"Fifteen"
By Pam Gamble

insert yadda here
MSR, Mulder POV, etc.



Not only is it possible to regret something *before*
you say it, but I believe I have elevated it to an art
form.

Lying beside you now in the darkness, with the warm
scent of your skin still clinging to mine, I am filled
with an insatiable need to know.

Maybe because it is here that I think of what a normal
couple would be thinking of now. The natural
consequences of what we just did.

I have to bring it up, not so often that it becomes
tedious, but I need to know. Need to gauge your
response.

I don't want to hurt you anymore. I have never wanted
that.

I've seen other people hurt you. For the most part
I've been able to stop them, but I know I haven't
always been on time. 

I also know that I am the one who has inflicted the
most damage.

I begin mentally kicking myself even before I ask the
question.

But I have to keep asking.

One day you might say yes.

"Scully?"

You don't turn toward me, lying on your side, facing
the far wall of your bedroom. "Hmmm?"

I reach out, run my hand down your arm, resting it on
your hip. I need to touch you, feel your reaction more
than hear it.

"If...if there was a way for you to have children,
would you want to?"

I feel you stiffen slightly the moment before you grab
your emotions and lock them away, approaching my very
personal question from a very detached point of view.

"It doesn't matter what I want, Mulder. Someone made
sure of that."

But I see the sheets between us begin to pull toward
you, and I know you're twisting them in your tiny
hands, wondering why the hell I am doing this to you.

I wish I had the guts to face you, but I need to give
you some semblance of privacy, of the dignity that was
taken from you.

The first night we were together like this, it was
your choice. I knew that it had to be. I had waited
for so long. Sometimes patiently, sometimes not. But I
knew it had to be your choice. So many choices had
been taken from you, I couldn't take that one too.

I almost took it once, in my hallway. Fate intervened,
true, but I would have backed off after that one kiss.
Much as it would have caused me physical pain, I would
have let you decide what our next move would be.

I slide my hand up to your shoulder, resting it there
briefly before deciding that even reading the Braille
version of your emotions is too intrusive, and bring
my hand back to rest on the sheets between us. Now I
can only watch.

"But would you?"

You shudder a breath, realize I am not letting this
go. I'm sorry, Scully. I am so so sorry. I wish I
didn't have to be having this conversation with you. I
wish I could tell you that I'm not trying to hurt you.
That I want to stop the tears I know are falling
across your face.

But I can't tell you any of that, until you say yes.

"I don't think so." Rational Scully has taken over,
and I have a fleeting image of Emotional Scully bound
and gagged in a dark little room, just to the left of
your heart.

"Why not?" I don't recognize my own voice. It's
rougher than I remember it being when I screamed your
name just a few minutes ago.

"It wouldn't be fair, really. To create a child, force
it into a very unstable world that could be gone, or
very dangerous, tomorrow. To bring it into a life
where it would be a convenient target from the very
day it was born. It just wouldn't be fair."

"Everyone takes that risk, Scully. Having children. No
one gets a guarantee."

Your hair rustles against the sheet as you shake your
head. "No, Mulder. Not until I was certain that I
could protect them. Or at least knew what I was
protecting them from. I just couldn't do that with a
clear conscience."

You turn to me, finally. Patience rewarded. "What
about you, Mulder? Do you want to have children
someday?"

Surprised, I look into your eyes. You have taken
nothing for granted in our relationship, and I can
hardly blame you.

I pull you closer, your face even with mine.I surprise
myself with the obvious emotion in my voice.

"I guess that would depend on you, Scully."

I feel you try to push away a little, reclaim the
physical distance between us, but this time I won't
let you.

Frustration steams off your body, as anger tries to
supplant sadness. You avert your gaze to anywhere else
but my face.

"Mulder, there are things I can't give you. You know
that."

I pull you closer, nuzzling your face until your eyes
rise to mine. "Then I don't want them."

"But you should. You should go find someone who can
really be..."

"Be what?"

Scully is so rarely at a loss for words. "Who can give
you the things you need."

I kiss your cheek, working my way around to your lips.
"I need you. No one else can give me that."

You look at me as though I'm hopeless. Maybe I am. I
don't really mind so much.

I roll over onto my back, taking you with me. You rest
your head on my chest, and I am filled with the need
to tell you how much I love you, over and over again.
The need to make up for hurting you. Tiny whispers as
my hand drifts through your hair. I think if I start
now, I might be done by the time I die. Assuming of
course, that I live to be 180.

I tell you I love you to make up for the pain. And to
make up for the things I still can't tell you.

Not yet.

One day, Scully.

One day, your answer might be different. You might use
the same words, but there will be something in your
posture or your eyes that will give it away, and I'll
know.

Then I can tell you.

I know you're going to be angry at first. See this as
just another way of taking control away from you. I
know that what I've done is just as bad or worse than
what they did.

I took away your choice, too, Scully.

My throat tightens just thinking about telling you.
Because maybe, just maybe, you won't hate me. 

I will tell you, if you're still listening, that I was
scared and didn't know what else to do.

That I was faced with the very real possibility of
your death, and while I was still reeling from that,
some man who claimed to be trying to save you breaks
the news that all of your eggs were harvested. It was
the first concrete evidence I had of your abduction.
Evidence in a tiny glass vial.

I had my proof, Scully. Want to know what I did with
it?

First, I had it tested. Made sure it was yours. They.
They were yours. I don't know how many eggs were in
that vial, but I know they were all yours.

I didn't have a lot of time. The doctors at the
private lab told me that as they were commiserating
with me over the recent death of my wife. I didn't
have to work up those tears Scully. My story may have
been bogus, but the tears were real.

I wanted to save them for you. That's what's so damn
ironic, really, is that I wanted to save them for you,
to give back a choice that had been taken from you.
And in doing so, I really only took it away again.

The financial and legal problems were miniscule
compared to the one major glitch. Human ova don't tend
to remain viable when frozen. Obviously the Crawfords
had access to technology we didn't yet, because the
doctors couldn't do what I asked. I think that now our
technology has caught up with theirs, but at the time,
I only had two options.

Allow them to be destroyed.

Or fertilize them.

Frozen *embryos*--that technology had been in place
for years.

What was I supposed to do? Come to you in the middle
of a chemo session and ask your permission to jack off
into a test tube?

I did consider a sperm bank, thought that maybe the
anonymity would make it a little easier for you to
handle.

Yes, I made a choice for you. I had no idea, no hope
really, that we would ever become lovers. That you
would ever even see me in that way.

I was extremely lucky, they said. Usually only five or
six embryos could be created using this method. We got
fifteen.  I told them overachieving ran in the family.
The more the better, they told me. They couldn't make
any promises. Odds are only one in eight will survive
being implanted into a woman's uterus. Don't ask me
about the odds of the pregnancy lasting to full-term.

Christ, Scully, I didn't even know if you would live
until the end of the year.

When you called me about Emily it was the first thing
I checked. Believe me, there were some very unhappy
lab techs when I dragged them into work on a holiday.
But for what I've paid them so far, they jump when I
say jump. Even though I knew the timing was wrong
because of Emily's age, I didn't come to California
until I was positive none of our embryos had been
tampered with or removed without my consent.

But they were still there, all fifteen of them.

Even knowing for sure, I still searched her face for
some trace of me. Because I've wondered, Scully, what
they would look like.

I still felt guilty, of course. Not because I was
responsible for Emily, but because I could have been. 

I'd planned on telling you right then. I didn't want
to be just another person who lied to you. Used you.
But when I walked in there and saw you with her and
saw that look on your face, you broke my heart,
Scully.

Those airplane meals taste even worse coming back up
than they do going down.

I saw your face when they asked if we were her
parents. <Do you want us to be?>

I thought I could handle it until I held her in my
arms. God, I don't know how but she even smelled like
you.

I almost told you last year, in the hospital. I
thought it might give you hope, a reason to live. <I
didn't come here to talk about that, Scully> But you
looked so fragile and pale, I realized it would just
cause you more pain. Something else you were leaving
behind.

I told you I came to your room one night. I held your
hand and cried for you. Tears which, by example, you
wouldn't let me cry in front of you. Because that
would have meant giving up, and you and I don't give
up easily, do we?

But what I couldn't tell you was that I was crying for
them too. 

I promised myself that upon my untimely death you
would receive a key to a safe deposit box, holding
only a letter, which would explain everything. The
address to the lab would be attached, and the decision
would be yours.

I promised myself that if you became involved with
someone else, I would hand them over to you. That I
would step back and allow you to live your own life. I
told you, Scully, you owe me nothing.

I promised myself that if you died, I would destroy
them. I told you I couldn't do this alone, remember?

I wasn't trying to play God, Scully. I just wanted to
be able to preserve this little piece of you. To give
you something in return for all that I've taken away.

Holding you like this, I know you're not ready. I can
feel it. Another decision I've made for you, hoping
you won't hate me for it.

You want to be certain of what the future holds, for
all of us. I can understand that, knowing what we
know.

You told me once that no one lives forever.

Maybe not literally, but there are other ways.

Fifteen shots at immortality.

All you have to do is say yes.

the end