Work Text:
Mulder’s chaos. That’s the only way to describe his filing system. Or lack thereof.
Scully wouldn’t have this problem if Mulder were here, or if he were at least answering his phone. The cell is probably either dead or he’s lost it again. He really needs a system, Scully thinks as she tries to understand the connection between haunted beach resorts and possessed guinea pigs. According to Mulder, there seems to be one.
Twenty minutes ago Skinner called their office to let them, or rather Scully, know that he needs the report on their latest case. Immediately. Utmost importance. And more words Scully didn’t hear, already frantically going through Mulder’s desk. She should not have let him write that report. Had she done it herself, she could already be on her way to Skinner’s office. But no. The one time she insists on him doing the paperwork, she regrets it.
So here she sits, among files, reports, several bills, a Playboy magazine from 94 and even more National Geographics. The report, however, is not here. Skinner will call again in five minutes, tops. Since Mulder is not here, she will get yelled at all by herself. Just what she needs today.
Lost in thought, Scully unfolds a piece of paper. At first she thinks it’s merely a scribbled note, nothing important. But it’s a list, a long one. She quickly scans the many names neatly categorized into girls and boys. Samantha and Melissa are at the top and they’re both crossed out. Too much history, she deciphers the scrawled words next to them. Scully reads through all of them; from Abigail and Adam to Xenia and Zachary. Some have comments right next to the entry; Mulder has terrible hand writing and some of it is no longer readable. Scully doesn’t notice her tears until one of them falls down right down at the end. Mulder?, it reads there in black ink, or would she prefer Scully? The names blur together, eventually.
Baby names.
Mulder made a list of baby names. For their child.
“Hey Scully, what’s up with Skinner? He just- Scully?” Mulder barges in, holding two large coffee cups and stops when he sees her slumped over the chaos on his desk.
Scully can’t stop the sob that escapes her and Mulder is by her side in two long strides. He puts the cups down on the desk and crouches in front of her. He gently tips the chair so that she’s facing him. His hands, warm and large, rest on her knees as his eyes finds hers.
“Scully, what happened? Is it because of Skinner?” She shakes her head, her tongue too thick, her throat too tight to talk. Instead she hands him the list.
“Oh.” His voice is as gentle as his hands as he takes the proffered piece of paper. He looks at it for a moment, the ghost of a smile passing over his face.
“I forgot about this.” Mulder’s index finger gently touches one of the names and suddenly nothing matters as much as this to Scully. She needs to know.
“What’s your favorite?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Uhm, I had several favorites depending on, well…” He refuses to look at her, shy now, but she knows exactly what he was thinking about.
“Mulder.”
“Yeah?”
“No, I mean… their name, it would have been Mulder.” His eyes light up in surprise for a moment, soften, and he smiles up at her. Scully used to think, when there was still possibility to dream, that their baby would smile exactly like that. Same eyes, same beautiful mouth. The picture shatters in front of her once again, as it always will, but Mulder’s voice, warm and gentle, keeps her here, keeps her sane. It does now as it did then months ago, when their dream, her baby, wasn’t to be.
“Jake for a boy. Jake Mulder. I felt that… it felt like a good name, you know? Or William.” Scully raises her eyebrows and he nods, chuckles.
“I know, I know. Plenty of Williams in our families already.” Mulder stares at the list again, at their lost possibilities. There would be no Jake Mulder. No William Mulder either.
“And for a girl?” The question hurts as she presses it through her constricted throat. She needs to know, though. They never talked about it. Let’s move on, she’d told him the morning after breaking down in his arms. Back then it had seemed like it had been her loss; only hers.
“I thought maybe… Melinda. It’s not Melissa, but it’s close and I thought-” Scully’s painful sob tears through his words and makes him pause. The list slips from his hand as he opens his arms and she falls into them, easily.
Mulder holds her as tightly as possible and she lets him. She let him before when the IVF didn’t work. This, she realizes now, way too late, is their pain. It’s not just hers; he, too, lost something. The phone rings insistently, startling them both, returning them to the here and now.
Scully looks at Mulder and smiles thankfully as he wipes her tears away. His finger traces her lips and she kisses it, softly, like a butterfly’s flap.
With a sigh, and protesting knees, Mulder gets up to pick up the phone. Scully can hear Skinner’s angry booming voice.
“I’m just gonna… go and give Skinner that report before he completely flips out,” his grin is lopsided, “all right?” Scully merely nods and watches as Mulder opens a drawer and after a moment holds the right file in his hands. Mulder’s chaos, she thinks with a sigh. She can no longer feel angry about it.
“Mulder?” He’s already at the door and turns to face her, his eyebrows slightly raised.
“I’d like to keep this list. If it’s all right with you.”
“It’s your list, Scully. It’ll always be your list.”