Subj:	story to archive
Date:	9/30/00 12:42:00 PM Eastern Daylight Time
From:	PennySyc
To:	NeverAgain4X13

TITLE:  Reap in Joy

AUTHOR:  Leslie Sholly

E-MAIL:  PennySyc@aol.com (Leslie)

DISTRIBUTION:  Spookys and automatic archives,
yes.  Anywhere else, with headers attached.  But I'd
love to know about it, if possible.

RATING:  PG-13

CLASSIFICATION:  VRA

KEYWORDS:  MSR, ScullyAngst

FEEDBACK:  I treasure it and I answer it.  Please let
me know what you thought at PennySyc@aol.com
(Leslie)

SUMMARY:  Scully tells her mother.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:  At least two people have
already posted stories which describe this scenario.  I
*did not* read them before I wrote this, so any
similarities that should happen to exist are
coincidental.


*****************
Reap in Joy
by Leslie Sholly
*****************


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As a mother comforts her child,
so will I comfort you.

Isaiah 66:13
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~    

 "Dana, if you should ever get pregnant, I would
want you to tell me right away."

     From the passenger seat of our wood-paneled
station wagon, I turned to gape at my mother in
disbelief.  I could feel my face grow hot as I
protested, "Mom!  I can't believe you would say that
to me!  Don't you know me better than that?"

     Mom smiled at me.  "Please don't take offense,
sweetheart.  I know you're a good girl.  But you're
only sixteen.  You can never know what twists and
turns the future has in store for you."

     Sitting up in my hospital bed, waiting for my
mother to arrive, I can only agree with the wisdom
she shared with me that day twenty years before.

**********

     Our conversation in the station wagon didn't come
out of the blue--it was one of many we'd had since I
was a little girl.  My mother believed in being frank
and mattter-of-fact when it came to sexual matters. 
Most of my friends got their sex education through
playground rumors.  I was the one who set them
straight--proper clinical terms and all--during Girl
Scout camping trips.  They were amazed and
impressed, I remember, that my mother was the
source of my information.  They wished, they said,
that their mothers would talk to them like that.

      I didn't appreciate my mother's openness at the
time, of course.  By the time I was sixteen, such
conversations were becoming painfully embarrassing. 
But that didn't stop Mom.  

     Worst of all was when she brought herself into the
conversation.  "It was relatively easy to wait until you
were married to have sex when I was your age," she
began another time.

     "Mom!" I groaned, not wanting even to imagine
my parents in a sexual context.

     She ignored me.  "We married younger, for one
thing.  And there was no reliable birth control and
abortion was illegal--fear of pregnancy was a real
deterrent."

     She turned to look at me, while I stubbornly
stared down at the hideous polyester plaid of my
uniform skirt.  "What happens to girls in your school
who get pregnant?"

     "No girl at my school has ever gotten pregnant."

     "Nonsense!"  she said briskly.  "Girls got pregnant
when I was in school--they ended up in homes for
unwed mothers in those days, though."

     "Maybe they have abortions?"  I suggested.

     Mom sighed.  "That's probably it," she agreed. 
"Sweetie, I know it upsets you when I say this, but I
need to tell you one more time--and I'm not singling
you out, you know; I've had this conversation with
your sister and your brothers too--if you should ever
get pregnant, you know how I feel about abortion. 
You know what the Church teaches.  Daddy and I
would help you, I promise."

     "Daddy would die," I said with feeling.

     "He'd get over it," she assured me.  "I just want
you to know you can always come to us.  You don't
ever have to be afraid that we would be angry or that
we wouldn't love you just as much as we always
have."

     Eager to put an end to the conversation, I said. 
"O.K., Mom, O.K.  But I'm not going to have sex,
I'm not going to get pregnant, and I would never
have an abortion!  Don't worry about me."

***********

     I was twenty when I lost my virginity in a drunken
one-night stand partially inspired by my desire to
break free of the image my parents--and especially
my dad--had of me.  Mortified and repentant the
morning after, I anxiously counted the days until I
would know whether the wild oats I had sown would
take root.  For twenty-two angst-ridden days of a
longer-than-usual cycle, I imagined how my parents
would react if I had to tell them I was pregnant. 
Despite my mother's reassuring words, it was a
terrifying prospect, and I thanked God fervently
when my period finally arrived.

     My repentance wasn't genuine enough to preclude
further sexual experiences, but I was rigorously
careful about birth control from then on.  Even as I
rebelled against them, I didn't want to disappoint my
parents.  And I didn't want to derail my own carefully
thought-out plan for my life.

     But life, as the young seldom realize, doesn't often
turn out the way we plan.  When Mulder and I first
gave our trust to one another in an Oregon motel
room seven years ago, who ever would have
imagined that we would return there to lie in a lovers'
embrace?  Or that I would be in this hospital today,
pregnant with his child and waiting nervously to
break the news to my mom?

***********

     I didn't want to call my mom from the hospital.  I
would have preferred to do as I have always done--to
deal with my problems alone for as long as possible
before letting her know about them.  But I
remembered how hurt she was when I didn't tell her
about my cancer right away--how she had let me know
in no uncertain terms that I had no right to shut her
out of my life and my pain.  

     Still, I would have waited until I was discharged
to call her if we hadn't had a dinner date already
scheduled.  Skinner offered to call her for me, but I
knew hearing his voice would only alarm her.  So I
did it myself.  Willing my voice into calm, even tones,
I said, "Hi, Mom."

     Either I'm far more transparent than I realize or
my mom has latent psychic abilities because she
immediately said, "Dana, sweetie!  Is something
wrong?"

     "No, Mom.  I'm O.K., I promise.  But I can't
make our dinner tonight."

     "Oh, that's too bad.  I was looking forward to it. 
What's come up?"

     "I--I--Mom, I promise I'm fine, O.K.?  But I've
been feeling kind of strange lately and I had to come
into the hospital for some tests."

     "Oh my God.  It's not--"

     "No, Mom.  No cancer.  Everything's all right; I'm
healthy.  But I won't be discharged until tomorrow."

     "Where are you?  I'll come see you."

     I started to say no, that's not necessary, we'll get
together tomorrow, I'd really just like to rest tonight,
it's been a difficult week, I'll tell you all about it
tomorrow . . . .  Those were the customary platitudes
that rose to my lips.  But I didn't utter them.  Because
all at once, like a little girl again, I wanted my
Mommy.  I wanted her arms around me, I wanted her
to make me feel safe.  I wanted to be with a person
who knew me, who didn't judge me or idolize me.  I
wanted to drop my mask of strength and confidnce
and be vulnerable for a little while.

     So I said, "Yes.  Please.  I'd like that."  I was
horrified when my voice began to tremble, and I know
Mom heard it.

     "I'll be there right away, Dana."

***********

     So now I'm sitting in my hospital room, waiting
for my mother to arrive, and wondering what on
earth I'm going to say to her and how she will react. 
Even though I know that my mother had been true to
her word when Charlie had to tell her and Dad that
Kristen was pregnant, that she welcomed Kristen into
the family and treated her as much like a daughter as
a mother-in-law can, that she loved Meghan
devotedly despite the circumstances of her
conception, I cannot help but feel that an unmarried
pregnant daughter will be a blot on the family tree.

     I'm feeling I must prepare myself for battle and I'm
ill-equipped to do it.  I'm queasy and tired and alone,
and if I even allow myself to think about Mulder I'm
going to completely fall apart . . . Mulder, trapped on
an alien vessel, completely out of my reach . . .
Mulder, being experimented upon like a lab rat . . .
Mulder, who gave himself up to keep me safe . . .
Mulder, who is far away in body but so very close in
my heart . . . .

     And so it is that the brave face I had planned to
present to my mother is tear-streaked when she
arrives.

     "Dana!"  she exclaims, and rushes to embrace me,
much as she did when she learned of my cancer
nearly four years ago.  Instead of stiffening in her
arms as I have been known to do, I relax into them,
relishing the feeling of allowing myself to be taken
care of that I have only recently discovered with
Mulder.

     "Mom," I mumble, "Thanks for coming."

     "You don't have to thank me, Dana," she says,
pulling up a chair.  "If you need me, where else
should I be?"

     We are both quiet for a moment, each waiting for
the other to speak.  

     Fianally, Mom breaks the silence.  "Dana, I hope
that if there is anything seriously wrong with you,
you wouldn't try to keep it from me."

     "No, Mom.  Of course not."  Drawing breath, I
try to immerse myself in clinical details.  "My
oncologist has been here.  He's performed all the
usual tests.  I'm still cancer-free."

     "Thank God," Mom whispers.

     "I've had a few other tests run as well.  I was
slightly dehydrated and suffering from stress, which is
why I'm staying the night."

      "But there's more, isn't there?  Something you're
not telling me?  And where is Fox, Dana?  It's not
like him not to be with you when you're in the
hospital."

     Mom, as always, has cut right to the chase.  But I
can't talk about Mulder first or I'll never get the other
news out.  Ignoring that part of her question, I frame
my answer to the first part.  

     "Yes, Mom, there is something else.   I--I--I don't
know how to tell you this," I confess, feeling sixteen
again.

     "Don't think about it, Dana, just say it," Mom
replies, as she used to when I was younger and trying
to tell her something difficult.

     "I--I'm going to have a baby," I say quickly.

     I'm not sure what expression I expected Mom's
face to wear, or what I thought her first words would
be.  But I can't deny I'm pleased by what I see and
hear.  Her face is joyful--there's not a trace of the
disappointment I halfway feared.  She crosses herself,
lifts her teary eyes heavenward, and says, "Thank
you, dear Lord," before she moves to my side to
embrace me.

     "You--you're happy,"  I murmur, and it's half a
question.

     Astonished, she pulls back to look me in the eye. 
"Dana!  How could you think I'd be anything but
happy?  When I know how your infertility hurt you,
when I knew you would never experience the joy of
being a mother?  I've been praying to Mary and to St.
Gerard every night since you told me you couldn't
have children.  I've prayed for a miracle and I'm so
thankful, so happy."

     "I thought you'd be upset because I'm not
married."

     "It's not like I've been under any illusions that you
were a virgin, honey," Mom says frankly, making me
blush.  "Anyway, Fox will marry you, won't he?"

     Now, I never told my mother about the recent
shift in our partnership, from best friends to that and
something more.  "How did--"

     "Dana, give me some credit!  Fox was more than
halfway in love with you when you were
abducted--anyone with sense could see that!  And
you've been in love with him for years.  You're my
daughter; I know these things!"

     "But--you never said--"

     "I do have the sense to try not to meddle.  If you'd
wanted my advice you would have asked for it.  But I
*will* meddle a little bit now, since my grandchild is
invloved.  When are you getting married?"

     "Mom, this isn't the '50s anymore."

     "Children need two married parents if at all
possible," my mother says with the simple conviction
of someone with absolute faith in her own opinions. 
"And you and Fox love and respect each other, so
there's no reason you shouldn't marry."

     "Mom, Mulder--he's gone."  I say it in a rush to
get it out and feel my face crumpling as I do.

     "Gone?" she echoes.

     "Missing," I clarify.  I know that my mother, who
moments ago attributed my pregnancy to miraculous
saintly intervention, is going to have trouble believing
that Mulder was abducted by aliens.  Although I am
strong in my religious faith, and still believe in the
power of science to unlock many of the mysteries in
the universe, I can now appreciate that there are
other possiblities that are still inexplicable to science
and outside my religious frame of reference.  But my
mom hasn't been on the same journey.  

     "What happened?" she asks and I brace myself.

     "He was abducted, taken away in an alien craft of
some kind."

     "Alien?"  My mom sounds every bit as skeptical as
I once did, and I find myself in the odd position of
sympathizing with her and yet being frustrated at the
same time.

     "I haven't told you a lot of things about our work,
Mom.  It's better that way.  And there are a lot of
aspects of it that are strange--unbelievable.  But I
have seen things--things I can no longer deny. 
Skinner was there when Mulder disappeared, Mom. 
He saw the craft, and I believe him."  I don't want to
believe, but finally, against my will, I must.

     "All right, honey," Mom says, humoring me.  "No
matter who has Fox, the important thing is that we
don't lose hope.  When you were missing, he never
gave up, even when I had.  I know you'll be looking
for him, and I'll keep praying, and he'll come back,
just like you did." 

     "I--I don't think--I don't know if I can do this
alone, Mom."

     "Listen to me, Dana Katherine," she says, almost
sternly.  "Remember this:  you are not alone.  You
will never be alone as long as I am alive.  I will be
here with you all through this."

     "But--what will your bridge club say?  What will
Father McCue say?"  

     "Anyone who would say anything  judgmental to
me is not a friend worth having," she said.  "This is
no one's business but yours.  I'm not saying I approve
of sex outside of marriage; you know I don't.  But
that's a moot point now anyway.  A new life has been
created, a new little soul to give glory to God, and
that's all that matters now."

     I smile at Mom through my tears.  In seven years,
I've learned many things that I can no longer deny.  I
can't deny that there are some phenomena that are
beyond my ability to understand or explain.  I can't
deny that although I am a strong person, I am
vulnerable and need support like everyone else.  I
can't deny that I love Mulder with all my heart.  And
I can't deny that despite my anguish at his
disappearance, my own private miracle is and will
continue to be a source of joy and hope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.
Although they go forth weeping, 
bearing precious seed, 
they shall come back rejoicing, 
carrying their sheaves."

Psalms 126:5-6
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


THE END


Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you
thought at PennySyc@aol.com (Leslie)