World Without End Book Three: Chapter Three

by Rachel Anton

"Do you still love him, Dana?"

The question is simple enough, but the answer is the most complex thing in the world.  It's not what I expected him to ask.  None of this is turning out the way I expected it to.

I expected anger.  Fury.  Smashing plates and yelling and tossing me out of his room and his life forever.  I didn't think he'd actually hit me, but I expected him to want to.

I suppose I should have known better.  That would have been a standard response, and Alex is anything but standard.  He only lashes out in that manner when his wounds are superficial.  When they cut as deep as the things I've just told him, he retreats into himself almost completely.  The more he hurts, the calmer he appears.  But I know him.  I know that under that relatively placid surface, there is a storm churning.  And the way I answer this question could send him over the edge.

But I have to tell him the truth.  Especially now.  There's no other choice.

"Yes, I do.  I always will."

He flinches as if I'd struck him, which I suppose I might as well have.  Tentatively, I touch his cheek with the tips of my fingers.  His skin is icy cold.

"I love Mulder, Alex, but you are the reason I get out of bed in the morning.  You are the one who gives me the strength, the reason to keep going in this world."

He inhales sharply and belatedly pulls back from my touch.  His eyes shine and burn as he stares at me, searching for the truth in me.

"Do you regret what you've done?"  he asks coolly, after a long pause.

Again, there is no right answer to this question.  And the accusatory nature of it startles me.  I suppose it's a good sign in a twisted way.  At least he's not blaming Mulder entirely anymore.  Acceptance is the first step towards forgiveness.

"I regret hurting you, Alex.  That's not something I ever wanted to do.  But I…I can't say that I'm sorry it happened.  It was closure we both needed.  And it helped me to realize how much I need to be with you now."

"You needed to fuck someone else to realize you love me?  Is that what you're saying?"

"No, that's not…"

Oh, how can I do this?  How can I explain this when I don't even understand it myself?  Is it as simple as what he's just said?  No.  I realized I loved him a very long time ago.

"It helped me close a door that had been left open for far too long.  It freed me, not to love you, Alex.  I loved you already, but it let me give that love to you.  It let me give you my heart.  Completely."

I reach down for his hand, which is clenched into a fist on his thigh.  I lift it and place it on my chest.

"Alex, you are the one living here, in my heart.  Every minute of every day."

His fingers slowly uncurl and his palm flattens against me.  His eyes are swimming with tears, and I find my own filling in response.

"I love you, Alex.  I need you," I manage around the lump in my throat.  "You are my choice.  Not even my choice.  There is no choice.  You're it for me.  The only one I…the only one."

He nods and gives my hand a squeeze before pulling back and wiping at his eyes.

"I need…I need to go," he mumbles.

"Go?  What, what does that mean?"

"It means I need to go.  I just…"

He stands up, knocking the chair backward in his sudden desperation to get away from me.

"Are you going to come back?"

He grabs his coat from the back of the couch and pulls it on, getting halfway to the door before he turns back to look at me.  I'm still kneeling on the floor, staring at his prone and abandoned chair.

"I'll be back.  I'll be back tonight.  I just need to be…I need to be away.  For a little while."

"Please know that I love you, Alex.  And that I'm sorry.  Please remember that."

"I know," he says and walks out the door.

Running away again.  But this time, I don't begrudge him his need for distance.  I understand it.  I almost welcome it.  All that I can do now is wait for him to return to me.  And hope that he doesn't decide he'd rather not.

I didn't feel Alex settling into bed next to me until the first gray light of dawn crept through our window.  It had to have been five-thirty at the earliest.  He'd been gone almost nine hours.

He kept his boxers and T-shirt on, but at least he took off his pants.  A small sign of intimacy was better than none.  And the fact that he'd come home at all was a good sign in itself.

I wondered where he'd gone and what had been running through his mind all this time.  I wanted to talk to him, to hold him, to know that we were all right.  But as soon as I said his name he told me there was nothing more to say.  He said that more than anything, he needed to sleep.  So I let him.

I watched him for a few hours, found myself almost hypnotized by the rapid movements of his eyes under their lids.  I tried to imagine his dreams.

I must have dozed off at some point because I started awake at about nine o'clock to find the bed empty again.  I panicked, thinking that perhaps I'd only dreamt his return.  But after a moment I heard him moving around in the other room.

I pulled on my robe and went to attempt another conversation.  I found him fully dressed and putting on his coat again.

"Where are you going?"

"Work," he replied, then added, "I suggest you do the same."

"Alex, we…"  I started, but couldn't manage to finish.

"I need some time, Dana.  I'm sorry."

Then he was gone again.

So, I've done the only thing I could think of.  Put on some clothes and gotten ready for work.  Trying to keep some kind of normalcy in our lives, some kind of routine, seems like a good idea.  But as I carry out my morning rituals, every motion brings me close to tears.  Hormones.  And missing him.

Time, he says.  He needs some time.  How much time will be enough, I wonder.  How long will it be before he can look into my eyes and not feel betrayed?  How long will it be before he can touch me?

He needs to feel loved and wanted so badly.  It breaks my heart sometimes to think of how fragile he really is inside despite his almost frighteningly cold exterior.  If we could get past this and be free finally, able to just love each other and just…just be, it could be so good.  So right.  If I've ruined our chance for that I'll never be able to forgive myself.

I'd do anything for it.

I need to get out of here.

I finish up what I need to do quickly and hurry off to the lab.  It's only when I've gotten halfway across campus that I realize there's no escape from my demons.  Mulder will surely be at the lab, and I'm going to have to tell him about this.  If not the pregnancy, certainly he needs to know that I've told Alex about us.  For his own safety if nothing else.  That is not a conversation I'm looking forward to.

When I get to the lab, Roseanne and Mulder are both there.  As soon as I walk in, though, Roseanne picks up the pile of papers she was looking at and brushes past me and out the door.  She mutters something about the library or the infirmary.  I can't really understand because she's speaking so quietly.  I don't really care enough to listen carefully.  I'm too distracted.

Once she's gone, I know it's time.  There's no point putting it off or dancing around it.  Before he can even say hello, I tell Mulder, "Sit down.  We need to talk."

"Scully…?"

"I need to tell you something."

His eyes swim with panic.

"Is this about yesterday?  About you getting sick?"

"No.  Not…well, yes but…"

"Scully?  Why did you get sick?"

"It's nothing, Mulder.  I'm fine.  But I…"

"No, Scully, what is it?  It's not the treatment is it?  Is something going wrong?"

No.  Nothing's wrong.  I…"

I can't do this.  I can't look him in the eye and keep this a secret.  I thought I could, but I don't think I realized what it would be like, how unfair it would seem in person.  It could be his.  It's just not right to keep it from him.  I can't do it anymore.  No more secrets.

"I'm pregnant," I tell him simply.

He stares blankly at me for a second or two and then laughs.  Like I'm telling him a goddamn joke.

"No, really, Scully.  What's going on?"

"Mulder…"

I don't say anything more.  I guess I don't need to.  The look on my face must be telling him everything he needs to know because eventually his jaw goes slack and his eyes get large and confused.  I can almost see the hamster in his brain turning its wheel over and over.

"The treatment?"

"It appears to have restored my fertility."

There's a long silence.  I feel decidedly uncomfortable waiting for a response, any response.  All he seems capable of is more befuddled staring.

"Surprise," I mutter, more to fill the dead air than anything else.

I can practically hear the unspoken questions coming out of his half-open mouth.  How?  Why?  When?  What the hell are you talking about?

"Wow," he finally manages.  "That's…that's something.  Um, con-congratulations.  That's great.  Really."

Oh, Mulder.  Nice try.  Really.  I know it's what he thinks I want to hear, so I try to at least smile.

"No, Mulder.  It's not…it's not great."

"No, no, it is.  Scully, this is great news.  That means that all the women who've gotten the treatment can conceive.  When are you going to tell them?"

His horizons have suddenly broadened beyond what this means for him and for me, and now he's smiling.  Almost beaming.

"I don't know yet.  Mulder, listen.  I need you to listen to me for a minute."

His look shifts back to one of concern, and he sits down in front of me.

"What is it, Scully?  Is there a problem with the pregnancy?  You're all right aren't you?"

"I'm okay, yes.  Physically it's been normal so far.  There is a problem though.  With the pregnancy.  Specifically with the…the parentage."

"Paren…"

Another visible lightbulb goes on over his head.

"Parentage as in paternity?"

"Yes.  As in, I don't know it."

He nods, long and slow.  I look for signs of judgment or anger in his eyes, but there are none.  I see a little bit of excitement, though.  Happiness even.  He wants me to have it.  He wants it to be his.  I can sense it.  I can hear it in the deep, sharp breaths he's taking.

"Does he…?"

"Yes.  That's partially why I'm telling you.  I'd steer clear of him for a while if I were you."

"No, Scully, I'm not worried about that.  Are you…God, what are you gonna do?"

"The only thing I can do."

"And that is?"

"Mulder, I can't bring a child into this world.  What kind of life would I be able to give it?"

He laughs again, which is just about the last reaction in the world I would have expected from him.  He seems to have recovered from his shock relatively quickly.   Everybody's full of surprises today.

"Scully, come on.  You think this is any worse than the time before?  If anything, it's better."

"Better?  You think this is *better*?"

"People here are forced to live and work in a more community-minded way.  It's the only way to survive.  I think that's better than the way things were before."

"But, Mulder, we don't even know if we're going to have enough to eat at the end of this month.  We don't know that a troop of alien invaders isn't going to come and torch the place tomorrow!"

"No, we don't.  Were our lives ever really secure, though?  I mean, hell, this whole thing was coming all along and we knew it and we still carried on with our lives as best we could."

"That's different."

He raises an eyebrow at me, silently daring me to explain exactly how this is so different.  Before I can form a response, he's launched into a random anecdote.

"Scully, do you remember who Martin Luther was?"

"Yes, of course I remember who Martin Luther was.  How is that germane?"

"Well, he had a nursery.  Of trees, you know?  People used to ask him what he'd do if he knew the world was going to end tomorrow.  He'd tell them he'd go out and plant a tree."

"I'm not a Lutheran."

"Still, pretty wise way of looking at things if you ask me."

Did anyone ask you, Mulder?  God, what is it with him anyway?  How can he be so damn calm?  So reasonable.  Isn't he seething inside?

"Listen, Scully, I can't tell you what to do.  You should do whatever you think is right.  Whatever feels right to you.  All I can say is that I'd hate to see you make this decision based on fear."

"I never wanted to have a child, Mulder."

"You didn't?  What about…Emily?"

"Emily wasn't my choice."

"But you loved her."

"I loved her enough to let her go.  Because she wasn't meant to be."

"And you think this child wasn't meant to be?"

"I don't…I don't know."

I can't do this anymore.  I can't turn this personal, private decision into a Mulder and Scully battle of wits.  I can't calmly debate the pros and cons when my insides are screaming.  If I have to talk about this with one more person, I'm sure my brain will explode.

"Scully, you're thinking too much," he decides to tell me now.  Well, I wasn't before.

"Don't you think this is a decision that requires thought?"

"Yes, but you're thinking yourself into a cloud.  Why don't you go get your dog and take a nice, long walk.  Clear your head.  It'll make it easier to listen to your heart."

Despite the Hallmark card mentality of that statement, he might have a point.  I suppose a walk couldn't hurt.

He stands up and pulls me into an unexpected embrace after I put on my coat.  I hug him briefly and pull back quickly, startled by my own reaction to the simplest display of affection.  I feel like I'm going to cry again.  Damn hormones.

When we face each other again, there is no awkwardness.  I'm glad for that much.

"Scully, you know, you know I'll support you no matter what you do, right?"

"Yes, I know.  Thank you."

"And you know I love you, right?"

"I know, Mulder.  I love you too."

He smiles warmly at me, and I realize that there's something else he should know.  Something important.

"Mulder, I want to tell you that if circumstances were…not what they are, I'd be honored to have a child with you."

That earns me a full-fledged grin and a peck on the cheek.  But behind that grin, in his eyes, I see something else.  Something I think he's trying to hide from me.  Perhaps he isn't as calm as he seems.  Surely this must be causing him pain.  Confusion, at least.  Or…something.  God, he must be feeling something.  It's obvious he doesn't want me to terminate, but there must be more going on inside him.  I wish he'd share it with me, but I know he won't.  He doesn't want to add to my burden.  He doesn't feel that it's his place anymore.  I think I'm starting to understand how it's going to be between us.

"Take care of yourself, Scully," he says as I'm walking out the door.

Once I'm outside, by myself, I realize that things are not as clear as they seemed just a few short hours ago.  Before I told anyone about this, I was sure.  I didn't think there was even a decision to make.  Now I'm not sure that I was ever sure in the first place.

End Chapter Three
Continued in Chapter Four

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