From drjudd@rainbow.net.au Fri Aug 30 08:46:38 1996
OFFSPRING
DESLEA R. JUDD
drjudd@rainbow.net.au
Copyright 1996
DISCLAIMER
This book is based on The X Files, a creation of Chris Carter owned by
him, Twentieth Century Fox, and Ten-Thirteen Productions. Fox Mulder,
Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, and a number of lesser characters including
Bill Mulder, Mrs Mulder, Samantha Mulder and her clones, Maggie Scully,
Melissa Scully, Captain Scully, Sharon Skinner, Kimberly Cooke, the
Cigarette Smoking (Cancer) Man, the Well Manicured Man and his offsider,
Frohike, Quiqueg, Gautier, Jean Gautier, Ellen, and Alex Krycek remain the
intellectual property of those parties. A number of other characters are
the author's creation and are copyright, and may not be used without her
written permission. These include but are not limited to Dr Karen
Koettig, Agent Grbevski, Melissa Samantha Scully, Grace Skinner, Clone 1
(Cynthia), Clone 3 (Carolyn), Clone 4 (Catherine), Dr Sam Fieldman, Dr
Paul Sturrock, Dr Marion Pieterse, Wendy Tomiris, Serena Ingleburn,
Amarette, Dr Jillian Maitz, Hallie, and Emily Trent. Any queries
concerning ownership of minor characters not mentioned here should be
directed to the author.
(See Pt 1 for complete spoiler, content, and comments info).
A few spoilers from Pilot, Duane Barry, Ascension, One Breath, Colony,
Endgame, Anasazi, Blessing Way, Paper Clip, Nisei, 7.31, Piper Maru,
Apocrypha, and Avatar.
I've rated this book R just to be on the safe side, but I think it's more
PG-13, in truth. There's some low-level sex (three scenes, more
emotional than anatomical), low-level bad language, low-level violence,
and that's about all.
Comments, good and bad, are welcome; but make sure they're constructive,
please! My e-mail is drjudd@rainbow.net.au, but don't worry if you see
something else in your "reply" header like magna.com, because Rainbow.Net
shares a server with another ISP called MagnaData. And if you think my
work's worth stealing, I'm flattered; but don't even think about it.
Archivists, feel free to add this to your collections; but be sure to let
me know.
OFFSPRING BY DESLEA R. JUDD (8/18)
FOUR
Scully lived.
The clinicians could offer no explanation for it, and the liability
insurers for the power plant were perplexed; but when fourteen hours had
passed with neither sign nor symptom of radiation sickness, Dana Scully
discharged herself from hospital against medical advice. She snorted at
Skinner's suggestion that she take a couple of weeks off ("What, to see if
I die?" she challenged) and became annoyed at the close scrutiny Skinner
and Mulder paid her. If she began to vomit uncontrollably, she told them,
she would be sure to advise them that she was dying. Until then, could
they please stop fawning over her?
In the end, there had been no more vomiting and no disorientation.
Not quite so unconcerned as she had made out, Scully took a biopsy of her
own tissue and samples of her blood and studied them closely. She tested
for foreign substances, and identified what seemed to be a enzyme of some
kind which she couldn't classify. After a battery of tests, she exposed
the samples to radiation. Her observations suggested that whatever the
unidentifiable enzyme was, it had both stabilised the radioactive process,
prematurely ending its half-life, and prompted her recovery. She was
quite unable to explain her findings.
Even more interestingly, to Scully, were the results of the tests
taken while she was in hospital. These indicated that her major organs,
including her heart and lungs, which had been seriously - even mortally -
damaged, had recovered completely. That her blood and tissue systems had
stabilised was atypical, but not contrary to theoretical possibility
because of the constant replication of cells which took place in those
systems. But organs such as the heart did not regenerate. It seemed a
scientific impossibility.
And yet it wasn't impossible. Because it had happened.
Scully was troubled. Her scientific mind found it hard to completely
accept that which it could not explain. And, too, she was still shaken by
her brush with death. It was not the first time she had nearly died; but
before she had experienced it as feeling incredibly frail and weak. Never
before had she been so racked with pain and suffering. Physically, she
had emerged from her ordeal fairly well; but psychologically, she had
never been so drained in her life.
But her final and greatest concern was for her child. She had
recovered, it was true; but not without cost in the meantime. Could she
be certain that her child had similarly recovered? There was a part of
her that insisted that it must, pointing out with conviction that any such
capability must be inherited, and that if her own cells - atypically - had
self-repaired perfectly, then so would foetal chromosomes; which in the
normal scheme of things could repair incorrectly, causing mutations. The
logic, as far as it went, was impeccable; but Scully didn't believe it in
her heart of scientific hearts. For one thing, this enzyme (whatever it
was) was an anomaly. That meant it quite possibly could not be
inherited. For another, it was by no means certain that her own body had
produced the enzyme - she hadn't forgotten the medical experiments which
often seemed, anecdotally, to take place during abductions, nor that many
of them, according to Mulder's research, revolved around the question of
radiation.
No, she decided, there were no guarantees that her baby was safe.
That she was not only alive but well was an incredible gift - or
accident. It seemed too much to hope for that her baby might be the same.
There had been no tests on the foetus whilst she was in hospital.
Her pregnancy had been noticed by her doctor, but he had been so sure that
both mother and child were doomed that he hadn't even noted it on her
file. In the hours following the beginning of her recovery, the staff had
been so busy monitoring her vital organs and her red blood cell count that
the question of foetal monitoring had never come up. By the time it would
have, she had discharged herself. For the first time, she wondered if
that had been such a good idea.
Scully shook herself. For goodness' sake, she was a doctor. She
didn't need anyone to tell her if she was well or not. As for the baby;
well, she hadn't miscarried. That was a good sign. (Or was it? Was it
merely a life sentence instead of a death sentence?) There were studies
which could be done; and done just as easily on an outpatient basis.
The only question which remained was whether she was ready to know
the results.
3170 West 53 Rd, #35
Annapolis, Maryland
December 24, 1996
It was about a week after Scully's release from hospital that Skinner
came to see her at home.
She wasn't surprised to see him. She had expected him sooner, in
fact. "Hello, Walter."
Skinner gave a tentative greeting. "How are you?" he asked,
following her into the living room.
Scully gave him an amused smile over her shoulder. "You've asked me
that in the same solicitous tones every day this week."
"Dana-"
She pre-empted him. "I'm fine, Walter, really. Please don't fuss.
I'm all right. I haven't felt better in months, actually." Not that that
was such a recommendation, given that the last four months had been spent
largely suspended over a toilet bowl with morning sickness; but why rain
on his parade? She motioned for him to sit, and did so herself at his
side.
Skinner shifted nervously, and Scully braced herself. She was fairly
sure of what was coming, but that didn't help. "Dana, I wanted to talk to
you. About the baby," he said. "And the accident."
She held his gaze. "You're worried."
A fearful look flitted across his face. He nodded. "Very."
She didn't answer him for a moment, but took one of his hands and
looked away, out the window. Finally, she admitted, "So am I."
"What can we do?"
She looked back at him. "We can't <> anything, Walter. The
damage, if there is any, has been done. All we can do is find out about
it, and prepare ourselves as best we can." She didn't add that there
might be no way of preparing for the kinds of problems this child may
face, or that quite possibly it would die at such a young age that the
question was a moot one. There are some things, she thought, which it
isn't necessary to inflict on people. Especially people who are in pain.
The idea that she, too, was a person in pain was something which never
occurred to her, perhaps because she was not in the habit of thinking of
herself in those terms.
Skinner nodded slowly, as though her reply did not surprise him.
"But we can find out?"
Scully nodded. "Yes. Minor injury we might not be able to detect.
But any mutations and chromosomal damage we could find out about through
DNA studies. That's easy enough."
Cautiously, he asked her, "Do you want to know?"
She looked at him, genuinely puzzled. "What do you mean?"
Skinner chose his words carefully. "It's just that - if there is
anything - serious - it might put you in a position of having to make a
choice that you don't want to make."
Scully spoke firmly, resolutely. She didn't think twice. "There
will be no abortion, Walter. No matter what. I'm sorry if that's
different from what your own choice would be. But it's not negotiable."
"And that's not what I want, or what I'm suggesting. All I'm saying
is that, given that your decision is made, knowing might be more painful
for you than not knowing. And to no benefit." He didn't tell her that he
himself was not completely sure that he wanted the power or the decision
that these tests might bring in their wake.
"Do you <> to know?" Scully's voice was piercing. It demanded
the truth. Oddly, the demand enabled him to search his heart, and find
it.
He hesitated only a moment, before nodding firmly. "Yes, I do. I'm
frightened. I don't want to be frightened if I don't have to be. And if
I do, then I want to know what I'm up against."
Scully's response didn't surprise him. It was the response of
someone who spent her life searching for the truth. "So do I."
"So we'll do it?"
"Yes."
GenTest Pty Ltd
Annapolis, Maryland
December 27, 1996
Three days later, after a Christmas filled more with anxiety than
joy, Scully and Skinner consulted a highly respected authority in genetic
counselling, one Samuel Fieldman. Fieldman ran the GenTest Centre, a
high-profile genetic testing facility often mentioned in celebrity
paternity disputes. However, behind the plush, mass market appeal of his
offices lay one of the best-equipped laboratories in the country and a
plethora of lower-profile speciality testing facilities.
Fieldman himself was a little Jewish man in his mid-forties, a
personified combination of shrewd business acumen and scientific
expertise. He made no apologies for his obscenely opulent waiting room.
However, he knew that Scully was a doctor herself, and he wasted no time
in regaling the two of them with his resume; knowing as he must that
interior decorating would not impress.
Succinctly, Scully outlined the situation. Fieldman, it transpired,
was aware of some of the details. "I did read a snippet in the <>
about your case, Dr Scully. Spontaneous cell recovery after massive
radiation exposure. I wasn't aware that you were also pregnant."
"Most people weren't," she said dryly.
Fieldman took the hint and dropped it. "Well, anyway, you're right
to be concerned. As you're of course aware, chromosome damage arising
from radiation exposure, along with faulty self-repair, can cause the most
devastating mutations and malformations. I don't wish to sound
pessimistic, but even with your quite inexplicable recovery, the picture
is not promising."
Scully nodded slowly. "I know that."
Fieldman took up a pen and paper. He took their names, addresses,
and brief medical histories. He paused for a time whilst entering the
details of the accident. "Now, how far along were you at the time?"
Scully said promptly, "Four months."
Fieldman nodded. "Much of the foetal development was complete,
then. But everything is still immature, including vital organs and the
central nervous system. That's not good." He paused. "I presume you've
already given some thought to your options for investigation?"
Scully nodded. "Full DNA studies. We want as much information as
possible. We want to be ready for if - well, if there's a problem."
Fieldman wasn't surprised. "I think that's best. We'll need blood
samples from each of you so we can do comparisons that might tell us if
there's been any mutation; and we'll need a sample from the foetus by
amniocentesis."
Skinner spoke for the first time. "What exactly is involved in
amniocentesis?"
Scully answered him. "A long needle is introduced through the
abdomen into the uterus. Ultrasound - a sonogram - is used to gauge where
everything is. A sample of amniotic fluid is taken. The fluid has cells
that can be used for analysis in it - shed skin cells, that sort of
thing."
"Any risks?" he asked.
Fieldman spoke. "About a one in a thousand chance of miscarriage."
Skinner looked at Scully dubiously. Scully grinned. "For God's
sake, Walter, this kid has survived a thousand rem. You think
amniocentesis is going to make a difference?"
He summoned a smile. "All right," he conceded. "When?"
Fieldman said, "Well, we can take the blood now." He rustled through
his papers. "We had a cancellation this morning for an amnio, so we can
do that this afternoon, if you're free. Otherwise you'll have to wait a
week. The appointment is at two-thirty."
Scully said, "That's fine-" at the same time that Skinner protested.
"I have an appointment, Dana. It's not something I can cancel
without consequences."
Scully shrugged. "It doesn't matter, Walter. It's only a needle. I
can manage." She favoured him with a faint smile. "Don't be so
protective. I'd really rather not wait."
"It's an awfully <> needle."
She laughed outright. "And doctors make the worst patients. Don't
worry. I won't faint."
"Are you sure?"
She took his hand. "I'm sure."
In the end, Scully didn't go alone.
She telephoned Mulder to let him know where she was. Mulder insisted
on coming along, despite her protests. Privately, she was glad. The
amniocentesis didn't worry her, but she was looking forward to the
sonogram. She had so far not gone to another doctor at all, preferring to
monitor her own pregnancy until the late months (doctors really did make
the worst patients, she suddenly reflected with a grin), and as a result
had not been for one. She didn't really want to see her child for the
first time alone. She had a feeling that she would become quite
irrationally emotional, and she wanted someone there. That was not
something she would have admitted to anyone, including Walter; hence her
insistence that he leave her.
Mulder arrived in a rush just as it began. The technician was moving
the sensor over her abdomen when he was allowed in by a nurse, and he came
around the machinery to her far side.
"How are you?" he asked.
Scully smiled. "I'm okay. You didn't have to come down," she chided
gently.
"What, and miss the only sonogram I'm likely to see? You think I'm
going to make it to the altar while my contemporaries are of childbearing
age? Optimist."
She grinned. "Shut up and watch the show."
They turned to the monitor. Scully watched in complete scientific
detachment as her child was silhouetted from every angle. She was
fascinated, as she always had been, by the use of ultrasound technology,
but she made no connection between the image and the life within her.
But when quite suddenly the shape moved and drew a shadowy limb up to
its face, she jolted on the gurney, startled. She watched in fascination
as it unmistakeably sucked its thumb. Why, it - and for the first time,
she felt self-conscious using the impersonal pronoun - it was a real
person!
For Scully, educated in a world where a child was an anonymous embryo
or foetus from the first week of gestation until it was born (or at least
capable of being born alive), this was a stunning idea. She had been
protective of the child within her, it was true; on the other hand, that
was mostly philosophical: it was alive and therefore, to her Catholic
heart, absolutely sacred. But the idea that there was any kind of
individuality or personality involved was new, and somehow invigorating.
Just how she drew the concept of personality from an involuntary,
instinctive gesture, she couldn't have said; but it was as though it had
awakened in her a long-buried instinct. She continued to watch,
enthralled, and barely noticed when the needle was introduced.
Mulder, on the other hand, had certainly noticed the needle. Scully
became aware of him tightening his grip on her hand, and when she looked
up, he was positively green. She suppressed a grin as he determinedly
studied the ceiling tiles. She waited until she felt the needle leave her
body, then said, "It's gone, Mulder."
He looked down at her, a little shamefaced. "So much for moral
support," he reproached himself.
She laughed indulgently. "Do I care? You were here. That's what counts."
Mulder was suddenly interrogative. "Do you mind that Skinner wasn't?"
Scully's smile faded somewhat as she thought a moment. She chose her
words carefully. "I wish he had been, because he would have liked to have
been," she conceded, "but not really. I could have put it off if I'd
really needed him. It was my choice to have it done today. I don't
regret that." She suddenly smiled and pointed to the box the technician
was labelling, even as they spoke. "Besides, I can always invite you both
over for a video night." The technician held the tape out to her.
Mulder snatched it from her grasp. "You can bring the popcorn!" He
made a gleeful escape to the waiting room.
Scully looked up at the affronted technician. < to offend people you don't know?>> Groaning inwardly, she
offered the woman a smile, and set about placating her.
5th Floor
Federal Bureau of Investigation
Washington, D.C.
19 January, 1997
The phone rang.
Dana flipped it open. "Scully."
"Dr Scully? It's Sam Fieldman at GenTest Centre. Can you talk a moment?"
Scully nodded automatically, then remembered he couldn't see her.
"Yes, that's fine."
"Dr Scully," the cultured voice crackled down the line, "I think that
you and Mr Skinner should come down here right away."
"What is it?" she asked, hardly daring to breathe. Mulder walked in
and caught something of her alarm.
"Look, you know I can't go into details over the phone. I will tell
you that something is wrong, but it doesn't seem to be to do with your
exposure to radiation. We've found some DNA that we can't classify. It's
like nothing we've ever seen before. Dr Scully, I really think you should
come in. Today."
Scully breathed out, shakily. "We'll be there as soon as we can."
She flipped the phone shut and shoved it into her pocket, suddenly clumsy
and uncoordinated.
"What was that all about?"
She looked up. Mulder was there. Mulder was always there. And that
was best, because she had a suspicion that before the end of the day she
was going to need him, badly.
She was silent. "Well?" he insisted.
Ruthlessly setting aside the little voice in her head which was
already mulling over the implications of what she'd been told, she steeled
her shattered nerves by pressing her nails into her palm until they hurt.
She told him.
Mulder's expression was one of gratified excitement. "Unclassified
DNA. By definition, alien. Alien - do you know what this means?"
Suddenly, he asked interrogatively, "Scully, when <> did you get
pregnant?"
Scully began to shake even before she answered. She suddenly felt
very cold, and the tight little bundle kicking against her insides
suddenly seemed oppressive...malevolent. "The day you and Skinner found
me. That night...he came to me." She clung to that. <>
Except that <> how it was, was it? For every child born of
love, there were four or five born of desperate loneliness, of recreation,
of abuse, of prostitution, of domination, of youthful impetuosity. The
term "love-child" was a misnomer, in or out of marriage. Love was no
guarantee.
But what about monogamy? Surely that was a guarantee? Pregnancy
wasn't like HIV, for God's sake; it wasn't catching. She had only been
with Walter.
As far as she could remember.
Mulder's voice was sharp. It seemed intrusive. "One of the days you
lost?"
Scully made a quick, uncontrolled movement, averting her gaze from
Mulder's. She got to her feet, shakily. "I don't like what you're
saying, Mulder," she said warningly. "I don't want to hear it. This baby
is Walter's, do you hear?" Unable to take any more interrogation (<>) she stormed out.
Mulder could have kicked himself. He'd been so excited about the
prospect of new information on the abductions - and, by God, a real, live,
alien foetus - that he had forgotten that this time, it wasn't just a
case.
This time, it was Scully. And Scully's child.
He ran after her. "Scully, wait!" he called. "I'm sorry!"
He was too late. She had run out the door.
<>
Coming in Part 9: Scully's Shocking News
--
_______________________________________
| |
|Deslea R. Judd (drjudd@rainbow.net.au) |
|"The Owls Are Not What They Seem" |
| - The Log Lady, Twin Peaks) |
|_______________________________________|
(
geocities.com/hollywood)