Title:   Glimpses (Post-Requiem) 
Author: Alelou
Feedback: Alelou123@aol.com (please don't forget the 123)
Spoilers: Requiem
Rating: PG-13 for language
Category: Post-Ep, MSR because it was an MSR ep!! (Happy Dance!!)
Keywords: Vignette, MSR, Post-Ep, Angst
Archive:  Help yourself, just let me know
Disclaimer: Not mine, not any of them.
Summary:  Various very quick points of view post Requiem
Notes:  This is probably an excellent indication of my increasingly 
short attention span.  You can find more sustained works of fiction at 
my web site, graciously maintained by Beaker at 
http://members.xoom.com/Alelou123

xxxx

We hadn't quite figured out how to be a couple yet.  Mulder was 
still scaring the hell out of me when he said "you" instead of "we" 
that night in Oregon.  It terrified me that he was still struggling with 
the concept.  

Of course, I wasn't exactly full of quiet confidence myself.  I'm the 
one who crept off the morning after this baby was conceived while he 
was still sleeping.  That could have gotten very bad, if he hadn't called 
immediately and demanded to know where I was.  Where would we be 
without cell phones?

I wonder if a cell phone would work from a UFO?  As if he'd still 
have it.  Would operating a cell phone on a UFO mess up UFO traffic 
control?  No wonder the damned things seem to crash all the time.  
Okay, that's just great.  Now I not only have to worry about Mulder in 
the custody of aliens, I also have to worry about their driving.

I'm really losing it now.  Hormones.  I'm going to blame everything 
on hormones.

xxxx

She may think she still looks cold as ice, tough as nails, sexy as Mata 
Hari, but I can tell she's full of shit.  She gets that terrified glaze in her 
eyes over practically nothing.  Spender coughs, and she almost
wets her pants in terror.  They say survivors of war and other traumas 
aren't tougher than people who've never experienced it  they're 
actually more fragile.  I didn't think that was true for everybody, for 
the really tough ones (like her, for instance), but now I'm wondering.  

She didn't question what I did to that bastard either -- she just wanted 
to get out of there as quickly as possible.  Now she's looking at me 
like a deer caught in the headlights.  

It makes me want to run her over.  

xxxx

Last thing I expected from that visit to Scully was to see a smile on her 
face.  Becauuse Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully is pregnant, and 
so pleased about it she can't hide her delight even with her partner 
missing.  I conclude that it must be his, though I wasn't quite brave 
enough to ask.  Plainly, at some point they must have gotten together.  
I wonder when?  Could have been practically any time, I suppose.  I 
wonder how long they've been so successfully discreet about it that I 
didn't have a clue.  

I suppose they might have thought they were doing me a favor.

I suppose they may simply not have trusted me.

xxxx

Moral outrage fits Alex about as well as his prison clothes did.  He 
tells himself he pushed Spender down the stairs as an act of justice, 
but really he was just furious at being tossed into that Tunisian jail. 

I imagine it's harder to defend yourself when you only have one hand 
 and he's such a pretty boy  I wonder how he fared?  He didn't look 
too damaged in that shower.  Still, I'm not letting him near me this 
time.  It's true what they say  that you never appreciate your good 
health until you've lost it.  Spender could have told you that.

Not that I'll mourn the old man, who was plainly about to die anyway.  
But I'd like to know what the hell Alex plans to do now.  Spender still 
had useful connections.  For that matter, Spender may still be alive.  
Alex was surprisingly inefficient there.  Maybe deep down he knows 
he's useless without having someone to parcel out information and 
send him to and fro.  

I confess I was a little too rattled to check the old devil's vitals  
myself.  I'm beginning to wonder if maybe I'm really up to this game 
anymore.  But what the hell am I supposed to do instead?  Get a job at 
the mini mart?   

xxxx

Mulder, you bastard!  You were screwing the lovely Agent Scully and 
you never even told us.  (Of course I hacked into her medical records; 
when have I ever not?)  All those years of us commiserating and 
putting up with those sad puppy dog eyes practically every other time 
her name is mentioned, and you don't even tell us when you start to do 
the wild thing.  Not even a hint, you asshole.  And then, of course, you 
get yourself kidnapped, you bastard.  You'd sure as hell better come 
back and make an honest woman of her.

I wonder if she needs a Lamaze partner?   

See, you'd better get your butt back here, Mulder, before Uncle 
Melvin gets to do all the fun stuff.

xxxx

Frohike says that Scully is pregnant.  Amazing.  God knows the timing 
could be better.  In truth, though, the pregnancy may be a useful 
distraction for her.  A stabilizing factor.  Maybe we won't have to 
worry about her haring out the way he did after she disappeared.  Part 
of him clearly wanted to die then.  Scully can't afford to feel that way 
now.  Maybe, like Penelope, she'll be willing to stay close to home 
and raise her child.  

I find myself almost involuntarily thinking of Suzanne Modeski -- not 
that there's a hope in hell she'll ever have my child.  But somehow I 
don't think she'd stay at home reading baby name books either.  Is it 
cruel to wish that Scully might have an awful pregnancy?  Be so sick 
that she can't go looking for him? 

Let us do it instead, Scully.  You've got other things to do.

xxxx

In this business, you can't really afford to take anything personally.  I 
knew Alex Krycek would hate me after our latest disagreement, but 
given that he's hated me all along I wasn't overly concerned.  I should 
have known he'd try to kill me the minute I saw his face, repulsed by 
the recent changes in my health.  He's one of those men who are truly 
offended by weakness of any kind.  This is a very useful characteristic 
in a hired assassin -- no doubt helps him do his job -- but it's 
somewhat inconvenient if you're desperately hoping the boy will 
prove to be a useful lackey when you're incapable of taking care of 
important business for yourself anymore.

I think his little partner in crime had better watch her back.  

I think perhaps I'll throw myself on the tender mercies of Miss Scully.  
She has some genuine interest in getting Mulder back, which is more 
than can be said for Alex Krycek.  And she's too kind to completely 
rebuff a man in my condition.   

xxxx

How sick is it that even as I was realizing how completely and utterly 
fucked I was that I was so damned thrilled to see that spaceship?  
Haven't I seen more than enough of them for one lifetime?  Wasn't I 
just hours before thinking that I would be more than happy to walk 
away from all this shit?

Let invasion come if it must, I had decided.  I'll just resign, or let them 
fire me (might as well get some severance).  Just give me a few 
months, at least, to hang out with Scully on a sofa somewhere, watch 
some bad movies, maybe get a dog.  Drink coffee and read the paper.  
Have lots and lots of sex.  Relax into the whole idea that she loves me.

She's probably lightyears away now.

So beautiful Mr. Alien Bounty Hunter, who must have picked up his 
English from Arnold Schwartzenegger movies, seems to have a 
particular interest in screwing with my mind.  He told me that they 
were going to take you too, Scully, until they realized you were 
pregnant.  They didn't want to mess with that.  I said, yeah, right, and 
you also told me my sister was alive when she'd been dead for years.

Well, at least the version of her I know is still alive, he said.  You'll 
meet her.  Uh huh.  Though of course I couldn't help a little leap of 
interest there, the bastard.  Then they stripped me naked and stuffed 
me in this tube.  I think the cross is gone (sorry), but on the other hand 
I can't really feel anything on my body so maybe it's still there.  
Maybe they're doing things to me, maybe not, I don't know.  All I get 
to do is think.  

So, are you pregnant, Scully?

"If she's pregnant I need to be with her, " I'd pleaded, at the end, as 
they stuffed me into this contraption.  It wasn't so much that I believed 
it  it was more a sort of panicked response to being stuffed into a 
very, very small space by someone I really don't like very much.

"You have more important things to do now," he said.

Like hell.

xxxx

I'm lying on Mulder's sofa.  There's an X on the window, not that I 
think there's anyone left to see it.  The UFO bobs up and down in his 
aquarium in ironic counterpoint to our reality.  I feel vaguely 
nauseated looking at it, but then again I feel vaguely nauseated pretty 
much all the time right now.

Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, you must come home.

There's something I want to tell you.

xxxx

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