"Coping Strategies" (1/1) by Lisa
haven599@email.msn.com (Lisa)

Disclaimer: Nope, these characters aren't mine.

Category: MSR
Classification: SRA
Rating: R
Spoilers: Per Manum 
Archive: Gossamer. Spookys. Further X. Others ask me.
Summary: Scully undergoes fertility treatments
Thanks to: MD, Sara Lynn, and shoshana for their encouraging 
thoughts and advice.


"Coping Strategies"
by Lisa 
haven599@msn.com


   Time was now measured in days until her pregnancy test.  It was 
six days away.  

   Six days until joy or disappointment.  
  
   She was almost used to the hormone injections now.  Almost.  
Perhaps it would be easier she didn't have to administer them
to herself, not once, but twice a day.  

   Don't forget the blood work.  

   It has felt like she's at the doctor's office more than she's at
home.  

   Work has taken a back seat to her infertility treatments. 
In fact, she hadn't been at work in almost a month, except to 
do some paperwork or tie up some loose ends.  

   Everything had been put on hold.  All in the hopes of having 
a child.  

   She felt pretty good today, but still had to have that afternoon
nap.  It was still preferable to headaches.  She bought the big
bottle of Tylenol last time she was at the grocery store and got
excited when she found a coupon for one dollar off in the Sunday
paper.  

   Perhaps Mulder would call tonight.  She felt he was holding
something back from her.  The procedures she had sometimes 
required someone to drive her home and he volunteered with no 
questions asked.  The sedation made her very drowsy and she recalled
him carrying her into the bedroom one time, stroking her hair gently
while telling her to get some rest.   

   It was the only intimacy she remembered between them.

   The doctor's offices were filled with women talking about their
procedures and husbands and plans for the baby when it arrived.
The literature she read was geared toward couples, using words
such as partner and support system. 

   Scully wondered if there was a brochure for women who had    
been inseminated by a coworker and friend and don't want to ruin
the relationship after conception of a child.  Was that one in a
plastic slot on the back wall? 

   Were they so naive to think that this wouldn't change everything?
How could bringing another life into this world not make a 
difference?

   If the procedure succeeds. . . If her doctors are right. . . 
If the sperm and egg unite. . . There were too many contingencies.  


++++

   Her kitchen table looked like it had the answers to all you wanted
to know about infertility but were afraid to ask.  Forewarned is 
forearmed her mother used to tell her.  That was all well and 
good, but her head was so full of information, her brain was saying:
"Stop, there's no more room."  Right now, she felt she could do an 
egg retrieval and embryo transfer herself with one hand tied behind
her back.  

    A knock at her door made her jump and caused the tea to slop
over onto one of the pamphlets.  "Damn," she muttered, blotting it 
with a nearby napkin before hurrying to the door.  

    "Mulder, come in."  She gestured with her hand, wondering what
prompted this late visit. "I was just . . . reading some more about
my treatments."  She went back over to the table and haphazardly 
pushed the material together into a semi-organized stack, making room
for them to sit down at the table.

   "Good, because that's what I wanted to talk to you about."
He took his jacket off and tossed down on the couch. 

   She walked over to join him.  

   "This is taking a lot out of you, isn't it, Scully?" he asked. 

   "I'm just doing what every other infertile woman does in order to
try and conceive a child," she replied.  "Whatever it takes."

   "Are you sure you don't want to give this a second thought?"
he asked. "This is going to be a big change for you." 

   "I know it will be, but I think I have prepared myself," she said.
"I hope I'll be a good mother."

   She expected him to agree with her and when he didn't say 
anything, she became defensive, her fears about motherhood coming
to the surface. 

   "Yes, I will."  The words came out harsher than she expected.
"What do you know about it?" she asked.  "You're not the one going
through these treatments," she snapped at him.

   "I'm sorry," she said.  "That came out wrong.  I didn't mean
it that way."  She felt tears forming in her eyes.   

   "It's okay," he said.  But, you're right, I don't know anything 
about it, but want to learn." He came closer to her, enveloping her
in his arms.  "You don't have to go through this alone."

   It was the first time she cried in days. 

++++

   Mulder held her hand during the drive home. She looked out the 
window watching the rain drizzle its way down the glass as they drove
back to her apartment.  

   She was able to keep her composure at the doctor's office, but once
she stepped out into the waiting room, one look from Mulder and she 
almost cried. She didn't have to say anything; he knew by the way 
she looked it was bad news. 

   When they arrived at her apartment, she slumped down on the couch,
her brave front crumbling rapidly.  "I thought this time it would 
have worked.  I thought . . ." her voice trailed off as the tears 
choked her. 

   Mulder gathered her close, rocking her gently in his arms, 
offering words of comfort.

   "Maybe I'm not meant to have a child," she cried. 

   "We both know that's not true, Scully," he whispered to her. "You
more than anyone else should have a baby." 

   She moved out of his arms, and he brushed away some of the tears
on her cheeks.  "Do you really think so?" 

++++

   She was reading her book on infertility again and came to a chapter
about emotional effects of infertility on couples. This didn't apply
to her.  She started to skip over it, but decided to scan a little to
see what it was all about.

   The book assumed a married couple was going through this process.  
Safe assumption, she thought.  It used an example of a couple where
the wife was shouldering much of their burden including blaming 
herself for the treatments not working.  She and her husband weren't communicating very well and not sharing their feelings.  

   She and Mulder were sharing their feelings, weren't they? Or 
trying to at least.  It wasn't easy for her to open up to him and
relay her fears regarding her infertility.  It was much easier to 
stay on safe subjects such as work.  Subjects that required little
or no emotional intimacy.  

   But they were getting better. Weren't they?

   The chapter went on to talk about sex and the strain it puts on 
couples during this time.  

   Sex.  What was that?  It had been so long she didn't think she 
even remembered what it was like.  If only that was all it took for
her to get pregnant, she and Mulder could--

   She had fantasized about Mulder making love to her, more than
once during their partnership.  That was the one boundary they hadn't
crossed yet.  It would require a big emotional step forward from both
of them.  And she already felt drained emotionally from these 
treatments.

   Was there room left for anything else?

++++

   Mulder wanted to take care of her after her next procedure.
She felt uncomfortable with that, but told him yes anyway. She was
so used to taking care of herself; it was hard to let anyone in
sometimes.  But they were trying be more open with each other and
that required give and take.

   He insisted on staying at her apartment on the couch.  It was 
easier than she thought having him here. He cooked for her, or at
least tried to, and she appreciate his efforts.  She barely
lifted a finger to do anything.  

   At night, she thought about him sleeping out there, while she was
lying in a comfortable bed.  That sofa had to be way too small for 
him.  He had to be a bit cramped, but he never complained. 

   Reading the latest copy of The New England Journal of Medicine, 
she glanced over to see him doing the dishes, thinking how easily
she could get used to this.  

   The water stopped.  She felt his eyes on her, despite her trying 
to read.  Peering over the top of the journal, she asked him if
there was anything wrong.  

   "No," he replied.  "Nothing."

   "Mulder, you were staring at me," she stated.   

   "Okay, maybe I was," he said, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.
"Can I ask you something?"

   She nodded and he came over, sitting down opposite her.  "What
made you decide to ask me to be the donor?" 

   She set the journal down on the table and turned to face him.
"I couldn't see myself choosing an anonymous person out of a book.
I wouldn't know how to tell my child that I picked its father that 
way."

   "So you are going to tell them about me?" he asked hopefully.

   "Sure.  When he or she is old enough to understand." 

   "Of course," he muttered before getting up and walking back 
to the kitchen to finish up. 

   "Mulder? Is there something else?" she asked, heading over to
where he stood.  "You sound-"

   "Ever since you asked me to be the donor, I've been thinking 
about this child and its future," he told her. "I know this is 
your child, but I'd like to be a part of its life if you'll let
me." 

   She looked into his eyes.  He looked nervous and she reached 
out for his hand, squeezing it.  "I want you to be a part of its
life."  She felt tears come to the back of her throat, but 
continued with her next words.  "I couldn't want a better father 
for my child."  She leaned in for a hug. 

   "Thank you," he whispered, returning her embrace. 

   They held each other for a long time. 

++++

   It didn't work.  Again.  She sat in her apartment.  Alone.
Mulder couldn't make it to her appointment because he was out
on a case.  He had planned to come, but circumstances got in 
the way. 

   It was all right.  The news wasn't good, so he didn't miss
out on anything, but she still missed him being there.    

   He said he'd come by no matter how late, but she had given up
about now.  It was after eleven o'clock and she was already in 
her pajamas sipping on a cup of warm tea feeling sorry for 
herself.  

   She poured the rest of the tea down the kitchen sink and began
to turn all the lights off throughout the apartment before retiring
to her bedroom.  

   Despite feeling exhausted, she didn't feel sleepy and picked
up a magazine on her dresser and crawled into bed, thinking some
light reading would help her sleep.  About halfway through the 
magazine was an article on the milestones of a child's first 
year.  She began to cry.  

   She tossed the magazine on the floor and turned off the light
by her bed.  The tears were running out of the corner of her eyes
and into her ears, yet she was unable to stop them.

   A few minutes later she felt him on the bed next to her.  She 
untangled herself from the bedding and reached out to him. Much
to her surprise, he pulled her onto his lap. 

   Linking her arms around his neck, she drew herself closer to him,
burying her face in the crook of his neck.  His skin felt cool from
the outdoors or perhaps she was too warm from huddling under the 
covers. 

   He held her so close she could feel his heartbeat.  It calmed 
her and made her feel safe.  She began to feel a little sleepy. 

   Her tears were almost a distant memory.

++++

   "I've decided to stop the infertility treatments," she told 
him at the kitchen table the next morning.  

   "What?" he asked.  "Are you sure about this, Scully?" 

   "Yes.  This is the fourth time. I can't put myself through
this anymore.  It's just too hard."  She took a sip of her coffee.  

   "I hope you're not trying to talk yourself out of this," he
said.  

   She shook her head.  "I can always try again at a later time.
I feel like I'm putting my life on hold for something that's never
going to happen.  I miss work.  I want to get back to my life."

   "Speaking of work," he said, getting up from the table and 
grabbing his jacket from the back of the sofa.  "I'm late and 
have a lot of paperwork to catch up on."  He squeezed her shoulder
and dropped a kiss on the top of her hair before turning to the
door.  

   "See you later."  

   "I'll call you this afternoon.  Maybe we can go out to dinner
tonight," he suggested.  

   "Oh, Mulder, I don't know if I feel up to it," she told him,
getting up and refilling her coffee before following him to the 
door.  

   He pressed his lips against her forehead.  "I'll call you."

++++   

   They did go out to dinner, but her heart wasn't in it. She spent
most of the evening pushing food around her plate. It wasn't Mulder's
fault, he tried to engage her in conversation, but she didn't feel
up to much talking.  

   He took her back to her apartment and stayed for coffee.  
She didn't want him to leave, but didn't know how to make him
stay now that her treatments were going to come to an end.  

   "Scully, you look tired. I should go," he told her.  

   "No, I'm okay," she replied.  "Make me another cup of tea.
I'll be right back."  She headed back towards her bedroom. 

   She changed into her pajamas, missing him already, even though
he wasn't gone yet.  Was he upset she decided to stop the treatments?
After all, it would have been his child, too.

   She slid down on the bed, imagining herself about to deliver 
a baby with Mulder by her side, encouraging and supportive throughout
the process.  A child with brown hair and hazel eyes.  A perfect 
child.

   She didn't realize she was crying until a tear ran down her 
face and landed on the blue silk of her pajama bottoms.  The pain
was still fresh.  She had to welcome it, work through it. 

   "Scully?"  

   She turned to see Mulder standing in the threshold of her 
bedroom. "Are you upset that I've decided to stop the treatments?"
she asked.  "Honestly, I want to know." 

   "This is your decision, Scully," he told her.

   "It would've been your child, too, Mulder.  You have to have an
opinion."  

   He came into the bedroom and knelt down in front of her. "Perhaps
this wasn't meant for us," he said softly.  "We weren't supposed
to have a child together."    

   His honest words brought a fresh round of tears. She took his 
hands in hers before saying these next words: "If I want to try 
again, you'll be there for me, won't you?"

   "I'm not going anywhere." He climbed up onto the bed next to 
her and Scully held him in a tight embrace, relieved and a bit 
surprised at his words.  

   She wasn't going anywhere, either. Without thinking, her lips
moved from their spot on his neck to his cheek and finally 
his lips. 

   It felt good to her.  Too good. 

   Before she knew it, they were kissing.  Softly at first, then 
more passionately.  The roughness of his beard scraped her face 
and neck.  It felt wonderful. 

   His hands grazed the sides of her breasts eliciting a moan of 
pleasure from her.  She pressed her body closer to him craving 
more.  He answered the request by undoing the buttons of her 
pajama top.  When it was off, Mulder slid his hands over her 
breasts before cupping them gently in his palms. 

   Scully was straddling his body as he sucked gently on her 
nipples.  She clutched handfuls of his thick hair as his tongue
moved from one nipple to the other.  

   "Mulder, please . . ." She was unclear as to what she was 
pleading for, but he stopped and had such an intense look on his
face it almost took her breath away.  

   He struggled with the buttons on his dress shirt, but managed
to get it off, tossing it out of their way.  She reached for his
undershirt at the same time and they both pulled it over his head. 

   Scully pulled him close, reveling in the feel of his skin 
touching hers at last.  She pressed a kiss into his hair and felt
his arms tighten around her waist.  "I need you so much," she said 
softly.     
 
    He took her off his lap and placed her in the middle of the
bed, removing the rest of her clothing.  

   Scully wanted to do the same for him, but he pushed her back
down onto the bed, covering her body with his own.  All thoughts
left her as his skin slid over hers.

   Her vocabulary was quickly reduced to moans and pleas as his
lips and hands became acquainted with her body in a new and 
different way.  

   It was overwhelming and yet not enough all at the same time.

   They spent time learning the texture of one another's bodies and 
with each touch, each kiss, the self-imposed boundaries began to 
fade away until there was nothing but this room, this bed, and each
other.  

   A couple expressing their love for each other. 

   It was all she wanted.  All she needed.  
  
   Work was forgotten.  Her infertility was forgotten. Nothing
else mattered but the here and now. 

   As long as she had him, she could cope.  

  
****
END (1/1)

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