TITLE: The Cat Came Back AUTHOR: jeri E-MAIL: ggal1116@yahoo.com RATING: PG CATEGORY: VRA, S-POV KEYWORDS: MSR, post-ep, ScullyAngst SPOILERS: post-Requiem ARCHIVE: Sure, just drop me a line! STARTED: July 22, 2000 FINISHED: July 28, 2000 SUMMARY: ...he just couldn't stay away... **DISCLAIMER: Not mine, not mine, not mine, not mine...get the picture? ^*^*^ I thought I'd been through stressful situations before. I've been held at gunpoint, kidnapped, at the mercy of incurable cancer...all these things have created large amounts of stress in my life. But it wasn't until I reached the hospital that I learned what REAL stress was all about. Imagine having three friends, who, though they personify "weird", are closer to you than your own brothers, break the news that the love of your life has gone missing. Then imagine, not two minutes later, having your doctor announce that those annoying dizzy spells weren't "nothing", they were an odd representation of morning sickness; you're twelve weeks pregnant, didn't you suspect that, DOCTOR Scully? Two questions immediately arose in my mind: (1) How the hell did I get pregnant? and (2) How do I find Mulder? (I cannot comment on the actual order that those questions came to my mind.) I'm not sure why I told Skinner about my surprising "condition". I suppose I only served to make him feel more guilty than ever; if he'd known Mulder and I were pregnant, he would have watched more carefully, yada yada yada... That's complete nonsense, of course. If we'd known, I doubt Mulder would have left my side. I get the feeling that Mulder wouldn't have let me go to the bathroom without his personal, armed escort. I guess that was the third question that came to my mind: Is this actually Mulder's child? The doctor said I was twelve weeks along, so I did some mental math... <> I was convinced that Mulder was the only possible person to be the father of my baby. However, scientist that I am, I still called the doctor and asked him when the earliest date for an amniocentesis could be and set the appointment. I also called in a favor to the Crime Lab and had them promise to set aside time to run a DNA profile on a few hairs of Mulder's that I knew I could pull from his apartment. All that before I left the hospital. My first stop when I was released was the Lair of the Gunmen. They'd left right after they told me about Mulder, so they didn't really know why I'd collapsed. I'd planned to wait until I was on the plane back to Oregon before I mentioned it. They had already started their search for Mulder. Using my name and badge number, they'd made requests at all major hospitals in Oregon to let them know if and when any John Does matching Mulder's description were brought into the ICU. They also called at least one hospital in every major city across the country. They were planning to put a notice in the next edition of _The Lone Gunman_, and they'd gotten permission from MUFON to use their monthly newsletter as well. I made some calls to contacts I'd met through the years, but two hours after I got there, I'd run out of things to do. It depressed me terribly, and I knew the only thing left for me to do was to go out to Oregon and check the scene of his disappearance myself. Langly and Frohike insisted on going with me, and I knew Skinner wanted to go back as well, so I booked four seats on the next flight out. Byers would stay behind to get the newsletter ready for distribution. We arrived too late at night to do anything worth- while, so I allowed myself to be talked into getting rooms at the motel and a good night's sleep. I found myself back in the same room Mulder had stayed in not four nights ago. I tried to make myself feel his warm body behind me again, but I ended up crying myself to sleep. I awoke at the crack of dawn the next morning, once more cold and dizzy. I didn't say a word to the guys at breakfast, but I could see Skinner out of the corner of my eye watching my every move. He was always one step from my side, right in position to catch me if I fell. Once I'd eaten I felt better, and I just prayed that I wouldn't fall victim to the normal symptoms of morning sickness. In silence, Skinner drove us out to the woods, parking a few meters before the large orange X in the road. Frohike and Langly stared at it for a few moments, and I wondered if they knew who had painted it. The woods coughed up no additional information, being as unhelpful as they'd been when Mulder and I originally searched it. I moved carefully though; despite Skinner's claims that the spaceship was gone, I didn't want to be caught up in its defenses again -- that much shaking can't be good for a fetus. I felt a wave of dizziness pour over me again and I pressed my hand to my abdomen, as though I could tell my baby to stop the feeling. It seemed to work, but when I turned back around the three men were staring at me, all concerned, but two more puzzled than the other. For some reason, I suddenly knew we'd find nothing here, that searching was a waste of time. I suggested that we head back to the motel so that Frohike and Langly could check in with Byers, and Skinner could check in with the office. Once they were naively in their rooms, I grabbed my extra set of rental car keys and left the motel, bound for the police station. I found myself asking what had happened to Ron and Theresa's baby. A secretary told me that Ron's parents were taking care of the baby, and they lived up in Seattle. With a sigh, I left the station. On my way back I forced myself to stop for a quick lunch since I was hearing my mother's voice scold me about how I was eating for two now. Skinner trapped me in my room when I got back, upset that I'd gone out without letting anyone know, but I paid him no heed. I told him what I'd asked about and he visibly softened. With an amazingly calm voice, I told him about the conversation that I'd had with Mulder on that very bed our first night in Oregon. For the second time in as many days, I saw my boss shed a few tears. Seeing as though I was being more open to him than I ever had in all our years of being boss and underling, Skinner made a confession of his own: he'd heard about our side-trip when we were out in California during our four-week suspension. Apparently, one of the waitresses Mulder and I had become unusually open with knew Wayne Federman, and she told him, and he promptly spilled the beans to "Skin Man". Skinner's question to me: what in God's name prompted us to elope in Vegas? I didn't have a very good answer for my boss. Mulder and I hadn't made a big deal out of it, obviously. My mother didn't even know, though that will be the first thing she hears when I finally tell her about the baby. We hadn't bought rings or anything, nor were we planning to anytime soon. Hell, I wasn't even sure where we'd stored our license, other than the vague area of his -- our -- apartment. I still thought of him not as my husband, but as my partner, which is a lovely word that covers all facets of our relationship. Husband sounds too normal and domesticated, one thing we will never be, baby or not. I continued to talk once I'd failed to explain our marriage, describing my encounter with Daniel that served as the official Sign that it was time to move the relationship along, detailing all the little advancements along the way: when we first trusted each other, when we became friends, when we first loved each other, and -- of course -- when we finally fell in love. Finally, I grew tired and Skinner deftly excused himself, suggesting that "Mr. Frohike and Mr. Langly" had been left alone to their own devices for much too long. I thanked Skinner for his patient ear and he left my room. Quickly, I fell into a light doze. I woke up an hour later with a song in my head. I didn't know what the song was, but I knew that I recognized the tune from somewhere. Despite all my efforts, I couldn't catch the words. There was a note from my bodyguards just inside the door -- slipped under, I supposed -- saying they'd gone to pick up some dinner and that Skinner's phone was on, just in case. I decided to walk down to the office to see if I had any messages. As I walked there, I saw a pick- up truck pull into the parking lot. Instead of pulling up to the office, it swung around to one of the cottages. I guess he'd arrived while I was out that morning, because no one was renting that particular one as far as I knew. Ignoring it, I entered the office and was given one message that was from Skinner, just in case I'd missed the one in my room. Having nothing else to do, I poked around the tiny gift shop. I hadn't noticed this earlier in the week when I was here with Mulder, and I wondered if he knew about it; these local-yokel tacky shops were right up his alley. What happened next I'll never forget. I heard the door bang open and someone stomp in, obviously very angry. Then I heard a voice demand to know where his things had gone, he'd checked in that morning. The man at the counter just stammered that he didn't know anyone was in that room, that he thought it was still sealed off by the FBI. This part of the conversation was the first to grab my attention. That had to be Mulder's room they were talking about, the one he had when he and Skinner came out three days ago. And then the next bit of important information tugged on my brain cells. When the angry man spoke again, I hurried out of the gift shop and back into the office. The surly man at the counter was Mulder. I squealed his name in surprise and joy, and returned mine with a tone of confusion. I nearly knocked him over in my need to embrace him, and while he happily returned the hug, he did ask me in a stern voice why I was here, why didn't I stay back in Washington? I explained what had happened from the crook of his neck, not willing to step away for a second, as though letting go would make him vanish again. He swore he had no knowledge of being taken by the spaceship, only that he was looking for the ship with Skinner one minute...and the next, Skinner was gone, along with all the equipment the Gunmen had given him. He'd caught a ride from the truck driver who I'd seen pulling into the motel, hoping he could confront Skinner before he left Oregon. And, speak of the devil, who should walk in at that moment but my three bodyguards, who'd come looking for me when I didn't answer my door. They stared in shock at Mulder, who wasn't quite sure how to explain himself. We lost nine minutes on our first trip to Bellefleur, now Mulder lost forty-eight hours. Skinner happily told the confused man minding the office desk that Mulder's room could be unsealed now, and for a second I thought he was going to suggest that Mulder take it again, but luckily he caught my eye and thought better of it. Mulder's never leaving my side again. Hours later, we lay in bed in our familiar spoon arrangement. Mulder began to whisper, and I realized he was picking up on our last conversation in this bed. He needlessly apologized for ditching me, grumbling about how he'd almost taken my husband from me, too, along with my health and motherhood. I turned in his arms and beamed at him, eager to share the news that I'd been saving for the perfect moment. I started with my swan dive into the Gunmen's arms, detailing every moment up to the point where my new favorite doctor told me that my dizzy spells were not because of uncontrollable cellular growth in the form of a tumor...no, the cellular growth that was happening was quite controlled and even had a nine-month time limit, and three of those months had already passed by. I could see Mulder wasn't getting it, so I put it in the simple terms that I'd used with Skinner: I'm pregnant. After much rejoicing that night, we finally began to fall asleep. And as I hung in the odd phase just before letting my subconscious take over, I heard that song again, this time with the words: The cat came back The very next day The cat came back They thought he was a'gonner but The cat came back The very next day He just couldn't stay away THE END ^*^*^ NOTE: The song "The Cat Came Back" belongs to someone, but that's all I know! I vaguely remember it from years ago when I was younger and listened to Raffi-esque songs because of my little sister, but don't ask me who sang it or what the other words were. It just popped into my head one day and I thought that, 'hey, everyone's got Mulder coming back months or years later; what if he showed up just a day or two later? Wouldn't that be fun?' And indeed, it was for me, and I hope you, too! 4 out of 5 doctors say expressing your enjoyment of a fanfic to its author increases your life expectancy 23-23.8 years. The other doctor was killed by Cancerman before we could ask him. jeri quinne, president, xpab (x-philes against bees) Gain membership by writing to: ggal1116@yahoo.com