Title: More Than That
Author: MissAnnThropic
E-Mail: miss_annthropic@yahoo.com
Spoilers: Per Manum
Summary: I realized that when and if I did give birth, I would be looking for you in my baby's eyes.
Disclaimer: I own nasing! Really, I don't. All you see here (that you recognize, anyway) is the creation of someone else. I take no credit.



I was never more afraid of you than when I sat in Doctor Parenti's office and learned that I might be able to yet conceive a child. Even more than that, but my OWN child, with my ova that was not supposed to still be in civilian hands, if I'm to understand what happened correctly from what you told me. I didn't ask for details because frankly I didn't want to know. Sometimes what we do is too much... that was too much.

I've been afraid of you before, Mulder. I know it might be hard to believe that, but it's not the kind of afraid I'm sure you would be thinking. Not physical fear of harm... a different kind of fear. Your passion for your work, your devotion to something once you've thrown yourself into it, your recklessness when something important to you is at stake. It's your intensity... that's frightened me more times than I can count.

But that day it was a completely different kind of fear. I found out that I might be able to have a baby. I'd never even thought about it... never considered it seriously, because I knew it could never be and I didn't want to set myself up for an unavoidable and serious disappointment.

But when you told me you had some of MY ova in a storage center, I thought it was too much to expect. I took them to Doctor Parenti expecting to hear the same that you'd told me. That they weren't viable. I believed you, but I felt obligated to have it double-checked. As though I could never allow myself the luxury of feeling sorry for myself if I didn't ensure that I had exhausted all possibilities and looked into every long-shot.

So I was probably the most surprised of anyone when Doctor Parenti told me they were alive... that they could be impregnated. That I could have a slim chance at being a mother.

And then I was terrified. I had been thinking of it even before Doctor Parenti brought it up. An egg needs sperm... if there was to be a baby, there had to be a father.

Honestly, the thought of an anonymous donation never entered into my mind. This was my only chance to be a mother, and I was not going to have it with some stranger. It wasn't right that way.

But I knew of only one person I would ever want to be the father of any child I might bear. You.

And I was afraid.

In so many ways that I've never told you and never will, I love you, Mulder. In the twisted little existence that has become my life you are my father, my son, my brother, and my husband. The latter is more how I think of you most of the time, but when the occasion is right you become the others to me. And all that amounts to is the undeniable knowledge that I love you in a way I never have or will another man.

And, I realized as I sat in Parenti's office that split second when he was mentioning a donor program, I knew that when and if I did give birth, I would be looking for you in my baby's eyes.

That decided me. I could never do this through an unnamed donor, a specimen on a paper with a list of credentials like he's a racehorse put to stud. I'm not a brood mare. I don't want to have a child and then wonder which traits were its father's. I knew without having to question that I had had enough mysteries in my life, and this was not going to be another one of them.

I wanted to see my son or daughter balanced precariously in front of the television watching "Plan Nine From Outer Space" and be able to say 'That's the same look Mulder gets when he watches these cheesy movies... so much like your father.'

And I was so afraid of that. That I would want so badly to have YOUR child. I have never even thought of it before, seriously. It had never been a consideration because I thought I would never have a chance at being a mother. When it was all so out of my reach, I was too disheartened by the big-picture fact I would never have a baby period to realize at the time I would regret not seeing you in that baby.

But once half of it was in my reach, I discovered I wanted more than I'd let myself acknowledge. I wanted US to have a baby.

And now I had to find a way to ask you.

I never knew what you thought about children, I still don't. We never talked about it, and I think you were doing it on purpose so I wouldn't get reminded of my sterility. Just because I learned that I wanted to be a mother did not mean that you necessarily wanted to be a father.

Though you'd make a good one. You may have your doubts about your relative qualities, but I know you, Mulder. You have so many redeeming characteristics, and above all that a good soul. I used to try not to think of the term 'diamond in the rough', but it fit too well.

And that sparkle of inherent goodness in your eyes... that deserves passing on. I didn't know what I could bring to the table aside from my desire for motherhood, but I knew there was so much in you that I would want for our child.

But first I had to find a way to ask you.

In the end, I decided to do it at the office, perhaps because I felt more protected by office protocol there. All I really remember was going up to you and saying in an out-of-breath rush, "The doctor I took my ova to said there was a chance they could be fertilized if we got started right away. I know this is sudden, and I'm not asking for an answer now, but when he mentioned an anonymous donor for the father I told Doctor Parenti I already had someone in mind; I want you."

Before you even had time to answer I told you to think about it... give me your answer later. In all honesty, I was scared you'd know your answer right there. That you'd just smile kindly at me and say something about having never wanted children and thinking I should find somebody better. I didn't think I could take that, because I was nervous and scared as it was... I didn't want to snap back that I didn't want anyone else, and that I would never be able to find someone better than you.

But you were cooperative... you were quiet, and you seriously seemed to think about it. Rather than get my hopes up or chew through my pencil I left early. I couldn't watch you think about it when I was on pins and needles.

You came to my apartment that night, and the moment I saw you in the peephole I felt part of my heart sink. You had decided so quickly... I didn't think it was a good sign. I was certain I had been right about your position on children... that you were adamantly opposed to ever having any of your own.

When I let you in it was all I could do to not break down into tears. I knew what was coming... 'thanks but no thanks'. I was even starting to get mad at you, somewhere deep down, for brushing aside this matter so easily when I was agonizing about it like I was.

In my pessimism, I almost couldn't let myself believe my ears when I heard your answer. It was so blatant, so blunt, as though I would have been fool to think you would answer in any other way. "The answer is 'yes'", and just like that, it was decided.

I could never describe in a million years all the thoughts and feelings that ran through me in the next two minutes. In many ways, I don't think I'll ever be able to say what it was I felt in those few moments.

A thousand thoughts ran through my head, but there was one that was most comforting. It was an assurance that something had been given to me, to us, that could never be taken away. It may have only been a promise, but it became something so real that it could almost be touched.

And it took away so much fear I had in me, I felt purged and cleaned without having set foot inside a church or shower.

It was a truth, Mulder, a truth we didn't uncover or fight... but a truth we created, and it gave me a courage and strength to know what I had never considered before.

When I asked you to be the father of my child, it was more than a procedure and the potential marvel of medical science. It wasn't something so technical or even concrete. It grew on its own into something that was real, but it wouldn't require the birth of a baby to nevertheless be.

Even if the in vitro didn't work, if I'd never be a mother, you'd still be the father of my children. With that one word of consent, the simple 'yes' you breathed to my biggest request, you became the father of all the children I'd never have. And those unborns are all ours, Mulder... yours and mine. Our children, and nothing that may come our way in the future will ever change that; no conspiracy or shadowy government syndicate can touch it.

Until the day we die, and maybe longer, from that moment on, we became parents.



END