Title: Coming to an End Author: Tess E-mail: tnv099@aol.com Distribution: If you want to, go ahead. But I'd like to know where Spoilers: Nope Rating: R - if you aren't of legal age go away Content: MSR Classification: S, R Disclaimer: None of them are mine. They belong entirely to 1013 Productions, Fox, CC, DD and GA. This is just for fun. No money Title: Coming to an End By: Tess It is nearing the end. The doctors have told us that she has about five weeks left. She cannot work any longer. Her doctors have forbidden it. She sleeps often now. Sleep is the only place where she finds relief from the various aches and pains and the occasional nausea. The doctors can prescribe little to bring her relief. I am left to watch her like a hawk, worried eyes following her every movement. It won't be long now and she'll be free of this burden. And I live in constant fear that when the time comes, I won't be strong enough to help her see it through to the end. I try to hide my anxiety from her, not wanting to add to her worries, but she knows. And in the end, it is she that offers comfort to me. "You'll be fine, Mulder," she whispers as her fingers stroke my cheek. "When the time comes, you'll know what to do. I've always been able to count on you and this will be no different." The early morning light is just now beginning to peek through the curtains. I am lying on my stomach and she is on her side, resting against me, a warm, welcome weight. There was a time not so long ago, that I never believed we would be together like this. I savor every moment now. Her belly is pressed firmly against the small of my back and she has one hand tucked snugly between my chest and the mattress. She moans sleepily as a sudden movement startles us both. I roll over onto my side so that I can face her. My large hand covers her swollen belly. "I think he's awake," I whisper. My fingers caress her stomach and I am rewarded by another strong kick. "Ow!" she cries and turns her face, groaning grumpily into the pillow. "Figures that this baby has to have your sleep habits!" One blue eye peeks accusingly at me from the pillow. "Can you check your files? See if there's some way *you* can breastfeed the baby after it's born? After all, if you're already gonna be awake, it's the least you can do!" She is most definitely NOT a morning person and now that she's being denied caffeine...well let's just say it's not pretty. Scully props herself up on one arm and pushes her sleep-tangled hair out of her eyes. "Help me up?" she asks prettily. "Come on, Scully," I whine plaintively. "It's Saturday and I don't have to work. Let's sleep in." I flop back against the pillows, the epitome of the exhausted male. "Unfortunately Mulder, my bladder does not recognize that you've declared a national holiday," she informs me tartly. I laugh and sit up, bracing one hand against her back and offering my other arm to her as leverage. She heaves herself out of bed and stands next to it for a moment. She places both hands on the small of her back and arches to relieve some of the pain gathered there. Scully has taken to wearing my shirts to bed. One hand remains pressed firmly against her back and the other strokes gently over the flannel covered mound that shelters our baby. She smiles gently as she bids the baby a silent good morning. Scully has always been the most beautiful woman to me, but this pregnancy has added another dimension to her beauty. Everything about her now is just so...soft. She's allowed her hair to grow out a bit and it tumbles around her face in a mass of red curls. Her skin bears a flush of healthy vitality and her eyes are a dreamy, slightly unfocused blue. Her breasts! Oh. I've spent a great deal of time cataloging every change. Hefting their increased weight in my palms, tracing the delicate network of blue veins, suckling gently at the sensitive tips. Soon I know I will have to relinquish my claim to them and I am determined to gorge myself on them while I can. A little something to tide me over is how I explain it to an amused Scully. She slips her feet into a pair of sensible flat slippers at the bedside and heaves a sigh. I know she's thinking regretfully of the multitudes of pretty high-heeled shoes gathering dust in our closet. She moves off slowly toward the bathroom and I allow myself a tiny grin as I watch her waddle away. She returns to the bedroom, her face glowing pink from the cold water she splashed on it. Her hair is piled up and she smells like minty toothpaste. It's all I can do not to toss her down on the bed and ravish her. I control myself. Instead, I wander off to the bathroom myself. As I brush my teeth, my stomach grumbles loudly. I'd like to fix breakfast for her and spend the day lying around the bedroom. It won't be long now and we won't have the luxury of a day spent lolling around the bedroom. I snag a pair of jeans off the chair on my way back into the bedroom and pull a T-shirt over my head. "How about breakfast in bed?" I ask, my voice muffled by the T-shirt. My head pops free and I see her braced against the bureau, one hand digging into her back, her face contorted with pain. I reach her in three long strides and knock her hand out of the way, kneading my knuckles into the aching muscles. She moans and drops her cheek against the cool surface of the bureau, arching into my touch. The doctors and ultrasound techs tell us the baby is very big and the burden has put a strain on her tiny frame. Seems our baby is taking after me in more ways than just its unorthodox sleep habits. "How about a soak in the tub?" I ask. She shakes her head. "Too hard to get in and out of," she grits out. I continue to knead her back. These massages used to give her comfort, but as the weeks wear on and the baby continues to grow, they seem less and less effective. I have a sudden thought and I pull her into the bathroom. I turn on the water in the tub and begin to unfasten her buttons. "Mulder," she protests. "I told you I don't want a bath..." I silence her protests by dropping a tiny kiss on her lips. "Shhhh," I admonish as I ease her maternity underwear off. Scully has a drawer full of pretty, lacy underthings and she loathes these utilitarian, oversized undergarments. I tug off my T-shirt and let my jeans drop to the floor. I step into the tub and draw her in after me. I check the water temperature, turn on the shower, adjusting the spray to what can best be described as "pummel" and aim the stream of hot water at Scully's back. I draw her close and after a few minutes she drops her head against my chest and wraps her arms around my waist, relaxing as the water begins to work its magic. My hands drift to her hips and I support her weight. Several minutes later, she is a boneless heap against me and I smile into her wet hair. Scully lifts her head and licks droplets of water from my chin. I look down at her in surprise and she smiles softly. "Thank you," she murmurs before drawing my lips down to hers for a kiss. Our lips glance off of each other, rubbing together in a series of gentle kisses. Then Scully opens her mouth to mine and I deepen the kiss. She moans into my mouth and rubs herself against me. I gasp as her warm, wet fingers wrap around my straining erection. "Scully," I wheeze as I tear my mouth from hers. "What are you doing?" "Jeez Mulder," she frowns at me. "It hasn't been *that* long, surely you remember." I roll my eyes. "Yes, Scully, I remember quite clearly. What I meant was, are you sure you're up to this? What about your back?" "My back feels good for the first time in two days. I'd like to take advantage of it. And you." She nibbles at my chin and tightens her hold on me, stroking me. She captures one of my hands in her own and guides it between our bodies until my fingers are buried in the hot, wet need of her. She moans as my fingers immediately pick up her rhythm. I prop her against the shower wall and lean my weight into her. We rock, stroke and kiss quietly in the warm spray of the shower. Release comes to us both in gentle convulsions and we rest weakly against each other. After several minutes, I turn off the taps and bundle her up in a warm, fluffy towel. We dry off. I grab my clothes and she dresses in a soft pair of sweatpants and another of my shirts. I pad down to the kitchen and prepare a quick breakfast of bagels, cream cheese, orange juice and decaf coffee. We spend a lazy day in bed, watching college football and old movies; doing the crossword puzzle or reading. Scully takes several power naps. She's propped up on several pillows, enjoying one of those naps right now. The day is growing late and the sun is slanting through the windows in those last few moments before it sets for the day. Its red gold rays glint off of the rings on her left hand, making the gold glow and the diamonds send a shower of sparkles across the wall. A nap sounds like a good idea and I slide down in the bed next to her, resting my head on her breasts and placing one protective hand over her swollen belly. The baby is quiet. Probably asleep as well. I never expected to be happy. We've still got work to do. Questions to be asked. Truths to be found. But right now everything I ever wanted or needed is in this room, in this bed, sleeping in my arms. I am content. The End Um, so how'd I do? Feedback appreciated at tnv099@aol.com