- Deslea's URL is now http://www.deslea.com or http://fiction.deslea.com.

- Email address is now deslea@deslea.com.

- May be archived by Scully/Skinner specialty archives only.

This information supercedes all other information found in this file.


From: "Deslea R. Judd"

Date: Fri, 18 Sep 1998 22:47:08

Subject: Pregnant Pause *R* 1/1 Sc/Sk Deslea R. Judd

This ain't Shakespeare - just a sweet bit of fluff I came up with while

trying to break through writer's block. Enjoy!


Pregnant Pause *NC17* 1/1

Deslea R. Judd

drjudd@tig.com.au drjudd@catholic.org

Copyright 1998


This work is based on The X Files, a creation of Chris Carter

owned by him, Twentieth Century Fox, and Ten-Thirteen

Productions. Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, and Emily Sim

remain the intellectual property of those

parties and are used without their consent and without

commercial gain.

OK to archive/forward; just keep my name on it.

Spoilers: One Breath, Memento Mori, Emily.

Category: Story, Romance (Skinner/Scully).

Rating: NC17 for sex.

Summary: Scully is receiving fertility treatment to

induce ovulation. But when she ovulates while she and

Skinner are trapped in a collapsed building, she has

to make a choice...

Fan mail is always appreciated!!! My e-mail is

drjudd@tig.com.au and drjudd@catholic.org.

This and my other stories may be found at

http://homepages.tig.com.au/~drjudd (shameless plug).

Pregnant Pause *NC17* 1/1

Deslea R. Judd

drjudd@tig.com.au drjudd@catholic.org

Copyright 1998


She turned, startled. "Walter?" she said softly. She rose from the

window seat and went to him, her hands outstretched. Looking mildly

surprised, he took them in his own. "What are you doing here?"

He kissed her cheek. She gave a sweetly gentle smile of surprise.

"Aren't I allowed to come and see my favourite agent?" he asked with a

faint grin.

She led him into her room. "Of course. But your favourite agent is on

leave, and for once can't get into trouble." She motioned for him to sit

and poured a cup of tea from the pot on the sideboard without being asked.

She handed it to him and sat down before him, her legs stretched out

between them.

He took a long sip gratefully, then replaced it on the coffee table.

"No," he conceded slowly, "but Mulder can. He's frantic. I wish you'd

told him where you were going. He's really worried. And when Mulder gets

worried, he gets erratic."

Scully raised an eyebrow. "So that's why you came," she said softly. "To

get me to call Mulder." Her expression was sulky, disappointed.

He shook his head. "I could have done that by phone, Dana. I didn't have

to fly to California. I wanted to see how you were getting on."

She met his gaze for a long moment, then nodded, slowly. "I'm sorry. I'm

a bit moody. It's the hormone treatments. I //will// call Mulder, I

promise. I just - this is a very private thing I'm doing. I didn't want

to get anyone's hopes up. I didn't want to jinx it."

"And yet you told me," he noted. "Why?"

She shrugged. "You're my superior. I wanted an unusual amount of leave.

You had a right to know."

"Bullshit. I've been offering you discretionary paid leave ever since

Emily died. You didn't have to tell me."

Scully frowned. "That's true," she admitted. "I guess it was to do with

how you treated me after she died...the way you let me talk, the things you

told me about Walt, Jr." Skinner's face darkened at the mention of his

son, long dead; but the shadow passed as quickly as it came. "I guess I

knew you would understand."

He touched her hand gently. "Yes, I do," he said quietly. He withdrew

his hand quickly and took up his cup once more. He sat back. "So how is

it going, Dana?"

She shrugged slightly. "It's very draining, Walter. I have hormone

injections and radiotherapy every morning. It's quite gruelling. I also

have temperature and urine tests, and often blood tests if those are

inconclusive, every two hours. It would be easier if we were sure I would

ovulate, but we aren't. We just can't know if there are any immature ova

left. The things they did to me when they took me quite probably brought

them all to maturity; and any that may have been left are quite probably

damaged; otherwise I would probably have ovulated naturally. We're taking

a big chance on this."

"It must be frightening," he said softly.

She bit her lip, her features soft with sudden emotion. "Yes, it is. If

I ovulate at all, the ovum could be one of several remaining - or it could

be my last. I have to be on site all the time. I'm not allowed to leave

the building for anything. If I ovulate, I need to be inseminated

immediately. The radiotherapy technique my OB/GYN is using to stimulate

the immature ova is thought to accelerate the cells' ageing process, so

there's only a very short window period in which the ovum will be viable,

probably six to eight hours. And even using artificial insemination it can

take hours for sperm to reach it."

He nodded slowly. "You must feel pressured."

"Yes, I do," she agreed quietly. She smiled. "But I'm glad you came.

And," she added, her tone lighter, "I'm glad you came in civvies." Her

mouth twitched. "This is not the weather for a suit."

He glanced down at his jeans and linen shirt. "No, I suppose not.

Although the earthquake made me wonder whether I should have packed a suit

of armour."

"What a welcome," she laughed. "We didn't have any trouble here, but I

heard one of the nurses say the office building across the road had

structural damage. It will have to be torn down. Here the casualties were

limited to broken vases. Funny how the effect is so idiosyncratic - one

building a writeoff, the next is fine."

"Indeed. They're saying the aftershocks will go on for a few days." He

raised an enquiring eyebrow as her wristwatch gave a series of beeps.

Scully rose and went to the bathroom adjacent her room. She paused at the

door. "It's my two-hour alarm. I have to do a urine test. I'll be right

back." She shut the door behind her.

"More information than I needed," he muttered, draining off his tea,

concentrating on the hum of noise outside her door in order to avoid

hearing (or imagining) a stream of fluid trickling. He rose and put the

cup on the sideboard, mentally noting the room's creature comforts. Yes,

he'd remember this place if he ever needed help ovulating, he thought idly;

then realised the absurdity of the thought. //Now that _would_ be an X

File,// he snickered to himself.

There was a shout from the bathroom, high and frantic. "Oh, my God!"

He turned, on the alert. "Dana?" he called, striding swiftly towards the

door. "Are you all-"

He was cut off by a shuddering sensation, followed instantaneously by a

deafening roar and a sudden push of wind behind him. He was thrown

forward, crashing into her door. He fell in a heap to the floor.

He was conscious, but only barely. He was vaguely aware of the door

opening and, dimly, two small bare feet inches from his nose. "Walter?

That was more than an aftershock-" Pause. "Dear God in Heaven," she


"What is it?" He asked, dazed. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure," she said slowly, shell-shocked, "but from the look

of the debris behind you, I think the aftershock knocked down the office

block across the road."

"You mean //onto// the clinic?" he demanded, suddenly awake. He dragged

himself upright and turned to look in the strangely dim light. His mouth

fell open and stayed that way for a long moment. "Oh, my God!"

The scene before them was one of devastation.

It was dark, and it took Skinner a few moments to work out why. The wall

which had crashed into Scully's room had sliced the room in half, blocking

off both the windows and the door. The roof was on an odd slant, dragged

inwards by some kind of steel beam. However, it seemed stable enough,

though Scully mentally prayed for an end to the aftershocks. The electric

lights in the room had failed. There was rubble everywhere.

Scully had gone into the bathroom, and now she emerged with a lit candle.

She handed it to him as he crouched by the upended wall. At his querying

look, she said blushingly, "I, uh, like to have candles when I bathe."

"Your waters have untapped sensuous depths," he observed dryly.

Scully choked. "Did you just say what I think you said?"

Skinner was prodding a large section of wall cautiously. "I have the

heart of a poet," he said loftily, feigning hurt.

"You have the heart of an //agent//, and it's sitting in a jar on your

desk," she retorted, her voice suffused with warmth. Her humour faded.

"What's the verdict, Walter?"

Skinner rose as far as the roof would allow him and crept over to the

roof's highest point, slightly higher than his head, taking up position

there. He sat down. Scully followed, sitting down cross-legged to face

him. "Well, we aren't going anywhere," he said grimly, "but there are

drafts coming through the gaps for ventilation, and the cavity we're in

seems stable enough. We're going to have to wait until they dig their way


"How long do you think that will be?" There was a panic in her voice

which made him frown.

"Don't know, Dana. It depends on how long it takes the structural

engineers to assess the stability of the building, get the equipment, all

the rest of it. You know the drill. They may get to us first, working

from the periphery in; or they may concentrate on the most badly affected

areas - depends on how they prioritise and whether they think the people

further in were likely to have survived." He glanced at her. She was

twisting her hands together in a way which worried him. It wasn't like

her. "Dana, we're safe in here. There's air and even if the water pipes

were crushed, there will still be water in the toilet cistern. We're going

to get out alive. We just have to sit and wait."

Scully's face suddenly crumpled. "We can't!" she burst out, then shut her

mouth abruptly, as though she'd said the wrong thing.

"Dana?" he asked in confusion, touching her chin to make her look at him.

"What do you mean, we can't wait-"

He stared at her.


She nodded. "That was what I was calling out about when the

building fell in. I ovulated."

He gave a long, low sigh.

//There's only a very short window period in which the ovum will be

viable, probably six to eight hours.//

Her words flitted through his mind, gone almost before he could remember

thinking them; and he saw the same words in her eyes. But now, she thought

them not as a doctor, but as the mother of a child who would never be. The

lines of her face were rigid, inscrutible; but in the dim light, her eyes

were dark with pure agony. She held his gaze for a long moment, then hung

her head miserably.

He spoke without thinking; but as soon as he said the words, he knew he

was doing the right thing. "Dana, there is a way."

She looked up at him with sudden, saddened fatigue. She opened her mouth

to say something, a querying look on her face; but then shut it again, her

eyes widening with shock. She swallowed hard, digesting what she had


"You'd do that for me?" she said, finally.

"You make it sound like a chore," he said mildly. "You're a beautiful

woman, you know."

She acknowledged the compliment with a sweet smile, but shook her head.

"You know that's not what I mean. I wouldn't expect anything from you, but

I don't think you could father a child and then just walk away. That's not

in you."

His smile faded. "No, I couldn't." He exhaled slowly. "You should know,

I love you, Dana. I have for a long time. You have a right to know that

before we do this. Things could get...complicated."

Her gaze didn't waver. "I know that. I've always known." She moved

closer to him, her hands suddenly on his. "Make love to me, Walter."

He sat there dumbly, gazing at her, his lips slightly parted. She leaned

forward and gently touched her mouth to his, her kiss sweet, chaste. His

hold on her hands tightened as he opened up for her, allowed her softness

to engulf him. Her tongue teased him with tender reverence, and his hands

came up, suddenly, to cradle her face.

Then, abruptly, the spell which had transfixed him broke, and he was

meeting her with sudden hunger. He pulled her close until she was kneeling

between his legs, his arms around her, his fingers threading through her

shock of red hair. "Dana," he sighed, his lips brushing hers as he spoke.

She pulled back from him momentarily, and he felt her withdrawal with a

sudden ache. But then she was there again, her lips brushing gently over

his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks; her palms sliding over his features

as though memorising them. She ran her lips over his neck, nuzzling him

there, her mouth twitching with delight when he moaned.

His hands were at her neck, unfastening the cropped shirt she wore. She

felt it fall away from her breasts, the cool draft on her, and the shirt

being smoothed off her shoulders in a fluid movement. She tugged his shirt

from his waistband and reluctantly broke away as he pulled it over his

head. He pulled her back to him, her mouth claiming him hungrily once more.

She wasn't sure how it happened, but suddenly he was on top of her, their

clothes discarded, their limbs entangled, their sighs breathless and

greedy. Her hands were roaming searchingly, her heart racing. His skin

beneath her fingertips was soft but warm; and his palms, teasing her

breasts, her stomach, avoiding her sex made her shudder slightly with

barely controlled need. She arched her neck, exposing it to him, and gave

a long, hoarse sigh when he kissed her there, sucking with gentle rhythm.

He came up to kiss her once more, his eyes hypnotic. She felt her eyes

grow dark with desire, felt his mouth plundering her, worshipping her.

"Walter," she breathed softly, "Oh, God." She felt a terrible ache of

frustrated desire in her breast. She ran her palms over his back, his

arms; wondered at their golden softness in the dim light. He felt so

//warm//, and Scully reflected it had been too long since she had felt

warmed by a man's touch.

"Now," she whispered. "Oh, please, Walter; now." Words she would never

have said with anyone else. To ask, to plead...these were things she

allowed others to do with her. But this man...this man, she could be weak

with, because he knew her strength.

His voice was tender, barely more than a breath. "I love you so much."

She touched his face gently. "I love you for doing this for me."

And then he was inside her, his body given over to her, claiming her and

allowing her to claim him. She met him, moving with him, cherishing his

mouth with her own, her fingers entwined with his. She gave a low moan of

incredulous joy at the heat spreading at her core. She shuddered, the heat

turning to ice cold water in her veins, radiating through her body, leaving

her shocked and giddy.

He followed her, seconds later, exploding inside her, his seed filling

her, moving inexorably towards its destination. He collapsed on her with a

sigh, his arms encircling her, shifting to his side, lest he crush her.

They lay there, their sighs a sweetly erratic melody. His hand smoothed

her hair with lazy tenderness. He breathed her name, just once; and she

kissed him sweetly.

He spoke. "What will we do? You know, when - if - you fall pregnant?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Let's face that one when it comes."

He said tentatively, "Whatever happens between us, I'll always be there

for you both."

Why did those words touch her so? Because so few people in her life

//were// there for her? Whatever the reason, she fought back sudden tears,

her hands cradling his face. "Oh, Walter," she breathed.

He stroked her cheek, and gently kissed her; and they left it at that.

The candle was burning low.

They must have dozed off, Scully realised, as incredible as that seemed in

the uncomfortable conditions. Skinner was leaning against her, drowsing.

She shifted slightly, and he made a sound. He opened his eyes sleepily.

"Dana," he said with a smile.

She smiled too. "Walter."

"What time is it?"

She looked at her watch. "Nearly seven. We've been here seven hours."

He met her gaze. "Dana, do you think it worked?"

Scully gave a sweet smile then. "I don't know, Walter; I'm not psychic."

"Maybe we should try again."

She shook her head. "It wouldn't work. The window period is up." At his

crestfallen expression, she added quietly, "So this time is just for us."

She leaned forward and gently kissed his lips.