Work Text:
She was screaming. She had never been a screamer, not from pain or sorrow. She just didn’t scream. But she could yell. She yelled at lot, smart-ass perps, incompetent coworkers and sometimes, even superiors. She yelled at Mulder, a lot. But she wasn’t yelling now; she was screaming. A deep guttural scream she didn’t know she was capable of, but that matched the searing pain in her abdomen. Thick blackish blood gushed out from between her legs and pumped out of the wound in her side with every hysteric heartbeat. When her mind seared she paused and forced oxygen into her lungs, and then the screaming started again.
Mulder sobbed between Scully’s legs. His tears rolled in hot streams, blurring his vision and soaking his shirt. He coughed and flinched at the crashing behind and above them. The whirring of foreign machines grew louder, matching the increasing gunfire. He felt heat, an odd comfort than the frozen land he was used to. The heat warmed the slashes on his back from the blown out window, similar to the ones on Scully’s shins and face. They had been in front of the large window in the meeting room, when Scully had fallen. He watched Scully suck in a breath, choking on the oxygen mingled with smoke and G-d knows what else. She screamed again. Through her scream, Mulder was certain he heard the Hoover Building groan.
They had quit 3 months earlier. Scully had been planning to quit since she found out she was pregnant and Mulder felt like, with nothing left, he may as well quit too. Not long after, on an unusually cool summer day, while Scully lounged on the couch binging on a watermelon smaller than her belly, they got a call. It was shocking, that phone call, even if it wasn’t unexpected. Of course they knew there would be an invasion, the government knew, even if they chose not to believe it. They believed in now. When huge ships appeared like black storm clouds blotting out the sun. Mulder was surprised when he heard the president on the other line breathe out, “You were right.” But it still shocked him.
Mulder and Scully agreed to help, on their terms. And with total desperation, the government agreed. Whatever they needed. Scully needed watermelon, and one of the largest microscopes Mulder had ever seen. For weeks they worked, holed up in the Hoover building, barricaded by every military division in the United States. The president has taken over Kersh’s office. Through the horror, Mulder found that amusing. For weeks, they lived in the basement, going through case files, old research, books and whatever else might give them a clue. Scully, exhausting earlier everyday, napped frequently on the cot shoved up against Mulder’s desk. Bombs, gunshots and what Mulder could only imagine were lasers, echoed through the building, penetrating the thick cement walls. It was a war, an intergalactic war, and they were loosing.
A briefing was called and the last remaining residents of the Hoover building met in the meeting room. Scully, obliged with a yawn and bent slightly to shove her fists into her back. The president sat at the head of the table, Skinner, Kersh and a few other weary agents completed their group. Outside the giant window, black smoke billowed as fires ravaged the city. The ships droned and fired green heat into standing buildings. The Hoover took a hit a few floors down. Mulder and Scully wouldn’t be able to get back to the basement. Agent Michaels flinched, his eyes wild, stared out of the window while the president thanked each of them for their work and droned about the pleasure of working with them. In a nutshell, Mulder thought, we are going to die now. Scully jerked in the chair next to him and she pressed her forehead down into her crossed arms on the table. The distinct sound of liquid trickling came from other the table. “Fuck,” Mulder gasped under his breath.
The group separated into different corners of the room, alone to die with their own thoughts. Scully paced around the meeting table, hiccupping sobs escaping her chest, and Mulder’s arm around her back, tear stinging his eyes. The contraction ended and they paused in front of the window to watch the impressive fires below them.
“This shouldn’t be happening, “ Scully moaned in total grief. And as if on cue, a bullet passed through Scully’s left side, a clean shot from the back through the outer part of her rounded belly. Agent Michaels had tried to commit suicide with his service weapon and cowered at the last second, his bullet ripped through Scully instead of his forehead. Scully stood still, her eyes slowly moving from the window down to the gush of blood pouring from her stomach. Her hand moved to cover the wound, but the hot thick liquid oozed and poured from between her fingers.
Mulder helped Scully to the floor, agonizing moans emanating from his chest. “No, no, no Scully, no.” He gagged as he pressed his hands to where his child was curled and pressed down. The familiar tightening of a contracted started under his hands. Scully writhed under him, a hand slipping between her leg, she brought it back up to see it covered in blood.
“Now Mulder. Now. You have to get the baby out now.” She repeated, over and over and over. She knew her baby had a chance, a small chance, but a chance at living. The bullet had pierced her uterus but she didn’t think it had hit the baby, the jerky normal movement of her child gave her confidence. “Now Mulder, get the baby out now.” Mulder looked around the room desperately. Horror filled faces stared at the partners on the floor. No one moved. His hand moved to between Scully’s thighs, pushing through the blood, praying to feel the baby’s head. Nothing. Scully shook her head, “too soon. Too soon. Get it out.” She wasn’t ready to push, though Jesus knows she had anyway, forcing her body to expel her child, she pushed with such forced that is caused the blood to ripple as it poured out of her. The baby wasn’t low enough. She had hours before she was ready to birth her child. It had to come out now.
“A knife!” Mulder bellowed, yelling to whomever was still coherent in the room. Skinner shook his head, his face unchanging. Kersh was lying on his side, unmoving. He didn’t carry a gun, let alone a knife. Mulder jumped to his feet and searched the pockets of the other agents, smearing them with Scully’s blood. They didn’t care and didn’t move to help. Most just stared ahead at the blazes, smoke, and green pulsating heat. Mulder sobbed and moved back to between Scully’s knees. “How, Scully? How?”
Before she could answer, the green heat penetrated the meeting room window, and started an instant fire in the furthest right corner. Agent Michaels went up in flames. Mulder’s back screamed as shards of glass sliced through him. He watched at bits of glass embedded themselves in Scully’s legs and sliced at her face. The fire behind her burned her neck. She started screaming. The contractions hurt, the gunshot hurt, and the fire creeping towards her hurt. But she wasn’t crying out of pain. She held her belly with both hands and screamed for her child. A child conceived with love, but would never physically experience it in this world. The child she prayed every night for would die a horrible death within her. She screamed for the unjust, the horrors she was feeling and the agony she knew Mulder felt. She screamed as she felt her baby move inside her, a small fight for life that it wouldn’t win. Mulder thrashed at the fire behind Scully with his jacket but it caught flame. Behind him, Skinner screamed as the green flame engulfed him. Scully joined in, a choir of death and despair. Mulder pulled Scully into his lap and held her and his child as the fire engulfed him and Scully’s screamed ceased and they disappeared .