TITLE: Lullaby Voice AUTHOR:PD ARCHIVAL: Gossamer, no thanks. Stories will be housed at my site only. If you'd like to link, I'd love it, but please drop me note with a heads up. DISCLAIMER:::patting pockets, checking ID:: Nope. Not mine. CLASSIFICATION: SHRA, MSR RATING:R (mature language and theme) SPOILERS:Through "Requiem" - There are no known spoilers for anything post-"Requiem" here. SUMMARY: It's about food, kindness, murderous intentions and the stages of waiting. All stories can be found at http://pages.sbcglobal.net/syzygial/ FEEDBACK: Will be shellacked and framed. syzygial@sbcglobal.net AUTHOR'S NOTES: The story Impressions follows. Lullaby Voice By PD Spring sweet rhythm dance in my head And slip into my lover's hands Kiss me oh won't you kiss me now And sleep I would inside your mouth Don't be us too shy For knowing it's no big surprise That I will wait for you I will wait for no one but you - DMB Day 33 5:17 PM She was ebullient. She was also angry. Her ambivalence would certainly be her undoing. On the one hand, she was pregnant. On the other, she was pregnant and alone. Pregnant and furious. Pregnant and afraid. Pregnant and exhausted. They wanted to run more tests, and they wouldn't let her go home. Not that there was anything to go home to. He *lost* him? Fuck ambivalent. Fuck everything. * * * * Day 42 7:17 PM She blurted it out during dinner. Like the Band-Aid theory, it seemed easier this way. "Mom?" "Hm?" "I'm pregnant." Scully quickly explained the situation as thoroughly as her own grasp of reality would allow. She delivered the facts with a minimum of emotion. When she was through, Margaret Scully pulled her daughter into a fierce hug - a vice-like grip of love that only mothers learn from the Secret Mother's Handbook. It meant, "I'm here, and no matter what you think now, it will be all right." Scully chose to believe it. The alternatives were unthinkable. * * * * Day 93 3:17 AM She practiced singing. She believed every woman's voice was beautiful when singing a lullaby. So, she practiced singing. Just for fun, she used her lullaby voice to sing White Punks On Dope. She found it to be the most amusing thing she'd ever heard in her life. She couldn't wait to sing it for Mulder. When. When. * * * * Day 126 2:05 PM She stumbled upon it while attempting to remedy a bitter and simultaneous attack of boredom *and* the big three: hostility, hunger and heartburn. Her remedy was a trick she'd learned as a small child. Bored? Annoyed at Bill? Find him floating your Lincoln Logs down the gutters again? Open the thesaurus. You'll learn something while you occupy yourself. Dana Scully was never one to waste a learning opportunity. She eyed the wordy entry with contempt before she slammed the book shut with a grunt of indignation and another taste of acid reflux. "mass n.," it had read. "The amount of space occupied by an object: size, dimensions, magnitude, measure, proportions, bulk, mass, volume, girth, extent, area, spread, expanse." ** She moved to the full-length mirror in her bedroom and scrutinized her ass. "Damn worthless waste of paper," she muttered on the way to her refrigerator. She needed comfort food. A misnomer, to be sure. She'd find no comfort there. * * * * Day 166... It was a Wednesday when they found him. Scully, in the depths of a much-needed sleep, wasn't informed until Thursday. In a misguided gesture of solicitude, Doggett had stolen her cell phone and left instructions that she wasn't to be disturbed. Even Walter Skinner agreed after the fact that this was a profoundly bad move on Doggett's part no matter how virtuous the intention. After she was told, an exasperated Scully had wondered aloud to John Doggett when he had taken it upon himself to decide what she should know and when she should know it. Since he, furthermore, wasn't her husband and he certainly wasn't her partner, Scully wondered who had passed away and appointed him master of all he surveyed. Doggett then wondered aloud to Scully how that tree trunk had gotten rammed *that* far up her ass. Rhetorical questions were posed and both parties wondered them aloud the entire flight back to DC. Some form of the word "fuck" was used creatively and often. Doggett would later come to understand through AD Skinner that Dana Scully had grown up a navy brat. To Doggett, this explained so much. By the time they had landed in D.C., Scully had calmed and realized that Doggett was simply adhering to the genetic predisposition of his sex to protect. And though her fury and exasperation had waned, in their place, came a flood of emotions unjustifiable in their combination. Fear, relief, grief, anger, happiness. He was gone, and now, he was home. He was home. Mulder was home. * * * * Georgetown Memorial Hospital Thursday, February 15, 2001 Day 167 11:20 PM She had simultaneous visions of cheeseburgers smothered in Gouda and sinking a hatchet straight into Dr. Peter Holmquist's chest. Scully was unsure which one would provide her with the most pleasure and cause the least amount of fuss, so she opted to forgo both. For now. "Dammit, I need to see him!" "Now, Dr. Scully, please calm down," the doctor cooed. His practiced tone indicated that he was used to speaking to petulant children - probably his own. "You know as well as I do that Mr. Mulder needs to remain in decontamination for this period of time. He was admitted in quite a state, and you have no business exposing your baby to any infections or toxins. Besides, he's still unconscious. He wouldn't even know you were there." She had her doubts, and she told him as much. "And it's *Agent* Mulder," she said. It occurred to her at that moment that the hardware store was actually closer to the hospital than the gourmet burger joint. She smiled at this convenience. If the doctor perceived her smile to be an indication that his words had pacified her, he would have been wrong. She turned and walked away from him before he could place a comforting hand on her shoulder. Her irritation with the men orbiting her world was growing exponentially as they conspired and pulled weight and rank despite her protests. Skinner even managed to look benevolent as he sided with doctors of all shapes and ages and ordered her to stay out of the way until Mulder could be decontaminated and examined for trace evidence. Scully knew it before they discovered it themselves. There would be no trace evidence. In the meantime, she was relegated to the predominately orange hued waiting area located down the hall from Mulder's room where he remained unconscious and isolated. All she wanted was to touch him, just once. To simply hold his hand for a minute, a few seconds. The hours she spent knowing he was back, but just out of her reach were the hardest hours she'd ever experienced. Still, it *was* only a matter of hours before Mulder was declared fit for human contact. He was still unconscious when Scully walked slowly into his room and got her first decent view of him without the glare of hospital glass to intrude. The view through hospital glass always seemed to be -- blurry. Perhaps it was the fingerprints inevitably left behind. His vitals were stable. He was breathing on his own, his kidneys were functioning properly and his pulse was steady and strong. She took all this information in as she stood next to his bed, her eyes darting from one machine to the next and to each pad, wire and tube affixed to his body. She stood that way for the next fifteen minutes, yet, she didn't touch him. Would he feel it? Would he know she'd been waiting and searching? Would he know how hard it had been to get up everyday and know that he wasn't there? Would he...? A moment of unaccountable time later, she found herself sitting in the chair by his bed, a hand on her shoulder and a glass of water at her lips. "- okay? Scully? Dana?" She licked her lips and sipped at the water. Doggett knelt down next to her. "You okay?" Scully nodded and took a surreptitious peek at him. He was wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Doggett stood and examined Mulder's still form. "So, this is Fox Mulder." Scully finally took Mulder's hand in her own. She nodded. "This is Mulder." Doggett squeezed her shoulder. "You okay now?" "I'm okay." He rocked back on his heels, obviously reluctant to leave her alone. He kept nodding his head, a move that Scully had learned was his way of assessing, acknowledging and agreeing with a situation in his own head. "Really, John," she said. "I'm fine. Stop hovering and go home. It's late." He grinned. "It's early." Nodding his acceptance of Mulder's presence, he gave him a last once-over before he turned to go. "I'll see ya, I guess." "You will." * * * * "Would you like something to eat, honey?" Scully blinked, suddenly aware of the nurse scuttling around Mulder. "I'm sorry?" "I thought you might be hungry. I could bring up a plate of something for you," she said in a soft voice. "Maybe a pillow for your back, hm?" Scully sighed and smiled at the kindness. "That would be nice, thank you." The nurse patted her shoulder. "You look like you could use a nice roast beef sandwich." "Extra mayonnaise," Scully said. The nurse smiled and disappeared, and Scully turned her attention back to Mulder. She held his hand in both of hers. His palms were warm and baby soft. "It's amazing... what people will do for you when they know you're pregnant." Her voice was soft and low. It was her church voice. Her lullaby voice. She smiled, remembering a thousand moments and squeezed his fingers. "Frohike took me to my first prenatal exam. He insisted." She chuckled, remembering the event with fondness. "They've been good to me, Mulder. They're - they are the sweetest men..." She shook her head slightly, marveling at the very idea. Leaning closer to him, she rested her elbows on the mattress. "Mulder? Can you hear me? Mulder?" She blinked to clear her vision and dry the tears welling in her eyes. She touched his face, traced her fingers over his lips, along his jaw line, around his ear. "Mulder?" She swallowed a sob and wiped the moisture from her cheeks when she heard the soft knock on the doorframe behind her. She didn't turn. Skinner spoke quietly. "Scully?" She heard him move a few steps into the room. "Hadn't you better get some sleep?" She shook her head and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "I slept before." "Before what?" He moved next to her. "Before yesterday?" "I slept all day yesterday, in case you hadn't heard." She smiled. "Congratulations on finding a man for me to work with who's almost as overprotective as Mulder." Skinner chuckled and laid a hand on her shoulder. "All the same..." He hesitated before speaking the truth. "You look awful, Scully." "Thanks." "I mean, you look exhausted. He'll still be here if you go get a few hours of sleep and a decent meal." "I'm having a decent meal - courtesy of the nursing staff. Really, sir, I'm fine. I just - I'd like to be with him when he wakes up." When. When. Skinner nodded in resignation. "I'll see if I can't get them to bring a cot in here so you can at least lie down." Scully smiled up at him and held his eyes for a long moment. "Someone out there is missing out on all this undivided attention, sir." The silence held between them as Skinner smiled back at her. With a slight shake of his head, he turned and left her, once again, alone with Mulder. "It's familiar, Mulder," she said softly when the door had closed. "Sitting here with you. Waiting for you -- waiting for you to wake up." She sighed heavily. "And I'm really sick and tired of it, so, you can come out of it anytime now. Anytime..." The beeps and blips filling the silence were the only responses she received. She closed her eyes. "Guess I can't browbeat you into it, can I?" She imagined his weak, but darkly humorous retort and smiled to herself while her eyes remained closed around her daydream. His voice would be hoarse from disuse. He would smile and lightly squeeze her hand. She would lean over him and kiss his forehead. She would tell him that she'd missed him - so very much. He would smile and look - really look at her as she sat there. And he would just know, and he would cry, and she would place his hand on her belly and say, "We have a lot to talk about." When Scully opened her eyes, Mulder was still unconscious. "Stubborn, Mulder. That's what you are," she said and swiped at the tears on her cheeks with the ends of her fingers. "Just stubborn." She sat back in her chair and reached for the magically materialized sandwich on the table by the bed. She made a mental note to thank the nurse properly when this was all over. The plain white bread was a bit stale, the roast beef was too well done and the lettuce was wilted. It was exactly what she expected from hospital food. Still, it had extra mayonnaise and it was delicious. She dropped Mulder's hand and focused on the task of eating. With the triangle of sandwich in both hands, she hummed her delight at the food in her mouth and the slowly easing pang of hunger in her stomach. "Liverwurst or bologna?" was the question rasped from the bed before her. Scully's head jerked up and found his eyes open and alive. He blinked and his lips curled into a smile. "I know how... how nuts you are about liverwurst... Scully." In a graceless move that took her much less time than she believed, Scully placed the plate on the bedside table without breaking the table or the plate, sat next to him and grasped his hand tightly in hers. She pulled it to her, clasping it to her breast. "Mulder." "Hi." "Oh. Mulder. Hi," she whispered. "Hi." She chuckled with relief and pressed her cheek to his, her lips at his ear. She closed her eyes. "Hi." He frowned and examined her features when she pulled away from him. "You look like you're trying not to cry." Every word was a labor. "Why are you doing that?" Her voice broke through with something between a sob and a laugh. "It's been - a while since I've talked to you." "I can't move," he said with some alarm. "Scully? Why can't I move?" She rested her hand on his chest and rubbed slow, soothing circles there. "It's okay. You'll just need - there's - there's nothing wrong with you." She snuffled and angled her shoulder to her cheek to dab an escaping tear. Mulder sighed and studied her face. "Scully, you..." His eyes swept up and down her torso. "You look -- different." She smiled. "We do have a lot to talk about." He nodded and scanned the room. His gaze landed on the sandwich. "*Is* that liverwurst?" Scully pressed the button for the nurse. "We'll get you something to eat. How do you feel?" "Hungry," he said. "And -- weak." Scully nodded. "I missed you." Mulder examined her features again. "You really do look different." Scully met his eyes and leaned toward him, closer still. She began the long conversation with, "What's the last thing you remember?" * * * * Georgetown Memorial Hospital Sunday, February 18, 2001 Day 170 12:05 PM Scully entered his room with the distinct impression that she had been the subject of the suddenly hushed conversation. She allowed the door to close behind her and narrowed her eyes at the three men surrounding the bed. Mulder was sitting up looking guilty. Byers smiled and raised a hand in a contrite wave. "Hi, Scully." She sniffed the air. "I smell something that isn't on his diet." Mulder immediately chewed and swallowed whatever he'd been squirreling in his cheeks. "Vegetables, a little protein. Carbohydrates. I need all these things, Scully." "Not fried and smothered in cheese, you don't." She frowned at Frohike. "Did you bring me one?" Frohike nodded and handed her a little bit of heaven wrapped in grease-stained paper. "Actually, it's sautéed," Frohike said. Scully smiled and Langly cleared the chair next to the bed so she could sit. She waved him back down and sat on the mattress beside Mulder instead. She nudged his right shoulder with her left. "How are you feeling?" "Good. Fine. Great. Can I go home?" "Soon." She hesitated only a moment before she leaned in to kiss him. "I promise," she whispered and kissed him again. She shot a glance to the gunmen, daring them to say something that would surely embarrass her. She was happy to note that all the time they'd been spending with her seemed to have rubbed off. Their only response to this show of affection was to smile. Still, she knew it would take some time for everyone to get used to the idea of a Mulder and Scully who weren't required to hide their feelings for one another, and that included herself and her partner. They'd been together such a short time before Mulder had been taken. They'd had no time whatsoever to become accustomed to each other's intimate presence. And now, they were pregnant, and Scully was seriously contemplating living with him, spending the rest of her life with him... She was even considering marrying him - if he asked her. Maybe she'd ask him. It's not as if these things hadn't occurred to her before. It's not as if they hadn't been seriously considered before, but this reality was here, before them, inevitable. This was now. "If you're not gonna eat that cheese steak, can I have a bite, at least?" asked Mulder, a suspiciously familiar pout on his face. Smiling, Scully leaned toward him and rested her temple against his. "Let's get this show on the road so you can come home." * * * * Scully's Apartment Monday, February 19, 2001 Day 171 9:45 PM With only three days of preliminary physical therapy, Mulder was still weak as a kitten. But having gained some strength in his arms at a much faster rate, he could stand and slide his feet with a walker and a clenched jaw to assist him. This is what Scully saw when she stepped out of the bathroom in a gauzy nightgown and found him at the bedroom door. Clad only in dark sweatpants and moccasins, he stood staring at the bed, concentrating, his arms shaking slightly with their burden. She raised a brow and gnawed at her lip. "Are you okay?" "I'm okay," he said with a bit of effort. He didn't move. She took a step toward him. "Would you like me to push the bed to you?" Mulder smiled. "Would you?" Scully chuckled at him and moved to his side. She rested her left hand at the small of his back and touched her right to his forearm. If he fell, she would catch him. "Come on, just about -- four steps. You can do it." "Ohhh. Says you." "Says me. Come on." Mulder took another deep breath and lifted the walker a few inches in front of him. He slid his feet along the hardwood and joined his support another step toward his goal. "That's it," she whispered softly. "Oh, it's far away." "No, it's not." Mulder nodded his head at the bed. "Get over there. Give me something to shoot for. A little incentive." "Use your imagination," she replied. Mulder moved another step. "That's it." And another. And another, and Scully grabbed him around the waist, pulled the walker out of his way and gently helped him down to the bed in one fluid move. They both heaved a sigh of relief and smiled. Mulder toed off his moccasins as Scully helped him scoot back in bed. She hooked a finger in his waistband and peaked underneath at his boxers. She tugged at the fabric. "You want these off?" Mulder nodded and grinned as she climbed over him and pulled his sweatpants down and off. She smiled and stretched forward to kiss his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. She clung to his body, molded like a second skin. He whispered a sweet nothing into the soft strands of her hair. She answered him by bursting into tears. Mulder tightened his grip and soothed her with his hands wherever they landed. Eventually, it was over, and she relaxed her hold on him in the aftermath and the silence. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Don't be." She hoisted herself up on an elbow and played with the soft hairs on his chest. Sniffling, she smiled at his alarmed expression. "I'm okay, Mulder. I do that lately." "But not without reason," he prodded. She smiled and reached toward the bedside table. "Would you -?" Mulder plucked a tissue from the box and allowed it to float into her hand. She apologized to him with her eyes and blew her nose. "I'm just happy to have you back, Mulder," she said when she had dried her tears. She sat back against the headboard and held his hand in her lap. "There's no mystery to that. I missed you. I missed having you around." She felt his hand press against her belly. "I missed sleeping with you," she said softly and scooted down beside him. "Everything." "Scully?" She nuzzled his shoulder. "Hm?" His fingers drummed just below her navel. "Let's talk about this," he said. "What would you like to know?" she asked. "You know when. You know how." He released an amused breath. "Do I?" "You're smarter than the average bear," she said with a smile. "I mean you know I didn't get pregnant from deep kissing." Mulder laughed and turned on his side to face her. "Oooo, Scully. Say 'deep kissing' again." She smiled and trailed her fingers down his cheek. Instead of 'deep kissing,' she whispered, "I love you." "Deep kissing," he whispered back and pressed his lips to hers. She hummed. "I missed this, too," she murmured against his mouth. "Mm." "Mulder?" "Mm." His lips roamed her face. "Be honest with me." One last kiss just below her ear. "I'm always honest with you." "We're having a baby. You and me. A baby, Mulder." He smiled. "I know." "I don't think you've had any kind of time to have processed this yet." He sighed. "Sounds like you're the one who hasn't had time to process." "That's all I've been doing is processing, Mulder. Processing and gestating. At this point, I know exactly what I want." "Tell me." Scully fiddled with the edge of the comforter over Mulder's chest. It was starting to pill. "I want you. And I want this baby. And I want you to be - here. With me. And the baby." Mulder grinned. When she looked into his eyes, they were sparkling with a combination of mischief and emotion. "Scully? Are you proposing to me?" Scully chuckled, shook her head and shrugged all in one, interesting movement. "I don't - know." "No?" "No, I don't know." "Scully. You're blushing." "I am not." "You are," he said with genuine glee. "I thought you said you knew exactly what you wanted." "I do. Mulder, I -" She exhaled a frustrated breath. "I'm just putting it out there. Okay?" "The marriage thing?" he asked, amused. "Yes. Okay?" "Okay." Scully stared at Mulder's shoulder and picked at the pilling comforter. She refused to look at him. "Scully, you may have a hard time with it, but I love how all your pregnant hormones mess with your personality." "My pregnant hormones?" "Or whatever." Scully chuckled at him. "Artfully put, Mulder." She reached over his body and turned out the light. "Go to sleep." "But it's early." She draped her arm over his chest and dropped her head onto his shoulder. "It'll be late soon." "I'm not tired." "Mulder, you're whining." "Don't you want to make love?" She raised up on an elbow again and gazed at him in the moonlit room. "I don't want to hurt you," she said sincerely. She scratched her nails through the hair on his chest as he chuckled. "I'm intrigued," he said. "I'm serious. Are you -?" "I'm perfectly capable," he interrupted, "of fulfilling any requirements that you could possibly have." "*Any* requirements?" "I mean within reason at this particular moment. Don't get creative, now, Scully. You'll destroy the gesture." Scully laughed affectionately. She kissed his shoulder and climbed over him, straddling his belly. She tucked her hair behind her ears and leaned over him. She placed soft, open kisses on his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids as they fluttered closed. She stroked his temples, brushing his hair back as her lips met his. His lower lip, upper, the corners of his mouth, his tongue. She tasted him leisurely, remembering, giving him the memories to recall, allowing for them both to make new ones. His fingers trailed lazily up and down her gown-covered back and over her bare shoulders, warm and soft. "Hey," he mumbled around her kisses. "Will you take this off for me?" She drew her tongue across his bottom lip and sat up, dark-eyed and drowsy. She crossed her arms and drew the thin nightgown over her head. She dropped it behind her on the bed and smiled at the man who had figured so prominently in her dreams and nightmares for the last several months. She reached for his hand and pulled it to her swollen tummy, covering it with his palm. No more nightmares. She covered his hand with both of hers and smiled. "I have to tell you something," she whispered in the dark. "Actually, it's a song." "Are you going to say a song, Scully?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "Have you been listening to Lorne Green albums while I was away?" She lowered her body over his, rested her chin on his, mingled her breath with his. "It's a song," she said. "I want to sing it for you." "Scully. Really?" "It's a lullaby," she said. "Every woman's voice is beautiful when she's singing a lullaby." Mulder smiled and listened. And it was beautiful. END Read Impressions The Footnote: **Excerpted from American Heritage Talking Dictionary. Copyright 1997 The Learning Company, Inc. All Rights Reserved. "Lover Lay Down" by Dave Matthews Band - Lyrics Used Without Permission All Natural Additives. Take With Milk.