Thank you to everyone who reviewed my other X-Files stories. I found this one sitting in the notes on my iPad unfinished. I'm sharing this much in the hope that I can finally finish it.

This is my thoughts on what happened during that huge gap in time during 'Existence'.

The sound of blood pumping through his adrenaline-filled body was all that he could hear as he ran toward the abandoned farmhouse. The roar of the cars as the engines started, their tires scraping across the gravel and the whirring of the helicopter blades overhead muted his cries for her. Scully. He had to get to her. How had they found her? He tried so hard to make sure that wouldn't happen. He had promised her that she and the baby would be safe and they had found her. Damn it! How the hell had they found her? He frantically searched every car as it flew passed him, calling her name, praying to a God he wasn't sure he believed in that she was okay and that he was in time. Monica's voice invaded the chaos and he turned, charging for her, knowing she wouldn't be alive if they had taken Scully. But the baby. What about the baby? Had they taken it? He registers Monica saying Scully needs the hospital, pauses to let the words and the moment sink in. She's safe. She's not dead, they didn't kill her. Hospital. Damn it.

He steps over the threshold and is frozen in his place. Scully's head is bowed over what looks like a bundle of rags from where he stands, but he knows what she holds. She rubs her nose on the baby's head, it's cries dwindling to quiet whimpers as her lips move, soothing it. He sees a tear drip down her nose and fall and finally she takes a shuttering breath, raises her head and her eyes open to look down at her baby. Her baby. They didn't take it. Why?

"Mulder," Monica's voice shocks him back to reality and he turns, looks at her like he forgot she was there. "The hospital."

Right. He turns, takes a step and freezes yet again. Scully stares at him with an expression he has seen too many times. Her eyes are tired and shimmer with unshed tears. Her mouth wants to smile, wants to enjoy this amazing moment of new life, and yet her lips tremble with the overwhelming weight of it all. She could have lost this child before she even held it in her arms. And he wasn't there to stop it. His feet move without his consent and before he knows he is moving, he is kneeling beside the bed, his hand cradling her head under his chin and her tears are running down his neck. Quiet sobs wrack her taxed body and he closes his eyes, turns his nose into her hair, lays a kiss against her head. Thank God she's okay.

She takes a deep breath, let's it out slowly, shaky, and pulls away from him. She sniffles as she looks at her baby, checking like only a mother would that the tiny figure in her arms is still breathing, still moving, still real. She glances back up at Mulder and smiles.

"I'm so glad you're here," she whispers so softly he almost misses it over the sounds that have crept back in.

His hands envelope her face, thumbs brushing away the paths of her tears. Me too. He presses his lips to her forehead, lingers. They're safe. He releases her, wraps an arm around her, the other wrapping the sheet that covers her around her legs before sliding beneath her knees. He stands and lifts her, tries to make it appear effortless.

"Let's get out of here," he says at her ear, his nose brushing against it. He misses the smile on her lips, the way her eyes close to keep it all in, as he focuses on walking her out of the dank building to the helicopter. She turns her face into his chest, her hand covering her baby's head cradled against her own chest, protecting from the sound and the light. Monica appears from somewhere, her hand on his back saying something about driving and meeting them there. He nods, not bothering to stop and ask, and gingerly steps down the few steps to the ground. He glances down as he walks to make sure everyone is okay, but Scully's face remains pressed into his chest.

A pair of arms appear to take her from him when he reaches the helicopter and he almost reacts, almost stumbles back, before he realized its the pilot. She rouses when she is shifted into unfamiliar arms, but before she can think about it, Mulder is cradling her in the v of his legs, against his chest and the door of the helicopter is being slid shut. The sound of the blades mutes slightly and she turns her head to rest her forehead against his cheek. She's so tired, her body aches and her weakness scares her. His arms band around her and the baby, his hand resting over hers that cradles her son's head, thumb sweeping at his forehead. Not her son ... their son. She feels the lift of the helicopter as she pulls back to look at him. He doesn't know yet. Hasn't asked. Does he really think ... no. No. He knows. He puts up a front and cracks jokes to hide the fact that the truth of the matter scares him, but deep inside he knows this baby is his. It scares her too. To think of the possibilities, the repercussions of the truth between them. The truth about how this baby came to be. She leans in closer to him.

"A boy."

His eyes find hers and they are smiling. Finally ... finally he looks down at their son. Blood and fluids still matte his hair, his little face is red from crying, but he is here, safe in her arms. Mulder's thumb joins hers in stroking their son's head. Their little miracle. Tears start to build in her eyes and she closes them, leans her head back against his shoulder, protesting this ridiculous amount of over-emotional sobbing.

"I've got you. Both of you," his voice cracks.