"Dana honey can you get my sweater?"
"Sure mom. Where is it?" She asks standing from the couch.
"In my dresser. Top drawer should be right on the top." Scully nods walking towards the master suite going right towards to the dresser. It's top filled with knick-knacks, figurines, and pictures. Pictures of a few friends but mainly family. She pauses to take a closer look.
Everyone had changed so much. Herself included. She nearly laughs out loud at the picture of herself eight years old covered in mud and dirt wearing her Easter Sunday dress. Her nephews were no longer little boys but becoming men. She needed to see them more. She needed to see all of them more.
Just as she's about to look away from the frames of memories and complete the task she was brought in here for her eyes fall upon a smaller frame partiality hidden by others. Something tells her to look at it. Still her heart is pounding as she carefully reaches to retrieve it.
"Oh my god." She gasps in a whisper. Tears brimming. Se knew who it was. A boy, six years old dark hair, green eyes, grinning cheesily at the camera or photographer as one that age often does. Her son. Her William. she hadn't seen him since that day she had to walk away from him. But a mother knows. This was him. Forgetting the sweater she grips the frame tightly as if it's actually him and exits the room.
"Than…Dana? What's wrong?" Margaret asks seeing the colored drained from her daughter's face. Than notices the object in her hand.
"How did you get this?" Scully asks in a whisper.
"I contacted the Van Kamps and asked to be updated on get pictures. They agreed."
"You have more?"
"Yes."
"You had no right. The anger is raising.
"He's my grandson."
"And he's my son! Don't you understand how hard it was for me to give him away!? He was all I ever wanted. And I had to lose him."
"No you didn't Dana! There was no reason for you to let him go! He's a perfectly healthy intelligent and normal child. You could have…"
"Stop it mom! Just stop!" Scully returns to her seat falls into and stares at the picture. He looked so much like Mulder but still she saw herself in him as well. Her miracle. Their miracle. That she pushed away and gave up over what ifs. Better be safe than sorry she had told herself. But what if…
"Mom? Is he happy? Does he have a good life?" Margret sits next to her and places a hand on her knee.
"Very much so. Would you like to see more pictures?" Scully nods and her mother stands up and walks over to the book shelf rearranging a few and pulls down a plain plastic covered book. A photo album. She sits down once more and opens it up. The first few pages were the William Scully she remembered. The ones in which he was still hers. Herself was even in a few. Than they entered territory she was unaware of. Of him growing. Him with his new family. He did look happy. He looked love. soon Scully can't see through the tears.
"They sent me pictures about every three months. Along with a note on how he's doing. Do you want to read them?" Scully shakes her head.
"Mom?"
"Yes honey?"
"Do you think he hates me?"
"No. and I'm sorry for what I said. I know you love him and did what you thought was best. And God works in mysterious ways."