Title: The Longest Time Classification: VRA Keywords: Pre-XF, Scully/Other Rating: R, for language and sexual situations Spoilers: Pilot Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, they belong to Mr. Chris Carter, lucky bastard. Summary: Did you ever wonder about Ethan? Feedback: Pretty please to lil_gusty@hotmail.com Special Notes: This fic assumes that the scenes deleted from the Pilot featuring Ethan are cannon. I met him by accident when I was twenty-five and by the time I turned twenty-eight, it was over. We met through a mutual friend; at first, I thought he was boring and stiff, but he loved me, and when you want and need to be loved, you'll put up with almost anything. I know now that I never loved him, not really. Not in the way that he loved me. He was in love with me while I loved him more like you would love a pet: you appreciate their loyalty and devotion, but sometimes you're thankful for their short life spans. He proposed to me at my twenty-seventh birthday party. I never wanted a full-blown party; just a casual outing with my parents and Ethan -- we would go out to dinner at my favorite restaurant and then back to my parents' house for gifts, cake, and ice cream. I guess I should've suspected something when my brothers were waiting at my parents' house along with several co- workers, friends, and Ethan's parents. I didn't pay too much attention to the people -- when you have twenty adults yelling "surprise" at you, you're too busy trying to get your heart rate back under control to properly sniff out a conspiracy. Maybe I should've suspected something that morning. Ethan and I made love before we got up, in the shower, and then again in bed afterwards. I suggested that we call my parents and cancel dinner so we could stay in bed together all day, but he refused. When a man refuses sex; a woman should take notice. His gift was the last to be given: a small, square box hidden amongst the others. I couldn't think of anything Ethan could give that would fit in a box so small. I know that sounds strange, but it was a total surprise. I guess that was the point, though. When he sunk down to one knee and took my left hand in his, the content of that box became frighteningly clear. I knew what was in that box, and I knew what he was going to say. I also knew immediately how I would respond. "Dana," he started, almost wistfully, "you know how much I love you. How much I absolutely adore you. You make me so happy, and- -" My mother chose that moment to burst into tears. "Dana, I want you to marry me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Please." Have you ever felt the terrifying feeling of having, simultaneously, all of the oxygen in the room removed, the walls starting to close in, and the ceiling starting to crumble above your head, but you are the only one who seems to be aware of the impending catastrophe? And while God, your parents, your friends watched, you felt your life slowly slipping from you, but you had to keep smiling anyway because you were supposed to? I didn't want to hurt him. No, I loved him. Didn't I? Of course I did, but enough to marry him? I didn't know. Yes, I did know. I knew that I loved him enough to marry him and be content with him for the rest of my life. But I didn't want contentment. I wanted to be in love with the man I married, but even if this hypothetical man asked the very same question that Ethan just had, I would've said no. I couldn't get married - I had too much at stake. I wanted to scream at him, "No, of course not. I don't want to marry you! I thought we were happy with our relationship the way it was! Why did you have to go and ruin it? You selfish bastard, I can't marry you!" "Ethan, I--" I was crying, too. I never cry, dammit, and certainly not for this arrogant, selfish prick who addressed his proposal more like a command than a question. He knew how happy I was with the way things were without marriage. He knew how committed I was to Quantico. Didn't he understand that marriage didn't fit into the right now? "Oh, Dana--" my mother began softly, enchanted as though she was the one who had just been asked, "you see, I knew he would make her cry," she told everyone. They laughed nervously. I think they realized I wasn't smiling anymore. I turned to look at my mother and father who were standing behind me. "You knew about this?" I asked slowly. "Yes, Starbuck. Ethan told us about his little plan, didn't you son?" Ahab answered proudly. In his mind, maybe I would marry and settle down with this good Catholic boy who could talk some sense into me. I would quit my job at Quantico, at Ethan's urging, and go practice medicine. Meanwhile, Ahab would sit back and watch the grandchildren roll in. I turned back to Ethan, still on one knee and grasping my hand. "I wanted everyone to be here. Everyone to know... how much I love you." I shut my eyes thinking that if I concentrated hard enough this nightmare would end. How could I tell him no? How could I hurt him like that, and embarrass the hell out of him in front of all our friends and family? I loved him, but not enough... I took a deep breath and started: "Ethan," his face was so hopeful, but held an air of "this is just a formality so say your line." How could I say no to that? "You know I'll have to think about this," I said in my most authoritative voice. Yes, I was still in charger here. I'm in control. Quit making a fool out of me. Of course, it would have sounded better if my voice was steady and if my throat was not clogged with tears. His head bowed and he stood. The guests took a deep breath together, as if the tension in the room was making the air thick and humid. Or was that just me? Yes, everyone had been given an advanced copy of the script but I had mysteriously been absent at rehearsal. They all knew their lines, places, and pauses, and had their performance perfected. Obviously, they had been expecting a slightly different answer from me. Ethan pulled my into a fierce hug and said, "Did anyone ever tell you that you think too much, Dana?" Everyone laughed again, right on cue, except for me. <><><><><><> He thought I was just embarrassed, he told me later that night, as we lay spooned together in our big bed. Our bed was actually my bed, but since he had moved in with me four months ago, everything that was mine had suddenly become ours. Nothing seemed to be just to mine anymore. It was like I had lost my identity to him. He insisted that I wear the ring anyway, despite the fact that I hadn't said yes. It was an ugly thing. A huge diamond fit for a middle-aged woman trying desperately to be young again, not for a young woman with a distaste for jewelry in the first place. I wondered how he thought I could stand the wear this thing every day for the rest of my life. The next day, a Saturday, my mother called and suggested that we go and meet with a wedding planner she had contacted a couple of weeks earlier. She said we needed to get started as soon as possible because we had a lot to do. I reminded her that I hadn't said yes yet. She laughed and said, "I'll pick you up for lunch, okay sweetie?" How did I lose control over my life so suddenly? Four wedding planners and a month later, I still hadn't given Ethan an answer and my mother had given up on forcing me to plan an elaborate, ten thousand dollar wedding. "Honestly, Dana," she said after we left the last planner, "you're so difficult. It's as if you're determined not to do this! Sometimes I wonder if you really want to get married at all!" Two months later, I stopped wearing the golden weight. When Ethan asked, I said it was too expensive to leave in my locker at Quantico all day, and I certainly couldn't wear it while doing an autopsy. Three months later, Ethan stopped asking me for an answer. He was still hopeful, but realized that asking me everyday if I had made up my mind yet only made me angry. I was relieved. Maybe he had changed his mind. Four months later, my father shipped out again and told me that, when he returned, he expected me to have a date set. He was angry and disappointed. What else was new? Five months later, just before his birthday, I asked Ethan what he wanted me to give him. He said a wife. I knew a couple of catalogs where I could get one of those, but they were rather expensive, so I got him a watch instead. Six months later, Quantico wanted me to increase my teaching duties from three classes a week to five. I agreed. If they wanted me to move in and sleep in the morgue, I would've said yes at that point. Work was my sanctuary, the only place Ethan didn't touch. He was a director at a local news station and besides knowing him by name and briefly meeting him at my last birthday party, none of my coworkers knew anything about him. I was still "I," instead of "we" and I reveled in it. Ethan was angry at my increased responsibilities at work: he was old fashioned and expected that, when we got married, I would decrease my hours at work to keep the house. After the children came, if he had his way, I would stop working all together to raise them. And, like my father, Ethan was used to having his way. One night at dinner, about seven months later, I mentioned that Quantico was looking for an Assistant Head Pathologist and that I was a contender. I was young and a woman, but it would be a great honor to achieve such a position at this point in my career. Ethan glared at me and said that he was vying for a position as a director at CNN. If he got the job, it would mean a transfer to Atlanta. I glared right back and told him that Atlanta had a field office, although I wasn't sure if my request for a transfer would be approved. The FBI sends you where they need you, not where you want to go. And besides, I really didn't want to work at a field office anyway. Eight months later, I was asked, again, to take on additional teaching responsibilities. They also wanted to put me on call twenty-four hours a day. I agreed. Ethan and I hadn't mention marriage in a while, and I finally figured that if I ignored it long enough, it would go away. <><><><><><><> Ethan and I both had been very responsible when it came to sex before we started dating each other. After a while, we were tested for any STDs and HIV and when all of our results were negative, we stopped using condoms. I took my birth control pills religiously to protect against an unwanted pregnancy, and didn't think twice about the risks. Nine months after the marriage proposal, I skipped my first period. I chalked it up to stress: I was working 60-70 hour weeks and things weren't exactly comfortable between Ethan and me. The next month, I skipped my period again and panicked. I called my gynecologist and explained the situation to her suggesting that maybe my body had become accustomed to the low levels of estrogen and progesterone in these pills and that I probably just needed something stronger to keep my cycles regular. Or, it could just be stress. Dr. Shin asked if I had taken a home pregnancy test yet. "No," I told her, "why would I need to? I can't get pregnant." She explained in her sweetly placating tone that if I had been sexually active two months ago, there was a possibility that I could be pregnant. No form of birth control is 100% effective, she reminded me. Then she recommended a brand of home pregnancy test. I explained to her again why I couldn't be pregnant. It was just stress. I just needed stronger pills. She sat in silence on the other end of the phone and calmly asked me to call her back when I had taken a home test, "just to cover all of our bases." I very impolitely hung up on her. I kept taking my pills, thinking that I needed to find a new gynecologist, one who listened to her patients, especially when her patient is a doctor herself. About a week later, I developed a stomach virus. I would wake up about 3:30 in the morning and vomit until 6:00. Ethan usually slept right through all of that. I would be too nauseous to eat anything until lunch, sometimes dinner, but the vomiting stayed restricted to early morning. I skipped another period. I finally began to think that Dr. Shin could be right. Up until the timer dinged for me to check the test, I refused to even consider the possibility that I could be pregnant. I never skipped a day taking my pills. I could not be pregnant. If I were, that would mean that I would have to marry Ethan, move to Atlanta if he got his job, and give up the rest of my identity. I had too much at stake to have a baby, anyway. I had a promising career in forensic pathology at the best investigative facility in the free world. Would they hold my Head Pathology position while I was taking my family leave? Would I even be considered for the position if I were pregnant? Of course not, and they didn't have to, because I can't be pregnant. I considered not even looking at the test when the timer went off. I already knew the result, but to appease Dr. Shin and the butterflies inside my stomach, I had to say I tried. It was pink. Pink means positive. Positive means yes. Yes means baby. Baby means Dr. Dana Minette, a faceless drone at some general hospital. Move to Atlanta, give up self to support husband, raise kids, volunteer at elementary school, give elaborate birthday parties, watch soap operas, and cook five course meals for dinner. All that school, hard work, and FBI training to be a housewife? I sat down in the bathroom floor and sobbed for two hours, pregnancy test clutched tightly in my hand. Ten minutes before Ethan was due home, I threw the test in the trash and took it to the dumpster. I washed my face and smiled into the mirror. I was going to be a mother and a wife. And I wouldn't be selfish or emotional ever again. It wasn't my place to be. It wasn't my life anymore. <><><><><><><><> The next day, I woke up much happier and more rational. I called Dr. Shin right after I got to work and explained that the results of the home pregnancy test were inconclusive. I knew what the error rate of those cheap things were and refused to trust the results of one. She suggested that we do a blood test just to be sure, but I told her that I was pulling 18-hour days at work and couldn't come to her office just then. I agreed to make an appointment later to discover the mystery behind my missing periods, still clinging to my explanation that it was stress and that I needed stronger pills. I didn't tell Ethan any of this. He, of course, wanted children but I doubted he would want them immediately. And there was no reason to get his hopes up by telling him that there was a remote possibility that I might be pregnant. <><><><><><><><> Two weeks later, as I was taking a shower, I noticed a slight pooch in my stomach where there was no pooch before. At my appointment with Dr. Shin a few days later, I told her the truth about the result of the home pregnancy test that she had recommended. I weakly explained to her how unreliable the test was. She suggested a blood test might fully convince me. I nodded dumbly. She told me to stop taking my pills, and stated that although extremely rare, the elevated hormone levels that the pills induced could damage a developing fetus. I was late getting home that night. Ethan was worried and angry that I hadn't called. He had fixed us dinner and told me that he had gotten the job at CNN and would start work in April. I congratulated him, and then walked into his warm embrace. Still reeling from my earlier activities, I told him how happy I was for him and finally, how sorry I was for making him wait so long after he proposed to me. I told him that I loved him and that of course I would marry him. I didn't tell him that I might be pregnant. <><><><><><><><> Five days later, Dr. Shin called me at work saying that she needed to see me right away. After I left Quantico that afternoon, I went straight to her office where she informed me that I was indeed pregnant. She congratulated me while I starred blankly at my hands and the horrible weight of my ugly engagement ring. Because I had continued to take my pills until the third month of pregnancy, the doctor wanted to do immediate testing to ensure that everything was fine with my baby. She suggested the usual, a CVS procedure and an alpha-fetoprotein test, both of which would yield quick, reliable results and more importantly, could be performed right then. Ethan was expecting me home for an early dinner. My baby--those words didn't belong together The CVS, or chorionic villus sampling, is more reliable than an amniocentesis for pregnancies in their first-trimester. The doctor goes through the vagina and cervix into the uterus to take a sample of the chorionic villi, which line the chorion--the fetal membrane that becomes part of the placenta. The sample will determine the same thing an amnio would, if and how the baby is genetically abnormal. The procedure is also more risky than an amnio. Infection and miscarriage are common side effects, so it is only done in extreme cases. Since I had continued to take my birth control pills after I became pregnant, there was a small possibility that the baby was abnormal, so I was dubbed an extreme case. The alpha-fetoprotein test is a common blood test that can detect certain abnormalities of the heart or neural tube. If there is a low AFP level, this also may indicate a genetic disorder such as Down syndrome. The doctor told me that, if possible, I needed to stay off my feet for twenty-four hours to decrease the risk of bleeding after the CVS procedure. The next day, I was on time for work--I had a class at 7:30 a.m. The results of the tests didn't come for almost two weeks. I was now almost four months pregnant and I still hadn't told Ethan. I convinced myself that I needed to know all the answers to his questions before I told him about the baby. My mother had resumed her campaign to spend her and Ahab's life savings on my wedding. I started finding things to do at Quantico on Saturdays so I wouldn't have to lie to her about not going to pick out announcements or dresses. Ahab was back on shore, and, finally, we had set a date. Ethan was looking for houses in the suburbs of Atlanta and told me that I should see if I could find a job down there as well. Finally, someone from Dr. Shin's office called me at work saying again that they needed to see me right away. Again, I waited until after work to go. She told me that when I mess up a bell curve, I don't do it half way. My baby was abnormal, but whether it was due to the increased hormones from the pills or not, she couldn't say. An obstetrician at Dr. Shin's office, Dr. Williamson, told me that the CVS procedure hadn't detected any genetic abnormalities in my baby. The alpha-fetoprotein test, on the other hand, had detected high levels of AFP in my blood, meaning that my baby was afflicted with a serious disorder. He ordered a Doppler Scanning to check the baby's blood flow and try to make a diagnosis. As it turns out, the baby had anencephaly, a disorder where part of or all of the brain is absent. It was a mild case with only part of the left hemisphere missing. Regardless of whether it was mild, it would still seriously affect the baby. He calmly explained that half of the fetuses afflicted with anencephaly miscarry. Of the half that are born, almost all die within a few hours. A few go on to live days or possibly weeks and there have been cases where the baby has lived months or years. Often times, the baby's skull was exposed and required several bandage changes daily and constant supervision exceeding the needs of a normal infant. The baby would be seriously mentally deficient, of course, and stood absolutely no chance of living anything approaching a normal life. Dr. Williamson then explained to me what my options were. I could choose to terminate the pregnancy and save myself five more months of pregnancy, plus labor, delivery, and recovery. Or I could choose to try to deliver it and let nature or God choose its course. Obviously, the pregnancy would be risky for it as well as for me; hemorrhaging was a very real possibility during a miscarriage. He informed me that many parents with anencephalic children chose to deliver the baby and, after their deaths, to harvest it's organs to be used in saving other babies' lives. He said that saving the lives of other terminally ill children was a healing experience for the baby's parents and allowed some good to come from such a horrible disorder. He said that I should go home and discuss all of this with my husband before making a decision and for us to take our time. I only had to think for a few seconds before I answered him. I told him that that wouldn't be necessary, that I wasn't married to its father, and could we please do the abortion now? I say it, but it was a boy. <><><><><><> I went straight to bed that night without mentioning any of this to Ethan. He held me while I cried silent, angry tears. He though I was stressed out because of work and all the planning and preparation for the upcoming moving and wedding. He whispered to me that everything would be all right, that he would take care of everything, for me not to worry. When that only made me cry harder, he suggested that we take a short vacation, maybe go to a secluded beach somewhere, and just be together, away from the stresses of our lives for a while. I agreed, thinking that a relaxing beach vacation in February was a stupid idea, but thinking that being alone with Ethan might be a way to get closer to him. Maybe I could convince myself to fall in love with him. Maybe I could tell him about the baby, our baby boy. We planned the vacation for the middle of March, which was only marginally less stupid than February in my mind, but I looked forward to it nonetheless. For my birthday that year, Ethan and I stayed home and had dinner together. He had bought us a house in a quiet suburb of Atlanta; supposedly, that was my gift. I still hadn't told him about the baby. <><><><><><><> At the beginning of March, just a few days before we were supposed to leave for our vacation, I was summoned to Section Chief Blevins' office at FBI Headquarters. I was given a field assignment on the X-Files, and a partner, Fox "Spooky" Mulder. I was scheduled to leave the next day for Oregon on our first case. I went to see Ethan at work to give him the news. He laughed when I told him who my new partner was. He had heard of Spooky, and had tried to do a story on him when Mulder had tried to convince Congress to increase their funds for the search for extraterrestrial intelligence. I told him not to be so quick to judge, that I may be working with Mulder for a year of two before I was made ASAC. For the moment, I was my strong, confident self again. I had forgotten about moving, marrying, and the baby. That night as I was packing, Ethan asked about Atlanta. I told him that I didn't know what would happen with this X-Files thing. Really, his career was the furthest thing from my mind. My career was going up, and if Blevins wanted me to make a fool out of Fox Mulder to keep climbing, I would do it in a heartbeat. I was sure I was on my way to the top, Ethan and Atlanta be damned. <><><><><><><> As I suspected he would, Ethan called me incessantly while I was in Oregon to ask about wedding invitations and numbers of guests. I finally lied to him and told him that while I was on assignment I wasn't allowed to take personal calls on the Bureau's time. By the time I got home, he had packed his things for Atlanta. I told him that I couldn't leave with him, that I hadn't even given my two-week notice. In the back of my mind, I thought that Mulder would've expected my notice: his new partner had been too traumatized and frightened by him and his aliens that she had left the FBI entirely. Ethan just shook his head and hugged me tightly, telling me how much he had missed me. Before bed that night, I passed out and Ethan rushed me to the hospital. The doctors told him that his wife had a uterine infection from her abortion, but that she would be just fine after she had some rest and fluids. <><><><><><><><><> When I woke up, Ethan asked me about the baby. I told him everything and surprised myself by not shedding a single tear and by keeping a clinical, detached tone in my voice. He told me he would be out of my apartment by the end of the week and asked that I not try to contact him right away, that he would call me when he was ready to work things out. He still wanted to get married. I haven't seen or spoken to him since then. My mother kept in touch with him for the first few months after he left. She only told me that he loved his new job in Atlanta but missed me terribly. I never could bring myself to tell her or Ahab the truth about why we ended our relationship, just that we had different goals for the future. I don't have any regrets about what I did to Ethan or the baby. I realize now that what I told my parents about Ethan's and my plans for the future were not lies. Ethan wanted marriage, children, a happy homemaker wife, a dog, and a minivan. I wanted that too, but Ethan wanted it right then. At 28, I was more concerned with my career than raising a family. In my mind, I had time to have a family later, but I needed a good occupational reputation immediately. After Ethan and I broke up, I got a hair cut, and eventually lost some weight. My new work assignment-- and partner-- took up most of my time. Everything was so new and exciting, and it provided a huge distraction from what happened between Ethan and me. I try not the think about what my life would have been like if my baby have been healthy, if I had quit the FBI, and married Ethan. I'm sure that somewhere along the line, I could've convinced myself to fall in love with him and be happy. I am happy with my life now, although I miss the little things about Ethan -- like the way he would hold me at night and keep me warm. The way that he would surprise me by fixing an elaborate dinner after I had had a hard and stressful day at work. Or the way it felt to be loved and wanted. I think I miss that the most. What I did may have been selfish but it was honest. If I'd married Ethan, I would've been lying to him, to God, and to myself. And I'm such a terrible liar. <><><><>End<><><><> Notes, thanks, dedication, and miscellaneous ramblings: I know some of you might not understand why Scully did what she did, but you must remember, this is not "Scully," its "Dana." We don't see much of "Dana" on the show, and in this fic, I tried to explore her character, as well as provide an explanation for Ethan's mysterious presence. I hope that I've succeeded. This story absolutely could not have been done without my friend, Beta, and cheerleader, RealB. I owe her all the praise that I may get for this story, but I'll keep all the criticism for myself. Because of her wonderful comments, suggestions, and corrections, I'm dedicating this to her. Thanks also go to Karri, for convincing me that this deserved to be posted. Her praise was just what I needed. Finally, I thank you, fellow reader, for finishing this. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.