Foundation I (5/6): Laying the Groundwork

Disclaimer in Part 1

Two Weeks Later

In her own sacred ritual, she daily gathers fresh armfuls of wildflowers and scatters them in vases around the cabin. It is a comfort to her, to do so.  To make things beautiful, and homey. A silent tribute to what she fancies her last spring on earth. She breathes in the thunderstorms that visit nearly every afternoon, breathes in their power, their anger. The rage of the storm outside often matches precisely the storm that rages in her soul.

"Damn you," she whispers flatly. She stands at the large picture window gracing the bathroom area. Her candles glow brightly, ready to chase away her demons. She does not know to whom she directs the words. She feels the familiar ache begin again in her heart. The ache grows - it is in familiar territory. Like a parasite, it grows, it feeds off her emotions, leaving her exhausted.

Drained.

She moves into her own room; for a long minute she stands at the window. Thunder crashes outside. Count the time it takes for the thunder to sound after lightning has struck, and you'll know how far away it is. It is close tonight. She turns, flees to the safety of her bed. The storm has severed their power; tonight she reads by candle light. The glow of her laptop reflects an eerie light on her glasses. She checks her battery and enters a file she has named DKSJourn.txt.

She lightly scrolls through the entries of her journal. Her eyes rest on dates and subjects she has almost forgotten. Here is one, written on the day of the birth of her godson. And another, on his third birthday. Here is one, further back, commemorating her college graduation. And one depicting a recurring dream she has had since she was twenty. The dream has come again, and with it, more than ever, the hope that it could come true. But the dream now takes on a twisted, nightmarish quality. Placed in another context, her dream could be an X File...

<<........"Congratulations, Dana," a disembodied voice gushes. Dana opensher eyes. She is sitting in an office, a plush doctor's office. Her mother is beside her. Dana focuses on the doctor's words. "You're going to have a baby."

It can't be true. Dana is certain there is a mistake. "But it's not possible!" she blurts.

"No mistake, Dana. I assure you, it *is* possible," the doctor responds kindly. "You're about six weeks pregnant."

In her dream Dana thinks back six weeks. Who? Who is the father? In a blinding flash she knows, and she is overjoyed. "I don't feel...different," she says slowly. In a full ten seconds she has cataloged her preferences on names, where the child should go to college...he will look just like his father...

"Don't worry, Dana," her mother says. "Everything will be just fine." She gives her daughter a comforting hug. "Let's go home now."

"No," Dana replies. "I want to go to the office. I have to tell Mulder - " she says. Her mother hears the pride and contentment in Dana's voice.

"Dana, honey," her mother interrupts. "Fox died four weeks ago.">>

_____________________________________X

"Mulder!" she shouts, throwing back the covers wildly. She is frightened, terrified. "Mulder, wake up!" She jumps out of bed, determined to see that he is still alive. She stops in front of a mirror and splays a hand over her flat belly. She stands first to the front, and then sideways. "I don't feel pregnant," she whispers softly.

"You ok, Scully?" Mulder asks, opening her door. He sees her posturing before the mirror. "Dana, what is it?"

She jumps at his voice. "Mulder - I - I had a dream," she says softly. She sounds for all the world like a lost little girl. Tonight she is looking for comfort, he realizes. He shuts her door behind him and goes to her.

"You want to tell me about it?" he asks. This Dana is not the woman he knows. She clings to him, seeking his strength. Her candles still burn brightly next to her bed and her laptop lies discarded on the floor beside her.

"I guess I fell asleep while I was going through my journal," she mumbles slowly. "I had this dream, Mulder, and it was so real I - I guess I just got scared," she confesses. "Are you ok, Mulder?" she asks earnestly.

"I'm ok, Scully," he affirms, smiling at her. She tentatively returns his smile. "Want to tell me your dream? Sometimes it helps to talk about it," he says.

She starts to shake her head "no", but changes her mind. "I guess I do want to tell you," she says softly, her voice fading in and out. "I'm so tired, Mulder," she whispers.

He tucks her securely into her bed and sits next to her. He gently strokes her hair out of her eyes and plants a soft kiss on her forehead. "You would be such a good father," she mumbles softly. She rolls over, sleepily throwing a small hand over her eyes.

Mulder is momentarily thrown by her words. "Why - " He clears his throat and begins again. "Why do you say that, Dana?"

"I was in a doctor's office," she mumbles. Mulder has to lean closer to hear her words. "Not my oncologist, Mulder," she tells him, half asleep. "A baby doctor..." she whispers wonderingly. "I was pregnant."

"You were pregnant," Mulder repeats, himself a little confused.

"I was six weeks pregnant with your child..."

Mulder is silent for many minutes. He doesn't know what to say, how to react. A part of him is infinitely pleased, another part concerned. Scully appears to be on the brink of total slumber. "So which part is the

nightmare, Dana?" he asks. He is smiling in the darkness.

"I wanted to tell you. I was so happy," she whispers. He realizes that she is completely awake. "I wasn't afraid, because I knew you'd be so happy, too." She stifles a sob, unable to stop the tears from falling. "And then I remembered that you died..."

"Oh, God, Scully," he whispers. He holds her tightly as she cries, knowing with absolute certainty that after this moment, this topic will never again be discussed. That, come morning, Scully will begin her ritual distancing, and the closeness they have built will slowly, certainly, be shattered.

"Dana, can we talk about this?" he asks. He waits patiently while she ponders her answer. He detects a slight nod from his partner, his friend. He continues to hold her. He needs the comforting now, as much as she.

"I'm alive, I'm ok," he whispers. "There is only one thing I want, Dana," he tells her, his voice growing stronger. "And that is for you to be well. I will do anything," he says, turning her face toward his. "to see that you are."

"I want to be well," she cries. "Don't you think I want to be well? I want to live, I want to have children, and to see my children's children being born. I want to be healthy."

She wipes at the stream of tears that course their way down her face. She looks him directly in the eye. "I want to wake up every morning and know, with absolute certainly, that I will live to see the sun set. I want to go to bed at night, safe and secure, surrounded by my loved ones, knowing that I will live to see another dawn.

*Do you know how that feels?*"

She takes a shaky breath. "Mulder, I'm thirty-three years old. And I'm alone, and I'm dying."

"You are not alone," he tells her savagely. "I'm here, Dana," he says, softening his tone. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. Dana, I - "

She hears something in his tone, something she is tremendously curious about. She sighs deeply. "What is it, Mulder," she asks, her voice growing tired. He doesn't answer. "Do you know, I have never felt so healthy in my life as I do now?" she asks him. "I feel so strong now, so healthy. And I've been so happy here." It is his turn to sigh now, and she knows he is hiding his tears.

"I don't think I ever told you how much it means to me to- to be able to draw on your strength, Mulder. I - I couldn't get through this without you." Her voice slowly trails off, ending in a whisper.

He looks up at her, his eyes dark with unshed tears. He grasps her hands in his own. "We don't have to go back," he suggests desperately, his eyes searching hers. "We could stay here. Just forget the X Files ever existed. I - "

"Mulder, I - no, Mulder. We've worked too hard, fought too hard, to throw it away now. You know it - I know it. The X Files division is your life," she says quietly. For a mad instant she wants to give it all up. To stay here, to -

"You are - " Mulder begins forcefully. *You are my life.* "Everything has changed, Scully," he says. "It's not recent," he explains quickly. "Our relationship - our partnership - has gone through many changes in the years we've been together. But the worst has been these last nine or ten months."

"I know," she says, wiping away a tear from Mulder's stubbled cheek. "I saw it, too. I felt - I was a different person, it seemed, and I didn't like it. I didn't know you. I'd forgotten how to talk to you - "

" - how to trust me," he interrupts sadly.

"No, Mulder, not that. Never that," she says strongly. "I trust you."

The silence around them is oppressive; the only sounds are the light rain tapping at the windows and the breeze rustling through the branches outside.

"You are the only one I trust."