Date: Thu, 16 Oct 1997 02:45:36 -0400 (EDT)
From: AGillian21@aol.com
Subject: "Twenty-Nine Stitches" (1/2) by Noelle Lundgren

Title: Twenty-Nine Stitches
Author: Noelle Lundgren
Rating: PG
Classification: SA
Spoilers: None
Keywords: Pre-XF, Mulder/Scully UST, Post-XF
Summary: Scully's life is a rather...eventful one.

Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, and Charles, Dana, Margaret, Melissa, and
William Scully, and Assistant Director Walter Skinner do not belong to
me.  Etc.  Blah to the third power...

Time-Line: Okay, this is just a little funky; I've kinda just assumed the
alien-testing/ova/cancer/brain-tumor/Scully's-gonna-die stuff didn't
happen, or got resolved *really* fast.  Just a little explanation so you
don't go, "Nuh-uh!  'Cause remember that she has cancer and remember
about what happened with the abduction..."  This was written before
Gethsemane. 

Warning to romantics, and those with fragile hearts: This story contains
some rather grisly, bloody material.  Litterally.  There is also a scene
that may be viewed by some as a "date-rape."  Turn back if you need to.

Note (to the G-Women, TLG Female-Units, and others): Here's one for
Alley & Zoe [we've shared more depression than I like to think about],
DW [who lent me Joseph], the wonderful people who helped me create
Ginnie...and "Vivian", whoever she reminds you of.

"Twenty-Nine Stitches"
by Noelle Lundgren

After a fair amount of effort, Scully sat up, stood up, and pulled her
shirt off of the couch where it had been left the night before.  She was
just shrugging into it, when Mulder, still sprawled on the floor, opened
his eyes.  Scully turned.  

"Oh," she said.  "I'm sorry."  She'd awakened when sunlight had gently
brushed across her closed eyelids.  She had been immediately aware of
the scratchiness of carpet against her bare skin.  She was on her
stomach, one arm crushed painfully under her, the other lying lazily
across Mulder's stomach.  Her head had been resting on his shoulder,
right in the curve where chest became arm.  Scully thought that she'd
managed to get up without disturbing him.

Mulder smiled up at her.  "How'dja sleep?" he asked.

She fluttered her eyelashes, remembering the previous night's events. 
She hadn't been doing much *sleeping.*  Neither had he.  She smiled,
and then grimaced.  Her hand moved to the back of her neck, where she
massaged the tight muscles.  "Okay," she answered, sighing.  "I'm a
little stiff, though."  She made a little noise in the back of her throat,
kneading the muscle in her hand.  She began to offer an explanation. 
"Sleeping on the floor..."

The night before, passion had taken priority over common sense.

Mulder glanced around, as though just realizing where he was.  He
scanned the room around him, and then moved his eyes to the woman
standing at his feet.  He looked her up and down, and his eyes stopped
on her legs.  

Scully saw his face.  His look was not one of desire, but one of
curiosity.  Concern, almost.

"What?" she asked, softly.

Mulder was seeing something that had been invisible in the dark. 
Various lines, spots, and puzzle-piece-like shapes where the skin was
darker, decorated her legs.  Lines and designs normally covered by
clothing.  There was one that caught his attention right away; a sort of
half-moon shape that went from above her knee-cap to below it.  

Her legs were covered in scars.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

==========
"What's the matter?" he asked.  His six-year-old sister lay crumpled in
the grass, clutching her knee.  Her eyes were squeezed shut, and her
mouth was wide open in a silent scream.  William looked down and
saw the blood oozing between her fingers.  "Oh, man!" he breathed,
expressing both his fear and disgust.  

She rolled over onto her back, almost involuntarily, and pulled her knee
up to her chest.  She brought her teeth together, wincing, and making a
hissing sound.  Her forehead crinkled with the jolts of pain shooting up
from her knee.

"What happened to Dana?"  William heard her voice before he saw his
other sister coming up behind him.  Melissa's long purple skirt swished
around her ankles as she jogged up to her older brother, who was
standing over their little sister.  Melissa's bright red hair brushed the
wing-like blades of her shoulders.  Melissa gasped when she saw Dana
in the grass, her hands covered in the blood that was gushing from her
wounded knee.

"What happened!" she demanded, turning to William.

Though she was younger than she was, William still felt a little
intimidated by his sister, especially when she yelled at him.  "We were
climbing the fence..." he said, embarrassed.

Melissa moaned, looking at the rotting wooden fence-posts and the
barbed wire strung between them.  "Mom *told* you not to go near that
fence!" she said.  

William didn't move or say anything.

"Don't just *stand* there, you moron!" she ordered, crouching down
over her sister.  "Go get Mom, for Chrissake!"

That was one of the few times Melissa swore.  If one of their parents
had been around to hear, she would have tasted Ivory the next second.

"What happened, Dana?" Melissa asked kindly, stroking her sister's
forehead gently.  

"Fence," Dana managed weakly.

"C'mere."  Melissa moved around so that she was sitting in the dirt
behind her sister's head.  She put her hands under Dana's arms, and
pulled her into a sitting position.  Dana's head was heavy on Melissa's
shoulder.  "Lemme see."  Melissa gently removed Dana's tight hands
from her knee.

Shorts hadn't been the best choice for little Dana Scully.  Her knees and
calves were fully exposed, tempting rocks, and plants, and in this case,
barbed wire fences to scar the delicate white skin.  

Dana stared at the blood on her hands while Melissa gently examined
the cut.  The red had oozed into the lines of her hands, shiny, and the
color of rubies.  It was beautiful.  And it was hers.  All hers.  

Dana glanced down at her knee, and then looked back at her hands. 
She couldn't help but smile a little, despite her pain.

Then she wiped her hands clean on her white T-shirt.

==========
The bathroom door safely locked, Dana pulled her mother's scissors
from her pocket, and put her foot up on the edge of the tub.   She pulled
her nightgown up, exposing her split knee.  

Her mother had come running out to where she lay, scooped her up,
and driven her to the hospital where the doctor had "taken care of it." 
The wound was stitched up with ugly, black thread.  Twenty-nine
stitches.  That's how deep it was. 

The stitches made a sort of half moon that started above her knee-cap,
and curved down, ending just below it.  The doctor had promised a
"nasty little scar, honey."  She didn't really care about the scar, though. 
How could she, at six years old?  She only cared that it hurt.

Dana grimaced.  She held the scissors, opening them.  At six-years old,
she removed all twenty-nine of those stitches, and then made the
excuse the next morning that they had "come out it the bath."  Margaret
Scully had looked at her sideways while she cooked the eggs, and Dana
knew that her mother didn't believe the lie.

But Dana didn't care about that either.  She continued to work on her
leg, and by the time Labor Day rolled around, it looked like she'd
caught her leg in a thresher.  She picked off any scab that formed on
her body, scratched itches until the skin was raw and bloody, popped
blisters with straight pins, and squeezed mosquito bites until they oozed
red.  

Lots of kids in the first grade had marks on their legs that September. 
There were bumps and bruises all around; everyone had something,
even if it was just a couple of new freckles.  But no one had marks on
their legs like Dana Scully.  Dana had some scars.

==========
Nothing that she could remember had caused the bloody holes on her
upper thighs.  It seemed that Dana just found them; scrapes, cuts, and
holes in her body.  She got some of them playing football with her
brothers, some in the kitchen with her mother, and some of them...some
of them she did herself, using the small kitchen knives.  The same ones
her mother used to peel apples.

Margaret Scully started buying extra Band-Aids and leaving them in
places around the house where she thought her daughter would find
them.  But, at nine-years old, Dana seemed determined to take herself
completely apart.  

==========
"Holy shit!  Jesus fucking Christ!  What the hell kinda sick freak are
you?"

Dana looked up at the owner of the voice, and found herself face-to-
face with a girl who was probably a year or two older than she was; a
junior or a senior.  The girl was taller than Dana, wearing slashed jean
shorts, a black T-shirt, fishnet tights and army boots.  Numerous chains
dangled from her neck.  She wore green eye-shadow, neon-pink press-
on nails, and black lipstick.  Her violet hair was spiked into a mohawk. 
Behind her, were two other girls--a red-head and a bleach-blonde--
dressed similarly.  They had apparently come into the school bathroom
to smoke.

Dana had her foot up on the sink, her tennis skirt showing off her
strong legs.  One hand held her metal nail-file; the other was covered in
blood from a gash on the inside of her leg.  She'd gotten it in PE, but it
hadn't been nearly as bad as it was now.  

The girl with the mohawk--Dana suddenly recognized her as Vivian
Gray, high-school hellcat extraordinare--could only stare down at
Dana's leg, as the blood dripped slowly onto the tile of the bathroom
floor.

"Okay," said the red-head behind her.  "That's just fuckin' nasty."

Yeah, Dana thought.  It *is* nasty.  But something about it was so
incredible...

==========
"There's my girl!" Mrs. Scully exclaimed.  Margaret was glowing.  It
was the first time in she-didn't-know-how-long that her daughter was
happy, and feeling okay.  It was like a ten-ton brick had been lifted
from Margaret Scully's shoulders.

There she was, all right.  Dana wore a pink dress that she didn't
remember choosing herself.  It felt like a garbage bag against her skin. 
She wore a floppy white orchid on her wrist.  Dana smiled, although
she didn't know why. 

And she really didn't know why she was smiling when her mother
snapped the first picture.  They were standing on the front porch--they
hadn't even left the house yet!--and her mother was snapping pictures
like mad.  Dana grinned from ear to ear, even when she felt Joseph
Marino's hand sliding up her dress.

And she smiled for the camera.  Another flashbulb.  And she continued
to smile.

==========
It was pitch-black.  She was thankful for that.  She didn't want to be
seen.  By anyone, and especially not by him.  He was breathing hard. 
So hard, in fact that the windshield was fogging up.

"Joseph.  No."

"Dana...oh, God, you're so beautiful..."

"No."

"Please, Dana, please.  Will you?  Will you do it for me?"

"No.  Stop..."

But he didn't hear her; she wasn't loud enough.  She was too weak.  She
knew that if she were strong, something like this would never happen
again.  Never.  She had to be strong.  She had to learn how to be strong,
and powerful, and tough...

Before Joseph returned his father's car, Dana helped him wipe the
blood off of the back seat.  He didn't offer to help with the stain in her
dress.

==========
Scully turned and left the room when Mulder didn't answer her, heading
for the bathroom.  She stood at the sink, staring into the mirror, looking
into her own eyes.  It was odd, she thought, how the sound of her own
voice asking a question could trigger a chain of memories.

She sighed.  That seemed like a long, long time ago.

Mulder padded in behind her, still straightening the elastic waist of his
boxers.  "What happened to your knee," he asked casually.

"Huh?  What?"  She remembered quickly.  "Oh, nothing."  She knelt,
digging around in the cabinet under the sink for her razor.  "Cut it when
I was little."

"How?" Mulder asked, still casual, despite the concern Scully knew he
must feel.  In attempt to help, he pointed out the razor sitting on the top
of a box of Tampax.

"Thanks," she said, grabbing it and standing, kicking the cabinet closed. 
"Climbing through a barbed wire fence...with my brothers...when I was
six."

"Oh, ouch," he said, making a face.  "Can I use your toothbrush?"

"Yeah, it hurt.  Twenty-nine stitches.  That's how deep it was..."  She
paused, looking at him as he held up her toothbrush questioningly.  "Go
right ahead."

He shimmied around her to the sink, turning on the hot water. 
"Thanks."  He found the toothpaste, and squeezed a generous amount of
it onto the brush.  When the whitish goo leaned, threatening to plop
into the sink, he shoved the toothbrush into his mouth.

Scully sneaked her hand in to get to the running water, wetting the
razor.  She put her right leg up on the toilet seat.  She drew the razor
along her skin, starting from her ankle and moving upwards.  The
bathroom, she thought, would have been much too quiet if the water
wasn't running, and if Mulder wasn't swishing away at his teeth.  

It was funny to watch him.  He had to move his tongue out of the way
of the toothbrush, so there was always a lump sticking out on one of his
cheeks.  He looked rather comical: like a lop-sided chipmunk.

Apparently, he felt her eyes, and looked over at her.  With the
toothbrush held tightly between his teeth, he asked, "Wuh?" trying not
to spit on her.  But she didn't have enough time to answer before he
said, "Wuho, Shkully!"

"Huh?"

He spat into the sink and then said, clearly, "Your leg..."

She looked down.  Red oozed from a long, thin cut near her ankle. 
"Oh, shit," she whispered.  She grabbed a tissue and dabbed at the cut. 
She hadn't noticed the cut--or the pain--until Mulder had said
something.  

God, she really hated blood.

==========
Dana Scully was staring into space again.  She seemed completely shut
off from the real world, in a dream-like state, and even the sound of
someone calling her name couldn't bring her back right away.  It took
her a moment to realize that someone needed her attention.

"Yo....?  Hell-O...?  Anyone in there?"  Hands were cupped over the
mouth, and the girl made a hissing noise, like static from a walkie-
talkie.  "Pwsssst... This is Earth calling Dr. Scully.  Please respond. 
Pwsssst.  Over."

A long pause, as the girl waited to see if her method had worked. 
Finally, when Scully didn't respond, the girl resulted to the ever-
popular, "Hey, Mom!"

Scully started when something blue and white was thrust in front of her
face.  She finally managed to focus her eyes on the long fingers with
the green-polished finger-nails holding a package of cottage cheese in
front of her face.  

Seeing she finally had her mother's attention, the girl brought the
package down.  "Mom.  Didn't you say we needed cottage cheese?"

"Wuzat?"  Scully still wasn't completely back to the real world. 

The girl sighed.  "Cot-age chee-ese."  She stretched out the words to
make sure her mother understood.  "Didn't you say we needed it?"

"Yeah," Scully said, checking the list she'd scrawled on a post-it note,
even though, by now, she had the complete list memorized.  "And we
need plain yogurt, too.  Would you get that?"

"Sure," said the girl, bending down at her waist.  "But I gotta fix my
shoe first."  She didn't bend her knees at all while she adjusted the strap
on her black platform shoe.  Scully wondered whether or not she knew
that her V-neck top was putting her entire top half on display.  But
Scully decided not to say anything and risk making her angry.

Scully suddenly felt something bump her left shoulder.  She heard  a
man's voice say, "'Scuse me ma'am."  

Scully turned to see who'd accidentally bumped into her, wondering
why they seemed to be in such a hurry to get their grocery shopping
done that they hadn't seen her there.  "It's no pro--" she started, but
halted, mid-sentence, when she saw the man's face.

She knew who it was in an instant, even after so many years.  No one,
she thought, wears ties like that in public.  

No one, but him.

It took him a little longer to recognize her, however.  She watched his
eyes pick away the generous gray in the hair that framed her face, the
well-earned wrinkles her skin displayed, and the extra poundage she
now carried with her.  She wasn't fat, by any means.  Just a
little...Greek sculpture-esque.  

Then she saw him smile.  "Oh, God," she heard him mutter.  Then he
said, louder, "Scully?"

She could only smile.

His forehead wrinkled.  "Or...is it something *else* now?"

"No," she said, with a little bit of a sigh.  "No, it's still Scully."  She
took a deep breath and asked, "How are you, Mulder?"

"Oh, me...well... I'm pretty good actually."

"Good," she said, suddenly feeling another pair of eyes on her.  She
turned and saw the girl, still bent over, tending to her shoe.   But now
her chin was lifted, watching them.  Suddenly realizing what Scully had
earlier--that you could practically see to her belly-button--the girl stood
up straight, crossing her arms over her stomach.

"I've told you about my part--, uh, *former* partner...?  This is Agent
Mulder," Scully said to her daughter.  She turned to Mulder.  "Mulder,
this is my daughter, Ginger."

The girl put her hand out for Mulder to shake it.  "Ginnie."  There was a
small pause, and then she said, "I'm the pool-man's kid."

Scully felt her cheeks flush, even though she knew Mulder thought
Ginger was joking.

Mulder smiled, taking her hand.  He glanced at Scully as though
clearing whether or not it was all right to speak to the young woman. 
"My... It's a pleasure to meet you," he said.

She nodded.

Mulder looked at Scully.  "She's...what?  Eighteen?  Seventeen?"

Ginnie laughed, and then, very matter-of-factly, answered for her
mother.  "I'm going to be sixteen next week."

"Yeah," Scully moaned with a bit of a smile.  "And that makes me
*how* old?...One-hundred-eight, at least," she said after a long pause.

"Mo-om!" Ginnie groaned.  "Shut *up*!  Not even half that!"

"Pretty *close!*" Scully replied.

Mulder was about to crack a joke, but before he could say anything,
Ginnie spoke.  "Mom's told me a lot about 'Spooky' Mulder."  She
smiled.  "Do you still chase aliens?  That's pretty cool..."

Mulder gave a light chuckle. "Uh, no..." he turned to Scully, smiling. 
"*That* was a long time ago."  He turned back to Ginnie.  "Last time I
saw your mom--" he laced his fingers, putting his arms out in front of
him like he was holding a beach-ball "--she was out to here."

Scully's forehead wrinkled.  "No, the last time you saw me, I was in--"
she stopped, seeing the look on his face.  There was an embarrassing
silence, and then Scully laughed.  "Oh, God," she said, remembering.  "I
was such a mess."

"No," he said, drawing out the word affectionately.  "You were
beautiful."

Ginnie raised her eyebrows, turning to the side, apparently trying to
imagine what might have gone on between Dana Scully and her former
partner.

Scully felt her cheeks flush.  Mulder made a face as though
acknowledging that he'd said the wrong thing.  Scully was about to
make a speedy reply, and end the uncomfortable moment...but she
couldn't stop looking into Mulder's eyes.  It had been almost sixteen
years since the last time she'd seen him.  And there was something
about him now that...

"Um, I'm just gonna get the yogurt," Ginnie said, excusing herself
from...whatever.

==========
End (1/2)



==========
"Hello," Scully called to anyone who might be home as she opened the
front door.  She got no reply.  She tried again.  "Ginnie?  You home?" 
Scully shook her head in disbelief, and looked at her watch.  It was
almost seven.  Ginnie had to be home.  Where else would she be?  

Scully dropped her briefcase and her purse on her desk chair, and
peaked into the living room, expecting to find her daughter plopped
down on the couch, watching TV when she should be doing her
homework.  

But Ginnie wasn't on the sofa.  She wasn't downstairs at all, actually. 
Scully started up the stairs, stopping half-way up to take off her shoes. 
They were so old and worn out that Scully wondered whether it was her
shoes breaking her feet or the other way around.  

When she got to the top of the stairs, she noticed that Ginnie's bedroom
door was ajar.  Ginnie wasn't in her room, typing at her computer, or
reading, or sitting with her head stuck in the head phones, or taking a
little cat-nap before dinner.  This wasn't normal, Scully decided. 
Something was going on, and she had to find out what it was.

She dropped her shoes in her own bedroom, and pushed the 'play'
button when she saw that there were three messages on the machine.  

"Hello, you've reached Dana and Ginger Scully," Scully heard her own
voice say cheerfully.  A little *too* cheerfully, actually.  I'll have to
change that, she thought.  "We can't come to the phone right now, but if
you leave a message after the tone, we'll get back to you.  Thanks." 
The machine beeped.  

"Hi, Dana, it's Mom," Margaret Scully's voice said.  "I know Ginnie still
has another week of school, but I would love it if you two would come
out and see me for winter break--"

"Blah, blah, blah..." Scully said out loud, listening to her mother carry
on.  The machine finally beeped again.  A male voice that didn't
automatically register in Scully's mind was next.

"Uh, like hey, Gin.  Um, it's Tim and stuff...I was kinda thinkin' that if
Drew and them are outta town that we could, uh, well...I wanted to
know if--"

"Oh, God," Scully said softly, in case her daughter should walk in and
hear.  "*These* are the kind of guys she goes to school with?"

The last message started up.  "Hello, Dana."  Now *here* was a male
voice she recognized.  Oh, shit, she thought.  What now?  "You know
how much I hate to bother you when you're at home and all--"

"Oh, sure.  No problem," she said out-loud, very sarcastically, as she
shrugged out of her jacket.  

"--but, the papers for Monday are really--"

"I know, I know," she sighed, talking to the machine, as she pulled her
blouse over her head and replaced it with a white T-shirt.  "I'm working
on it."

"...I know you and Ellie--"

"Hate each other's guts," Scully finished his sentence.  "Richard," she
said, even before the message was over, "No.  No!  This time, no."

She left the room.  The message still hadn't finished.  

She was tempted to hop back in the car, and drive up to the high-school
to see if her daughter was still there, helping the theater department
build their sets or something along that line, when she passed by the
closed bathroom door.

Scully heard a long, low, shaky sigh, followed by a choked sob.

She didn't knock.  She didn't say anything.  Scully just opened the
bathroom door.  There was her kid.  Her stupid kid.  Normally, her
daughter would have screamed a four-letter word-of-choice at her, had
Scully opened any door without knocking.  This time, she sat there and
said nothing.  She didn't even look up.

Ginnie was sitting on the bathroom floor with her back up against the
bathtub.  Her long blonde hair was dyed pitch black.  Black rivers
streamed down her forehead and her neck.  Scully wanted to kill Ginnie
right there; just knock her head right off her skinny little shoulders.

Instead of killing her, however, Scully burst out, "What the hell did you
do to your hair?"

Ginnie looked up at her mother with only her eyes.  She was crying and
choking, and all she could get out was, "Mommy."  Ginnie pointed a
long, green finger-nail at the counter.

Scully's head turned.  Her eyes found the spot her daughter was
pointing to.  And her jaw dropped.  Laid out on the counter, resting up
against the box it had come in was an EPT plus pregnancy test.  

Pink pregnant, white not pregnant....

The end of that little stick was bright pink.  Pink as an Easter egg.  Pink
as a baby's behind.  "Fuck," Scully hissed.  She suddenly had a sinking
feeling in her stomach.  She was instantly sixteen again, looking at a
little test tube--holding it up against the light bulb in the upstairs
closet...so afraid of what might be...

Scully looked back at her daughter, and just stared for a moment.  Then
she said, trying to sound as calm as possible, "Is that, or is that not an
EPT plus pregnancy test."

Ginnie nodded.

"So you have a pink stick..."

Ginnie nodded again, tears streaming down her face.

"So," Scully sighed.  "So you're pregnant.  So you dyed your hair
black?"

Ginnie stood up as quickly as she could.  "I *knew* you wouldn't
understand!" she wailed.  "You never understand anything about me."

She stormed down the hallway, into her room, slamming the door.

What's to understand, Scully thought.  You're crazy.

Scully stood in the bathroom, just looking around.  It looked like a
tornado had hit, and there was that little pink stick in the middle of it
all.  Glaring at her like an evil eye.  Like a tongue sticking out at her.  

Ha ha! it said, You messed up big-time.  You really fucked up, Dana. 
You really fucked up.

All Scully could think was, How could this happen?  How could it
happen to Ginnie?  How?

She moved slowly down the hall, towards her daughter's room.  Scully
opened the door, sat down on the edge of the bed, putting an arm
around her daughter.  She didn't know what to say.  "Ginger, sweety,
hey...hey, it's all right.  You've got to be strong and make your own
choice about this."

Ginnie looked up at her, face teary.

"The choice is yours," Scully continued.  "We'll do whatever you
decide, okay?  Whatever decision you make, I'm behind you, okay?"

Ginnie stopped crying, and breathed in and out hard a couple times,
trying to get herself under control.

Scully didn't know what else to say.  "So, uh, you and Drew had...you
had sex?"

For some reason, Ginnie laughed a little.  "Yeah, Mom, last time I
checked you kinda had to have sex to get pregnant."  She paused and
said, "I'm not like you and dad."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Scully asked, a little shocked.

"Oh c'mon," Ginnie said, her tears returning.  "You weren't out of your
power-suits long enough to have sex!  Dad stuck his tongue in your ear
and bang!  There I was!  I appeared on the kitchen counter in a nice gift
basket.  That's how women like you do it..."  Ginnie was really crying
now.  "You just will it to happen or not!  You think beautiful thoughts
and your offspring arrive with the afternoon mail!"

"Ginger--"

"Well, you *do*!"

Scully, still a little shocked by her daughter's words, looked away for a
moment.  When she looked back, she asked, " So...have you talked
to...the guy about this yet?"

Ginnie's reply was nasty.  Cutting.  "No, Mom, Jesus!  Boys don't like
girls who boss them around."

==========
She was sick of it all.  She was sick of getting up in the morning.  She
was sick of her routine.  She was sick of medical school.  And she was
really sick of life in general.  Dana Scully, almost MD wanted it all to
end.  Now.

What the heck she was doing in the back of her car was anyone's guess. 
She'd just left her bed in the middle of the night, unable to sleep,
dragging pillow and blanket with her outside to her car.  Just being in
her room made her...angry, somehow, and she didn't know why.

It had been the night that she and Aaron went for sushi and
cappuccinos.  Aaron was her best friend, Scully decided.  Once a
month, at the full moon, they went out for dinner together, and
sometimes to a movie.  

Scully liked Aaron; she could tell him anything.  The problem was, she
rarely got a chance to.  All of their conversations were the same: Aaron
told her about his love life, and she supported him.  Aaron whined
about his girlfriend, and Scully would console him.  Aaron moaned
about the horrors of latex, and Scully expressed her sympathy.  She
hugged him.  She made him tea.

For some reason, now, every time she laid eyes on him, she was filled
with an odd rage.  At first, she hadn't been able to figure out where the
rage came from, but she'd finally located the source.  She was tired of
being everyone's warm, fuzzy sounding board.  

Scully laughed, and rolled over on her side.  She knew what she
wanted.  She wanted to be a full-blown sexual threat right now.  She
wanted to get down on the floor on her hands and knees, and do it. 
Sweaty, hot, wrong...  

She laughed again.  One half of her wanted to take the world by storm;
climb mountains, or pump gas, or direct for TV...if that's what she
decided she wanted to do.  She knew she didn't need male approval to
achieve her goals in life.  

She put her face in the pillow, feeling the seat-belt buckle digging into
her hip.

Scully couldn't ignore her *other* self.  The pathetic, whiny, "needy"
side.  The one the yearned for human touch.  Sometimes all that side
wanted was to be looked at, admired, soothed, and caressed.  She still
wanted the power.  The mountains, and the money, and the TV, and the
gasoline...  But what she wanted the most was someone to love her and
sleep in her bed.

Scully hated herself for it.  She could forgive herself lovingly, and then
she'd yell at herself for going soft.  After that, she'd cry.  

She rolled over again, onto her back.  Scully stared up through the back
window, at the sky, talking softly to herself.  "You are contributing to
the undeclared war against women!  How could you, Dana!  How dare
you!  You ought to be shot!"

Suddenly, a marshmallow sundae sounded really good.

She shut her eyes.  "If I can't change the world, I'll have to change
myself.  I'm going to fall asleep right here in the goddamn car, and I'm
gonna wake up and be beautiful, and I'm gonna flush all my feminist
morals down the drain.  I'm gonna sashay my ass into the glittering
suburban night, and I'm gonna get laid, goddamnit!"

That said out loud, she felt a little better.  Scully yawned.  Sleep was
probably the best plan now.  She had a class tomorrow.  She moaned,
and then thought about something her grandmother had said.  

"You've made your cake, now you have to eat it."

Ain't it the truth, she thought.  No one *else* is gonna eat it.

==========
"Here's your little girl."

All she could see was a pair of slightly bluish feet, but it didn't matter. 
Scully was so happy.  She turned to the man next to her.  He looked just
like the doctors, in the suit that made him look like an astronaut.  He
smiled at her behind his mask.  His gloved hand squeezed hers.

"She's okay?" Scully asked, lazily.

He nodded.

"Okay, Mrs. Scully.  Time to stitch you up," she heard her the doctor on
the other end of the room call.

"It's 'Miss' actually," she said, weakly, but she didn't think anyone heard
her.  They were too busy moving back in to finish up with her.

"Can you feel this?" the same doctor asked.

"No."  She had no idea that he'd even done anything.

The man next to her squeezed her hand again, reassuringly.  She looked
up at him, grinning from ear-to-ear.  "Thanks for bein' here," she said
softly.  Then she laughed a little.  "How many stitches is it?"

He shrugged, and she made out a muffled, "I don't know."  Then, he
added, speaking slowly so she could hear, "Not more than twenty-nine."

==========
"Ginger Leanne Rodriguez," Margaret Scully pondered.  "I like it."

Lying in the hospital bed, Dana said, "Actually, it's Ginger Leanne
*Scully*..."

"So," Margaret Scully said, rather disapprovingly.  "Agador isn't going
to...*claim* this baby?"

"Mom, you make her sound like something in the lost-and-found!"  She
cleared her throat.  She swallowed.  "No," she said simply.  "He doesn't
want any part in it."

"Dana!  What are people going to think?"

Scully felt tears in her eyes.  "I don't care what people think... Mom, I'm
thirty-five years old!  I think I can manage caring for a child!"

"It's not all about playing dolls, Dana."

Scully was about to comment, when the door to her room opened, and a
male face wearing a goofy grin peaked around the door frame.  "Hi!" he
said with much enthusiasm, entering the room with both hands behind
his back.  He kicked the door shut with his foot

"Hello."  Margaret managed to get the word out cheerfully.

"Hi," Scully seconded the greeting.

"How's my favorite lady?" he asked, coming around to the left side of
the bed.  "Ta da!"  He revealed what had been hidden behind his back. 
A bunch of flowers and a gigantic bowl of chocolate pudding.

She smiled.  "You're an angel.  Thank you."

"Spoon," he said, whipping it out from his pants pocket and handing it
to her.

"You seem really...happy," Scully said.  "I'm surprised."

"Hey, thanks for letting me participate!"  He sat down on the bed,
facing her.

"Thank you for coming, Fox," Margaret said.

"Glad I could be here," Mulder replied, ignoring the fact that he'd just
been called by his first name.  Then he looked at Scully.  "Agador not
show up?"

Scully shook her head, trying to hide her hurt.  "Naw.  He doesn't care. 
He's probably scraping the hair balls out of pools in Florida hotels right
now."  She spooned a bite of pudding into her mouth.

"He's in *Florida*?"

"Mmm-hmm," she said, around her mouthful of pudding.  She
swallowed.  "Thanks for, uh...holding my hand in there."  She smiled.

Mulder smiled back.  

"How's she doing?  You know?" Scully asked.

"She's doin' great," Mulder was happy to report.  "She's a tough
girl...just like her mommy."  He grinned.  "Hasn't cried a bit, actually. 
She's beautiful.  Shouldn't be too long 'till you get to hold her."

Scully could do nothing but smile.

"So, I guess I'll have to manage on my own for a while.  At work,"
Mulder said.

Scully was still smiling.  "Speaking of which..." she said, looking past
him at the door.

Assistant Director Skinner stood in the doorway, complete with a small
bunch of flowers.  "Congratulations, Agent Scully," he said.

She nodded, smiling.  "Thank you, Sir."

Skinner looked at Mulder.  "You're not excused from having those
papers in tomorrow morning, I hope you know."

Mulder smiled, and squeezed Scully's hand.

"Agent Scully, I expect a full report by next week," Skinner said,
looking back at her.  The corners of his mouth turned up, hinting at a
smile.  "Just wanted to drop these off," Skinner said, obviously a little
uncomfortable, as Mulder took the flowers from him, and placed them
next to the bunch he'd brought.  Skinner turned to leave the room. 
"Mrs. Scully, Agent Scully, Agent Mulder," he addressed each of them
before leaving.

Mulder leaned over to Scully.  "That was the first time, ever, that I've
seen Skinner smile."

She nodded.  "It's catching," Scully said, her face muscles sore from
grinning constantly.

Mulder had never seen her so happy.

==========
The End.