From drjudd@rainbow.net.au Fri Aug 30 08:46:38 1996 OFFSPRING DESLEA R. JUDD drjudd@rainbow.net.au Copyright 1996 DISCLAIMER This book is based on The X Files, a creation of Chris Carter owned by him, Twentieth Century Fox, and Ten-Thirteen Productions. Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, and a number of lesser characters including Bill Mulder, Mrs Mulder, Samantha Mulder and her clones, Maggie Scully, Melissa Scully, Captain Scully, Sharon Skinner, Kimberly Cooke, the Cigarette Smoking (Cancer) Man, the Well Manicured Man and his offsider, Frohike, Quiqueg, Gautier, Jean Gautier, Ellen, and Alex Krycek remain the intellectual property of those parties. A number of other characters are the author's creation and are copyright, and may not be used without her written permission. These include but are not limited to Dr Karen Koettig, Agent Grbevski, Melissa Samantha Scully, Grace Skinner, Clone 1 (Cynthia), Clone 3 (Carolyn), Clone 4 (Catherine), Dr Sam Fieldman, Dr Paul Sturrock, Dr Marion Pieterse, Wendy Tomiris, Serena Ingleburn, Amarette, Dr Jillian Maitz, Hallie, and Emily Trent. Any queries concerning ownership of minor characters not mentioned here should be directed to the author. (See Pt 1 for complete spoiler, content, and comments info). A few spoilers from Pilot, Duane Barry, Ascension, One Breath, Colony, Endgame, Anasazi, Blessing Way, Paper Clip, Nisei, 7.31, Piper Maru, Apocrypha, and Avatar. I've rated this book R just to be on the safe side, but I think it's more PG-13, in truth. There's some low-level sex (three scenes, more emotional than anatomical), low-level bad language, low-level violence, and that's about all. Comments, good and bad, are welcome; but make sure they're constructive, please! My e-mail is drjudd@rainbow.net.au, but don't worry if you see something else in your "reply" header like magna.com, because Rainbow.Net shares a server with another ISP called MagnaData. And if you think my work's worth stealing, I'm flattered; but don't even think about it. Archivists, feel free to add this to your collections; but be sure to let me know. OFFSPRING BY DESLEA R. JUDD (8/18) FOUR Scully lived. The clinicians could offer no explanation for it, and the liability insurers for the power plant were perplexed; but when fourteen hours had passed with neither sign nor symptom of radiation sickness, Dana Scully discharged herself from hospital against medical advice. She snorted at Skinner's suggestion that she take a couple of weeks off ("What, to see if I die?" she challenged) and became annoyed at the close scrutiny Skinner and Mulder paid her. If she began to vomit uncontrollably, she told them, she would be sure to advise them that she was dying. Until then, could they please stop fawning over her? In the end, there had been no more vomiting and no disorientation. Not quite so unconcerned as she had made out, Scully took a biopsy of her own tissue and samples of her blood and studied them closely. She tested for foreign substances, and identified what seemed to be a enzyme of some kind which she couldn't classify. After a battery of tests, she exposed the samples to radiation. Her observations suggested that whatever the unidentifiable enzyme was, it had both stabilised the radioactive process, prematurely ending its half-life, and prompted her recovery. She was quite unable to explain her findings. Even more interestingly, to Scully, were the results of the tests taken while she was in hospital. These indicated that her major organs, including her heart and lungs, which had been seriously - even mortally - damaged, had recovered completely. That her blood and tissue systems had stabilised was atypical, but not contrary to theoretical possibility because of the constant replication of cells which took place in those systems. But organs such as the heart did not regenerate. It seemed a scientific impossibility. And yet it wasn't impossible. Because it had happened. Scully was troubled. Her scientific mind found it hard to completely accept that which it could not explain. And, too, she was still shaken by her brush with death. It was not the first time she had nearly died; but before she had experienced it as feeling incredibly frail and weak. Never before had she been so racked with pain and suffering. Physically, she had emerged from her ordeal fairly well; but psychologically, she had never been so drained in her life. But her final and greatest concern was for her child. She had recovered, it was true; but not without cost in the meantime. Could she be certain that her child had similarly recovered? There was a part of her that insisted that it must, pointing out with conviction that any such capability must be inherited, and that if her own cells - atypically - had self-repaired perfectly, then so would foetal chromosomes; which in the normal scheme of things could repair incorrectly, causing mutations. The logic, as far as it went, was impeccable; but Scully didn't believe it in her heart of scientific hearts. For one thing, this enzyme (whatever it was) was an anomaly. That meant it quite possibly could not be inherited. For another, it was by no means certain that her own body had produced the enzyme - she hadn't forgotten the medical experiments which often seemed, anecdotally, to take place during abductions, nor that many of them, according to Mulder's research, revolved around the question of radiation. No, she decided, there were no guarantees that her baby was safe. That she was not only alive but well was an incredible gift - or accident. It seemed too much to hope for that her baby might be the same. There had been no tests on the foetus whilst she was in hospital. Her pregnancy had been noticed by her doctor, but he had been so sure that both mother and child were doomed that he hadn't even noted it on her file. In the hours following the beginning of her recovery, the staff had been so busy monitoring her vital organs and her red blood cell count that the question of foetal monitoring had never come up. By the time it would have, she had discharged herself. For the first time, she wondered if that had been such a good idea. Scully shook herself. For goodness' sake, she was a doctor. She didn't need anyone to tell her if she was well or not. As for the baby; well, she hadn't miscarried. That was a good sign. (Or was it? Was it merely a life sentence instead of a death sentence?) There were studies which could be done; and done just as easily on an outpatient basis. The only question which remained was whether she was ready to know the results. 3170 West 53 Rd, #35 Annapolis, Maryland December 24, 1996 It was about a week after Scully's release from hospital that Skinner came to see her at home. She wasn't surprised to see him. She had expected him sooner, in fact. "Hello, Walter." Skinner gave a tentative greeting. "How are you?" he asked, following her into the living room. Scully gave him an amused smile over her shoulder. "You've asked me that in the same solicitous tones every day this week." "Dana-" She pre-empted him. "I'm fine, Walter, really. Please don't fuss. I'm all right. I haven't felt better in months, actually." Not that that was such a recommendation, given that the last four months had been spent largely suspended over a toilet bowl with morning sickness; but why rain on his parade? She motioned for him to sit, and did so herself at his side. Skinner shifted nervously, and Scully braced herself. She was fairly sure of what was coming, but that didn't help. "Dana, I wanted to talk to you. About the baby," he said. "And the accident." She held his gaze. "You're worried." A fearful look flitted across his face. He nodded. "Very." She didn't answer him for a moment, but took one of his hands and looked away, out the window. Finally, she admitted, "So am I." "What can we do?" She looked back at him. "We can't <> anything, Walter. The damage, if there is any, has been done. All we can do is find out about it, and prepare ourselves as best we can." She didn't add that there might be no way of preparing for the kinds of problems this child may face, or that quite possibly it would die at such a young age that the question was a moot one. There are some things, she thought, which it isn't necessary to inflict on people. Especially people who are in pain. The idea that she, too, was a person in pain was something which never occurred to her, perhaps because she was not in the habit of thinking of herself in those terms. Skinner nodded slowly, as though her reply did not surprise him. "But we can find out?" Scully nodded. "Yes. Minor injury we might not be able to detect. But any mutations and chromosomal damage we could find out about through DNA studies. That's easy enough." Cautiously, he asked her, "Do you want to know?" She looked at him, genuinely puzzled. "What do you mean?" Skinner chose his words carefully. "It's just that - if there is anything - serious - it might put you in a position of having to make a choice that you don't want to make." Scully spoke firmly, resolutely. She didn't think twice. "There will be no abortion, Walter. No matter what. I'm sorry if that's different from what your own choice would be. But it's not negotiable." "And that's not what I want, or what I'm suggesting. All I'm saying is that, given that your decision is made, knowing might be more painful for you than not knowing. And to no benefit." He didn't tell her that he himself was not completely sure that he wanted the power or the decision that these tests might bring in their wake. "Do you <> to know?" Scully's voice was piercing. It demanded the truth. Oddly, the demand enabled him to search his heart, and find it. He hesitated only a moment, before nodding firmly. "Yes, I do. I'm frightened. I don't want to be frightened if I don't have to be. And if I do, then I want to know what I'm up against." Scully's response didn't surprise him. It was the response of someone who spent her life searching for the truth. "So do I." "So we'll do it?" "Yes." GenTest Pty Ltd Annapolis, Maryland December 27, 1996 Three days later, after a Christmas filled more with anxiety than joy, Scully and Skinner consulted a highly respected authority in genetic counselling, one Samuel Fieldman. Fieldman ran the GenTest Centre, a high-profile genetic testing facility often mentioned in celebrity paternity disputes. However, behind the plush, mass market appeal of his offices lay one of the best-equipped laboratories in the country and a plethora of lower-profile speciality testing facilities. Fieldman himself was a little Jewish man in his mid-forties, a personified combination of shrewd business acumen and scientific expertise. He made no apologies for his obscenely opulent waiting room. However, he knew that Scully was a doctor herself, and he wasted no time in regaling the two of them with his resume; knowing as he must that interior decorating would not impress. Succinctly, Scully outlined the situation. Fieldman, it transpired, was aware of some of the details. "I did read a snippet in the <> about your case, Dr Scully. Spontaneous cell recovery after massive radiation exposure. I wasn't aware that you were also pregnant." "Most people weren't," she said dryly. Fieldman took the hint and dropped it. "Well, anyway, you're right to be concerned. As you're of course aware, chromosome damage arising from radiation exposure, along with faulty self-repair, can cause the most devastating mutations and malformations. I don't wish to sound pessimistic, but even with your quite inexplicable recovery, the picture is not promising." Scully nodded slowly. "I know that." Fieldman took up a pen and paper. He took their names, addresses, and brief medical histories. He paused for a time whilst entering the details of the accident. "Now, how far along were you at the time?" Scully said promptly, "Four months." Fieldman nodded. "Much of the foetal development was complete, then. But everything is still immature, including vital organs and the central nervous system. That's not good." He paused. "I presume you've already given some thought to your options for investigation?" Scully nodded. "Full DNA studies. We want as much information as possible. We want to be ready for if - well, if there's a problem." Fieldman wasn't surprised. "I think that's best. We'll need blood samples from each of you so we can do comparisons that might tell us if there's been any mutation; and we'll need a sample from the foetus by amniocentesis." Skinner spoke for the first time. "What exactly is involved in amniocentesis?" Scully answered him. "A long needle is introduced through the abdomen into the uterus. Ultrasound - a sonogram - is used to gauge where everything is. A sample of amniotic fluid is taken. The fluid has cells that can be used for analysis in it - shed skin cells, that sort of thing." "Any risks?" he asked. Fieldman spoke. "About a one in a thousand chance of miscarriage." Skinner looked at Scully dubiously. Scully grinned. "For God's sake, Walter, this kid has survived a thousand rem. You think amniocentesis is going to make a difference?" He summoned a smile. "All right," he conceded. "When?" Fieldman said, "Well, we can take the blood now." He rustled through his papers. "We had a cancellation this morning for an amnio, so we can do that this afternoon, if you're free. Otherwise you'll have to wait a week. The appointment is at two-thirty." Scully said, "That's fine-" at the same time that Skinner protested. "I have an appointment, Dana. It's not something I can cancel without consequences." Scully shrugged. "It doesn't matter, Walter. It's only a needle. I can manage." She favoured him with a faint smile. "Don't be so protective. I'd really rather not wait." "It's an awfully <> needle." She laughed outright. "And doctors make the worst patients. Don't worry. I won't faint." "Are you sure?" She took his hand. "I'm sure." In the end, Scully didn't go alone. She telephoned Mulder to let him know where she was. Mulder insisted on coming along, despite her protests. Privately, she was glad. The amniocentesis didn't worry her, but she was looking forward to the sonogram. She had so far not gone to another doctor at all, preferring to monitor her own pregnancy until the late months (doctors really did make the worst patients, she suddenly reflected with a grin), and as a result had not been for one. She didn't really want to see her child for the first time alone. She had a feeling that she would become quite irrationally emotional, and she wanted someone there. That was not something she would have admitted to anyone, including Walter; hence her insistence that he leave her. Mulder arrived in a rush just as it began. The technician was moving the sensor over her abdomen when he was allowed in by a nurse, and he came around the machinery to her far side. "How are you?" he asked. Scully smiled. "I'm okay. You didn't have to come down," she chided gently. "What, and miss the only sonogram I'm likely to see? You think I'm going to make it to the altar while my contemporaries are of childbearing age? Optimist." She grinned. "Shut up and watch the show." They turned to the monitor. Scully watched in complete scientific detachment as her child was silhouetted from every angle. She was fascinated, as she always had been, by the use of ultrasound technology, but she made no connection between the image and the life within her. But when quite suddenly the shape moved and drew a shadowy limb up to its face, she jolted on the gurney, startled. She watched in fascination as it unmistakeably sucked its thumb. Why, it - and for the first time, she felt self-conscious using the impersonal pronoun - it was a real person! For Scully, educated in a world where a child was an anonymous embryo or foetus from the first week of gestation until it was born (or at least capable of being born alive), this was a stunning idea. She had been protective of the child within her, it was true; on the other hand, that was mostly philosophical: it was alive and therefore, to her Catholic heart, absolutely sacred. But the idea that there was any kind of individuality or personality involved was new, and somehow invigorating. Just how she drew the concept of personality from an involuntary, instinctive gesture, she couldn't have said; but it was as though it had awakened in her a long-buried instinct. She continued to watch, enthralled, and barely noticed when the needle was introduced. Mulder, on the other hand, had certainly noticed the needle. Scully became aware of him tightening his grip on her hand, and when she looked up, he was positively green. She suppressed a grin as he determinedly studied the ceiling tiles. She waited until she felt the needle leave her body, then said, "It's gone, Mulder." He looked down at her, a little shamefaced. "So much for moral support," he reproached himself. She laughed indulgently. "Do I care? You were here. That's what counts." Mulder was suddenly interrogative. "Do you mind that Skinner wasn't?" Scully's smile faded somewhat as she thought a moment. She chose her words carefully. "I wish he had been, because he would have liked to have been," she conceded, "but not really. I could have put it off if I'd really needed him. It was my choice to have it done today. I don't regret that." She suddenly smiled and pointed to the box the technician was labelling, even as they spoke. "Besides, I can always invite you both over for a video night." The technician held the tape out to her. Mulder snatched it from her grasp. "You can bring the popcorn!" He made a gleeful escape to the waiting room. Scully looked up at the affronted technician. < to offend people you don't know?>> Groaning inwardly, she offered the woman a smile, and set about placating her. 5th Floor Federal Bureau of Investigation Washington, D.C. 19 January, 1997 The phone rang. Dana flipped it open. "Scully." "Dr Scully? It's Sam Fieldman at GenTest Centre. Can you talk a moment?" Scully nodded automatically, then remembered he couldn't see her. "Yes, that's fine." "Dr Scully," the cultured voice crackled down the line, "I think that you and Mr Skinner should come down here right away." "What is it?" she asked, hardly daring to breathe. Mulder walked in and caught something of her alarm. "Look, you know I can't go into details over the phone. I will tell you that something is wrong, but it doesn't seem to be to do with your exposure to radiation. We've found some DNA that we can't classify. It's like nothing we've ever seen before. Dr Scully, I really think you should come in. Today." Scully breathed out, shakily. "We'll be there as soon as we can." She flipped the phone shut and shoved it into her pocket, suddenly clumsy and uncoordinated. "What was that all about?" She looked up. Mulder was there. Mulder was always there. And that was best, because she had a suspicion that before the end of the day she was going to need him, badly. She was silent. "Well?" he insisted. Ruthlessly setting aside the little voice in her head which was already mulling over the implications of what she'd been told, she steeled her shattered nerves by pressing her nails into her palm until they hurt. She told him. Mulder's expression was one of gratified excitement. "Unclassified DNA. By definition, alien. Alien - do you know what this means?" Suddenly, he asked interrogatively, "Scully, when <> did you get pregnant?" Scully began to shake even before she answered. She suddenly felt very cold, and the tight little bundle kicking against her insides suddenly seemed oppressive...malevolent. "The day you and Skinner found me. That night...he came to me." She clung to that. <> Except that <> how it was, was it? For every child born of love, there were four or five born of desperate loneliness, of recreation, of abuse, of prostitution, of domination, of youthful impetuosity. The term "love-child" was a misnomer, in or out of marriage. Love was no guarantee. But what about monogamy? Surely that was a guarantee? Pregnancy wasn't like HIV, for God's sake; it wasn't catching. She had only been with Walter. As far as she could remember. Mulder's voice was sharp. It seemed intrusive. "One of the days you lost?" Scully made a quick, uncontrolled movement, averting her gaze from Mulder's. She got to her feet, shakily. "I don't like what you're saying, Mulder," she said warningly. "I don't want to hear it. This baby is Walter's, do you hear?" Unable to take any more interrogation (<>) she stormed out. Mulder could have kicked himself. He'd been so excited about the prospect of new information on the abductions - and, by God, a real, live, alien foetus - that he had forgotten that this time, it wasn't just a case. This time, it was Scully. And Scully's child. He ran after her. "Scully, wait!" he called. "I'm sorry!" He was too late. She had run out the door. <> Coming in Part 9: Scully's Shocking News -- _______________________________________ | | |Deslea R. Judd (drjudd@rainbow.net.au) | |"The Owls Are Not What They Seem" | | - The Log Lady, Twin Peaks) | |_______________________________________|