Light Don't Sleep 
By Lydia Bower <bower@soltec.net> 
 
DISTRIBUTION: *DO NOT ARCHIVE.* 
This fic will be housed exclusively at 
http://members.aol.com/MSRWriter/Lydia.html 
Archivists are welcome to link directly to this site. 
CLASSIFICATION: V, MSR, ER 
RATING: NC-17 for mild sexual content. 
SPOILERS: S8, including episodes not yet aired. If you're 
unspoiled for what takes place after the events of TINH, you 
won't be after reading this fic. *This is your only warning.* 
TIMELINE: Set during Three Words and inspired by early 
spoilers. 
 
SUMMARY: " ... I don't want this to end. I want to stay like 
this forever. Just the three of us, right here in this bed. Not 
a care in the world." 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTES: 
The Short Version: It's come to my attention that this little 
fic o' mine presents a scenario very similar to one or two (and 
perhaps more) fics already in circulation. I suppose that's to 
be expected, as the spoilers for Three Words were bound to 
inspire many a muse. And so I was beaten to the punch. Isn't 
the first time, won't be the last. Blame the lateness of this 
posting on The World's Most Reluctant Muse (TM), and any 
similarity to other fics on pure chance and the age-old adage 
that great minds think alike. 
The Long Version: Can be found at the end. I'll see you there. 
 
DISCLAIMER: You've got to be kidding. Chris and the suits 
can bite me.  Go on, sue me. I double-dog dare ya. 
 
For Leyla, who is spreading her wings while we remain 
earthbound, watching and wondering. God speed, my friend. 
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 
 
 
The night Scully brought Mulder home from the hospital, 
after he'd eaten and headed for the shower, she timed him. 
Half an hour passed before she went to check on him, finding 
him still in the bathroom, studying his reflection in the 
medicine cabinet mirror. Wearing faded Levis that barely 
clung to his narrow hips, he was busy fingering a nasty scar 
bisecting his sternum. It took him a few seconds to notice 
her; long enough for Scully to see his uncertainty. 
 
"Oh ... hey," he said, addressing her reflection.  "I was just 
thinking that battle scars lose some of their macho appeal 
when you can't remember how you got 'em." 
 
She considered the description of his wounds more than 
accurate. He was certainly a warrior, though better fitted to 
be an FBI agent than a knight of old.  Armani had replaced 
armor, and the truth now served as surrogate for the holy 
grail. Or were they one and the same? 
 
These were foolish, fleeting thoughts. Just more of the many 
she'd had since he'd been returned to her. 
 
"Maybe it's better not to remember," she told him, thinking 
of the scars she still bore. Faded on flesh, but not on her 
soul. 
 
"No ...  No, Scully, I want to remember. I need to." He turned 
to face her, leaning against the sink. "I need to find a way to 
make all this seem real again. " 
 
"It's not unusual that you're experiencing memory loss, 
Mulder. A certain level of amnesia is common in cases such as 
yours, where there's evidence of acute physical and 
psychological trauma. The mind blocks out what's too painful 
or frightening to recall." 
 
Mulder's hands gripped the edge of the sink. "That doesn't 
explain why I had to be told your middle name. Or why I can't 
remember where I keep my can opener." 
 
"Mulder." She started toward him, stopping as he shook his 
head in warning. 
 
"No, don't coddle me, Scully. I know what you're going to say 
and it won't make it any better. It's driving me crazy, this 
jigsaw puzzle where my memories used to be. There's no 
rhyme or reason to it. I can't remember what I had for 
breakfast yesterday, but the taste of dirt in my mouth is so 
goddamn fresh I can feel the grit on my tongue." 
 
Eyes sliding shut, she surrendered to the wave of remorse his 
words invoked. Saddened beyond thought, she wanted to 
weep for him. For the months he'd spent buried in the cold, 
dark ground, neither fully alive nor irrevocably dead, caught 
in a nightmarish world in between. 
 
He was right: there was nothing she could say. She couldn't 
make it better with any words. She opened her eyes and was 
confronted by the pain etched on his face. He was still a good 
ten pounds below slim, and the sharp cut of his cheekbones 
threw shadows onto his deep-set eyes and hollow, scarred 
cheeks. He'd suffered unimaginable things and had still 
managed to wind up on his feet. 
 
Mulder was the strongest, most courageous person she'd 
ever known, and she loved him with all her heart. The need to 
touch him became overwhelming and Scully was moving before 
she knew it. Ignoring his rigid posture, she stepped to him 
and slid her arms around his waist, leaning her cheek against 
the damp skin of his chest. Mulder's arms slowly lifted to 
encircle her. They stood that way for a few moments, the 
embrace made awkward by her swollen belly. Mulder released 
her sooner than she wanted. 
 
His hands slid down her arms and he briefly grasped her 
fingers before letting go. "I'm sorry, Scully, " he sighed. "I'll 
try not to be so self-absorbed from now on. This has been 
just as hard on you, I know. Maybe even harder." The 
downward flick of his eyes acknowledged what had just 
separated them, what he wouldn't discuss and what she was 
so hesitant to bring up. 
 
Aside from a vague, brief acknowledgment or two, Mulder had 
said nothing about her pregnancy. She'd tried once in the 
hospital to explain to him, but had been cut short. Now she 
wondered if his memory loss might be the cause of his 
reticence. Was it possible he really didn't know the truth and 
was afraid of finding out? 
 
She thought about her own reluctance to address the issue 
and was dismayed by her cowardice. She was planning to 
share a bed with him tonight and yet couldn't come up with a 
way to initiate a discussion about their child. She wondered 
again what possible business they had being together. But 
maybe that's why it worked, because it was so improbable. 
Because *they* were. 
 
"How about that game of Scrabble you promised me?" she 
asked, side-stepping the issue again, and with practiced ease. 
"You still up for it, or would you like to get some sleep?" 
 
He studied her for a moment, his eyes a stormy gray, and 
then showed her a sad, resigned face. "I suppose a big bowl 
of buttered popcorn is out of the question?" 
 
"It's your colon that'll be screaming, not mine." 
 
"Never mind, then. I've been tortured enough lately, don't 
you think?" 
 
Her gaze shot up and caught the smirk lifting the corners of 
his mouth. Her heart twisted at the sudden flash of the 
Mulder she thought she'd lost. She'd come to treasure these 
moments since his return, precious and hard-won as they 
were. He didn't seem to smile as often as he used to. 
 
"Then why on earth are you even playing the game with me, 
Mulder? You know I'll kick your ass." 
 
He grabbed his t-shirt from the back of the toilet and 
slipped it on, brushing against her as he headed out of the 
bathroom. "You know what I like," he murmured, reaching for 
her hand and pulling her along with him. 
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 
 
Scully was barely ahead in the first game when Mulder 
became distracted and left the living room. She allowed him 
to wander away unquestioned, surprised he'd lasted as long as 
he had. His attention span, never very lengthy to begin with, 
had steadily decreased as the hour grew late. 
 
Mulder didn't like the nighttime anymore. Darkness no longer 
held its life-long appeal. He was plagued by nightmares, far 
more vivid and disturbing than any before his abduction. 
Evening sedations had been the norm in the hospital, though 
Scully knew he'd been weaning himself from the sleeping pills 
his last few nights there. He'd placed several of the small 
blue capsules in her hand as he was packing earlier today, his 
expression telegraphing his intent to face the situation head- 
on and without benefit of false security. 
 
Scully knew some part of him required a certain level of 
emotional torment in order to survive. He thrived on it, 
drawing strength from his ability to beat the odds, to declare 
victory even if he emerged bloody and broken. A way of 
atonement, she often thought, a penance he demanded of 
himself. That much, at least, had not changed. 
 
But now he seemed lost in a way she'd never seen before. 
Mulder had been set adrift by what had happened. He wasn't 
sure where he belonged, and couldn't even count on his 
memories to set him back on the right path. 
 
Scully glanced up and saw him standing in the doorway, a mug 
in each hand. "I warmed up some milk. I figured we both could 
use it," he said. 
 
"Does it help you sleep?" She reached up and took one of the 
cups as he rounded the coffee table and sat down next to 
her. 
 
"Can't hurt," he replied. He took a careful sip and grimaced. 
"God, that's awful. Why is it that something so good with 
chocolate can be so lousy without it?" 
 
"That can be said of so many things, Mulder." She expected 
to get a grin in response but he didn't even acknowledge her. 
 
"How is it that a single event can change everything?" he 
asked. She wasn't entirely sure he was even addressing her 
until he threw her a sidelong glance. "I mean, think about it, 
Scully. If either of us hadn't made the choices we've made, 
done the things we did, we might not be sitting here right 
now. Our lives could have gone in completely different 
directions." 
 
She didn't respond immediately. Couldn't, really. She needed 
a minute to absorb his words and the way they echoed her 
own, so many months ago. "So do you think we're where we're 
supposed to be?" she eventually asked. "Did we make the 
right choices along the way?" 
 
Mulder took another sip of milk and sat up, placing the mug on 
the table. "Fate or free will. Is that what you're asking me?" 
 
"I don't know, I guess." Scully joined him on the edge of the 
couch, setting her mug next to his. She absentmindedly 
rubbed her belly as the baby shifted within her. "We talked 
about this at length, Mulder, a few months before you ... you 
were taken." 
 
He turned a little to look at her. His mouth pulled tight for a 
second before he murmured, "We did? I don't remember." 
He was quiet for a minute. "So what did we decide?" 
 
She smiled even as she blinked back sudden tears. Her 
reaction wasn't solely hormonal. Scully's recollection of that 
evening's events was perfect and wonderful. Such sweet, 
sweet love they'd made that night. Their first time together. 
And now it seemed likely Mulder didn't remember. 
 
Her tears were the result of that. And of the very real 
possibility she might have to remind him not only of that 
night, but of the nights that followed, and of the life they'd 
created. What would the knowledge do to him? Could he place 
it into the jagged frame of his memories and make it fit in an 
acceptable way? Would he recognize it for the miracle it 
was? There was no way of knowing. Not without asking. 
 
"Mulder --" 
 
"That's what makes this so hard, Scully," he blurted, not 
waiting for an answer. "Because of what happened to me. I 
can remember drawing on my memories of you when I was in 
that place, using them as a something to hold on to until I 
could get back to you." 
 
She instinctively leaned toward him, her hand coming down on 
his thigh. The life in him warmed her palm and made her 
fingertips tingle. 
 
"It was okay for awhile, it worked. But then things got really 
bad and all mixed up in my head and I didn't know if I was 
remembering things or imagining them. And I still don't." 
 
"Like what, Mulder? Tell me." 
 
He gave her an appraising look and then launched himself off 
the couch, circling the table, putting it between them. He 
paced for a while before turning to her and shoving his hands 
in his pockets. He stole a quick glance at her before looking 
away. 
 
"Scully, there's something I need to know." 
 
She felt her body softening in opposition to his, relaxing 
against the couch as she watched him wind up tight as a 
spring. Somehow she knew what was coming, and she 
welcomed the peace it offered.  "What is it?" 
 
He wet his lips and asked, "Before I was taken, were we ... " 
She waited as he took a deliberate breath; pulled in her own 
and held it. "Scully, are we lovers?" 
 
His eyes locked onto hers and she smiled tenderly. "It wasn't 
your imagination, Mulder." 
 
He pulled a hand through his hair and let out a relieved sigh. 
"I thought so, " he told her. "I remembered." And then he 
broke out in a wide smile, scrubbing his chin. "That's good, 
Scully, that's ... really, really good." His glee was contagious 
and she smiled back up at him, feeling a little giddy. "I was 
afraid I was gonna get stuck sleeping on the couch." 
 
For a formerly dead man, he was pretty quick on his feet. But 
not fast enough to avoid the throw pillow she tossed at him. 
He took the hit and sprinted into the bedroom, escaping a 
possible second barrage. 
 
Scully eyed the doorway and smiled when he finally peeked 
around it, asking, "Is it safe?" 
 
"That depends." 
 
"Well, then maybe I should do the smart thing and try to get 
some sleep while I'm in here." 
 
"Maybe you should." Despite his good spirits, Scully could see 
he was worn out. Her energy level was nothing to brag about, 
either. And the thought of sharing a bed with him again was 
too strong a temptation to resist. 
 
Mulder was apparently on the same wavelength. "Join me?" he 
asked. "Y'know, just to get some sleep?" 
 
She found the elaboration amusing. Not to mention utterly 
charming. She took a second just to look at him, soak in the 
familiar air about him, the essence that made him Mulder. 
 
He fidgeted a little and then shrugged an apology, 
misinterpreting her silence. "I can't promise anything more 
right now, Scully, but it's a good place to start." 
 
"Yes it is, Mulder, and I'm right behind you." 
 
He nodded and disappeared from sight, issuing a challenge as 
he went: "Last one in is a rotten egg." 
 
She chuckled and slowly pushed off the couch. She might not 
be a quick as she used to be, but she always caught up with 
him in the end. 
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 
 
Mulder was already down to boxers, in bed, and grabbing the 
TV remote when she joined him. The television came on, the 
sound went down, and the surfing began. He squirmed around 
a bit as she collected her bag and pulled out toiletries and 
the oversized men's pajamas she'd been wearing lately. 
 
"Is this okay?" he asked, finally settling on his back with an 
arm folded behind his head. "This is my side, right?" 
 
Digging for her hair brush, she rejoined, "Only when I don't 
get there first." 
 
"Oh, here, I'll move." The squirming resumed and she stopped 
him with a wave of her hand. 
 
"Don't worry about it, Mulder, I'm kidding. Anyway, the right 
side is closer to the bathroom, which is a plus these days." 
She slipped off her jacket and tossed it over the back of a 
chair. "Speaking of which ... " 
 
She glanced over at him and was stopped cold by the long, 
head-to-toe appraisal he was giving her. His eyes narrowed in 
the muted light of the room and then briefly flashed with 
something she couldn't name. But Scully had the distinct 
impression that Mulder was truly seeing her for the first 
time. As though the changes in her body had occurred in 
seconds instead of months, startling him into awareness. 
 
But of course, for him, that's exactly what had happened. 
She'd been barely four weeks pregnant when he'd 
disappeared; belly still flat, waist defined, breasts small and 
high. She wondered for a second what he thought of her 
newly lush body, if he still found her attractive. Her doubts 
were erased as he licked his lips the way he'd always done 
after tasting her. 
 
There was no deliberation in his gesture. Scully would almost 
bet he wasn't even aware of doing it. Didn't matter, it still 
managed to send a flood of heat through her. She felt 
herself blushing and dropped her eyes. Her voice was a husky 
murmur as she told him," I'm gonna, um, take a quick shower." 
 
"You do that." The low, rough pitch of his voice mimicked 
hers. 
 
"Hoo boy," she mouthed behind the curtain of her hair. She 
straightened up and put on a neutral face before turning to 
him. "Okay, well, then I'll be back in a few minutes." 
 
Her voice was pitched just an octave too high and they both 
heard it. Mulder's eyes softened as he tried to hide a smile. 
"Take your time, Scully. I'm not going anywhere." He held up 
three fingers. "Scout's honor." 
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 
 
Of course he was gone when she came out of the steamy 
bathroom. The covers were thrown back on his side of the 
bed, making its uninhabited state look more vast than it 
actually was. Like an empty box of chocolates, she thought, or 
a gift box without the gift.  She could hear him rustling 
around in the living room. "Mulder?" 
 
"Yeah," he called back and poked his head into the room. "I'll 
be right there. I just want to take a look at something real 
quick." He disappeared, only to pop back in a second later. 
"Oh, and in case I didn't tell you before, you're one seriously 
hot babe." 
 
She stared at the space he'd just occupied, her mouth agape. 
Then, smiling in turn, she whispered, "Thank you," and crawled 
into bed. Settling on her side with a pillow tucked between 
her legs, she lay staring at the empty spot beside her, 
remembering all the nights she'd fallen asleep this way. Only 
tonight was different. Tonight Mulder was here with her. 
 
The stereo came on in the living room, barely audible, and she 
recognized the noise of CD cases being knocked around. The 
sounds were a signal that Mulder's definition of "be right 
there" would be wholly subjective tonight. Music had often 
meant extreme focus for him, and sometimes hours would 
pass before he'd lift his eyes to the world around him. 
 
While she wanted him in bed with her, the easy re- 
establishment of this ritual of his was comforting. Another 
small step in his journey back. 
 
She cradled her rounded belly, softly stroking the taut skin. 
"It'll be better now, Baby," she whispered. "He's come home." 
She sighed and closed her eyes, her gentle caresses slowing, 
slowing, slowing, as Van Morrison sung her to sleep. 
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 
 
Scully stirred when the bed moved beneath her. Her eyes 
opened slowly and she stretched a little as Mulder climbed in. 
She'd turned onto her right side after falling asleep and had 
her back to him. She thought about turning over, but was just 
too comfortable to do it. Especially after Mulder shifted and 
moved a bit closer. 
 
She could feel his warmth as he lay scant inches away. Could 
sense the tension of his body as he considered closing the 
distance between them. She made an encouraging little noise 
in her throat and he made his decision. Carefully pressing up 
behind her, he slipped his right arm under her neck as his 
left hand moved beneath the blanket to cup her shoulder. 
 
"Sorry, Scully," he told her as he ran his hand down her arm. 
"Didn't mean to wake you." 
 
"'S'okay. What time is it?" 
 
"Twenty-five past eternity." His hand stopped at her bent 
elbow and then disappeared. "It's late." 
 
Her eyes drifted closed as she relaxed, leaning into the solid 
support of his chest. Even half asleep, she could feel his 
hesitation as his hand hovered somewhere between them. 
 
"Go ahead, Mulder. It's all right." 
 
He chuffed softly and nuzzled her hair as his hand came 
down on her belly. He ran it lightly across the swell and then 
dipped lower, slipping under her pajama top and back up 
before coming to rest at the fullest part. Fingers splayed, he 
pressed his palm against her skin. Taking in a long breath, he 
sighed it out and went still. 
 
She laid her hand on top of Mulder's, her fingers filling the 
spaces between his.  "So what were you losing sleep over?" 
 
"Hmmm?" 
 
"You said you wanted to take a look at something." 
 
"Yeah ... " He drew his knees up and fitted them into the 
curve of her legs. There was no place where their bodies 
weren't touching now. Head to toe, he cradled Scully and the 
tiny life within her. "I was digging around and found one of my 
journals. The most recent, it seems." 
 
"I didn't know you still kept one." 
 
"Well, I did give it up for a while, but after Mom and the 
thing with Samantha ... Anyway, I was just looking up some 
dates and stuff. Trying to clear out some of the cobwebs in 
my head." 
 
"Oh," she said, limiting herself to a non-committal response. 
He wasn't looking at case files to jog his memory, but dates. 
Interesting. 
 
They lay quietly for several minutes, the bluish light from the 
TV flickering over their bodies as they spooned in his wide 
bed. And while sleep beckoned her, Scully fought it off, 
waiting for Mulder to finish what he'd begun. He was 
outwardly calm, but she could almost hear the gears in his 
head as they busily spun and caught. 
 
Then his hand began to move again. Cautiously but thoroughly, 
he mapped out the unfamiliar landscape. She felt his lips 
press against her hair and he whispered, "Does he move 
around a lot?" 
 
Scully smiled. Does every man imagine a son? 
 
"Sometimes. Now, more than at first. And lately he seems to 
be trying out for the local soccer team. Either that, or break 
dancing." 
 
Mulder chuckled. "But that's normal, right? Everything's okay 
with you -- both of you?" 
 
She lifted her arm and laid it atop his, snuggling it tighter 
around her. "I won't lie to you, Mulder, there've been some 
complications. But nothing life-threatening. I'm fine. We're 
fine. All the tests point to a normal, healthy baby." 
 
"I believe you," he said. "I just want to know that everything 
is gonna be all right. I need to know that." 
 
She pulled his hand up and kissed the knuckles. "It'll be as 
right as we can make it. And I think we've got a very good 
start." She held his hand to her cheek and blinked against the 
tears gathering in her eyes. His vulnerability could rip her 
heart out faster than anything else.  She felt his chest swell 
against her back as he took in a deep breath. 
 
"Ah, Scully," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "We 
got our miracle, didn't we?" 
 
Her breath caught and she faltered as the tears fell. "Yes ... 
yes, we did." 
 
His response was to tighten his hold on her. Perhaps 
expressing its disapproval, their child suddenly shifted and 
kicked. "Mulder." She covered his hand and moved it over to 
the right. "Here, feel this." 
 
They lay absolutely still, as one. Until even their breathing 
was synchronized. And then the child kicked again, squarely 
under Mulder's palm. 
 
"I'll be damned." His voice was tinged with awe. Mulder 
snorted quietly. "That's amazing, Scully. Do it again." 
 
"It's not me, Mulder. And I don't think he'll do it on 
command." 
 
"Stubborn, huh? Like his mom." He pressed a little on her 
belly and was answered with another kick. "Or not." 
 
A lump remained under his hand and Mulder probed it a bit 
with his fingertips. "Scully, I swear I can feel toes." 
 
She didn't mention she was feeling something, too. Scully 
couldn't ignore the way his groin was pressed so tightly 
against her backside, or the reality of his burgeoning 
erection. She was hit with an unexpected wave of arousal. 
Instinctively, she squirmed against him until his penis was 
positioned just where she wanted it, snug in the crease of her 
ass. And then she rocked her hips, a single proposition. 
 
He moaned his approval, the sound emanating from deep in his 
throat. "Mmmm, you feel good." 
 
"So do you." 
 
Mulder echoed and multiplied her proposal, the rhythmic 
thrusts of his hips slight and unhurried, but in no way 
circumspect. His hand soon drifted upward and explored her 
breasts, palming them gently. "Oooo," he breathed, "what do 
we have here? My, how we've grown. I like it." 
 
Scully snorted in mock derision. "What has gotten into you, 
Mulder? You're brimming with masculine pride over the 
simple cause-and-effects of knocking me up." 
 
He flicked the side of his thumb across each nipple. Scully 
gasped at the sensation. It had been so, so long ... 
 
"I'll admit pride factors into it," he rejoined. "I did do this, 
after all. I made this," he repeated as he did another quick 
sweep of her belly. "Damn right, I'm proud." 
 
She didn't bother mentioning that she'd had something to do 
with the pregnancy, as well. Let Mulder have his moment. 
 
"You seem to be feeling a bit amorous, too," she said, noting 
the obvious. 
 
He returned to her breasts, his forefinger drawing steady 
circles around one nipple and then the other. He nosed away 
the hair at the nape of her neck and placed his lips there. 
"You got a problem with that, Scully?" 
 
She arched into his hand. "I thought we were just going to 
sleep." 
 
"That was the plan," he conceded. "Do you want to stop?" 
 
He was already pulling away. She grabbed at him, moving his 
hand back to her breast. "God, no. Don't you dare." 
 
He snickered as his hand slid down and slipped under the 
waistband of her pajamas. "Miss me?" 
 
"Yeah," she sighed as his fingers crept beneath her panties 
and combed through the curls there. "Missed you, missed 
this." 
 
"Ah, now I get it. You just want me for my incredible skill and 
endurance in the sack." 
 
"Well, there is that ... " 
 
She meant to say more, but just then Mulder's fingers delved 
lower and curled against her. He gathered her moisture and 
spread it upward, her swollen folds opening under his gentle 
pressure. Slick fingertips settled on her clitoris and expertly 
circled. 
 
Scully sighed and lifted her leg, draping it over his. "Oh, 
Mulder, that's wonderful." 
 
He nipped at her shoulder. "I still remember how to touch 
you, Scully, I haven't forgotten that." He teased the opening 
of her vagina with the tip of one long finger as she bucked 
her hips, trying to coax its entrance . The need to have him 
inside her *now* was almost too much to bear. 
 
"I want to make you come," he murmured, his cheek brushing 
against hers. "Will you let me do that for you?" 
 
"Oh, I wish you would." She ground against him as his finger 
pushed inside. Not all the way, though. Just to the second 
knuckle, just enough that he could curl the tip of it against 
the front wall of her vagina. She sighed with pleasure and 
began to roll over. Then grunted in frustration as he 
immediately pulled out and held her firmly against him. 
 
"Uh uh. Stay right there," he ordered. "I can reach all my 
favorite places this way." 
 
"But I want to touch you, too. And I want you inside me." 
 
"I was inside you, but you moved." 
 
"Don't tease me, Mulder. Rule number one: Never deny an 
extremely pregnant woman. My needs are not to be taken 
lightly." 
 
He dropped a kiss on her neck as his fingers resumed their 
spot between her legs. "Ask and ye shall receive, Scully." He 
made another sweep of her vulva before resuming the soft 
massaging of her clit. She sighed and relaxed against him. 
"And speaking of extremely pregnant women, is this safe?" 
 
"You mean having sex?" 
 
"Well, yeah, sort of. We're doing that now, in a way. What I 
meant was, is it all right if we, y'know ... ?" 
 
"Fuck?" She blushed at her own explicitness and buried her 
nose in the pillow of his right bicep, nipping at the sensitive 
skin there. Mulder yelped, bucking against her. 
 
"God, Scully," he moaned, trying not to laugh. "I love it when 
you talk dirty." 
 
"So do it," she retorted, reaching back and tugging his boxers 
down his hips. Awkwardly, she pushed her hand inside them 
and grasped his erection. 
 
He felt glorious in her hand.  It seemed as if it had been 
forever since she'd held him like this, alive and throbbing 
against her palm. She stroked him from root to tip and then 
did it again. He relented and reached for the waistband of 
her pants as his boxers came all the way off. 
 
They chuckled nervously as they worked to remove the last 
of her clothing, both feeling like youthful, untested lovers. It 
took another few seconds for Mulder to reposition himself 
behind her. Scully had a moment of regret when she realized 
she couldn't kiss him this way, or see his face as he moved 
within her. But it was the only practical position for her, and 
as the head of his penis pushed past her labia and gained 
entry, she discovered there wasn't much room for regret. He 
felt too good. 
 
Mulder gently eased into her, inch by inch. "Okay, Scully?" he 
whispered. 
 
"Yeah ... keep going." Reaching back, she laid an encouraging 
hand on his backside, squeezing the rounded muscles. She 
curled her upper body away from him, changing the angle of 
penetration, and he slid all the way in. 
 
They both went still, Mulder's long exhalation warming her 
back. "My, my, my," he breathed. "It's been a long time." 
 
"A lifetime." Scully couldn't remember when she'd ever felt 
so full. Stretched to the limit. Ripe with life, and completed 
by the flesh and blood of her lover. 
 
"You feel incredible." His hand smoothed over her breasts 
and drifted down where they were joined. He rubbed her 
clitoris, drawing vivid circles of pleasure. "I'm almost afraid 
to move." 
 
"Why?" she asked as she parted her thighs to give him more 
room, once more draping a leg over his. 
 
"Because I don't want this to end. I want to stay like this 
forever. Just the three of us, right here in this bed. Not a 
care in the world." 
 
"If you think I'm gonna accept perpetual pregnancy, Mulder, 
you're crazier than I thought. It feels like I've entered a 
fourth trimester the way it is." 
 
"So what are you saying?" He'd begun to move in shallow 
thrusts already, knowing what she wanted but compelled to 
ask anyway. 
 
"Shut up and make love to me, Mulder." 
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 
 
And so he did. Cautiously at first, as if retracing the initial 
steps of a long-past journey. His hands on her flesh posed 
questions his lips wouldn't form, and she answered him with 
soft, encouraging sounds. 
 
He soon became more sure of himself and increased the 
depth and speed of his thrusts, losing himself in the 
sensations, tugging her along with him. They were both 
gasping and sweat-slickened when he withdrew his fingers 
from her clitoris and grabbed her hand, directing it where 
his had just been. Covering her fingers with his own, he made 
certain she took over the task before shifting behind her. 
 
Leaning slightly away, Mulder grasped the top of her shoulder 
in his right hand as his left curled around her hip. Fingers 
gripping muscle and bone, anchoring her, he drove into Scully 
time and again. They were silent, save the slap of their flesh 
and their ragged grunts. The sounds echoed sharply, loudly in 
her ears. 
 
Scully opened up and let it all in, the myriad sensations 
captivating her. Mulder's hot breath painting her back and 
the slippery slide of her fingers circling between her legs. 
The thick, hard length of him inside her and the inquisitive, 
waiting silence of their child. She hovered between mindless 
release and keen awareness, wanting so badly to let go, to 
cease all thought and simply feel. And craving as intensely the 
need to stay connected to Mulder, to hold on even now, even 
as he urged her toward orgasm and away from lucidity. 
 
Scully was gradually overcome by the battle being waged 
within her as he found his voice and began to whisper. Short, 
raw bursts of words scattered between the whiplash snapping 
of his hips. Telling her how good it was, and how much he 
loved loving her, how he'd missed her and  ... 
 
  ... oh god ... 
 
... he was pounding inside her so deep and so hard and it was 
incredible, but she wanted so badly to turn and hold him, to 
see his face and those ever-changing eyes that told her 
everything and nothing and that she'd ached to look into one 
more, just one more time as she'd put him in his grave, and 
then on countless nights after. Regret stung her anew even as 
the tension of her impending release continued to build and 
build, coiling deep in her belly as Mulder drove into her and 
her fingers swirled, bumping up against his cock on every 
revolution. It was too, too much and she wanted to stop and 
to never stop and to just hang right there on the skinny, 
sharp edge of the slide into oblivion, but then Mulder shifted 
the angle of his hips and hit that perfect, perfect spot and ... 
sweet Jesus ... their child suddenly shifted and rolled, 
carried along by the strong contractions of her womb as her 
world imploded and she was sliding, sliding, sliding into an 
orgasm so powerful and deep she thought she'd never reach 
the end of it. But she did. 
 
And then she was blind-sided by scalding tears as he abruptly 
slowed. His furious pumping turning into lazy, rolling strokes. 
Mulder released his grasp on her hip and smoothed his hand 
down her spine. 
 
"I can't ... " he gasped, " ... hold on. Oh, god ... " 
 
Like a weary child, he laid the crown of his head between her 
shoulder blades and shuddered against her. A solitary groan 
followed, announcing that he'd come. He kept up the languid 
pumping of his hips, riding out the final moments of acute 
sensation as Scully sniffed and brushed the moisture from 
her cheeks. He slowed, stopped, and then skimmed his hand 
across her hip and down her thigh. The simple gesture was 
one of acknowledgment and greeting, a reconnection. 
 
Several moments passed as they both caught their breath. 
Scully fought to get her emotions in check, aware of 
Mulder's gradual realization of her state, and of his 
hesitation as he tried to interpret her tears. Then he shifted 
and left her body. Tugging at the same time she rolled, they 
ended up facing each other, foreheads and knees touching, 
her distended belly a cushion between them. 
 
Mulder leaned away a little, reaching out to push a lock of 
damp hair off her face. He ran his thumb over her cheek and 
then across her mouth. "Sensory overload, hon?" 
 
She sniffed again, and nodded, and then closed the distance 
between them. The first touch of their lips was soft and 
slow; chaste compared to what they'd just done. But it was 
them, and it was right. 
 
Mulder broke the kiss, his hand sliding back to cup her head. 
He caught her glance and held it. Scully saw that his eyes, 
too, were damp with tears. And then he kissed her again. At 
both corners of her mouth, her eyelids, her nose, the jut of 
her chin. Fresh tears gathered, and this time she didn't try 
to hide them. 
 
He caught a stray teardrop with his finger and then looked 
back into her eyes. "You ... " he whispered, " ... you are my 
life, Scully. And I'll never leave you again, I swear." 
 
She forced a smile, touching his face. "Mulder, you know you 
can't -- " 
 
"Shhhhh. Yes, I can." His mouth brushed over hers. "Just 
this once, don't argue with me, okay?" 
 
With as much as she owed him, with as little as he'd asked, it 
was the least she could do. The smile she gave him was more 
genuine than her last, and he acknowledged it with one of his 
own. 
 
They lay quietly for several minutes, sometimes kissing, 
always touching. Scully spent much of that time exploring him 
with gentle fingers, reacquainting herself with the beloved 
slopes and angles of his body. Mulder was silent during the 
lengthy process, studying her as she studied him, his heavy 
eyelids slipping shut in extended, slow blinks. He reminded 
her of a large, lithe cat after feeding, all sated and drowsy. 
 
When he finally spoke, his voice sounded abnormally loud, 
though it was barely above a whisper. "Have I ever told you 
about the summer I spent in North Carolina?" 
 
"No, I don't think you have." 
 
"I was, what, almost thirteen. It was the summer after 
Samantha disappeared. My parents weren't quite sure what 
to do with me. They were too busy dealing with each other at 
the time to look after me, so Mom called her folks and made 
arrangements for me to go down there for a couple months." 
 
"Were you close to your grandparents?" 
 
Mulder chuckled dryly. "Nope. Matter of fact, I'd never even 
met them until the day they picked me up at the airport." 
 
"You're kidding." 
 
He shook his head. "Just another fine example of the 
dysfunctional properties of the Mulder family unit. It wasn't 
too bad, really. It was an opportunity to get away from the 
craziness at home, and I was something of a loner by then 
anyway. They lived in a heavily wooded area near the Smoky 
Mountains, and were what I suppose some would refer to as 
'backwoods.' I figured I could spend most of my time 
exploring. Y'know, if I stayed out of their way, maybe they'd 
do the same for me? It wasn't like I was expecting to be 
welcomed with open arms." 
 
Mulder turned over onto his back and Scully settled her head 
on his chest. Her fingers idly tugged at the sparse patch of 
hair growing there. "So were you?" she asked. 
 
"Oddly enough, yes. They were good people, Scully. Simple, 
and not very well-educated, but they were kind to me. It was 
something I didn't even know I needed until I got it." He 
dipped his head and kissed her hairline. "Anyway, I was having 
some trouble sleeping." 
 
Scully chuffed at this. "Yeah, I know," he continued. "Hard to 
believe, huh? So, as I was saying ... I'd started sleeping with 
a night light. That way, if I had a nightmare, I'd wake up and 
at least know where I was, be able to see things and get a 
handle on them faster. Sad for a thirteen year old, but the 
alternative wasn't very appealing, either." 
 
"What do you mean?" 
 
"Mom had started slipping me some of her happy pills. To 
ward off the nightmares. Or lessen their effect on me, I'm 
not sure. She'd get me doped up on Phenobarbital and call it 
good enough." 
 
Scully was aghast. "God, Mulder. Are you serious?" 
 
"Scary, huh?" He shrugged. "She meant well. And they 
seemed to help her. Helped me, too, but I hated feeling out 
of it like that. So I stopped taking them and asked for a 
night light instead." 
 
Mulder spent a minute scratching at itchy places and she used 
the time locating another pillow to put between her legs. 
They settled back down and Mulder took up his story. 
 
"I was unpacking my first night there and realized I'd 
forgotten to bring the night light. Couldn't ask my 
grandparents if they had one. It was too soon to be admitting 
to them what a coward I thought I was. But it was no biggie: 
I just left the bedroom light on that night. And the next and 
the next and so on. If they noticed, they never said 
anything." 
 
Scully's eyes slid shut as she stroked his chest and listened 
to him talk. His voice was pitched low, murmuring secrets to 
her in the almost-dark of the bedroom. Scully wondered when 
a muted television or a fish tank had replaced the night light. 
Mulder's fingers smoothed up and down her arm. 
 
"I'd been there about a week when the power went out. We 
had a hell of a thunderstorm one afternoon, the kind you can 
smell before it reaches you; makes the hair on the back of 
your neck stand up. It knocked out the power in half the 
county, and since we were rural, we were last in line for 
repairs. 
 
"I didn't sleep much that night. Woke my grandparents up, 
screaming. Gramps stayed with me, in my room, until morning. 
They never said a word about it. Didn't ask a thing. Thinking 
back now, they must have known what was going on, or at 
least had a good idea what was causing the nightmares. I was 
so grateful for their silence that I told them about the night 
light during lunch; I made my confession. Told them about a 
few other things, as well. The power came back on just as it 
was getting dark, and I finally got some sleep." 
 
Mulder's tale was interrupted by a huge, noisy yawn. And 
being that they were contagious, Scully followed it with a 
jaw-popper of her own. She lifted her head and peered up at 
him. His eyes were closed. "You were saying something about 
getting some sleep, Mulder?" 
 
"Yeah, in a minute." He opened his eyes and looked down at 
her, challenging her to object. "This story does have a point, 
you know." 
 
"Really?" 
 
"Look, we can engage in witty, albeit sleepy, repartee, or you 
can let me finish." He laid his head back down, eyelids sliding 
shut. "Smartass." 
 
"I'm sorry," she grinned and kissed his chest. "Go on, I'm 
listening." 
 
"That's better. Okay, now where was I? Oh yeah, so anyway, 
I got up the next morning and my grandfather informed me 
that we'd be camping out that night. He had all the gear 
collected already and Nana filled a knapsack with food: 
peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, apples, some crackers and 
cheese. She made great PB&Js, the best I've ever had. I was 
a little confused about the whole camping thing, since it came 
out of nowhere, but I trusted Gramps well enough to go along 
with it. We set out after lunch and headed west. Just as 
twilight was gathering, we reached a clearing at the base of 
the mountains and set up camp." 
 
"Was it nice there?" 
 
"Oh yeah, it was beautiful. Quiet. The only sounds were the 
birds singing themselves to sleep and the wind rustling in the 
trees. It was very peaceful, like we were the only two people 
in the world." 
 
Mulder stretched and rolled back over onto his side. He 
wrapped an arm around her, pulling her as close as she could 
get, and traced his fingers up and down her spine. They 
finally settled on the small of her back and rubbed wide 
circles there. Scully groaned in appreciation, nuzzling her 
nose into his chest. 
 
"It got dark pretty quick. We had a fire going by then, and 
we sat around and ate our sandwiches and talked for quite a 
while. Then Gramps announced it was time to hit the sack. He 
rolled out the sleeping bags, setting them side-by-side and 
crawled into his. I followed suit, keeping a close eye on the 
fire. It was beginning to burn down and I started getting a 
little twitchy. 
 
"We laid there for a few minutes, not saying anything. I was 
working up the courage to ask him if he'd throw a little more 
wood on the fire when he looked over at me. 'Fox,' he said, 'I 
know it's not the dark you're afraid of, it's the places you go 
in your sleep. You're worried you won't be able to find your 
way home, that's all.' 
 
"I'd never thought of it that way until he said it, but damned 
if he didn't nail it right off the bat. And then he told me to 
look up at the sky. So I did. And it was amazing, Scully, how 
many stars there were, and how brightly they shown. Even on 
the Vineyard, there was enough artificial light to block out 
most of them. I don't think I'd ever really seen the night sky 
until then, and I've never forgotten how magical it was. 
 
"Then he said to me, 'You see them stars? You don't need a 
night light, or even a fire burning to find your way back. All 
you have to do is look up. And you know the best thing about 
that light up there?' he asked. 'It don't ever go away. Even 
when the sun is out, those stars are up there in the sky, 
shining down on us. All the time. So, boy, you keep that in 
mind when you get scared and confused. Because that light 
don't sleep.'" 
 
Mulder placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "I held onto those 
words, Scully, when I was away in that place, when they were 
doing the things they did to me. Those words, and you. That's 
all I had and it's all I needed. And it's funny, because after 
awhile, there wasn't any difference between you and the 
light. When I pictured one, I always saw the other. You were 
the light, and you never slept." 
 
Scully tipped her head back and kissed the warm column of 
his neck, pushing words past a huge lump in her throat. 
"Thank you for telling me that, Mulder." 
 
"Thank *you*, Scully." 
 
"I love you," she whispered. 
 
"I know. Me, too." 
 
A moment passed. And then, "Would I completely destroy the 
impact of your story if I go to sleep now?" 
 
Mulder's body shook with laughter. "No, not all," he assured 
her after his chortles faded away. "Sleep, Scully, you've 
earned it." 
 
"So have you." 
 
"Yeah, but I think I'm just gonna lay here for a minute and 
enjoy holding you again. It's not quite the same when I'm 
asleep." 
 
"I'll be here when you wake up." 
 
"Yeah, you will be. That blows me away. And I still only half 
believe it." 
 
"What?" 
 
"That I'm here, with you. And with our baby. And that I'm 
alive and reasonably sane." 
 
"Believe it, Mulder. It's real." 
 
"Okay, then, I'll try." 
 
Silence fell over them as two pairs of eyes closed and two 
hands settled on her belly, one hers, the other his. Mulder 
patted the swell and mumbled, "You, too, Baby. Go to sleep. 
No more soccer practice tonight." 
 
Scully forced her eyes open just enough to take one last look 
at the man lying next to her. Mulder's face was bathed in the 
pale bluish light of the TV. His features were relaxed, his 
mouth slightly open. She thought he might have nodded off 
until he spoke again, his words slurred with fatigue. 
 
"Hey, Scully?" 
 
"Yeah?" 
 
"It's good to be home." 
 
She stretched up and kissed his chin . "Yes, it certainly is." 
 
He slipped comfortably into sleep then, a faint smile on his 
face. And Scully followed him down. 
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 
 
Author's Notes: 
 
Huge thanks to my kick-ass beta team of Jennifer, Lesley, 
Mara, Micki and Shari. Extra helpings of cyber Screamer 
cookies to Jennifer and Shari for setting me straight on the 
smut. This story is better because of them. 
 
I intentionally eliminated a certain plot development, that 
being Mulder's supposed "terminal brain disease." Sorry, 
Chris, but it just doesn't fit with what we saw in S7 and 
seems to serve no purpose other than making Mulder look like 
a cold, heartless bastard. So, poof, it's outta there. Hey, if 
CC&Co. can ignore continuity, characterization, and a logical 
timeline, not to mention indulging in retroactive storytelling 
at its worst, then I can ignore the parts I don't like. 
 
The title of this vignette was taken from a line in David 
Gray's song, "Silver Lining," off his "White Ladder" CD. 
Those of you with eagle eyes might spot a couple others I 
pilfered. I only steal from the best. 
 
Things that made the muse happy this time: The above 
mentioned CD, Dove's Milk Chocolate Promises, Diet Coke, 
GPC Ultra Light 100s, and a pinch or two of homegrown. 
 
Thanks for reading, and I'll see ya around! :-)