Author's note:
I started watching TXF only recently - Thank you, Ladies, for acquainting me with the series, you know who you are! - and became a shipper right away. This is my first Mulder-and-Scully fanfic. I tried my best to stay in-character, although I'm still in a phase of getting to know them (haven't watched all episodes yet). Reviews are highly appreciated.

Disclaimer:
I don't own any of the characters.

"Seriously, Mulder? You promise me a fun afternoon and then you drive me through the country for half a day only to drag me into a high school gym for a basketball game? Are you out of your mind?"

Scully is whining, but if she's honest, she's grateful that Mulder has picked her up from work to include her in whatever he's up to. She's overdone it again lately, working double shifts and literally begging for on-call shifts silently hoping she would indeed get a call. She behaves like this once in a while when her personal situation threatens to overwhelm her. She prefers to numb herself with work instead of allowing the pain to get the better of her; the nagging pain at the failure of her relationship with Mulder, the agonizing pain at her mother's sudden passing, and of course the never subsiding pain at the loss of her only son.

She will never admit it in front of Mulder, of course, although it's quite probable he knows. He knows her well, not believing her whenever she assures him she's fine. There's been only one time in her life when she felt misunderstood and left alone by him, and it had made her leave their home eventually. But some things are never meant to change and being able to engage Mulder in a friendly banter is one of those things.

"You really know how to spoil a girl!"

"Stop complaining, Scully, would you? I got us great seats," Mulder says, being in the best mood obviously, completely ignoring her sarcastic undertone. "Sit down, I'll get us something to drink."

"I definitely need a beer to get through this!"

"This is high school basketball, Scully, no beer! Coke?"

"Sure. Fine. Whatever."

Mulder scoots off. Scully stays behind and sits down on one of the special court side plastic chairs in front of the gym's bleachers. She's surprised by how many people seem to be interested in the game. It's a huge, well-equipped modern gymnasium with a sprung wooden floor and drop down curtains to divide it into smaller units for practice. This is obviously a high school where sports is important, and basketball in particular. A huge banner has been put up saying 'Welcome to the home of the Hilltoppers', the host team.

Scully feels beamed back into the time when she was a high school student. She'd never been very interested in basketball but she remembers being interested in a player called Jason Fitch once, a hunky boy two years older than she who was the star of the basketball team of her school. She was so nuts about him that she had volunteered to keep the score book for a season, spending more time watching basketball she ever imagined possible. One day she had to accept that Jason didn't have the slightest interest in short, astute redheads but rather fell for simple-minded blondes with big boobs.

Mulder returns with a somewhat contrite look on his face. "They don't have Coke. I got you a Dr. Pepper."

"Now that does it! A nice restaurant hasn't crossed your mind, Mulder, has it? If you want to watch this stupid game, go ahead! Don't bother about me, I think I saw a bus stop outside."

"Don't be silly," Mulder replies, "Trust me. You're gonna like it."

"Like what? What are we doing here?"

"We're gonna see good basketball, that's for sure! This is the final tournament of a scouting summer camp. Some of America's most promising basketball talents are playing. We might see a few of them in the NBA at some point in time and you'd be able to say you already saw them play when they were still unknown amateurs."

Scully looks at Mulder and is surprised about how excited he is. He's a sports maniac, okay, interested in all kinds of sports, but high school basketball? Scully would rather believe a Knicks game was his cup of tea, but the Hilltoppers? She sighs. She can think of a hundred other things she would like to do on this day instead of sitting inside a stifling high school gym filled with screaming pubescent teenagers. If it had to be sports for Mulder, why not baseball? The night he taught her how to hit still belonged to the best moments of her life. So why basketball for heaven's sake?

Maybe he needs it, Scully thinks. It's not been easy for Mulder to cope with her leaving the house, and she knows he misses her mother just like she does. Mrs. Scully never hid the fact that she liked Mulder dearly, and she was very upset when her daughter told her she couldn't hold on to her relationship with him anymore. And of course the loss of William. It must have been even harder for him, for he never had the chance to say goodbye to his son. If it does Mulder good, if it brings him joy, she can watch a basketball game for two hours. Riding a sticky motorcoach home wasn't really appealing anyway.

"Okay, Mulder, if you want this so badly I'll stay, but only if you promise to take me to a nice little restaurant for dinner and a beer when we're done here."

"Shhh, Scully, the players are coming!"

Not used to being shushed by him, Scully inhales sharply. "Mulder, do you have money on this? Is that why you're so excited?"

"Look out for number 19 of the away team! That's the one with the green jerseys. The Martians." He grins.

"You must be kidding me! The Martians? In the green jerseys?" How many bad jokes about little green men have they been listening to throughout their time with the FBI?

"Funny, isn't it?"

"Not really."

Mulder cranes his neck and his eyes scan the bustle on the court. "I don't see number 19. Do you?"

"Is that your lucky number, or what?"

"Not only mine, yours too!" he says and winks at her.

The announcer starts introducing the players - Number 14, Brian Lerner. Number 15, Josh Sanderson. - and one boy in a green jersey after another raises his hand and waves to the crowd.

"My lucky number is 5, Mulder, not 19!"

"Believe me, today it's 19. It's our lucky number today."

"Our? Since when do couples have a lucky number? Let alone we're not even a couple anymore."

Number 17, Aaron Hunt.

"Nineteen, Scully!"

"Ugh, would you stop talking in riddles! You're driving me crazy!"

Scully doesn't get any reaction because Mulder's eyes, and obviously his ears also, are glued to the line-up of players on the court.

Number 18, Cameron Huff. Number 19-

"Mulder!" Scully whines.

William Van De Kamp. Number 20...

The following names never make it to Scully's ears. The pieces of the puzzle are finally falling into place. That's why Mulder has dragged her out here, that's why he's been so mysterious about number 19, and that's why he was so excited all the way. William, their son, the boy she gave up for adoption before he even turned one, is playing basketball today, and they're in the crowd watching him.

Scully turns to Mulder and sees that he's ecstatic. He sits at the edge of his chair like a cat ready to jump. His cheeks are glowing and he grins the widest grin Scully has ever seen on him. Then he looks at her. His excitement is electrifying and she begins to realize that what's going to happen could be life-altering for both of them.

"How did you find him?" Her voice is a mere whisper.

"I'm a trained investigator, remember? There are still some people with the FBI who know me."

"Oh? And they didn't turn tail and flee when Spooky Mulder showed up?"

"Believe it or not, one or two owed me something. They helped me track him down. I found out that he was going to attend a basketball summer camp not too far away and that he would be playing this little tournament, so I decided to bring you here."

"Why now?" She is still breathless and her voice thin.

"What you said after your mother's funeral broke my heart, Scully. You know, when we were sitting on that log at the lake. You said that I would get answers to all my mysteries, but that you would never get answers to the questions that were important to you. Your questions about William. I want you to get some answers, Scully. Today you can get some answers. If you want to. We can't talk to him, I hope you're aware of that. It would expose him to the risk we've so desperately been trying to keep him out of. But we can see how he's doing, and what kind of person he's grown into."

Mulder grabs her hands. His are freezing and in his face Scully sees both joy and excitement, but also anxiousness and doubt. She feels the same mixture. What if this tears open more wounds than it's able to heal?

"What about you, Mulder? Can you handle this?"

"I don't know," he replies with a weak shrug, "but this might be a one-and-only chance to share a little something of his life, Scully. I don't want to regret one day that I let it pass because I was afraid."

"Me either."

"So we'll stay?" Mulder asks cautiously, squeezing Scully's hands.

She nods. "We'll stay." And as if to seal their mutual agreement, the referee blows the starting whistle.

For a while, both parents are simply watching their lost son in awe. How he runs about the court, how he catches the ball and tosses it to one of his teammates, how he aims at the basket. Even the way he sits on the substitute's bench amazes them. Mulder, a textbook example of a sports fan, who usually analyzes each game he watches, assesses the players' strengths and weaknesses trying to predict the outcome, is entranced. This is no usual game for him. As far as this game is concerned, he's only interested in one single player and his unblinking eyes follow him without interruption.

Scully is the first to find her voice again. "He's got your height."

"Uh, well, yes. He wouldn't be playing basketball if he got yours," Mulder says with a sneer. "You gave him your hair color, though."

"Obviously. Poor boy!"

"I don't think it bothers him much."

"What makes you think that?"

"Don't forget I used to be a profiler before I transferred to the X-Files. If he didn't like the color of his hair, he'd cut it short. But his is quite long and, to top it, curly. He's not going with the fashion like 90 percent of the boys in this gym here, so I take it he's confident about his hair and likes to go with his own style."

Scully likes the idea that her son has the confidence and self-esteem to do things his way, that he's not the type to follow the masses just to belong to a group. Neither Mulder nor she have ever been followers in their lives, they've always stood up for their beliefs and ideas. That's what made them work on the X-Files for so long. Then another detail about William's hair strikes her.

"My hair used to be like that when I was a kid. I hated it. My mother had to braid it every morning to tame my mop of curly hair. Luckily, the curls grew out with puberty."

"I bet you were a cute girl with red, curly pigtails." It sounds like a tease but Mulder's eyes reveal true devotion. They both stare at each other but then turn their heads to focus again on what's happening on the court.

William's team, the Martians, is in possession of the ball. It's a fast game with the ball moving from player to player quickly, William amongst them.

"Is he good, Mulder?" Scully asks, lacking a good understanding of the game despite her spending a whole high school year alongside a basketball court.

"Yes, he's good. Not a top scorer but he anticipates the other players well and tosses the ball to the right teammate at the perfect time. And he's not bad from the three-point line." Mulder is in sports mode now and can't hide his pride. The boy has not only inherited his height but also his athletic ability. Mulder isn't such a bad basketball player himself.

"I think that's his girlfriend over there." Scully points to a girl with a ponytail sitting at the other side of the court.

"How do you know?"

"She claps her hands every time Will has the ball and jumps up and down like crazy when he scores a basket. Plus, she's wearing a shirt with the number 19 on the front. And the couple three rows behind her must be his parents. The man shouts 'Go, William!' all the time and the woman bites her nails whenever Will is on the court. They're all sitting among the people with the green jerseys."

"Good job, Agent Scully! Just like old times."

They smile at each other, and Scully begins to enjoy herself. But then she can't stop a wave of jealousy rolling over her when she looks at her son's adoptive parents again. It should be Mulder and her cheering him on, sharing his enthusiasm about basketball and supporting his talent. Her emotions drag her down into the depths of a dream world, one where she looks through the kitchen window to watch Mulder and William shoot hoops while she prepares dinner, where they ride their bikes to the park for a Sunday family picnic, where they sit at the breakfast table chatting and laughing and planning the day ahead. A world where they are a family of three.

So many different, contradictory emotions and impressions act upon Scully. She's exposing her blind side, she realizes, allowing this special moment to both delight and depress her. The curiosity, the burning desire of a mother to know about her child's well-being, finds itself in a ruthless battle with her soul's natural safeguard mechanism. The former leading her to suck in every detail of what she sees: William's looks, William's voice, William's movements. The latter warning her constantly not to plunge too deep into a state of exhilaration. It was hard enough, devastating almost, to break away from her son all those years ago, if she let him come too close now, she'd have to do it once more, and this time it might kill her. This dichotomy of joy and fear is threatening to tear her apart. Her body reacts accordingly, sending cold shivers down her spine one moment and burning up her cheeks the very next.

After a while, which could have been eternity or only a split-second, Mulder urgently pulls her out of her reverie by touching her lower arm. "We're halfway through the last quarter, Scully. It's gonna be over soon." His voice is hoarse and he sounds bitter.

She looks at him, at her son's father. She wanted him to be the father to her child; it was Mulder or no one. At first, she didn't know how to ask him to donate his genes for the IVF procedure, but when he said yes, she was so grateful. She would've never done it with an anonymous donor. There had already been too many unknown forces at work with her body and her health, she needed certainty that she was in control of what was done to her body. Having Mulder with her in this gave her certainty and security, only that it wasn't meant to be. Or so she thought at the time.

He's touched emotionally by what's happening today just like she is. Whoever says that mothers have a closer bond to their children and that fathers are cooler and more distant, is wrong. Scully has always felt sorry for Mulder as he had considerably less time to spend together with their baby than she had. He had to leave them too early after William was born, and his son was gone when he returned. He would've been a wonderful father if he had only been given the chance. When Scully dreams about what their family life could have been, she sees Mulder getting William his first baseball glove or patching a flat bicycle tire with him. She hears him reading bedtime stories about aliens and introducing him to the world of dating girls. She feels how much he loves him.

The referee blows the whistle again. This time, it's the final whistle.

Scully's pulse accelerates. Why did it have to be over so soon? She rants and raves at herself for having cared about what his girlfriend looks like or who his parents are instead of keeping her eyes on him and only him. On William, her beloved son. Why, for heaven's sake, didn't she take any pictures? Her smartphone is in her pocket! God, she could've even taken a video! Some memories to take home. All she has are a few baby pictures of William, yellowed and worn from looking at them ever so often. She hears Mulder murmur, "That's it. Game over."

Scully doesn't even know whether William's team won, and she bets neither does Mulder. She looks at him. He's a picture of misery. It hurts her physically to see that tall, strong, reckless man so desperate and close to tears, and it only adds to her own unsettling mixture of emotions. She shoves her own sensitivities aside, the pictures she omitted to take and the moments she didn't observe William. She rivets on Mulder because all she cares about right now is the way he's hurting, the way he's been hurting for years. "You okay, Mulder?" she asks, although it's pretty obvious he isn't.

"No, I'm not okay." He props his elbows up on his thighs and buries his face in his hands. "Why are they allowed to live our life, Scully? He's our son."

"Yes, he is ours. And he's gorgeous."

"He is, isn't he? We made him, Scully. You and me. We might not have saved the world, but we created life. And who knows, maybe one day he'll invent a cure for cancer or lead the world to peace."

They eventually made him the old-fashioned way, not caring for protection as both had been cleared as HIV negative and were in the strong belief that Scully was barren. The IVF treatment hadn't worked, so neither of them dared to believe that their lovemaking would have any other consequences than to strengthen their bond and uplift their relationship. Her pregnancy had been nothing else but a miracle.

"Or he simply enriches a few people's lives just by being there."

"Not our lives, Scully. Not ours." She has never heard him sound so bitter and disillusioned.

"He has enriched our lives, hasn't he? I cherish my time with him, even if it was much too short," she whispers, trying hard not to break out into tears.

"So do I, Scully. When he was born and I held him for the first time, it...uhm...it was the happiest moment of my life." It was not only his son in his arms that made this moment so special for Mulder but also Scully who was so beautifully beaming with motherly pride. "I mean, you and me and him...it was perfection. What else could I do but kiss you? I lacked the words to describe what I felt, I had to show you."

Now Scully's eyes are filling with tears. She wants to say something, tell Mulder that it was the happiest moment of her life also, only that she didn't know at the time. At the time, she believed it would be the beginning of a wonderful life for the three of them. That this split-second, this tiny fraction of a lifetime, would be everything they got, that after all they'd been through fate begrudged them only a fleeting moment of happiness, would've never seemed possible to her. They had suffered, had put their lives on the line, had given up so much, they deserved more than that. But life has turned out to be a bitch.

"I shouldn't have left you." Mulder interrupts Scully's reckoning with the unkindness of destiny. "My place was at your side, yours and William's, and no place else."

"No way, Mulder, they would've killed you! You had to disappear. I knew why I made you go, believe me!"

"You wanted to get rid of me, huh?"

"Don't be ridiculous! Together we might have been able to protect him."

"Scully, do you really believe I would've left if I hadn't been profoundly convinced that you could protect him on your own? I mean, I knew he was in the best hands I could ever imagine." When he catches her puzzled look he laughs. "What? I always felt safest when you were right behind me covering my back, and when I got caught, I knew you would rescue me. If you couldn't keep him safe, nobody could. And that includes me."

"You never said that before," she stammers.

He's practically given her absolution for having given William up for adoption. Not that he's ever blamed her, not with one word, but he's also never spoken it out so clearly. They've hardly ever spoken about it to begin with. Both of them coped with the loss, and the grief, and the sadness on their own; and in completely different ways. She buried herself in work, numbing the pain with distraction. He let himself sink deeper and deeper into a depression, numbing the pain with pills and scotch.

"I thought you knew I trusted you blindly. With my life, and with his." Mulder makes eye contact by cupping Scully's face with both hands. "We challenged the wrong people, Scully. They were, and still are, too powerful for us. For them, we're only pawns on a chess board that they can move around and sacrifice to their liking; and William had the value of the queen. It was right to take our child out of the game. If it only wasn't so damn hard to live with the knowledge that he's out there being the beloved son to another couple."

Scully winces at the idea that there are people out there having no scruples to think of human beings as tokens, classifying them into pawns and queens and kings. She experienced it first-hand, though, when they let her fall sick with cancer and cured her at their convenience. Protecting her son from becoming a pawn in the hands of the powerful had been the single and only reason for her to make the most difficult decision of her life.

"He's doing well, Mulder. He's healthy, and he's happy. That's what I needed to know."

They're the only people in the gym by now. The players, the coaches, and the fans have all left.

"His parents seem to be nice people," Scully continues.

"Hmmm."

Eventually, Scully rises from her chair. "Come on, Mulder, let's go." He promised her a cozy dinner and she wants him to keep his promise. Staying in this place any longer isn't good for them. She holds her hand out to Mulder, he takes it and allows her to pull him up.

"I'm not sure whether coming here was really such a good idea," he says. "It hurts, Scully."

"I know. I'm hurting too, but it's also healing to know that our sacrifice wasn't for naught. He has a normal life and people who care for him, that's all I ever wanted for him to have."

"We would've cared for him, too."

"Of course, we would, but we weren't able to give him a normal life. Would you have wanted to drag an infant through the country, changing his ID almost on a monthly basis, tearing him out of school and away from his friends? We had no right to do this to him."

Holding hands they're crossing the court where William had been playing only a short time earlier. They are ready to leave the place of their brief, one-sided encounter with their lost son, when suddenly a basketball hopscotches towards them, coming to a halt right beneath Scully's feet.

"Hey, where did that come from?" She picks the ball up and lets it bounce clumsily. "Do you think you can teach a gawky girl how to play, Mulder?" she asks, her eyes focused on the ball. When she doesn't get an answer, she looks up and into a shocked face. "Oh, come on! You didn't mind showing me how to hit a baseball! What if I let you put your hand on my hip again?" she adds with a smug grin and a wink.

There's still no reaction from Mulder whatsoever. His face remains as if chiseled in stone, his eyes wide and his mouth open.

"Breathe, Mulder! What's the matter with you? If I didn't know better, I'd think you're trying to diss me."

Eventually, someone speaks to her, but it's not Mulder. "Excuse me, Ma'am. Can I have my ball back?"

Scully spins around and looks into the innocent face of...her son.

"What the-" Fortunately, she keeps the last world from leaving her mouth, otherwise a curse would've been the first thing William heard from his mother after more than 14 years of silence.

"I'm sorry if it hit you, Ma'am," the boy apologizes politely. He has been taught some manners obviously. "It somehow slipped out of my hand."

Scully grins stupidly. "Uh, never mind."

Mother and son silently gaze at each other, studying the other's face. The boy inherited not only his mother's hair color but also the color of her eyes. They are of the same clear, ice-blue brightness as Scully's.

William frowns. "Have we met before?"

Scully feels the earth move under her feet. How is she supposed to answer that question? If she could do what she feels like, she'd embrace him, tight, and whisper into his ear, 'I'm your mother, Sweetheart! I conceived you, carried you in my womb, gave birth to you, nursed you, sang you to sleep, cuddled you, loved you. Love you!' But of course, she won't say any of these words. She can't possibly lie to him either, though. "I guess you're mistaking me for someone else."

"I don't think so." William tilts his head and arches one eyebrow, a gesture so Scully-esque Mulder chokes.

William turns, unbeknownst to him, to his father. "Everything alright, Sir?"

"Yes, yes." Mulder clears his throat. "Good game, Pal!"

"Thank you, Sir."

"Your technique from the three-point line is good. I like it how you give the ball that final spin." He tries to sound matter-of-fact, and most people would believe he's cool and relaxed. William probably does, but Scully senses how tensed up Mulder really is.

"That's very kind of you, Sir." William scrutinizes the man he's at eye level with from head to toe. The boy will probably outgrow his father one day, for he's not yet 15 and almost of the same height.

Scully stares at the two. William has the same tall, lanky figure as his father: broad shoulders, flat stomach, narrow hips, and long arms. His juvenile body exudes vigor and zest with every fiber. That a boy so impressive and hunky had once been carried inside a body as petite and delicate as Scully's is hard to believe.

"Will, we should get going." The girl Scully identified as their son's girlfriend grabs his arm. She appears a bit anxious, probably marveling at the weird conversation her boyfriend is having with those two unknown adults.

"Just a sec, Amy."

William turns his head towards Scully, but his eyes still rest on Mulder. Then he shakes his head and gives Scully the same paralyzing stare as before. "I'm pretty sure I know you, Ma'am!" he insists.

"Probably a doppelganger. Or deja vu. A doppelganger is a person who resembles someone else with no biological relation, and deja vu is the feeling you get when you're in a situation, and feel like you've been in the exact same situation before, but really haven't. It could be either phenomenon or a combination of the two."

If William knew his mother, he'd be able to classify this move as typical for her. Being able to name a scientific explanation for an otherwise crazy situation has always given her relief.

The boy scratches his head. "If you say so."

"William, the others are waiting for us," Amy tries again, now rather impatient than apprehensive.

"Anyways, it was nice meeting you." William nods to Scully then turns to Mulder. "Sir."

"Nice meeting you, too," they answer in unison and look after him as he grabs his girlfriend's hand and walks toward the exit.

From afar, Mulder and Scully can hear Amy hiss, "For heaven's sake, Will, what was that? Who were those people?"

"I have no idea, Amy. This woman...her eyes," he trails off.

"What's with her eyes?"

"They were...so...familiar."

And then the heavy door to the gym slams shut and the kids are gone. Mulder and Scully are alone. Both are rooted to the spot, overwhelmed by what has just happened.

"He remembers you, Scully."

"Impossible, Mulder."

"Listen to what I'm saying, he remembers you. The way he looked at you. It was written all over his face."

"Childhood memories don't go back that far. Usually, people don't remember what happened in their childhood up to the age of three or four, and he wasn't even a year old. Scientists believe that with age the growth of new brain cells overwrites existing ones, erasing early childhood memories."

"He's no usual kid, Scully. He's smart, and he's sensitive. You can quote from your medical textbooks as much as you like, but I assure you he didn't buy anything you said about doppelgangers and deja vu. He knew...he felt...there's a connection between the two of you."

"I want to believe you, Mulder, I really do. It's just so damn hard."

Mulder makes a step toward her and engages her in a hug. "Let the mother in you have the upper hand over the scientist," he breathes in her ear, then kisses her cheek. She lets him put his arms around her and rests her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Mulder! Thank you for this day!"

"It turned out slightly different than I thought, to be honest. What a surprising twist!"

They stand in a tight embrace and enjoy the closeness. They're in this together, and it makes it easier for them. They're so focused on each other that they're taken aback when someone is coughing right behind them.

"Excuse us, we're the Van De Kamps. We need to ask you something."

Mulder and Scully jump apart, but Scully doesn't turn around. She decides to nestle closely against Mulder's chest, trying to take shelter where she's already found it so many times. 'Go away,' she begs silently with her eyes closed. 'Please, go away and leave us alone.'

Her pleas remain unheard. Without waiting for an answer, Mr. Van De Kamp continues, "Are you our son's biological parents?"

Scully gasps and Mulder's facial features freeze.

"I beg your pardon? " Mulder's voice is thick. He understood the question quite well but doesn't know what else to say.

"Are you our adoptive son's biological parents?" the man repeats stubbornly.

"They want him back, Walt! I told you one day they'll come and want him back," the woman at his side, supposedly Mrs. Van De Kamp, cries out in tears.

Mulder gathers the strength to ask, "What makes you think we're your son's parents?"

"We saw you talk to William."

Now, Scully turns around. Mr. Van De Kamp's eyes flicker. "Plus, the resemblance is striking." He points to both Mulder and Scully. "I mean, William looks like the perfect combination of the both of you."

"You want to have him back, don't you?" the woman says again, and the anxiety in her voice touches Scully deeply.

"No, Mrs. Van De Kamp, we don't wan-" Scully bites her lip when she realizes what she was about to utter, "we can't have him back."

"But you're admitting it! You are his birth mother, aren't you?"

Scully nods, looking down to the floor to avoid meeting Mrs. Van De Kamp's eyes. To her complete surprise, Mr. Van De Kamp is exhilarated.

"Oh, that's wonderful! We have so many questions! William has questions! We would've preferred an open adoption from the start. We think it's important for an adopted child to know their roots. William asked us about his origin many, many times, but there was nothing in the papers we could tell him."

"For a reason, Mr. Van De Kamp. And because of the very same reason we still can't tell you anything, sorry." Scully sounds more resolute than she wants to and instantly regrets her harsh tone when she looks into the puzzled faces of the Van De Kamps.

Mulder pulls her aside and whispers to her. "What about your little mysteries, Scully? You could get some of the answers you've been looking for so desperately."

"But Mulder-"

"I know what you're thinking. It won't put him in danger if we talk to these two people. Nobody knows we're here, nobody has followed us. I took precautions. Haven't forgotten too much from my time as FBI agent." He looks at her forcefully. "As long as we don't talk to him."

"But we did talk to him!" Scully shrieks.

"That was an unforeseeable coincidence we can't undo anymore. I meant that we can't sit down with him and tell him the story of our lives. But we can talk to his parents. Just this once."

"And what do you want to tell them, huh, Mulder? Everything?"

"No, of course not everything! But something! Something about the circumstances of William's adoption. Don't you think the boy deserves it?" As Scully is struggling with herself, Mulder tries to give her the final push. "Come on, let's just do it!"

The reassuring look on Mulder's face eventually tips the scales for Scully. Unable to make a decision herself she decides to trust him. It has always been like this. Whenever he said, 'Scully, we have to go, this definitely is an X-File,' she followed him. Whenever he said, 'Scully, believe me, this man has supernatural powers,' she believed him. Whenever he said, 'Scully, trust me, it'll be fine,' she trusted him. So when he says William will be safe, William will be safe.

"I saw a little Italian café a few blocks down the road," Mr. Van De Kamp proposes from where he's standing a few feet away, overhearing their little argument. "We'd have a bit more privacy there than here in this gym. And I could also use a strong coffee. What about you?"