Title: Deep Breathing
Author: scully221
Date Written: July 2000
Rating: I'm gonna give this a rating of "R". I don't think it's THAT dirty.
Disclaimer: Personally, I think this is ridiculous. I mean, I am obviously not Chris Carter. I do not own the X-Files, or any of the characters. They are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and FOX. No copyright infringement is intended, and I'm not making any money off of this anyway. But, if Chris does read this, and is interested in using my story, its gonna cost you.
Category: MSRA, plus some minor humor, and even a tiny, itty bitty X-File in there.
NOTE: Major Requiem spoilers, and some All Things and En Ami spoilers, too.
Dedication: This is my first fanfic, so I want to make this count. I'd like to dedicate this to Amy, Gab, Sue, and the rest of the Yahoo! Gang. If it wasn't for them, I would never have read fanfic, and would never have thought that I could right something better (lol). So, please, feedback on my very first piece would be greatly appreciated.

Summary: Scully goes to The Lone Gunmen for help in discovering the nature of her pregnancy, now that Mulder is missing.

"I'm pregnant."

The shock registered in Skinner's face mirrored the emotion that, over the past few hours had been burned so strongly into Scully's psyche that part of her felt it would always be there. Silence passed the time, as neither of them could put together words to express their thoughts.

"Ho-" Skinner began to ask a question, and then, deciding it would tell him more than he should know, he stopped. The silence returned a little more awkward this time. Finally, he just excused himself. Telling her that he would speak with her soon, Skinner left Scully's hospital room.

It's probably better that he didn't ask, she thought. She couldn't explain it to herself, how could she explain it to him. It was obvious from the look on the man's face that he suspected Mulder to be the father, but telling him of the recent development of their physical relationship would put him in an uncomfortable position. Better to just let him wonder, than to confirm what would be damning to both her and Mulder's careers.

For a moment she sat in the empty room with her eyes closed, trying to collect her thoughts, and dispel the catatonic state of shock that was paralyzing her brain, and THINK, what the FUCK was going on? I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. Perhaps repeating that two-worded phrase would some how make it sink in. Finding that it wasn't working, she rose to look out the window. To her surprise, night had fallen. Had she really spent that much time in bed, awake but completely blank? She found herself looking at the sky, her eyes keening to find bizarre lights or movement. Mulder, where are you, she wanted to shout to the rafters. Somehow, irrationally, she felt if only he was here, than all this chaos would organize itself into something she could understand. No, she told herself firmly. I'm all there is now. Mulder can't help me; he needs me to help him (again). And I can't help anyone until I help myself. She impulsively looked down to her belly. Sometimes blessings weren't always blessings, she thought. Now that the initial joy of achieving the unachievable had passed, she was filled with a sense of doubt. As much as it could be Mulder's baby under normal circumstances, these were not normal circumstances. When were they ever? Doctor's had confirmed it, over two years ago. She was infertile, barren. Her eggs had been stolen. The lights were on, but no one was home. And unless some unfathomable change in human biology occurred, you still need ova and sperm to make babies. So, there is not way she and Mulder's nightly passion could have done this on its own. They had received help. Whose help was the question. She had learned over the past few years that no help was good help.

Ok, more deep breaths, Scully, c'mon. She found talking to herself helped, since she didn't have Mulder to talk to her. No, don't think about Mulder, crying saps aren't any good to anybody. With a self-pitying sniff, she turned to pace the room, hoping the movement would keep her mind on track. So, what were her choices? Number one, the doctors had been wrong. There were eggs left, no matter how elusive they were, they had been there all along. And Mulder's discovery of those vials filled with her ova? Well, they took SOME of her eggs, not all of them. And what about all those other women in the nursing home dry as a desert, same as her? Well, she was different goddammit!!! Ok Scully, stop it. Talking to yourself is fine, but fighting with yourself is a little wacko. She suddenly realized that, more bizarre than this internal conversation she was having with herself, was the fact that she was now referring to herself as Scully. Did she miss him this much already? He'd been apart from her for longer than this before. Yes, but this time he's not coming back, the inner voice whispered. Physically trying to shake that thought from her head, she kept moving. Ok, option number one was pretty lame. She had seen the lab results herself. Her eggs had left the building.

Option number two. It wasn't her egg. That was a possibility. However, this would also mean that it wasn't likely to be Mulder's sperm, either. Of course, this wouldn't be the first time her body had been used at the whim of some mad, government-endorsed scientist. So, perhaps she had been subjected to an in vitro procedure, leaving her pregnant with someone else's child. Although unseemly, and certainly creepy, it was more of a possibility than her first option. Who would have done that to her though? Well, she knew who, but when? Scully's legs were tired, so she returned to the hospital bed. All right, that nicotine infected bastard would have done this, and laughed the whole time, but when did he have the chance? Of course, the incident came to mind right away. She was still uncomfortable with the thought of that man undressing her, putting her in pajamas, and placing her in a bed.

If she had managed to sleep through that, who knows what else she could have slept through. If she was even sleeping at all. Damn! You are a doctor damn it, you should always be thinking of these things. He probably drugged you, you idiot! You knew it was a bad idea, you knew you shouldn't have gone, and now you're pregnant with a three-headed alien baby. Whoa. Forgot that deep breathing technique. A few more deep breaths brought her out of her mental sparring once again. Man, if I don't find someone to fight with soon, I could loose it for good, she thought. Ok, the smoking man may have something to do with this. Forget may, she corrected herself, he most likely has something to do with this. But don't automatically assume it's not human. Or, that it isn't your egg. Oh, this sounds like number three she thought.

The cigarette man was the one who took her eggs in the first place. Maybe, in the ultimate of mind fucks, he gave them back. There was no way she would have known. Her menstrual cycle had been unaffected by the ovum removal, and had continued to menstruate without ovulating. How underhanded would that be? But, this was the nicest option, because it meant she and Mulder were the rightful parents. A flash of Mulder changing diapers jumped into her mind, and she almost smiled. Almost. Getting more comfortable in the bed, Scully pulled the covers around her legs and midsection. Ok, Scully, you've got three possible options. All three are worth investigating, and as soon as you're discharged tomorrow, you know who to talk to. A mental and physical yawn interrupted any thoughts she had left, and finally, her mental exhaustion equated to physical exhaustion, and she quickly passed into slumber. And dreamed.

Scully's dreamworld was a place of happier times. And yet, if she remembered it in the morning, it would probably only bring her grief. That fateful night was as fresh in her waking memory as her subconscious, and it was no wonder it haunted her dreams tonight. But dreams are strange in the fact that they can almost never be misconstrued as reality. This was one of those dreams. It was like watching a sports replay over and over, different cuts, different plays, and different camera angles. And through the entire dream, the present day Scully was there, a voyeur watching the events of a month ago as a video of her memory, right in her own head.

She saw herself wake on Mulder's couch, slightly disoriented. She had that lighted-headed feeling you have when you wake up after a long cry, or a cold. Adding to the strangeness of this dream experience was the fact that Voyeur Scully was experiencing the emotions and experiences of Dream Scully. As she saw herself on the couch, she could feel the material beneath her thighs. It was like being two people at once, except it was a dream, and dreams don't seem strange as they happen.

She watched herself rise from the couch, and enter the bedroom. Leaving her blazer on a chair against the wall, she quietly approached the bed. Mulder was a restless sleeper, and most of his blankets were pushed aside, revealing his pajama clad legs and bare chest. Trying not to wake him, she crept like the Grinch who stole Christmas to the side of the bed.

"Mulder." It was a whisper, a statement. It wasn't a call for consciousness as much as an affirmation of his identity and a confirmation of what she was about to do. He stirred, as if he was being called, not by her inaudible whisper, but by the turmoil of emotions in her heart. He looked at her with half-opened eyes as she slid, fully clad, into the spot right next to him. Seeking his physical nearness, and the comfort it always gave her, she slid both arms around his chest as he lay on his side, facing her. Her left arm would probably fall asleep, but who cared? She felt a sigh of relief overcome her soul as he affectionately buried his face in her titian hair. Voyeur Scully watched as the two lay there, arm in arm, as if each body part was made to fit with the others. Like they were one person who had been separated long ago, and had finally found the other half.

The next part passed in a blur, a replay in fast forward and unfocused. She still doesn't know how it started. Perhaps it was the soft kisses Mulder was laying in her hair, or the insistent way she was pressing her body into his, willing her physical self to disappear into his body, so that her burdens were his, and nothing she would never experience anything alone again. It was she who raised her head to meet those shampoo-tainted kisses with her mouth, but it was he who responded. Neither Dream Scully nor Voyeur Scully knew how long they stayed like that, holding each other, and kissing. They were soft kisses. There was no persistence, no eagerness. They were pure kisses of love, kisses that said, we are here, together, and we have all the time in the world. We have the world, and we are each other's world. There is nothing but you and I and our kisses.

Perhaps it was the inevitable numbness in her left arm that caused her to do it, but Dream Scully shifted her wait, pushing Mulder down and on to his back, so that she was above him, and her now tingling left arm was free to tease his hair. Obviously responding to her advancements, he began to kiss more persistently, with a hunger that she knew was for her alone. Realizing her other hand was feeling left out, Dream Scully reached up to gently cup Mulder's neck. Her palm grazed his stubble, and tickled, she actually let out a child's giggle. Chuckling with her, Mulder used his obviously greater body weight to deftly flip her over, and he hovered above her, supported by his knees, doing his best not to impose on her with his body weight. It was almost as if he knew of the delicate person she kept inside, and was afraid of hurting her. And then, it all stopped.

Voyeur Scully watched as the two lay in that frozen position and just stared at each other. It was the most real moment of the entire dream, as Voyeur Scully felt all those emotions pass through her again like a hot wind. An epic was spoken in those moments. So many words passed between them in the silence held by their gaze. Not a word spoken, hardly a breath went in or out. It was as if time had frozen. And when all that needed to be said had been in that silent exchange, the world changed forever. It was like destiny had arrived, if destiny was a physical being that waited in the wings of your life for the day you were ready. And they were ready. It was the only coherent thought in both Voyeur Scully and Dream Scully's head's; I'm ready.

The kisses began again, but it was also like they started anew, for they were like no kisses either had ever experienced. These were the kisses that could steal your soul and fill your heart all at once. These weren't the over-impassioned kisses of sweaty teenagers. They weren't even the tonsil-licking kisses of two horny feds that hadn't been laid in over five years. They were the kisses that meant love. Kisses that held promises of new and wonderful things to come. The kisses that you never wanted to end. But kissing wasn't enough for them that night, not nearly.

Mulder held Dream Scully's head tightly, yet gently, as if afraid she would break but also afraid that a loosened grip would permit her escape. Dream Scully slowly slid her hands down the front of Mulder's smooth, muscled chest, and Voyeur Scully could feel the tickle of his fine hairs on her palms. She could feel Mulder tighten as Dream Scully lightly scratched him, and reached around to clutch his back. Always being the first to jump, Mulder moved his hands from Dream Scully's head, and ran them over the front of her sweater, feeling her gasp as he lightly grazed her breasts, resting at her waist band, and deftly sliding his fingers under the hem of her sweater. In one quick move that he must have picked up at Oxford, he pulled Dream Scully's sweater up over her head pinning her arms in her sweater. Afraid to leave her mouth for even a moment, he returned to her soft lips before freeing her arms and tossing her sweater away.

This was all coming to Voyeur Scully in slow motion, each moment of undressing and exploration being teased upon and drawn out, as if to evoke an excitement in Voyeur Scully that would follow her to consciousness. De-sweatered, Mulder found himself fumbling with the clasp of Dream Scully's bra. Silly agent, Voyeur Scully thought, the clasp is in the front. But, being the industrious man he is, he found the clasp, and opened the bra, allowing Dream Scully's breasts to experience first hand the hot air passing between their two bodies. Sighing involuntarily, Dream Scully tried to rise off the bed, to mesh all her bare flesh with his. In synchrony, he lowered his bare chest to meet hers, and a simultaneous gasp arose from the two, reveling in their mutual nearness. Unable to restrain themselves any longer, all other clothes were quickly forgotten. While pajama pants were easy to remove (Voyeur Scully once again experienced an inner laugh at his lack of underwear), Dream Scully had much farther to go, and sadly, those panty hose will never see the better side of a garbage can again. Both completely naked, they took the time to explore every inch of skin. Nothing was going to take away from this experience. Dream Scully's pale skin was like milk as Mulder's large rough hands ran over her. Down her sides and back up her middle. Around her neck and over her peaked and taught breasts, Dream Scully lay in rapturous silence, glorying in the worship being paid to her body. Her new thought was; no one can love me like this. And almost in response, Voyeur Scully's thought was, he can, he can. Mulder treated each part of her body like a temple, caressing her kneecaps as tenderly and sensually as her breasts and the insides of her thighs. His strong fingers felt so amazingly light as they ran along her body, and it was almost meditative.

Returning the manual love he was giving, she rolled with Mulder and looked down at his face. His eyes pierced into hers, trying to experience her thoughts along with her body. For a moment she just held his face. Suddenly, possessing a mind of their own, her hands ran down along his flanks. She enjoyed the feel of his tight buttocks, and enjoyed even more his jump when she squeezed them. She pulled her hands back to his abdomen, and caressed his chest in soft, circular motions. Wax on, wax off. She ran down his thighs, and pulled lightly on the hairs on his calves, making him jump again. She could feel his every thought and desire through his skin. He wanted her, and she knew it; loved it. Finally satisfied with her examination, she returned to his face. She kissed him once, long and deep, and in an unspoken movement they came together, she lowering herself down as he slipped inside. It was as if they were one person. He pushed his way into her deep recesses, and she was already in ecstasy from the first rock of his hips. And they moved together, always a team. Together they moved, a well-oiled machine. They knew each other's every move, every desire, every pleasure. On and on, the rhythm of their passion lulling them both into a dream world of sexual rapture. Their moans and cries were the music to a symphony they created with their bodies. And when it finally ended, it was an explosion of nuclear proportions. The team that stayed together, came together. Ever so slowly, as if afraid to separate themselves, Dream Scully raised herself off of his body, and lay in the bed next to him. They were both sweaty, exhausted, and completely fulfilled. As they lay there in silence, still not a word was spoken. Voyeur Scully closed her eyes, reliving what had been the most wonderful moment of her life. The moment where she felt entirely a part of someone else, and felt that someone else was entirely part of her. This is what it's like to be with God, she thought. To find someone who loves, and knows you as if they were you, and you were looking in the mirror. Sleep found them both easily. And as Voyeur Scully watched Dream Scully rise and kiss her lover good-bye, she still had no regrets.

Scully awoke in her hospital room, both refreshed and drained, to find her doctor standing over her. He smiled when he saw her open eyes. Quickly alert, and eager to leave, Scully sat up and asked, "What is it, doctor?"

"How are you feeling Dana?"

"I'm fine." Eager to get away, she was hoping to avoid any first time pregnancy speech. However, seeming to recognize her competency, the doctor nodded, and continued.

"Well, seeing as pregnancy is not a hospitalizable condition, I am happy to release you. Although you may return, finding motherhood is."

Finding herself able to laugh at the doctor's joke gave Scully a surge of courage. I will be all right, she told herself.

Pulling out of the hospital driveway, Scully found herself reminiscing about her dreams, and the memories it brought. They never had talked about that night. Nor had they talked about it after the second or third time. It seemed that there was nothing to discuss. They had been intimate lovers for so long. Sex had just been a formality. And it was the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to her. She felt the tears threaten to emerge as she thought about how far away he was, and what might be happening to him, but she gulped them down. She knew her best choice right now would be to do what he would have done.

"It's me" she announced, looking up into the camera lens. The words caused her to choke up for a minute. Mulder, it's me. Man, was she turning into a sissy or what? The door opened, and Scully ascended the dark stairwell. Preparing to knock on the inner door, she found it already opened by a tall, studious looking man with a beard.

"Agent Scully."

"Hi Byers." She walked past him into the room. "Hi guys." She was amazed at the neutrality in her voice. She was preparing to tell them, she realized. She had to. She couldn't ask for there help in uncovering the mystery of the baby without telling them the circumstances, and that meant ALL the circumstances. A deep breath. "I need your help."

"We know, we're already on it" Langly said. "We've been monitoring military satellites, looking for any abnormal activity that may be the guys who took Mulder.

"We're even monitoring military transmissions, in case his abductors were a little more terrestrial." The smile Byers gave her obviously portrayed the respect all three of them held for her skeptical, yet well warranted point of view.

"Thanks you guys, and I will need your help finding Mulder (choke), but there's something else, too."

All three looked at her quizzically, and she as surprised. Part of them had expected the boys to know already, to have hacked into her medical records as soon as they found out she had been admitted. Then she noticed Frohike's uncharacteristic silence, and shot a glance his way. He knew. She could tell by the way that he looked at her. He looked hurt. Poor little guy. Stop that Scully, he's not a little guy, he's a person. Mentally shaking her head clear, she realized that it wasn't worth his pride to keep this secret. The best way to do something is to just DO IT. "I'm pregnant." Silence.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Byers, I'm sure. But I don't know how. That's where I need your help." Don't look at Frohike. Don't look at Frohike.

"Well . . . any theories?" Langly was quick to ignore the awkwardness of her confession and search out the facts.

"I think the Smoking Man did something to me. I don't know what, but I have a pretty good idea of when."

"You mean he implanted you with a fetus?" Byers seemed a little grossed out by the idea. Frankly, it grossed Scully out, too. "Or just re-implanted my eggs. Or somebody else's." Hmm, number four?

"But that would mean . . ." Langly was trying to do the math.

Might as well go for the gold. "Mulder might be the father." More silence.

"Ok, so, what are the theories?" Frohike finally broke his silence. And Scully was finally able to relax completely. What was she worried about? These were the boys, the guys! She knew, just as Mulder relied on them, so could she. These guys believed in aliens from the Pleiades, they weren't going to judge her.

"Well, he had a window of opportunity. While I was off on that wild goose chase, I fell asleep in the car, and woke up hours later. I was in pajamas, in a bed. I didn't think of it at the time, but he could have drugged me, and then done anything he wanted. So the question is, am I part of another experiment, or is he just trying to fuck with my head?"

"Maybe he was trying to be nice."

Scully's head whipped around to face Frohike. Before she could choke out her astonishment, he continued. "Well, he does like you, and you were being nice to him and all, so maybe he was trying to give you something back."

Well that was not one of her numbers. And maybe it was a Mulderless-induced delirium, but it was another theory that made sense. "Ok, let's count that as a SLIM possibility. My first concern is whether or not it's human." She didn't have to look at any of them to feel the surprise. Scully, considering something to be anything other than human and completely normal and easy to understand? What, does Mulder have some sort of weird brainwashing element in his sperm? "The problem is that, an ultrasound is months away from being conclusive, and I wouldn't know what to tell the doctors to test for. Hey Doc, is the amniotic fluid green a corrosive?" Yes, sarcasm, that would work. The more she thought about it, the more she prayed for this to be a normal, Scully+Mulder=Baby situation. God, how she deserved that. How do you abort an alien baby? Deep breath.

"So how do we take amniotic fluid without having to go through official medical channels? Can you do it to yourself?" Byers was obviously not a woman.

"Hardly. I think I could track down someone at the FBI lab that might do it for me. It's a long shot, but it's the only one I can think of now. I need you guys to get the equipment we'll need while I'm away." Nods all around told Scully what she already knew. These guys would come through.

Scully walked into the building, and headed straight for the pathology lab. This would be one of the few times she would thank Mulder for all those autopsies he sent her. All that time in the basement had given her the opportunity to make some friends. As the elevator doors opened, she steeled herself for what she knew would be a bizarre conversation.


"Dana, how are you? We've all heard about Mulder. I'm sorry, but don't worry, if anyone can find him, you can."

Scully felt the warmth of a smile heat her face. She knew Caroline was the right choice. A good person if ever there was one. "Thanks Caroline. I'm ok, but I could use your help with something, and I'd appreciate it if you kept it to yourself."

"Sure Dana, what can I do?" Caroline seemed concerned, curious, but above all, willing to help.

"I need you to extract some fluid from my uterus." Wow, I'm getting really good at this directness, she thought. Now, the obvious reason for this procedure is because you're pregnant, but Caroline didn't ask one question. She merely told Scully she'd have to go get the right needle, and track down an ultrasound and she'd be right back.

Scully waited for Caroline. She looked around the space where she'd spent so many of her hours. She remembered the first time Mulder had seen a real human corpse and his reaction as she made her "Y" incision. She had almost laughed aloud at the various shades of green he'd turned. Her humor was quickly sated by a twinge from the back of her neck, like a reminder of what they would do to him. The memories of Scully's abduction were still vague, but she remembered enough to know she wouldn't wish such an experience on her worst enemy, let alone Mulder.

Caroline returned, pushing an ultrasound on a cart, with a collection of medical tools on the bottom shelf. "Ok Dana, just lie back and lift up your shirt." Caroline was no dummy. She wasn't going to ask if Scully was pregnant, but was smart enough to know that, if she was, the ultrasound was needed to prevent giving one of its three alien heads a lobotomy.

So Scully followed doctor's orders, and had a wild thought that Caroline might impale one of the butterflies in her stomach. Caroline applied the cold lubricant, and Scully held in a gasp. Caroline turned the screen toward Scully, so they could both watch. Caroline lined up the device, and located a small, pulsating mass. She deftly inserted the long needle into Scully's belly, below the white mass on the screen, and withdrew 100 ccs of fluid. When finished, she withdrew the needle, and released the fluid into a vial, which she capped and handed to Scully. Scully had already wiped her skin clean and had lowered her shirt. As she slipped the vial into her pocket, she heard Caroline say, "There's a good strong heart beat." She looked up to Caroline's warm smile. The other woman then turned, and pushed the ultrasound back out of the morgue, leaving Scully alone.

Scully nervously watched as the guys ran her amniotic fluid of a series of tests. She told herself; the fact that it didn't burn through the vial was a good sign. She, the only true scientist of the group, couldn't bring herself to look at the equipment. She waited for what seemed like an eternity.

"Agent Scully." Deep breath. She looked up. Byers continued. "Everything looks normal Scully."

"Well 'normal' as in human," Langly added. "There's no way to tell if you and Mulder are the parents without a DNA test, and we don't even have a sample of Mulder's tissue to compare it to. We could try to take some DNA to compare with yours," he offered.

Scully's relief at the word human was so great, that at first she forgot all the other awful possibilities. Finally, she recovered her voice. "No, that's not necessary. Not right now. I need to . . . I need to rest, or something. I'll call you." She wandered out of the building in a daze that caused the guys to worry, but they let her go.

How can an empty space feel more or less empty? Empty is empty, isn't it? Yet Mulder's apartment felt as barren as Scully's womb supposedly had been. She stood in the doorway, and felt so overcome with her loss that movement was impossible, forget tears. She pushed forward, her sorrow like a tangible material hanging in the air, slowing her steps. She fed the fish. A simple, mechanical action. Somehow, it made Mulder seem closer and farther away all at the same time. She moved to his desk. Turned the computer on. Turned the computer off. If she had to touch everything he owned in order to feel closer to him, she would. She had never been more aware of her loneliness, of the isolation of her life. She had no one else. She would go mad without Mulder as her outlet. Who was going to watch her back? Who was going to make her laugh when she just wanted to cry? Who was going to look at her, and tell her what she needed to hear, even when she didn't want to hear it? Who was going to LOOK at her? More than anything, Mulder looked at her. Like he really saw her. Or like he was the only one who saw her at all.

Scully came out of her self-pitying trance to find herself curled into a fetal position on Mulder's couch, sobbing and gasping, her eyes burning, tears streaming down her face. She was choking- she was dying. She rolled on to her back and stared at the ceiling. Deep breath. She took a few minutes, and rose from the couch. She went into the bedroom, and opened the closet. She smiled as she fingered through his ugly tie collection. Some people had a collection of ugly ties; his collection of ties was just ugly. She picked up the one she had always thought most hideous, the one he wore twice as much as the others for that very reason. She lifted the tie to her face, and could smell his aftershave. She closed her eyes, and breathed the sent deep into her soul. If she concentrated just on the feel of his tie on her cheek, and the scent filling her head, he was almost there next to her. She absently reached to her neck and stroked where her cross would have been hanging. She knew suddenly, he would come back to her. He may not be all right, but there would be nothing wrong with him that she couldn't fix. It would be all right.

She stepped out of her shoes, and stretched out across his bed, still clutching his tie. She knew that many of the questions she had yesterday still remained. She still didn't know how she was pregnant. She didn't know the paternity of the baby, or even if she was the mother. But lying there, she suddenly didn't care. She knew it would be all right. She was strong, she could handle whatever came her way. And Mulder would come home. She would find him, he would be home, and everything would be all right. She closed her eyes, and just held that thought tight like the tie. He will come home. He will. As she thought this thought, and breathed in his sent, she slowly drifted away. And slept.

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