Title:  Thursday's Child
Author: Agent L
Classification: S, Doggett fic
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Requiem
Distribution: Archive anywhere, but keep my name and 
e-mail attached please! 
Disclaimer: To Chris Carter, David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, Fox, 
and now Robert Patrick: I know they're not mine, and no money, gifts or 
even chocolate would be expected or accepted for this. 
Summary: Agent Doggett meets Agent Mulder.
Author Notes: I have no idea if a woman could have a baby as fast as
Scully does in this story. But we all know how efficient she is. 
Feedback: Yes, please! LHoward388@aol.com. 


Thursday's Child

Monday's child is fair of face;
Tuesday's child is full of grace;
Wednesday's child is full of woe;
Thursday's child has far to go...
--Children's nursery rhyme

On Thursday, all hell broke loose.

Special Agent John Doggett had entered an uneasy alliance with Dana 
Scully -- a sort of Cold War between two factions whose ideologies 
would never mesh and who would never quite trust each other. She had 
unbent enough toward him in recently to mutter "Good morning" and 
"Good night," which were love sonnets compared to their first two 
weeks together. He insisted that she call him John; she continued to 
call him Agent Doggett in that tone that implied she was calling him 
something less complimentary in her mind. She reluctantly answered 
questions about her pregnancy after he shared with her how he'd 
been in the delivery room with his wife, Sheila, when their son 
Benjamin was born. Ben's baby picture had even brought a quick, 
shy smile to her face before she remembered her place as Special 
Agent Dana Scully.

Sheila had been one of those lucky women for whom pregnancy was 
more joy than misery. After suffering through only two or three bouts 
of morning sickness, she'd actually felt healthier and stronger as the 
months went on. She'd gone through ten hours of labor without the 
need for drugs, and they'd both cried in each other's arms at the 
first sight of their red-faced, squawling son. For those first few 
blissful weeks, John thought they might become the family he'd 
always wanted. 

Agent Scully didn't glow like Sheila had. Nearly at full-term, she 
had the pinched, pale look of women he'd seen in the slums of New 
York, women who had given up hope on anything beyond surviving 
the next day. Her eyes were bruised with exhaustion, and she had 
probably lost weight except for the basketball-sized stomach. John 
watched her movements become more awkward and slow with 
each day, but she never complained. And never rested.

He'd seen the attitude before, the relentless drive of some females 
to succeed in the boys' club of law enforcement where a woman's 
place was behind a desk or on a poster in the locker room. But surely 
Agent Scully had proven herself after seven years. What was she 
still doing in the basement, and in someone else's office, no less? 
You'd think she'd at least have her own desk by now, but she had 
growled at him like a stray dog the day he'd suggested removing 
Mulder's nameplate. 

And then, finally, he understood. She drove herself mercilessly, not 
for her own advancement, but for Agent Mulder. The man who'd 
left her pregnant and alone.


On Thursday, she was obviously in pain, despite her typical stoic 
demeanor. As a cop and a soldier, he'd seen enough injuries -- the 
pale skin, sweat on the upper lip and way she held herself screamed 
that she was hurting. As he saw her hand drift to her lower abdomen 
time and time again, John was almost certain he knew what the problem 
was. He considered suggesting a quick trip to the hospital, but knowing 
Scully, she'd just squat down like a peasant in the field, have the baby 
and get back on the phone. 

Around 10:30, as he was searching for some maps in the back room 
of the office, he heard a stifled gasp, quickly followed by a crash, and 
ran in to see Scully leaning heavily on the desk, one hand clutching her 
stomach. Files littered the floor. He could see the dampness on her 
dark skirt and prayed it was water, not blood.

"I need to get to the hospital."

"Should I call - "

She shook her head, her face so white that he could see the freckles 
he'd never noticed before.
"Let's just go."

Fortunately, she already had a bag packed in the trunk of her car and 
allowed him to drive after only a token protest. As they drove, he 
watched out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge the time span 
between her pains, alarmed at how often she tensed up against another 
contraction. Damn her for being so cold-blooded about this, waiting 
until the last minute to get to the hospital. He'd helped a few women 
give birth in cars during his tenure as a patrol officer, but it certainly 
wasn't an experience he wanted to relive. And at her age, with her 
first baby, Dana should give birth in a hospital. 

Not that she seemed anxious or even excited. Sheila had talked a mile 
a minute, describing everything she was feeling and thinking. She had 
griped at him for going too fast, then not fast enough -- and had groaned 
with every pain, swearing she'd never do this again. Agent Scully sat 
tight-lipped and calm, as if she were simply headed to a briefing or 
an interrogation. 

Just as he wondered if she had no human feelings at all, he heard a 
murmur from the passenger side, almost inaudible.

"Please...Hurry."

_____________
When they got to the hospital emergency room, Scully herself gave 
the admitting nurse the details of her condition, and was swept away 
to the maternity ward before the ink was dry on the paperwork. 
Knowing he would certainly not be welcome during the intimate process 
of giving birth -- hell, he was barely tolerated in the workplace -- Doggett 
took a seat in the waiting area and leafed through a year-old magazine. 
He'd wait about an hour and then go check on her condition before he 
called Skinner. No doubt she would resent that intrusion, but they *did* 
report to the man; he probably should be informed when one of his 
agents gave birth.

He was catching up on the details of celebrity weddings -- some of 
whom were already divorced -- when a flurry of activity distracted him. 
An ambulance had pulled up outside and a gurney surrounded by medical 
staff flashed by, followed by Assistant Director Walter Skinner, his long 
coat flapping behind him as he snarled orders into a cell phone. 

Of all the hospitals in all of D.C...

Skinner moved into the waiting area, off the phone now and speaking 
urgently to another agent who was with him. Doggett caught the name 
"Mulder." Now wouldn't *that* be ironic, for Mulder and Scully to 
both end up in the same hospital?

Curious, he stepped forward. "Sir?"

Skinner glanced up. "Doggett. Where the hell have you been? I've been 
trying to reach you and Agent Scully."

"I'm sorry, sir, we - "

"Where is she? We've found Mulder."

John thought quickly. He'd learned enough over the past few weeks to 
understand that Dana had an unusually strong bond to Mulder, much to 
his confusion. Why did some women -- even strong women like Dana -- 
continue to care about the jerks who left them alone and pregnant?  
If she had any inkling that he might have resurfaced, she'd probably put 
herself and the baby in jeopardy to try to get to him. 

"I'm not sure, sir." He wasn't *really* lying. He had no idea where the 
maternity ward was. 

"Find her," Skinner snapped. 

Just then a doctor emerged from one of the triage areas and the A.D. 
hurried over to him, demanding details on his agent's condition as he 
stalked the hapless physician down the hall.

Doggett noticed renewed activity in the examining room and followed 
the entourage of doctors and nurses as they wheeled the gurney down 
the hall and into the elevator. Intent on the patient, no one questioned 
his presence. From the conversation, he gathered that Mulder was 
malnourished and dehydrated, and had suffered a recent beating. 
But other than a mild concussion, he had been lucky. There were no 
serious internal injuries. 

He waited outside the door, like any concerned relative or friend, 
while they settled the patient in Room 610, and then went in after 
the doctor departed.

Fox Mulder was a bit of a disappointment.

Part (2/2)

John wasn't sure what he had expected. Maybe someone older, bigger, 
with a big red "X" on his chest...This man was thin and pale, his shaggy 
dark hair flopping across his forehead. He looked young and vulnerable, 
his right temple scraped and bruised, defensive wounds on his hands 
and arms. Certainly not the legendary "Spooky" Mulder, invincible 
profiler and intrepid UFO chaser. 

"So you're the infamous Fox Mulder," John muttered.

"Yeah..." came the unexpected whisper. "Who the hell are you?"

Startled, John moved a little closer to the bed to see Mulder's bleary 
hazel eyes studying him curiously.

"Special Agent John Doggett."

Mulder looked blank, then a little worried. "Do I know you?"

Doggett smiled and shook his head. "No."

Mulder's gaze went past Doggett then, toward the door. "Where's 
Scully?"

"She's in the maternity ward."

A muscle tightened in Mulder's jaw and his expression hardened. 
"That's not funny."

"It wasn't supposed to be. She was in the late stages of labor when 
I brought her in, the contractions were only - Hey, what are you doing?"

Mulder had thrown back the sheet and was struggling out of bed. 
The alarm went off on the IV with the sudden movement, but he didn't 
seem to notice, intent on coordinating his weakened arms and legs. 
When John stepped forward in an attempt to restrain him, Mulder 
batted his hand away with a snarl and nearly fell out of the bed. By the 
time he sat up, swaying slightly, his face had gone from white to a 
grayish-green and he was breathing as if he'd just run a 10K.

John caught him just before he hit the floor.

When a nurse entered in response to the alarm, they hauled the 
half-conscious Mulder back into bed, then re-attached all the monitors 
and the IV. He could barely keep his eyes open as the painkillers 
finally began to take hold, and nodded meekly as the nurse ordered 
him to lie still and get some rest. Doggett started to follow her out of 
the room, but was stopped by Mulder's weak voice.

"Hey, John...It's John, right?"

Doggett came back to the bed. "Yeah. Look, Mulder, you really 
should - "

"John, would you just do me one favor? Could you go check on Scully, 
see how she's doing?"

John nodded, hoping it would put the younger man at ease. He was 
snoring softly before John got to the door. 

Strange, Doggett mused as he walked toward the elevators, that two 
people who had been partners for seven years and apparently much 
closer than that about nine months ago, still called each other by their last 
names. At least it was better than some of the silly nicknames he'd heard 
from friends and acquaintances who were otherwise intelligent people. 

When he finally located the maternity ward, the nurse at the desk 
informed him that they had arrived at the hospital with only a few minutes 
to spare. Ms. Scully had given birth to a small but healthy baby girl 
shortly after being brought upstairs and was now resting comfortably 
in the recovery room. John doubted she was all that comfortable, having 
been with Sheila shortly after she'd had Ben, but was relieved that 
everything seemed to have gone well. 

As he headed back to Mulder's room, he hoped that these two could 
resolve whatever problems had driven them apart. Some of the happiest 
memories from his ill-fated marriage were times spent with Ben, before 
he'd been forced to only participate in his son's life on alternating 
weekends.

He didn't expect to find Mulder awake, but he did expect to find 
Mulder in bed. John came through the door to find both the patient 
and the IV stand gone. 

He'd been ditched.

Although Mulder had obviously been pretending more weakness than 
he actually felt, his collapse had not been fake. The man was in a 
hospital gown dragging an IV behind him, for God's sake. How far 
could he get? 

But more importantly, why was he running? Was he that terrified 
of commitment? Of being a father? 

"Where is he?" Skinner suddenly demanded from behind him.

Doggett turned, uncomfortable under the other man's angry scrutiny. 
"I - uh - I lost him, sir."

Skinner blanched and a bleak look passed over his face before he 
resumed the mask of command. "Well, find him," he ordered. "Cuff 
him to the bed if you have to."

John searched bathrooms and broom closets, flashing his ID to get 
staff to open locked doors, but there was no sign of Agent Mulder. 
He couldn't have left the hospital in such a short time. Someone 
would have seen him. 

John was about to ask security if he could review the videotape of 
the hospital's exits when he realized maybe Mulder hadn't left the 
hospital. Maybe he had been wrong about the other man's 
commitment to Agent Scully. 

He went back to the maternity ward and got the location of Scully's 
room. When he opened the door, he saw Scully lying in the bed, looking 
pale and tired, but better than the last time he'd seen her. She didn't 
notice him, her attention focused on the man in the chair next to her. 
He was slumped over, his hand loosely grasping hers. His position  
would have been uncomfortable if he'd been awake.  But it wasn't that 
sight that shocked Doggett. 

Dana Scully was smiling. 

A beautiful, serene smile set her whole face aglow and held no trace 
of the tight-lipped stoic in the basement office. She reached over and 
stroked Mulder's hair lovingly, then looked up at John, who caught his 
breath as her joy flowed over him. 

He picked up the extra blanket from the foot of the bed and draped it 
across Mulder, who never stirred. Then with a wink at Scully, he slipped 
out of the room and closed the door. 

He was waiting for the elevator when one of the agents who had 
arrived with Skinner approached. "Agent Doggett, what are you 
doing here?" he demanded, earning a "Sssh!" from the nurse at 
the desk.

"Searching for Agent Mulder."

"What the hell would he be doing in the maternity ward?" the man 
sneered as he jabbed at the elevator button.

John shrugged. "Just being thorough."

"Well, Skinner's looking for you. He wants you to find Agent Scully 
ASAP and get her down here."

"I'll get right on that," John remarked, as they got onto the elevator.


The End