Raspberry and Lace - Part 4/10 Summary and disclaimers in Part 1 ***** J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington DC Scully arrived only a little late to the office that morning. Not an uncommon event since she had gotten pregnant; she often miscalculated the time it took for her to get ready and drive herself downtown, especially now that she wasn't moving as quickly as she used to. But Doggett gave her the same grin he always did when she was late, whether it was by two minutes or two hours. This morning, his grin faded quickly and his eyes darted to the door behind her as if he expected someone to follow her through. "Put away the boxing gloves, Agent Doggett. Mulder isn't with me." The agent looked only slightly embarrassed. "I had assumed he was heading to your place after he left here yesterday afternoon." "No, actually. But he did show up at my place last night." She stopped in front of him and looked up. "Thank you, by the way. For not telling him about... you know." Doggett nodded slightly, then bent his head to look at her closer. Scully tried not to draw back; it was hard to stand still when one was under his intense scrutiny. "You told him though. I hope." Scully nodded and moved to her desk, carefully lowering herself into the chair behind it. "Yes. I did." "And...?" "And what, Agent Doggett?" she asked him, her own eyes taking on a certain hardness. "We talked. It was personal." "Personal?" Doggett replied back, also using the infamous repeating technique. He liked to remind her how often she used it, and how it bugged him. "Did he ask about...?" With a smile, she responded, "About...?" "You know! The baby!" Mulder chose that exact moment to walk in the door. He stopped just inside, his eyes wide with fake innocence, and asked Scully, "Am I interrupting something?" Scully's mind immediately flashed back to earlier that morning, and she felt her face heat. But she didn't look away from her former partner. "Of course not, Agent Mulder. What can we do for you?" "Actually, I was hoping I could have a word with you." He sent a meaningful glance Doggett's way. "Alone." Doggett pushed himself off the desk he had been leaning against and made his way past Mulder. "I'll just go get some coffee." He looked back at Scully. "Hot, steaming, fresh, caffeinated coffee." "Shut up!" Scully snapped, trying to keep her smirk from becoming a full-blown grin. Mulder watched Doggett as he left, then turned to Scully again with his eyebrows raised. "No caffeine," Scully explained, running her hand over her belly. "Bad for the baby. Doggett likes to rub it in." Mulder nodded his understanding, then moved to take the seat across from her. It wasn't an unusual position, as they had often had discussions with her behind the desk and him in front in the past. But it still felt odd to Scully. Mulder's face had became serious as he rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers in front of him. "Mulder, what's wrong?" "I was on my way to my new desk when I ran into Peter Rhodes. He was thoughtful enough to ask if I had heard about the humorous first meeting of Agents Doggett and Scully. I told him 'no', so he proceeded to tell me." He lifted his eyes to meet hers, and there was definitely laughter in them. Scully looked down at the desk in embarrassment. "Yeah," she breathed. "I'm surprised Doggett doesn't hold that legendary first meeting against me." "He told me that no one knows what he said to you, but they had never seen you lose control like that." He was smiling softly now. "I thought he worked for Kersh," she explained. "And he did, but not in the way I thought." "Yeah, but what did he say?" "It's what he didn't say more than anything. He didn't tell me who he was before he started questioning me. Subtly, of course." She saw that Mulder was waiting for more of an explanation and sighed heavily. "He told me he knew you. And that he had never believed the rumors." "Rumors?" "That you never trusted me. That you confided in others." She looked down at her fingers as she picked up a pen and began twisting it about. "In other women." Mulder snorted. "You didn't actually believe him, did you?" She opened her mouth to speak, but, realizing she didn't know what to say, closed it without uttering a sound. "Oh, Scully." Mulder feigned great disappointment, grasping his chest as if he were clenching his heart. "I think I'm hurt!" Scully couldn't help but smile. "I didn't believe it for long, Mulder. I was confused. I had just found out the night before that I was pregnant." She shrugged. "When I thought about it, I knew that the only other person or persons you would confide in about me would be the Gunmen. I know you don't have some secret female friend who knows things about you I don't." She was smiling again. But her smile slowly faded as she noticed the seriousness on Mulder's face. "You don't, do you?" "Scully..." "Not that I should be surprised," she continued without letting him speak. "I mean, you never told me you were dying, did you?" Mulder closed his eyes and breathed in deep. "I was hoping we could avoid that discussion for a while longer." "Oh, I just bet you were." Scully pushed herself onto her feet and walked around the desk, stopping right next to Mulder. She didn't stop to think that her huge stomach was level with his face. She just knew that with him seated, she finally had the advantage of height. "So, what other secrets have you been keeping from me?" she demanded as she crossed her arms under her breasts. "God, Scully," Mulder grumbled, looking up past her belly to see her face. "You sound like a jealous wife." "I...." This time, Mulder wouldn't let her speak. "I have a friend. I've known her since I was in Junior High school. Her older brother was one of my best friends as a kid." She dropped her eyes and he moved his head in order to keep contact with them. She hated it when he did that. "We've kept in touch through the years, mostly through e-mail, and I really like talking to her." The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "But she isn't you." He stood suddenly, and Scully stepped back quickly, nearly losing her balance. "Sorry," he mumbled as he reached out and grabbed her elbows. Then, looking down on her once more, he said, "I know I've mentioned Charlie to you before." Charlie? "Yeah," Scully nodded. "But I thought 'Charlie' was a guy." "And it makes a difference, does it?" "Would you dislike Doggett so much if he was a she?" "Good point." "Hey!" They both turned as Doggett entered. "I thought I heard my name. You aren't telling him horrible lies about me, are you Agent Scully?" She smiled softly. "No, Agent Doggett." She looked up at Mulder, who had let go of her arms when Doggett had entered. "We're just clearing up a few misunderstandings." Mulder smiled. "I'll talk to you later." He headed for the door, giving Doggett a wide berth. But, before he left, he turned back to the man. "Agent Doggett?" Doggett swiveled around to look at him. "Yes?" "Make sure you watch her back... or I'll break yours." With a cocky grin, Mulder winked at Scully and left the office. Doggett looked at Scully, who was desperately trying not to laugh, and was also trying her hardest to still the fluttering of her heart. "You think that's funny? I don't think that's funny." Scully could tell by his eyes he wasn't completely serious. He saw the humor in the situation just as she had. "Agent Doggett, you have yet to meet the real Fox Mulder." She finally let her grin escape. "But that was pretty damn close." ***** March 2001 Raspberry and Lace Bed & Breakfast Bartow, West Virginia When Charlie Taylor woke up one early March morning, it was to an unusually cold room. Quickly, she slid out from underneath her warm blankets and checked the temperature reading on the wall next to the door to her private bath. It was a lot lower than it should be. The furnace must have quit again. "Damnit," she cursed softly, then she set about getting dressed. She had two couples staying this weekend, and the last thing she wanted was for them to wake up to cold rooms like hers. She pulled on underwear, jeans and a knit sweater, ran her fingers through her short hair, and quickly brushed her teeth. She didn't bother with make-up; she rarely ever wore it anymore. After tugging on her hiking boots, she left her rooms, located in the attic of the old house, and headed down the stairs, passing as she did so the doorways to the rooms her guests were staying in. Both couples were on their honeymoon, so Charlie didn't expect them to be in any big rush to get up this morning, but she hurried nontheless. She passed through the parlor on the first floor, stopping to build up the fire that still glowed in the fireplace, then headed for the basement door, passing the front reception area and starting the pot of coffee that sat next to the main desk. The Raspberry and Lace had started its life in the late 1850's when a rich merchant from New York moved his Virginian bride back home to her mountains when they both discovered she hated the city. The woman would become a widow five years later when her husband died fighting for the Union in the Civil War. She would hold on to the property through the rest of the war, watching as her county seceded from Virginia and joined with other northern counties to create West Virginia. In order to keep the tobacco and cattle plantation running, she began to rent out rooms in her home to travelers. She would die in 1889, leaving the large house and the 300 acres of land to her only child, a daughter. It had been owned and operated by a woman ever since. Charlie arrived about eight years ago to work as a receptionist for the then owner, Melba Cummings. Melba died of cancer two years ago. A widow with no children, she left the business, and all the land that came with it, to Charlie. Now, at only a little over 30 years old, Charlie oversaw the Bed and Breakfast, the small herd of cattle, and the alfalfa and corn fields. The cattle and the crops were only secondary, as they had been since the war. The real money maker was the beautiful old building with its restored 19th Century bedrooms and fantastic view of the mountains. While the interior of the building was 19th Century in design, it was still supposed to offer 21st Century amenities. Including heat. But the furnace had been on the blitz for the last month and Charlie was about ready to break down and call in professional help. Spring was just around the corner, but nights still got cold here well into May. And Charlie hated cold. She also hated basements, but she managed to get down the stairs easy enough this morning. She kept the lights bright down here, dispelling any and all shadows that she possibly could. With a little tinkering, she managed to get the electric furnace going, but she wasn't sure for how long. She decided she would call into town on Monday and get Beaner out. 'Beaner' wasn't his real name, of course. His name was Tom Beanson, but the old man had been going by the name Beaner for over half a century now. He lived in town, supposedly running a home appliance store, but Charlie had never really seen him 'running' it; his wife and son did most of the work while he sat in the corner and told stories to anyone who would listen. But, he was great at fixing things. The only problem was that he charged an arm and a leg for his services. Better that than wake up cold again, Charlie thought with a shiver. Finished with her handiwork, she climbed the stairs back up to the reception area, only to meet Connie, her only full-time employee, who had just arrived. "Did you know it's snowing out?" the young woman asked, shaking wet flakes from her black hair. "It's cold in here." Charlie smiled. "I know. I just got the furnace going again." "Are you going to call Beaner this time?" Connie asked as she removed her coat. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, "When is spring going to get here? Brrrr!" "Yes, I'm going to call Beaner Monday and spring is just around the corner." Charlie headed for the kitchen. "I'm going to get breakfast started." She and Connie took turns either working reception or doing housekeeping, but Charlie almost always cooked. On the rare occasions Charlie needed time off, Ruth McClarren came over to cook. The last time Charlie had left her home had been back in November when she had flown down to North Carolina for Fox's funeral. She felt herself smile again. She hadn't even needed to go, since he hadn't really been dead. Strange to think of that now. She began to walk through the kitchen door when Connie said in a gleeful voice, "Oooh! A message! Maybe it's that guy Fox again!" Charlie turned toward the woman. Ever since Fox had called a couple of weeks ago, Connie had gone on and on about how sexy he sounded on the phone. "Does he fit his name?" she had asked. Charlie had refused to answer. The man had just come back from the dead. The last thing he needed was some perky West Virginia girl hitting on him over the phone. Especially since he already had a girlfriend...of sorts. Connie pressed the play button on the machine. It beeped. The voice Charlie heard on the machine was cold, hard, and directly from her worst nightmare. "Hello, Charlene. Remember me? Just thought I'd let you know I was back in the area. Hope to see you soon. Real soon. Ta." ***** Scully's Apartment 6:45 P.M. When Mulder arrived at Scully's just after 6:30, she wasn't at all shocked to see him. She had finally been released from the hospital that afternoon and both her mother and Mulder had escorted her home as if they were her own personal Secret Service Agents, though her mother wasn't armed. Once settled at home, Mulder had left, telling Scully he'd see her soon, and Maggie had begun her own version of the Spanish Inquisition. "He's being very fatherly, isn't he?" Scully had rolled her eyes and braced herself for the coming questions. If she wasn't asking about the sex of the baby, her mother was asking why she never knew about the change in Scully's relationship with her partner. Scully knew her mother assumed Mulder was the father; most everyone did, though she had never said so to anybody. And now that Mulder was back, Maggie Scully was making broad hints about marriage, too. Scully had weathered the storm and was more than happy when a knock on the door announced Mulder's return. Maggie let him in with a smile, then said goodnight to both of them and left. Scully, who was still settled on the couch where Mulder had left her, noticed immediately the pizza he had brought with him. She started giggling. While her mother wasn't shy with her questions about the pregnancy, Mulder had never once asked her directly about it. But he hinted. Twice last week, before Agent Reyes had asked his help on a case, he had subtly asked if she knew how she had gotten pregnant. Scully had refused to answer. Not only did she not really want to discuss the subject (she still had nightmares about men in dark glasses and trenchcoats taking her baby from her, only it wasn't a baby; it was an alien), but she felt that unless Mulder asked her outright about the possible conception, she wouldn't give him any information. She supposed it was her way of getting him to talk about their one night together. The one night he may have fathered the baby... naturally. Just before her admittance to the hospital a few days ago, he had started making teasing references to all the men in her life. Commenting that 'if it's bald and has a stern glare, we'll know it's Skinner's.' Or, 'I hope the kid isn't born with a cigarette in its mouth.' Scully hadn't found that one particularly funny, and Mulder had immediately shut up. The night she had gone to the hospital, he had focused on the pizza guy. Scully wanted to tell him to quit with the jokes, but she knew it was his way of dealing with what might be a very painful and frightening experience for both of them. While all her tests showed a healthy human baby, they both knew how easy it was to be deceived when hope was all you had. And despite the teasing, all his 'potential' fathers were human. He never suggested otherwise. "Mulder, you never fail to surprise me." Mulder walked around the couch and set the open pizza box on the coffee table in front of her. It was big. Greasy. And completly unappetizing. "I just wish I felt like eating it right now." "That's cool," Mulder responded as he sat next to her. He seemed vaguely uneasy, but Scully concentrated more on calming her roiling stomach. "We can just wait for the cheese to congeal and eat it later." Scully grimaced at the image he presented. Sure, she loved cheese, but... She looked over at Mulder. He had a fake pout on his face. God, he was cute. "You miss your regular pizza man, don't you?" "Yes," Scully smiled. His pout deepened. "That's okay. He's coming by later." Mulder's eyes narrowed and he shot a glare at her, but there was no real anger in his eyes. He could pretend to be jealous, but she knew he wasn't. Not anymore. Well, maybe he still was a bit jealous of Doggett. He only acted the possessive husband to make her laugh. And feel wanted. Special. He succeeded. She laughed, and his eyes softened. Slowly, he reached behind the couch and grabbed hold of the gift he had given her several days ago and which she hadn't had a chance to open. "I bet you forgot all about that," he said as he handed it to her. "No," she protested. "I didn't actually. I thought about it a lot when I was lying in my hospital bed." Which was very true. She had been burning with curiosity. Mulder had given her gifts in the past, but they had all been gag gifts more or less; even when the emotion behind them had been palpable, none had been completely serious. Without worrying about neatness, Scully ripped off the ribbon and opened the box, talking as she did so. "Wondering what on Earth you could have given me..." "And?" Mulder wore an expression that appeared to be nervous, anxious and embarrassed all at once. Scully saw the little doll lying in her bed of tissue paper and gasped. It was old and well used, but still sturdy. "Oh, my God! Oh, Mulder!" She pulled it out of the box and held it up to see it better. "Is it what you imagined?" Mulder's eyes were wide, and though his attitude seemed indifferent, his eyes told her he was very anxious for her approval. And he had it. She knew from his statement to her the first time he tried to give her the gift that this doll had been in his family a long time. It had probably belonged to Samantha, and quite possibly his own mother had played with it when she was young. "Not even close," she said in response to his inquiry. She laughed, and she was amazed at how happy she sounded. Truly happy. Mulder leaned over to look at the doll, and his expression became regretful. "Oh, my!" he exclaimed softly. "That's the wrong doll!" With another laugh, Scully threatened to smack him in the face with the little toy, and he moved back quickly, eyes closed, laughter building. When he opened his eyes, his smile grew. He was so beautiful. She never got tired of looking at him, even after all these years. Even after the change that had come over him since his return. She watched him for a while, taking note of the new maturity that seemed to emanate from him now. It was something she had only just begun to notice. He didn't seem so lost anymore. So alone. "But then there's the other gift that you gave me, Mulder," she said, looking down and smoothing her hand over the doll. When she met his eyes again, she saw the question in them. "Courage," she started, trying to find a way to explain to him how important a gift it was. "To believe," she continued. "I hope that's a gift I can pass on." Mulder smiled slightly, but his eyes looked sad. He leaned his head over so it lay on the back of the couch as he sat half facing her. "I wish..." Scully watched him for a while as he closed his eyes, and when he didn't continue, she decided to encourage him. Now was not the time to just 'let it pass' as they had so many times before. "What do you wish?" "So many things," he whispered without opening his eyes. "But mostly I wish you could be happy like this all the time." She sighed, then reached over to tap him gently on the thigh. His eyes shot open. "You do realize that you are the reason I'm so happy now, don't you?" He didn't say a word. He just smiled. Scully leaned her own head back and smiled back at him. They were sitting like that, staring into each others souls, when a loud knock sounded on the door. Mulder sat straight and sent a baleful look Scully's way. "Pizza guy?" Scully had also pushed herself up on the couch. She shook her head, frowning. "No. And it shouldn't be my mother again." Mulder rose and walked to the door. He had to bend slightly to look through the peephole, and when he straightened again the lazy, content look was gone from his face. He was suddenly a well-trained agent once again. "Mulder? Who is it?" He glanced at her, a worried look in his eyes. "A friend." With that, he reached out and opened the door. Scully could just barely see a tall, beautiful brunette standing in the doorway. "Charlie?" Mulder's voice was full of concern. This was Charlie? She looked like she could be a Supermodel or an actress. She was gorgeous. And she was scared. Very scared. "Fox!" she said, her voice raw. "He's back!" The woman had stumbled into the apartment, and Mulder reached out to grasp her by her shoulders, holding her steady. "Who's back?" "Wallace." ***** End 4/10