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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
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
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
email@example.com and firstname.lastname@example.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
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
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
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
"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
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.