Title: Full Term
Author: Jori

As the holidays approach, Scully gets a little tired of being pregnant.

November 19, 2002

"You're home early," I mutter as Mulder climbs into bed. My clock shows that it is 2:23 a.m. in glowing red numbers, making my statement sound absurd, but he told me he would be home on Thursday at the earliest. It is only Tuesday.

"Why didn't you tell me that this Dylan person was still approaching you?" he asks in a short and succinct manner. He doesn't touch me or wrap an arm over me like he usually does when he comes home in the middle of the night.

"I didn't think it mattered," I lie, rather unconvincingly. Actually, I didn't know how to explain what he was telling me. Didn't know how to put the pieces together. He seems to be everywhere and know everything. He knew about Kestrel. He knew about the baby. He just knows things and I haven't figured out how yet.

"Some strange man follows you around ... knows things about our life together ... and it doesn't matter?" he asks, his voice not exactly angry, but not pleased either.

"He talks in riddles and never tells me anything real. He once led me to the convenience store you and Krycek stopped at, but couldn't lead me further, even though I'm sure he knew where you were. He tells me he knows my future ... our future, but won't tell me what it is. Mulder, what did you want me to tell you?" I ask, my voice just as sharp as his.

"I want you to trust me with everything."

"Who says I don't?"

"I'm sorry. That isn't what I meant. I just don't want there to be any secrets. Not anymore," he says, his hand finally reaching out for me.

"I should have told you, but he seemed so innocuous at first. Just one more person thrown at us saying he knew what we are and where we are going," I say.

"What did he tell you?" he asks and I begin to wonder why this is coming up now, after all this time.

"No, Mulder - what did he tell you?" I ask. Obviously, Dylan must have approached Mulder where he was working out in Ohio. Why else would he be back here?

"He told me that I can't ignore Kessie's calls. That she knows something. Basically, he has just made me a prisoner to the greater DC area," Mulder says with a heavy sigh.

"I think ... that he is actually looking out for us, Mulder. He just doesn't know how to right now," I say, turning over his actions in my mind again. Always there when things are tough. Always filling in a little bit of information. Just enough but not too much.

"But who is he?" Mulder asks, moving closer to me and putting his arm around me. His hand rests on my belly and he gets kicked. The baby always seems to know when he's around and always responds to his voice and touch. Daddy's little girl already.

"I'm not sure who he is. But you are not a prisoner to the DC area. We will have to find a school she is comfortable with. I will pick her up or Soprano will pick her up. You have a job to go to that takes you away from us. That is just the way it is and she'll have to learn to live with that," I say, getting sleepy again. I yawn and realize that there is no way I can fall back to sleep without going to the bathroom first. "I'll be right back."

I roll out of under his arm and waddle off to the bathroom. By the time I waddle back, he's already asleep.

December 14, 2002

"What is Kessie watching?" I ask, passing through the living room into the kitchen. Scully is standing there, holding a rolling pin in her hand. If it weren't for that, I'd make a comment about how she's barefoot and pregnant, but I don't want to get clobbered.

She has a dab of flour on her nose and sticky dough on her hands. I believe she is in the middle of making Christmas cookies. Her pregnant belly is also covered in flour from leaning against the counter.

"I believe she is watching 'A Summer Place'," Scully says after listening to the TV noise coming from the other room. She sets down the rolling pin and sighs. "Why she is watching that, I don't know."

"'We've been bad, Johnny,'" I say to her, patting her stomach. She puts her floury hands on her lower back and rubs it until I take over.

"It is a change from her usual diet of PBS and TLC," Scully says, adding a little groan when I hit a knotted up, tense spot on her back. Not a minute after she says it, we hear the channel flip to some documentary on the Amazon River.

"Old movies portraying teenage sex and angst or big rivers with killer fish. I'll have to talk to her about what she's supposed to be watching," I say. Scully leans back against me and my arms go around her, circling her above her tummy and beneath her breasts.

"We went to visit a school today. They can't take her until next year, so we will have to suffer through this semester, but she really seemed to like it. They do a lot more with the local universities and colleges," Scully says softly.

"Have you thought any more about daycare for Christopher?" I ask, her body growing stiff in my arms.

"I'm not ready for that. Besides, Soprano ..."

"Soprano is going to busy enough taking care of the baby when you return to work. Plus she has to watch Kessie after school," I say, trying to placate her darkest fears.

They are my fears, too. Nothing on earth is as bad as losing a child. My mother and Scully's mother both know that too well. It is something I never want her to go through. And with more children, we just have more to worry about.

"I'll think about it," she says, pushing away from me. She faces me again, and I try to wipe the dab of flour off her nose.

"Nesting already?" I ask, noticing she has the counters covered with baked goods.

"I can't help it," she says, as if it is something she should be able to control.

She finished the nursery in the last few days, making it bright and cheery without going overboard on 'girl' things. Kessie helped her pick out a theme consisting of 'duckies' and lambies' and the the two of them did a great job decorating together. What used to be my 'den' is now a room covered in fluffy farm animals.

"Did the plane tickets show up yet?" I ask, looking around for the mail. I don't really want to send Kessie off to her mother's side of the family, but I know I have to. I'm flying up there with her to check everything out for myself. I'm sure the Fowleys will love that.

"Yes. I put them on my desk. She's not very excited about going," Scully says, wiping her hands off on a dish towel and once again rubbing her back.

"I'm not very excited about sending her, but a deal is a deal. Besides, she really needs to get to know Diana's family. Diana was her mother and that can't be changed," I say, flipping through the pile of mail until I find the tickets. December 26th at 8:00 a.m. It will be quiet around here for a few days when I get back, that's for sure.

"Who says anybody wants to change it?" Scully asks as I bring up the longest running sore spot of an issue in our relationship.

"I don't know why I said that. I guess if anyone wishes they could change who her mother is, it would be me," I say honestly.

"No you don't. Then she wouldn't be who she is," Scully says, as she goes back to rolling out more cookies before pressing them with a cutter. A whole sheet of snowmen are ready to go into the oven by the time I give up looking through the mail.

"Yes, you're right. She wouldn't be Kessie. Now we just have to figure out who Kessie is," I say. Scully begins to decorate a cooled batch of cookies. I know she loves Christmas, but I really do have to blame this descent into unbridled domestication on the pregnancy.

She makes a face as she tries to unsuccessfully stifle a sneeze. Must be all the flour in the air.

"Damn," she says, shifting around a bit. "The true reason for Kegel exercises is revealed."

"Are you saying they aren't for my sexual satisfaction?" I ask, lowering my voice so any young ears can't hear.

"No, Mulder. Kegel's are so I don't wet the floor," she says, looking down as if she might have.

"And here I thought you were thinking of me," I say, as she totters in the direction of the bathroom.

"Yeah, right. And I'll be thinking about you again when I'm in labor," she says, her voice already tinged with that hint of ire women get when they are about ready to give birth.

"Oh, I'm sure you will be."

December 20, 2002

"Agent Hammond, I'll get it out to you as soon as I can," I tell the young field agent over the phone. This is the third time he's called me today and I don't have any more answers for him now than I did two hours ago.

Besides that, I don't give a damn right now. All I want to do is go home and put my feet up. I'm tired and cranky and I can't believe I have another 26 days to go before I even reach my due date. They promise to be long and miserable days if how I feel right now is indicative of what's to come.

He rambles on and on about needing the autopsy reports sent to him as soon as possible or else his ass will be on the line. Little does he know he's dealing with a mean spirited pregnant woman in an office filled with people who have the flu. That leaves me to do most of the work myself until I come down with it. Probably in time for Christmas.

"Agent, I told you I'll get them to you as soon as I can. That's the best I can do and it probably won't be until tomorrow morning," I say, practically hanging up on the guy.

"Is it safe to come in?" Mulder asks from the doorway. Thank God. I need a break and there is no one I would rather spend it with.

"Come on in ... but only if you aren't looking for something," I say, pushing my chair back and putting my feet up on the box I have hidden under my desk. I look at the clock. Ten minutes to five. I can't wait until I can head home.

"I'm just looking for you," he says, sitting down in one of the chairs opposite of me. His hair is damp and so is his trench coat, so it must be snowing outside. Great. Lately, I live in fear of slipping on ice in the parking lot and lying there, unable to get up, for hours.

Then again, I never seem to be alone in parking lots. I probably wouldn't be there too long.

"So, what brings you here?" I ask, taking off my glasses and rubbing my eyes.

"I came here to shovel the snow off of your car. I didn't know if you would be able to reach the middle of the window to scrape the ice," he says. He picks up a picture frame off of the corner of my desk and smiles. It was from one of those rare moments in the past two years when I wasn't pregnant.

"That bad out there?" I ask, looking at him. He looks tired. He got home late last night after chasing something around the hills of Tennessee for two days with Agent Reid.

"I don't want you driving in this. You shouldn't be driving at all ..."

"I'm fine, Mulder."

"I don't care. Reid dropped me off here. I'm driving you home," he orders. I lace my fingers across my belly, taking up the traditional pose of a pregnant woman who no longer has any place to put her hands.

Something in me wants to argue with him for suggesting there is something I can't do. But he looks so horribly concerned. For me and his child.

"Are you going to pick me up on every snow day until I deliver this child of yours?" I say, smiling at the thought of Mulder trying to find a ride here every time a snowflake falls.

"Child of mine? Mine? I'm not the one who can't see my shoes without a mirror right now," he says, laughing.

"Are you saying she isn't yours?" I ask, joking now about something that haunted us just a few short months ago.

"I certainly hope she is, Scully. But I hope she looks like you," he says, his voice low and sexy. It is a shame I'm to big to take him in that chair right now. I'm pretty much too big to do anything anywhere.

"Kessie looks like you and she's beautiful," I say, looking at the picture of Kessie, Christopher and Mulder on my desk. Just a candid shot from his birthday, but there is no denying they are father and daughter.

"She looks like her mother," he says with a sigh of disappointment. I don't think he will ever recover from that betrayal.

"No. She looks like you. Or Samantha ... from the pictures I've seen," I say, and he narrows his eyes at me, as if he's trying to picture his sister in his head. He pulls a package of sunflower seeds out of his pocket and crunches one. He's thinking about something.

"So, what are we going to name this baby girl?" he asks right before cracking another seed between his teeth.

"I've been thinking about a few names. Christopher was so easy. This is so much harder. I think names mean more to girls than they do for boys," I say, thinking about the list of names I have tucked away in my desk drawer.

"Kestrel had a suggestion. But I don't think you will like it considering it is the name of her best friend at that place," Mulder says.

"Robin or Sparrow?" I ask, wondering what bird name she might come up with.

"Actually, it was a boy and his name was Kite," he says, expecting me to take it seriously.

"Kessie, Kit and Kite?" I say, annunciating the plethora of Ks involved.

"I told her it was up to you. I think she took that as no," he says.

"Here," I say, sliding my drawer open and handing him a legal pad. I have names scribbled everywhere on the top sheet. Most have been crossed out, but many remain. "Pick one."

Mulder studies the list carefully, but his expression doesn't change. He grabs a pen off of my desk and circles something before handing it back to me.

"That one."

"Are you sure?" I ask, knowing this is forever.

"Yes. I'm sure."

December 25, 2002
Margaret Scully Residence

"Kessie! Nate! Chip! Get in here!" I shouts out the back door. The kids are all out throwing snowballs at each other with the assistance of Scully's baby brother. "You, too, Charlie."

"Aw ... do I have to?" Charlie says, faking a whine. He pops his head above the evergreen hedges that he has made into his own personal fort and gets clobbered from all sides with snowballs.

"If any of you want to open your presents ..." is all I have to say before I'm charged by three kids, fighting to get in first. Charlie stands there behind his barrier, brushing the snow off of his parka. This is the first time we have met. The first time he's been in the country in a long time.

"Everett, the snow Gestapo is here. You better come in, too," Charlie says, and Everett pops up from behind another row of hedges. The adults look like they were having more fun than the kids.

I walk outside to join them, enjoying a moment of silence. There are three kids over the age of nine running around, yelling like banshees plus two toddlers. Christopher and Charlie's youngest, a three year old named Ellie. Thank God the baby hasn't been born yet. I don't think I can take one more voice right now.

"So, Mulder, when are you going to marry my big sister and make an honorable woman out of her?" Charlie asks lightheartedly. I don't think he cares as long Scully is happy.

"I don't know ..."

"Bill made me ask. He can be a son of a bitch, can't he?" Charlie says with a nod, and I'm not sure whether he is saying that about me to Everett or whether he's talking about Bill.

"Your brother is a great guy," I say, rather unconvincingly.

"Yeah. Sure he is. Ever wonder why I go to sea while he's tied to a desk job? So I don't have to hear him bitch," Charlie says. He's the typical youngest kid. A little wilder than the older kids. A little more happy go lucky.

I see Scully waddle out the French doors leading to the backyard and down toward us. She has on no jacket, but that doesn't matter to her. All she does is complain how hot she is. The only reason she allows me to turn on the heat at home is because of Chris and Kessie.

"Hey, big sister... and I'm not referring to your size," Charlie says, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and hugging her. "You know what, Dana?"

"What?" she asks, and I can tell she's expecting a bit of her brother's wit to come out of his mouth next. We went out to dinner with Charlie and his wife, Colleen, last night, and he spent the evening joking around with Scully.

"I don't think I've ever seen you happier," he says, giving me a wink.

How could two brothers be so different? How come the other one couldn't be more like this one instead of so damn unforgiving. He hasn't even come to see Scully since Christopher was born.

"Thank you, Charlie. I have a lot of reasons to look happy right now. But I'd look happier if this child would just vacate my body," she says, as she rubs her lower back. "The kids are dying in there ... Mom must have half a million packages around the tree, and they can't wait much longer."

"Okay, okay. Wouldn't want a riot to start on Christmas," Charlie says, as he and Everett head back into the house. "You coming, big sister?"

"We'll be there in a second," I tell him, wrapping my arms around Scully the best I can and hugging her tight. I haven't had a moment alone with her all day.

"No funny business. The neighbors are watching," Charlie says before he slips into the door.

"Did I tell you how much I love you lately?" I whisper to her. I rock her in my arms, never wanting to let her go.

"I think it has been at least half an hour, but thank you. I love you, too," she says, leaning into me. She doesn't sound as enthusiastic about Christmas as she normally does.

"You okay?" I ask, turning her around to look at her face.

"I'm fine. Just tired. Maybe I'm coming down with something. There's a bug going around the office... "

"The last time you said you had a bug, you were actually pregnant. We can rule that out ... well, no we can't," I say, putting my hand on our baby. "But we can rule out early pregnancy. Are you sure you are going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine, Mulder. Come on. Let's get inside before the kids tear the place apart in a wild frenzy," she says, with a sigh.

She toddles off before me, looking every bit the pregnant woman who can't take it for one more day.

"I have an announcement ... everyone," Everett says, standing up in the middle of a huge pile of wrapping paper. The kids quiet down, which is amazing. The noise in here has been astounding since we started unwrapping presents. Mulder picks up Christopher and puts him on his lap as we wait for Everett to give some sort of Christmas toast. I have no idea what he's planning.

All I know is my mom's eyes are all aglow as she watches him. I never thought I'd see her look that way at someone again, but life does go on. If something happened to Mulder, would I ever find someone again? I don't even want to think about it.

"Go ahead, Everett," Charlie says, as he grabs Ellie and hands her to Colleen.

"Maggie and I would like to announce ... that we are engaged to be married," Everett says, the smile on his face a mile wide. "Margaret told me that it is something of a family tradition to give an engagement ring on Christmas Eve or on Christmas, so I'd like to do this in front of all of you."

Colleen and I both look down at our hands. She has her ring on. Mine doesn't fit right now. I didn't know Charlie proposed to her on Christmas. I was too busy with school way back then. He was so young and so was Colleen. I only remember my dad complaining about it.

Everett pulls a little velvet box out of his pocket and opens it, presenting it to Mom. She looks like a girl again, thrilled with what is presented to her. It is a simple anniversary band, not a solitaire. That would be far too young. This is so much more tasteful. So much more like my mother.

I noticed she stopped wearing her wedding band on her left hand a few months ago. Instead, she wears it on her right. These subtle changes all start to pile up at once, and I can't help but to weep. I can't control myself.

"Oh, Dana, honey. It isn't that bad ... I promise not to steal the wedding show from you and Fox," my mother says, noticing the mood I've suddenly slipped into.

"No ... Mom. That isn't it," I say. Mulder's eyes are on me now, wondering what is going on. "I'm happy for you. Both of you. I'm just a little emotional..."

"I think pregnant is the word," Charlie says, smiling at Colleen. He must have been here before. It is all so different from when I was pregnant with Christopher. So much better this time around.

"Congratulations, Mom. Everett. This is a wonderful Christmas gift," I say, wiping the tears from my eyes. My mother comes over and hugs me. She places her hand on my belly, and the baby kicks her.

"No, sweetie ... *this* is a wonderful Christmas gift."

I feel a hand rest on my shoulder, waking me. I fell asleep on the couch in front a football game, while Charlie snoozes on the recliner. Too much food. Too many kids. I'm worn out.

"Mulder ..." Scully says, and I try to focus on her. She still doesn't look well.

"What? Is something wrong," I ask, sitting up and allowing her to sit down next to me. I have to help her down. Her balance has been completely off the last few weeks.

"I think I'm ready to go home. I just don't really feel good. And I'm so tired," she says, closing her eyes briefly.

"I'll get everything packed up into the car. We need to leave anyway. Kessie and I have to be at the airport at 7 a.m. tomorrow," I say, standing up and helping her lie down. "Unless you're sick. Then we won't be going at all."

"Her grandparents are expecting her," Scully says, closing her eyes.

"I'm not sending her there without checking it out first. I have a feeling I'd live to regret it," I say, brushing a strand of hair off her face. A face that is more round this pregnancy than it was the last. She does look swollen and miserable, but she's still beautiful.

"Okay. I'll be fine," she says, quietly. I'm tempted to pull a blanket over her, but I know she'd just kick it off.

"Hey, Dana? You okay?" Charlie asks from across the room. He rubs his eyes sleepily and yawns. Upon hearing his voice, his little girl runs into the room and climbs up into his lap. "You need Mom?"

"No, I'll be okay. Just ready to go home," she says, now yawning herself.

"Yeah. You look just like Colleen did right before she had Ellie in the middle of the night," Charlie says, getting up with Ellie in his arms.

"I'm not due for a few more weeks," she says, running her hands across her abdomen. My mind tries to figure out the dates involved with her pregnancy ... the hillside in New Mexico. The hotel. Could it have been even earlier?

"You need help, Mulder?" Charlie asks, setting Ellie down. She runs off looking for her mother.

"Sure. I think Mrs. Scully has all our stuff piled up and ready to go. I'll go wake up Chris and get him in his jacket. Scully, are you sure you are going to be okay?" I ask, looking down at her.

"Looks like she's more than okay. It looks like she's asleep," Charlie says, looking down at his sister.

December 26, 2002

"Good morning, Agent Scully," the receptionist says, not finding my name on the appointment book. "Dr. Morton will be able to squeeze in a visit with you in about fifteen minutes."

"Thanks," I say, as I waddle over to a row of chairs and stuff myself into one of them. I leaf through a parenting magazine and laugh quietly about how many things they get wrong about the first year. It can only be learned by doing. No book or magazine can possibly cover it all.

Mulder doesn't even know I'm here. I called after he left early with Kessie and he won't be home from the Vineyard until tomorrow. That is if everything goes well. I only made this appointment because I still feel achy all over. I don't want to feel this way for the next couple of weeks.

"Dana?" a voice says, and I pry myself loose from the chair and follow the nurse into the back.

"You'll be in exam room three," she says, opening a door for me. She hands me the paper 'clothes' that are sitting on the examination table, unfolding the sheet as she goes. "Put these on. Dr. Morton will be here in a few minutes."

I undress out of my casual maternity dress, tossing it aside. I'm not expected into work today, so it doesn't matter if I'm a little wrinkled. I'm too tired to care right now. I have myself all covered in pink paper when there's a knock on the door.

"Hi, Dana! Merry Christmas. I wasn't expecting to see you until next week," Dr. Sarah Morton says, looking at my chart.

"Thank you, Sarah. Merry Christmas to you, too. I changed my appointment because I'm not feeling very well. My muscles ache. I'm so tired. I know it is probably nothing beyond the common complaints of late pregnancy, but I just wanted to make sure. The flu has been going around the office." I say, rubbing my lower back.

"Hmm ... kind of achy across your lower abdomen? Does it feel like menstrual cramps?" she asks, as she washes her hands and digs out a pair of gloves.

"Actually, from what I remember, yes... " I say, and she smiles at me. It has been so long since I had a period the feminine hygiene people should just be glad they don't rely on me for their profits.

"Lie back, put your feet here ... scootch your butt this way," Sarah says, guiding me into place before she begins prodding me. She inserts her fingers in my vagina and gets a concerned look on her face. "When did we decide your due date is?"

"After the last ultrasound, you determined it would be January 15th," I say. I'm getting rather uncomfortable and I begin to wiggle around slightly, so she finally removes her hands.

"And today is the 26th of December. Technically, she could be born today and not be considered pre-term ..."

"Excuse me?" I ask, wondering what is going on.

"Where is Agent Mulder?" she asks. He's been with for nearly every visit in the last few months. After missing the important ones in July, he really put an effort in being here."I was expecting to see him here."

"He had to take his daughter up to Martha's Vineyard. I don't expect him back until tomorrow," I say, growing concerned that she would wonder about his absence. "Sarah, is there a problem?"

"No, not a problem. You might want to call him and have him come home earlier if he can. I might be jumping the gun here, but it is always better to be safe than sorry," she says, pulling her gloves off. She eases my legs down out of the stirrups and helps me sit up.

"Safe?" I ask. I know I've been feeling bad, but this is early. Isn't it?

We've been told so many things, I'm not even sure when it might have happened. Oh, God. How could I miss the signs? The cramps. The mucus. I've been so busy with Christmas. I just had in my mind that it would be January.

"You don't have the flu, Dana. You are 100% effaced, three centimeters dilated and that little girl is at zero station. I would suggest you give him a call and see if he can make it home."

The End