner of her mouth and presses a gentle kiss to it. "I'm sorry I ever gave you any reason to doubt that."
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Scully's been awake for less than five minutes before she's grilling the doctor for every scrap of information he can provide. Potential lung damage from inhalation of luciferene, severe external burns, dehydration... it's probably good that she and Mulder are quarantine, because enforced rest is definitely what they need right now. At the end of the doctor's run-down on their medical condition, she glances over at Mulder, and then back at the doctor.
"Was a pregnancy test done on me before treatment began?" she asks.
"Yes," says the doctor. "It was negative. Have you had a positive pregnancy test recently?" Scully shakes her head.
"Just making sure," she says. She doesn't look at Mulder, and asks instead for an update on Moore, who is still unconscious.
"He was the worst off out of the three of you," says the doctor. "He's still on a respirator, and we're keeping him in strict isolation to try and ward off infection." The doctor stands. "The two of you are ready to be moved to private rooms for the rest of your time in quarantine."
"And how long will that be?" asks Mulder.
"Eleven more days, most likely." Mulder groans.
"I need to call Frohike and get him to feed my fish," he says.
"And I need to call my mom," says Scully. She shakes her head. "I've given her a rough couple of months."
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On their fifth day in quarantine, with the worst of her burns healed past the point of being painful, and most of her lung function restored, Scully ventures into Mulder's room. He's lying on his bed, thumbing through one of the sad-looking paperbacks he's found sitting in the corner of one of the quarantine facility's common rooms. She turns her head sideways to read the title.
"'To Tame a Wicked Duke?'" He grins at her.
"Don't knock it, Scully," he says. "I'm learning a lot here." She smiles and shakes her head. He tosses the book aside and sits up, leaning against the wall, and pats the space next to him. "Stay awhile," he says. "I could use the company. I'm gonna start climbing the walls soon." She smiles and sinks into the mattress, leaning her head against his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"
"Relieved," she says. "In more ways than one."
"Yeah," he says, his voice soft. "You're in the clear." He sighs. "I guess I kinda screwed myself over, huh?" She frowns up at him.
"What makes you say that?"
"Because you're always going to wonder," he says. "If I would have been willing, if it had turned out you were pregnant. If I would have wanted you enough to make it work... or if I would have let it scare me off." He hangs his head. "I can tell you now that I would still have been there for you, that even though I don't know anything about babies, I would have been there for whatever you would've needed... but you have no way of knowing whether or not it's the truth. Because now, it costs me nothing to say it." He sighs. "I didn't tell you when it counted."
"But you did tell me," Scully whispers, reaching for his hand. "Before you knew. Before the doctor told us." He raises his eyes to hers. "All in, right? No matter what happens. No matter what it ends up looking like. No matter what I need you for." Mulder's eyes widen.
"You heard me," he murmurs. She nods.
"I heard you," she says. "And I'm all in, too."
When their lips meet this time, it's different than all the kisses they've shared before. This kiss is not born from mourning, or from relief at her survival. There is no guilt, no sense that they should not be doing this. This kiss is a reflection that they are finally, joyfully, on the same page, and the promise behind it takes Scully's breath away.
Mulder buries his hands in Scully's hair, pressing his lips harder to hers, his tongue in her mouth. He begins to push her back down on his bed, but she resists, opting instead to straddle his thighs, grinding herself against him, feeling a thrill deep inside at how quickly he responds, hardening beneath her. She reaches for the hem of her white shirt, divesting herself quickly of the decidedly un-sexy scrubs. She claws at Mulder's shirt until it, too, is on the floor. He tries to pull away long enough to wriggle out of his pants, but she can't wait that long. The most she can manage is to rip them down to the bottom of his hips, just low enough for his cock to spring free. She lifts herself up on her knees, feeling his hands gripping her hipbones hard enough to bruise, and leaning forward, she sinks all the way down onto him with a sharp hiss.
Mulder shudders at the feel of her, momentarily overwhelmed, and buries his face in her naked breasts. She begins moving immediately, unable to wait, unable to be slow or gentle, needing him so badly that she can barely see straight. She's been wanting him, wanting him desperately, for so long, and now that he's exactly where she needs him to be, she knows she should slow down, savor it, but she can't, she can't, and the look in his eyes tells her that he's right there with her. He lifts himself up off of the bed with each of her downward thrusts, slamming into her at a breakneck pace, the feel of him just barely bordering on painful. She's crying out in rhythm with their motion, and her orgasm hits her hard and fast, taking her completely by surprise. She sobs out his name as she shudders and contracts around him. He comes with her with a shout that she's certain must have been heard all over the containment facility, but in this moment, she doesn't care who hears them.
Mulder cradles her head in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers. Both of them are gasping for breath, their injured lungs pushed far past their capacity. Mulder rotates slowly to the side, being careful not to dislodge himself from her, and lies on his back on his bed, pulling Scully down to lie on top of him.
"That," he says, his voice a hoarse rasp in his throat, "was worth every second of the wait."
For once, Scully has no desire whatsoever to argue with him.