Chapter Text
1956
The Obstetrics and Gynecology offices at Washington University Hospital were quiet, first thing in the morning, which is precisely the way Dr. Mulder liked it. He could sit at his desk while the sun rose outside of the looming window and the traffic below gained intensity, sorting through his study notes and making new connections. He would see patients from 9-5, adding to his findings as needed, and then finish his day well after dinner time, in the same quiet office. Diana had complained, a few times early in their marriage, that he was always gone, always at work… but as the years passed and he gained acclaim for his work, she was quieted and became content – he supposed, though he’d never asked her – with her life as a doctor’s wife, a homemaker, a respected woman in her community and at their country club. For Mulder, there was no contentment, with any of it: he had gone into medicine to make discoveries and search out truths, and there was nothing appealing about the suburban life. He took part in that game as rarely as possible, and only to appease Diana and her father when absolutely necessary. And it almost never seemed necessary.
On a brisk Monday morning in October of 1956, Mulder left his office door open, having arrived before dawn, and pulled out his reports on the topic of human sexuality. As a doctor in obstetrics and gynecology, he had spent years studying the female reproductive system, but every new revelation (of his, or from other experts in the field) seemed to bring about new questions. Four days ago, he had gone before the Dean of the University Hospital and several board members and proposed a fairly expensive, thorough, long-term study into human sexuality, hoping to immerse himself into his life’s work and finally get some real answers, and today he would hear back from them about his funding and timeline.
Mulder became so enthralled in reviewing his notes – and making changes as he went, berating himself for any perceived miswording or having not fought hard enough for his project – that he only noticed the passing of time when his secretary arrived for the day, the shuffling of her low heels against the rug around her desk. “Good morning, Doctor,” Shirley called as she passed his door, and he made no effort to return the greeting; he rarely spoke to the woman, or to anyone else, for that matter, unless it was of importance. He could hear her start the coffee machine, and he stood up to stretch and to look out the window. Many floors below, the streets were now flooded with people and automobiles: mothers rushing children to school or shopping; fathers heading to work, tipping their hats as they passed the women; young people smiling and waving at one another as they began their day. A bus stopped, and cars honked gently as they veered around it; a woman with vibrant red hair stepped down from it, smiling at someone rushing past her. For a moment – just a brief, solemn moment – Mulder wondered what it would be like to enjoy the friendship of another person. The thought was replaced by annoyance when there was a tap on his door.
“Dr. Mulder,” Shirley said, her arms already full of files, “Your first patient has arrived. Mrs. Leggett. And Dean Skinner would like to see you in his office at ten.”
Mulder nodded and turned to lock his files into his desk drawer. He would come back to them after a solitary dinner, once the office was quiet once again.
****************
Dana hadn’t slept deeply, but she was still startled by the alarm clock chiming loudly at 6:30. Most days Emily woke her up by then; she was grateful that her daughter had slept long enough to let her get a couple of hours of rest before her first day at a new job. Dana had just finished medical school, and was accustomed to late nights, early mornings, and any other shift thrown her way, so she knew she’d be okay; she just didn’t want to be late, and she well aware that her active and precocious 5-year-old had caused that to happen on more than one occasion.
Dana quickly threw together Emily’s school lunch, laid out her school clothes, and started some pancakes on the grill before waking the girl by stroking her hair. As Emily stirred, rubbing her eyes, Dana couldn’t help but smile softly at her. “Your clothes are there,” she motioned to the foot of the bed. “Go ahead and get dressed, and then come for breakfast.”
Emily nodded, yawning.
Once fed and dressed, it was a quick drop-off to Rachel next door, who could walk Emily to school in an hour, and then Dana caught the 7:45 bus to head to the hospital. She used her time to review her job description and contract with the hospital. RESIDENT OF OBSTETRICS AND GYNECOLOGY, the document read in bold letters. Dana ran her fingers over the wording, taking a deep breath. She had been top of her class at Georgetown Medical School and she’d fought hard to get there; it was impossible to know what this new challenge would bring, but she was determined to be great at it.
By 8:20 in the morning, the University Hospital was positively bustling. Professors, doctors, nurses, office staff, patients and their families were coming and going from all directions. Dana clutched her purse to her side and moved through the crowd steadily, finally spotting an information booth, at which point she was told to take the elevator up to the sixth floor and meet with Dean Skinner.
The Dean’s office – or offices, as it was a small wing on its own, with several rooms with large, ornate doors and two secretaries at their own desks in the foyer – were silent but for the click of Dana’s heels against the marble tile. She was instructed by the nearest of the secretaries to have a seat and wait.
It seemed like hours (though of course it wasn’t) in the large space, with only the clock ticking, and an occasional sigh or rustle of paper as the women worked at their desks. Dana considered looking at her documents again, but didn’t want the Dean to see her doing so and think her unprepared. She folded her hands together in her lap, stared at the wall, and thought about her parents’ reaction to her announcement. It’s bad enough that you’re divorced, her mother had said, turning her tea cup around and around in her hands, but now to be a woman gynecologist? It’s too much! What will people think? Dana had almost reminded her mother that it hadn’t been her choice to get divorced – her ex-husband had chosen that for her – and that she was a scientist and now a medical doctor and gynecology was part of the medical care of the human body and there was nothing shameful about it – but she knew it would be pointless to remind her mother of all of that. She would have to show her mother the value of her work over time, and have grace where it was needed.
Her father’s reaction had felt far, far worse, and still caused a pit in her stomach when she thought about it. He had simply stood up without looking at her, shuffled into his den, and closed the door.
Dean Skinner’s large office door creaked open, and a middle-aged man, bald and in a very expensive suit, stepped forward just slightly. The two secretaries looked up from their paperwork, but he only turned to Dana. She noticed, as she stood, that his office smelled of cigarette smoke, though Dean Skinner did not. “Doctor Scully,” he said by way of greeting. “Please come in. “
*******************
Mulder was thoroughly frustrated and only becoming more irritated as the morning progressed. After Mrs. Leggett’s monthly check-up – during which she chattered on and on about how excited she was about the baby on the way and gave him every unwanted detail about how she planned to decorate the nursery – Shirley had told him that Diana had made another appointment to see Dr. Ethan Haas, his colleague, to continue with her fertility treatment. Last he and Diana had spoken about it, they were going to stop for a while to give her body a break. In addition, Dean Skinner had moved their meeting to 11:00, and postponing a meeting such as this one was never good news. By the time Mulder reached the Dean’s office, he was so agitated he could have hit something. It was all he could do to not kick the chair before dropping himself into it.
Dean Skinner didn’t keep him waiting long, but as he suspected, the news was not what he wanted.
“Not approved?!” Mulder shouted, then shook his head and worked on dropping his tone. “Do you know how much this study could mean to people? Could – and would – change lives?! Change what we know about human sexuality and how it impacts health and reproduction? We haven’t even touched the surface of this field of study, Skinner! You’re making a huge mistake to not fund this project.”
Skinner was leaning forward in his desk, appearing unmoved by the outburst. “It was the decision of the board… and me,” he explained. “I know how much this study has meant to you. And maybe in due time, it will happen. But this is not that time. The hospital has other, more pressing, projects to fund over the next five years, and this one… well, it’s…”
“Too risqué?” Mulder chuffed. “Too intimate? Too much about ‘women’s issues’? Believe me, Skinner, I’ve heard all of that. But this is important work. Sexual and reproductive health is a large part of health – for both men and women. Skinner – “
The Dean held up his hand, and Mulder sucked in his breath and turned away. He was not going to change Skinner’s mind today.
“Dammit,” he muttered.
Skinner stood slowly and reached out to shake Mulder’s hand. “You’re an asset to this hospital, and one of our best doctors,” he said gently. “Your fertility program has also been a great source of income for us. You know we value your work, and the board recognizes what you bring to the table. Try again in five years; perhaps by that time they’ll be more… open to a project like yours.”
Mulder reluctantly returned the handshake and turned to go, but Skinner cleared his throat, and the doctor paused, his hand on the doorknob.
“One more thing, Mulder,” Skinner said, sitting back down. “You’ve been granted a Resident. Dr. Scully was top of the class at Georgetown. Once finished in Human Resources, Dr. Scully will be all yours. Use the extra set of hands wisely.”
Mulder gave a small nod and walked away.
******************
Mrs. Short – carrying twins after successful fertility treatment – was leaving Mulder’s office as Ethan strolled in, a bounce in his step. This, for some reason, annoyed Mulder even further. He washed his hands and ignored the younger physician for as long as possible.
“Mulder,” said Ethan, leaning into his space next to the small sink, “have you seen your new Resident? Holy shit!”
Mulder made a “grumph” sound in his throat and dried his hands. “Top of his class, I hear.”
“Her… She’s a her…” Ethan said with a faraway sound in his voice. He leaned against the wall and grinned at nothing. “Probably the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen… Cripes, I hope she’s not married because I might propose to her today.”
Mulder sighed, closing his eyes. A headache was developing just behind his left eye. This day just kept getting worse, and with no end in sight. “This is a workplace, Dr. Haas, not a nightclub. Please leave her alone and do your job. In fact, I think your next patient is waiting. Oh – and what the hell were you thinking, making another appointment with my wife? You know we were putting treatment on hold.”
Dr. Haas looked surprised. “Mrs. Mulder said you – said you had decided to try again,” he stammered. “I wouldn’t have – I assumed you were aware – “
Mulder waved him off. This conversation had gone on long enough already, and he had no interest in involving Ethan in a private matter between him and Diana. “It’s fine,” he said gruffly. “If it’s what my wife wants, it’s fine. Thank you, Dr. Haas.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and listened to Ethan in the waiting area, trying to be charming for the new Resident and then greeting his next patient. He glanced at the clock: four-fifteen. He had missed lunch because he’d been too angry to eat after his meeting with Dean Skinner, and now his stomach was groaning at him and he was starting to see spots when he closed his eyes. He decided he would get dinner at the deli across the street, and then come back to the office and work as late as possible. If he got home after Diana was sleeping, and avoided an argument with her, it would be one less hassle in an already difficult day.
For a moment – just a moment – he thought about his parents (before everything went to hell) and the way they would sit together in the evening and talk about politics, and world events, and many other things, sometimes into the very late hours of the night. He thought about his dad smoking a cigar and his mom with a small glass of chardonnay in her hand, and the way they only had eyes for each other, back then. He and Diana had never had that, not even in the early days. Mulder blinked, and the memory was replaced by a pang of hunger that moved up into his chest.
He was opening the patient’s file when he heard a tap on the door, but he couldn’t be bothered to look up. Today was full of one inconsiderate disruption after another, and there was actual work to be done. He made a noise in the direction of the door while making a note in the file to talk to the patient about trying a different course of action in her attempt to get pregnant.
“Dr. Mulder?” said a woman’s voice, and he stopped writing long enough to lift his eyes.
Ethan had been right: she was pretty. Very, very pretty. But even more interesting than that, his new Resident had an earnest, serious face and clear blue eyes that were shocking in their intelligence. She wore a simple black skirt and ivory blouse, all tucked and polished, and her shoulder-length red hair framed her face as if in a painting. Mulder’s headache shifted to his temples, and the spots of light behind his eyes converged into one larger spark with her in the centre of it.
“Uh – hello – good afternoon,” he said, finally.
“I’m Dana Scully,” she said, and she smiled, and his mouth went dry. “I’ve been assigned to work with you.”
********************
“You’re an unbearable asshole, Mulder,” he whispered to himself while driving home in the dark of night. The city was quieter again, with lights on in the windows, families watching television or getting ready for bed, doing their last bit of cleaning for the day, kissing on the couch. Mulder thought about these kinds of evenings, at times, but did not enjoy them, and avoided them as often as possible.
Mulder knew he could be a pain in the ass. He knew Diana had resigned herself to the fact that her husband was not a doting one and would not do things like remember anniversaries or pick out furniture with her. He knew that some of his colleagues had learned to ride out his moods and shake off his abrupt nature. Dr. Dana Scully, however, had not known any of that. No, she had simply walked into his office, bright-eyed and ready to work with him, and he had been a jerk.
‘Who did you tick of to get stuck in this detail?’ he had asked her, tossing down his pen.
She had blinked once, twice; she had opened and closed her mouth. Then she had regained her composure and replied, ‘Actually, I’m looking forward to working with you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Mulder had only stared her down.
Mulder picked up speed as he headed out of the city proper and into the suburb. He realized that each time he thought about Dr. Scully, his foot pushed down on the gas pedal a little harder. He opened his window a little and breathed in the cool Autumn air. “Asshole,” he whispered again to himself.
She had taken his attitude well. Dr. Scully was smart and gracious – he figured that out quickly. She had asked about her role in his practice, what his expectations were, what his patients were looking for. Dr. Scully had sat across from him for a few minutes – the earnest purse of her mouth and tilt of her head distracting him from his notes, for what reason he wasn’t sure – and tried to engage him in professional conversation, but it was not going to work. He had cut her off mid-sentence, at last, and said, “Dr. Scully, I have a patient in two minutes. I really must get back to work,” before going back to the file before him, and Dr. Scully had taken her cue to leave. By the time Mulder’s last patient had gone, his new Resident had left for the day as well, and Mulder finally had the office to himself again.
But now, alone in his car, he berated himself silently as the world flew past him outside. He wished he still smoked occasionally; it would have been a great time for a cigarette.
Diana was in bed – likely asleep – by the time he slipped through his front door and toed off his shoes. She had left the small kitchen light on; one dish and one wine glass sat beside the sink, waiting for the housekeeper in the morning. Mulder poured himself a Scotch and leaned against the kitchen counter, staring out the window. Across the street, the newlywed couple who had just moved in appeared to be dancing in their kitchen, bodies entwined, laughing together. Mulder rubbed his left temple and downed his drink.
With the help of a full-time housekeeper and a twice-per-week cook, Diana kept an immaculate household. She had been raised by her wealthy father and a small staff, her mother having passed away when she was a young girl, and she thought it best that a ‘woman of substance’ such as herself not get her hands dirty while running a household. Mulder was gone most of the time, and happily wrote checks to whomever she felt she needed to help manage the home. Diana spent her days shopping, lunching with friends, and having her hair done. She occasionally redecorated a room or joined a committee in the neighborhood or at the country club. Several months ago, she had participated in some type of fashion show fundraiser – he didn’t remember what they were raising money for – but she hadn’t mentioned it; he only knew of it because he had noticed the flyers on the kitchen table one evening.
Diana wanted children, but Mulder wasn’t sure why. Neither of them particularly liked other people’s children, and he knew Diana intended to send her own to boarding school at the earliest opportunity. He had asked her once, a few years ago, if she wanted children only to impress her friends, and she had screamed terrible things at him for twenty minutes before dumping his pillow and blanket in the hallway outside of their bedroom and slamming the door. A week later, she had walked into his office and demanded fertility treatment.
The treatment was difficult on any woman, and Diana was no exception. The hormone injections caused weight loss and gain, mood swings, nausea, headaches, and exhaustion. Diana had tried several treatments over the course of a year, and then taken a year’s break, and then started again. Every time she tried again, Mulder was surprised – and if he was being honest with himself, disappointed. He felt she was putting herself through all of that just to prove something – perhaps to herself, or perhaps to others – and he didn’t think it necessary. His life’s ambitions were related to his work, so the fewer people waiting for him at home, the better, and Diana had everything she could need or want. He wished she would put her energy into other pursuits.
For a moment – just a moment – he wondered what Dana Scully had waiting for her at home. He wondered if she had a husband, a boyfriend, parents, siblings. Children of her own? Likely not; most mothers didn’t work full-time, now that the war was well over. He didn’t think she’d been wearing a ring. She didn’t seem like a person who came from wealth; although she was well-spoken, and had excellent manners, she didn’t have the airs of a woman with family money. Dr. Scully had a determined and tenacious nature to which he could relate. He’d been annoyed by her presence – openly, rudely – but in the aftermath of his terrible day, alone in his kitchen, the warmth of his favorite Scotch in his belly, he realized she might turn out to be an asset to his practice, if he gave it some time.
Mulder stared at his closed bedroom door for a long minute, then poured himself a second drink and wandered over to the television to put on the evening news.