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Erlenmeyer Injustice

by Pattie

Title: Erlenmeyer Injustice

Author: Pattie

Rated: Mature Content and the AAFM can't touch me.

Spoiler(s): Christmas Carol, Emily, Colony, all other clone episodes. The story takes place during Requiem.

Category: Mulder POV, Angst, Clone-Babyfic.

Summary: There's another chunk of guilt upon Mulder's shoulders. Telling Scully of this would break her heart.

Archive: Gossamer. I keep my stories at www.trish59ontario/tripod.com

Feedback: Please be gentle at patfiler@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: Clones with enhanced memory chips. CC, Ten Thirteen and Fox own the rights to the characters and The X-files. Fanfic at no charge! Copyright of all those folks with the ideas and sets. Essences of Mulder and Scully brought to life by David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson.

Author's Note: This story was written for Neoxphile's "Green Goo Fetus Challenge".

OFFICE OF THE X-FILES
MAY, 17, 2000

Not a day goes by that I don't think of the implications of this job, and especially this partnership. The knowledge that one or both of us might be killed or permanently injured in the line of duty hides in the backdrop, waiting to be cast and played out, by directors unknown.

Everything we've seen makes us more likely to be pulled from this theatre we know as 'life' before the Original Author calls for the curtains to fall. Scully nearly succumbed to cancer while I held a vigil by her bedside and a secret in my heart. Dana Katherine Scully, dammit! A young, vibrant, intelligent woman who would lend an ear, even her right arm if anyone she cared for was hurting or in need. My partner, my best friend, had her ova removed by abductors who had repeatedly done this procedure oncountless women and men, in search of the 'perfect alien-human hybrid', slave race of drones, and who knows what else.

I managed to recover some of her eggs. For that I make no apology. I knew from the day I met her that she would some day want a family with at least one child, maybe more, and a respectable mate. If it took artificial insemination, I was honored when she asked me to donate my genes. To be honest, I would gladly do it the normal way. Make no bones about that. She's still stuck with that 'microchip from Hell' and that's her cross to bear, but not alone.

Erlenmeyer flasks are something most eighth grade students know about. They're perfect for those chemistry experiments where you turn on the gas and click that flint, and you just know you have to wait until the water hits 212 F, and that is when it's boiling, changing state from liquid to vapor.

Whenever I see an Erlenmeyer flask nowadays, I have to avert my eyes, hoping to God Scully doesn't notice the blood rush from my face. I did something a couple of years ago that I felt I needed to do: concealed evidence without so much as a note in the case file we had written up.

"What's so evidentiary about an Erlenmeyer flask?" You ask, puzzled at the thought I took a piece of lab equipment.

Well, I have a surprise for you: It wasn't just any flask. It was something I just had to hide as evidence, even if it meant actually renting storage in an old contact's lab until the time came to reveal the contents. It was something 'created' in a laboratory by unethical monsters bereft of ethics and ignorant of a person's right to their genetic material. At the time, I didn't know whether it was human, animal, alien or silly putty. The only thing I knew was that it had a label: Scully, Dana Katherine, specimen H-1965-02-23, T-180 of 2627.

It would have broken her heart to know that there were many others out there in various containers, with tests galore running on all of them, and most at various stages of gestation. You see, Emily Sim, you must remember, was the product of such insidious experiments. Scully's daughter, so ill, yet so beautiful and brave. For the short time we knew Emily, she made Scully's life so full yet so painful. After she was buried, I knew this woman was a natural at motherhood. I think of Emily sometimes when I'm alone in the night and just can't sleep. Then, I think of Scully and wonder just how much this had hurt her instead of blessed her. What kind of father, or husband for that matter, would I possibly be?

Today we received a call from Billy Miles and it's off to Bellefleur, Oregon once again. Scully has tried so hard to become pregant with the in-vitro program we've entered, and it was heart-breaking when we found out it hadn't been found successful. Now, we're going back to the place things started seven years ago, Scully doesn't seem herself, smiles as though she means it, and I know she's trying hard not to fall, and even harder not to lash out at the injustice of her inability to conceive a child that is truly hers. What of the child in the flask? Is it hers? I presume so. I also presume it would never have lived.

In the meantime, my contact shall remain nameless in this note, as I sense a change of our circumstances on the horizon. The fetus, surrounded in the odiferous and toxic green fluid remains in his posession until we have all the evidence we need to expose these crimes, and brace ourselves for what may come our way.

I'm not handwriting this letter again, so please forgive any droplets of salt that have smeared some of the words.

In the event of my death, before we fend off the enemies, have this letter incinerated and tell Scully it was just another video order form. That's not even funny anymore.

As you can see from the stamp, this little bomb was written right here in DC, and I trust you will guard it with your life, Sir. When you receive it, do not come to me about it under any circumstances. I will never mention it until the time comes. My greatest fear is that the time will be soon. I'm counting on you, Walter.

Dated this 17th day of May, 2000.

Fox W. Mulder.

END

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