Title: Liquid Gray Author: Philiater E-Mail: philiater1@aol.com Category: MSR Classification: S Keywords: Some mild Scully angst Rating: NC-17 Spoilers--everything up to and including Orison. Disclaimer: Not mine, never were. They belong to 1013 and company. CC and Fox are in there somewhere too. Beta thanks to Frohike51 This follows Winter White, and you'll need to read that first to understand this one. This is my view on the whole fertility/first time issue. For Marybeth and Becky C who requested a sequel, and Sybil who got me started in the first place. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ In the end she hadn't told him. She should have, but the words had eluded her. He'd certainly want to know if it were true. He'd driven her back to the apartment as requested and automatically tried to follow her inside. She told him to go home; that she'd be all right, and promised to call him later. Gentle concern had radiated from him at the abrupt change in her behavior, but he hadn't asked what was wrong. They'd finally come to a place in their partnership where words were far less important than they had once been. He knew she'd tell him when she was ready. As soon as she was inside, she'd gone to the bedroom and stripped off her soiled wool suit and underwear. Cramps, harsh and inevitable, had begun in earnest. She shuffled into the bathroom and ran a hot shower. Standing immobile for several minutes, she let the spray blast away the blood and pain. Afterward, she dressed in comfortable grey pajamas and settled on the couch with a cup of hot tea. Thankfully, she'd been able to find an unused box of sanitary napkins hidden in the back of the bathroom cabinet. She'd also fished out the Tylenol with codeine; left over souvenirs meant to assuage the pain of various bodily assaults endured over the years. She washed two down with her tea and milk. In spite of the pain and inconvenience, she'd missed having her periods. They made her feel feminine in an odd sort of way, and they were also a promise. For the umpteenth time that day she thought of her missing ova. Could some have been overlooked? Before falling asleep, she remembered the image of Mulder's face when she'd told him the invitro had failed. He'd been as disappointed as she'd been. A persistent ringing now woke her out of a narcotic induced sleep. "Hello?" she asked groggily. "Scully, it's me. You were supposed to call, remember?" "Oh, Mulder-sorry. I dozed off." She sat up and saw that the sun had gone down. "You okay?" "Yeah, sure I am," she said hoping her voice was light. "You didn't seem okay earlier today." "No, I just had- a bad moment that's all." "Anything you want to talk about?" "No." "Okay," he replied, but she heard doubt in his voice. "No, really. I'm fine now." "You wouldn't lie to your old partner would ya?" "Mulder-" she said, now feeling irritated and letting it color her voice. "That's my Scully," he said smugly. She let silence fall between them, unwilling to elaborate further on her behavior. "Well, I'll let you go then." "Mulder-" "Yeah?" "Thank you." She hung up before he could say more. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Dr. Parenti's office was still as modern and sterile as she'd remembered. Expensive furniture and upscale magazines occupied his waiting room, as well as a collection of women in various states of pregnancy. Scully looked down at her hands and the stray thought crossed her mind that most OB-Gyn offices held an aura of anxious expectation. They were filled with women who were pregnant, wanted to be pregnant, and those who were not. Some would be happy at the news they received inside the tiny exam rooms and some would not, depending on each woman's private situation. She'd been one of the anxious waiting just a short time ago. When it hadn't turned out as she'd hoped, she'd left the waiting room, never expecting to return. But here she was, nervously waiting again. She'd come in for blood work a few days ago and a physician's assistant had done the PAP smear and cervical cultures. She was waiting now to speak with Dr. Parenti about the results. "Dana Scully." She rose with the announcement of her name and followed the nurse back to an exam room. A small paper gown and sheet were folded neatly and waited for her use on a gray table. She didn't need to hear the instructions on how to put them on; she'd been down this road many times before. Her head snapped up when the door opened, admitting the doctor. "Dana," Dr. Parenti smiled and held out his hand, as if one colleague addressing another. Scully liked him very much, and shook the offered hand. "I didn't expect to see you back so soon. I thought you'd decided not to continue with the treatments." "I did, but now-something else has come up." "Yes, I see you believe you had a menstrual period two weeks ago," he said as he sat down and read through Scully's chart. "Did it seem like a normal period to you?" "Yes. I had some cramping initially, but the bleeding lasted five days." "And that's usual for you?" "Yes, it used to be." "Was it the usual amount of blood?" She nodded slowly. "Yes." "Let's take a look then." She groaned inwardly and assumed the 'usual position.' Dr. Parenti was quick, but thorough in his examination. "Everything looks good," he said when he'd finished, "why don't you get dressed and I'll come back to discuss your lab results?" When he returned fifteen minutes later, she was dressed and more than ready to hear the results. He smiled sympathetically at her obvious discomfort. "Do you want it in the usual manner? All at once and no beating around the bush?" "Yes." "All right then. The PAP smear didn't show any abnormal cells, and the cultures were all negative too. I didn't see any signs of infection or cancer. Your hormone levels are all back to normal. The menopausal state you've been in has somehow reversed itself. I don't know if it has anything to do with the fertility treatments you received last year or not." "You're saying the FSH level has gone down, and I'm producing progesterone again?" "Yes. There might be some ova ripening after all, but that doesn't necessarily mean you're ovulating. The right hormones are being produced, but unless the egg is released-" he trailed off, letting Scully fill in the blanks. "So I could get pregnant theoretically?" "Theoretically, but I wouldn't start thinking in that direction just yet until we know more. You've only had one menstrual period. Come back and talk to me when you've had a few more, and we'll repeat the hormone levels and do some further testing. Be sure to make an appointment before you go." Scully left feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. Since the invitro failure, she'd given up hope of ever conceiving. What she learned today hadn't done much to alleviate her anxiety. She could very well have had an anomalous cycle and would return to a barren state the next month. Perhaps one lone egg had fought to ripen and died within her because no sperm had been present to fertilize it. Shaking her head, she put such thoughts out of her mind. Whether bleak or hopeful, Dr Parenti was right to temper her expectations. A period could mean nothing at all in the long run. She would have ruminated on it more, but Donnie Pfaster interrupted all thoughts of ova and menstrual periods. When she got home, a message that he'd broken out of prison waited on her answering machine. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ He was dead; finally and inexorably dead. His body had lain in her living room for hours while the police and FBI sifted through the evidence. For his part, Mulder had been supportive; remaining next to her while she answered an endless number of probing questions. Yes, Donnie Pfaster had tied her up and terrorized her. Yes, she'd shot him in self-defense. No, she didn't think there'd been a way out of it. When she'd first heard of his escape from prison with Reverend Orison's help, she hadn't been frightened and told Mulder so. He'd be caught soon enough. As the case had worn on, the Reverend proved to be anything but godly, and Scully's faith was shaken. A series of coincidences, questions of righteousness, and a reoccurring song plagued her orderly mind. This time Mulder had been the non-believer, which had been strangest of all. Pfaster still managed to elude them. She'd been getting ready for bed, putting on her gray pajamas when he'd burst out of his hiding place. She'd fought him like a hellion, but he'd been able to subdue her anyway. He'd used her pantyhose to bind her hands and thrown her in the closet while he decorated her bathroom to suit his sick fantasies. He'd come back especially for her, he'd whispered into her ear. She'd been the one who'd gotten away. No amount of reasoning or screaming could have persuaded him to let her go. She was going to die. Even if she managed to get away and he was caught, he'd still try to get her. He'd never stop. Never. So she'd shot him She'd felt badly about it and should have felt worse, but then again, she was ignoring a number of 'should haves' lately. She'd been relieved her of her gun and badge pending further investigation. Mulder had assured her that he would back her every step of the way. This had been a gray area, he'd said; he understood her dilemma. In the space of a few hours he'd become a coconspirator of sorts, as well as a temporary roommate. He'd told her to pack a bag and go with him. She hadn't hesitated. Her overnight case held the bare essentials: a change of clothes, toiletries, and her wallet. She wished she could have packed contentment and a sense of well being too; those had vanished along with her principles it seemed when Pfaster had reentered her life. Mulder unlocked the front door and carried the bag into his bedroom, but returned when she hadn't followed him. She stood silently in his living room, looking at his digital clock. It read 2:32, not 2:06. Was it really over? He moved in front of her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder while the other lightly touched her face. "Scully?" She looked up to see him frowning. Fingertips, soft and persistent caressed her bruised cheek and lip. The look of pain on his face was mixed with a haunting concern. Did he think she'd lost her mind after all? Without thinking she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him softly; pressing herself against his warm body. She could feel the surprise on his lips, and his hesitation. She ignored it; pushed past her own reluctance to assuage his. After a few moments he responded, as if he'd been asleep and suddenly woke to her find her mouth on his. She took pleasure in the soft texture of his lips and the smooth muscles of his back as she held him tightly. After a few moments he pulled away. "Scully, why-" She kissed him again to shut him up. No thinking. She didn't want him to think about it and she didn't want to think about it either. This was about feeling; basic and visceral. All through the case she'd tried to make him feel the urgency of her confusion, but he only saw the practicality of the facts. A smile of satisfaction crossed her face as he moved his lips to her face and neck. He pushed the coat she'd hastily thrown over her pajamas off her shoulders and let it fall silently to the floor. She pushed his coat off as well, and ran her hands over the smooth t-shirt covering his muscular chest. Then she saw it: gray; they were both wearing gray. Soft, comfortable, and familiar. She thought that they must blend seamlessly into the shadows of his apartment, as she wanted to blend seamlessly into him. Thoughts of color fled when his hands reached to cup her breasts and he began to kiss her again. Her nipples tightened reflexively when his thumbs brushed lightly across them. The fingers of his left hand had to sense the wild tripping of her heart against them. She put her hands on his arms and stroked him there before dropping to his waist and lower. She could feel his arousal through his jeans; hard, insistent need. He moaned into her mouth as she stroked him over the coarse cloth. His response produced a tightening in her as well; the inner muscles between her legs clenched reflexively. His hands moved across the pajama front to the first button. One by one, he pushed the iridescent disks through the buttonholes. Parting the shirt carefully, he exposed her breasts to his eyes. "Beautiful, you're so beautiful, Scully." She smiled and kissed him tenderly in answer. After that the sound of clothing being removed and their breathing was all that stirred the air of his apartment. Flesh against flesh, warm and supple glided under their hands. They explored each other with the awe of finally 'seeing' the other for the first time in such circumstances. She felt his hand dip below her waist and slide between her labia. She pulled back from his mouth, taking quick, shallow breaths in response to the raw pleasure his sensitive fingers elicited. "Bedroom." She didn't know which of them had said it, but they moved there together. Pulling him on top of her, she lay back with eager anticipation. Slowly, so slowly he slid inside her; stretching, opening her fully to his invasion. She urged him on with her hands and soft moans until he began to thrust within her. It took them a moment to find a common rhythm; the same harmonious rhythm that fueled their partnership. They continued until he arched, shuddering in a deep pleasure that echoed her own aching, grateful release. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~* She felt liquid in his arms, boneless in a relaxation she hadn't felt in months. It was such a cliche to think that sex was what she'd needed, but then again cliches had a way of becoming true. Mulder snuffled softly behind her; sleeping the sleep of the dead with her spooned against him. Initially, she'd tried to put some distance between them, but he'd pulled her back every time. "I'm not going anywhere," she'd laughingly whispered. "No, you're not." She finally gave up and relaxed to let him dream behind her, but sleep still escaped her. She was thinking of the shooting, the impact it'd had on them both, and, finally, her fertility. She'd had a second period since her visit to Parenti, and was due to have another in a few weeks. Had she now done something they'd both regret? They weren't teenagers, and they weren't irresponsible people; usually. She'd think about the repercussions another time. She wanted to enjoy him for the moment without guilt or fear. They had so few moments like that. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~End Author's note. As I was writing this, I was wishing for Season 7 DVDs so I could watch Orison again to be sure of my facts. When I was nearly done, I turned on Sci Fi at 1:00 am one night because I couldn't sleep and what was on? Orison. There are several coincidences in Orison and I just couldn't overlook this one too. Creepy; like Pfaster.