I have a prompt if you want one. ;) Scully finally tells her mother who the father of her child is.
Thank you SO much for this wonderful prompt, anon. I loved it. I wanted to answer it right away and maybe I should have. This is just one of what feels like a million ideas I have for it. I feel incredibly rusty so I hope you like it anyway. Set in “Essence”.
If she were to count,how many reasons could she come up with not to tell her mother the truth? It’sbeen months. Months of long glances full of questions she didn’t dare to ask.Time that Scully spent meticulously jotting down what was happening to her,inside of her. Searching for anomalies, anything. Eight months in and the baby,moving and kicking, is as normal as it can be. Scully never thought think inweeks or trimesters; her thoughts always with whatever test she could takenext. Her baby, a boy, is perfectly healthy. These two words have not changedfrom the moment he was the size of a pea. They won’t change now either. Sherubs her stomach, reassuring herself that the baby is indeed fine just like thedoctor just told her. She wonders briefly if her eyes match the terror she seesin her mother’s face. Tears prick, but she refuses to let them fall as hermother apologizes. The baby kicks between them as her mother puts her arms aroundher.
“I’m so worriedabout you. You keep everything so bottled up.” How many reasons, Scullymuses as she glances at her mother, and then at Mulder, waiting outside. Thefirst hundred times she didn’t tell her mother the truth were because of him. Adesperation to tell him first holding her back. Everyone else knew about thepregnancy before she could tell him. This one thing, silly as it may be, wassupposed to be just for him. Then, later, after she’d whispered the words athis grave, sent the secret to the winds, fear grabbed her by the hand andfollowed her around. If someone else knew, if her mother knew Mulder was thefather of her child, would she put her in danger? She couldn’t risk it andpiled on reason after reason to keep quiet. Until now.
She sees Mulder withSkinner, tilts her head but doesn’t hear anything. When they walk off,something inside her snaps.
“Mulder?”Her voice is desperate and her mother’s head shoots up, worried eyes searchingher face. He returns a moment later, Skinner at his heels. There is a hurried grinon his face, lopsided and honest.
“Where are yougoing?” Scully asks him and her mother moves away to give them a moment ofprivacy.
“There’s someoneSkinner wants me to talk to.” He avoids eye contact and any other time shemight have asked. Right now she is tired. Just too tired. The adrenaline iswearing off; she needs to rest. She wishes she could tell Mulder to come homewith her. Curl up on the couch, watch something on TV, and fall asleep againsthim. “I won’t be long.” Mulder leans down to tell her. His head is soclose that their hair tangles together, their foreheads almost touching. Sheknows they have an audience; both her mother and Skinner are trying not towatch, but she feels the occasional glance in their direction.
“You need togo.” Scully tells Mulder and he nods against her. She wants to kiss him.Answer the burning question without a single word. But instead she just smilesand Mulder understands, grins at her. His hand brushes against her stomach,covertly; anyone could interpret it as an accidental brush but Scully knows.She knows and she understands.
“Mrs. Scully,will you take Dana home, please?”
In the warm density ofthe car, her eyes heavy and burning with exhaustion, Scully decides that nomatter how far she counts, how many reasons she comes up with, she no longerwants to.
“Yes, dear?”Her mother’s eyes are directed forward, are set firmly on the road. Her handsgrip the wheel perfectly and it almost makes Scully smile.
“You said I keepeverything so bottled up, keep it all a secret and… I know you’ve beenwondering about who the father is.” She hears the little gasp her motherlets out and a moment later, to her great surprise, they’re parking at the sideof the road. Her mother turns towards her and takes her hand.
“You don’t haveto tell me, Dana. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
“It’s Mulder,mom.” The words fall from her mouth like a confession. A small smile curlsaround her mother’s lips and she takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly.
“Well, that is arelief. Thank you for telling me, dear.”
“I’m sorry Ididn’t tell you sooner but I just-” Her mother puts a finger on her lips.
“Thank you fortelling me, Dana,” she repeats in a soft, warm voice that reminds Scullyof her childhood, of coming home after school, of being taken care of whenevershe was sick, “Soon you will understand yourself that…” Her mothertrails off with a small huff that sounds like laughter, a shake of her head.Scully wants her to continue, tell her what she’ll understand; give her ataste, a hint, of what secrets motherhood holds in store. But her mother juststarts the car without another word. She starts chattering about painting thenursery, about what to get the baby.
“How about astuffed fox for the baby?” She chuckles, a delightful sound and Scully joins in. Somany reasons not to tell her, she thinks as she leans back into the seat, andone reason to finally do: trust.
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