He climbs into the passenger's seat of her car. He sets her purse on the floor by his feet, and closes the door. He turns towards her, and allows a period of silence in an effort to allow her to collect her thoughts. She stares back at him with a look of fear on her face. He reaches over, and squeezes her hand. He chooses to break the silence.

"Scully, I know in the past I have always been the one to suggest completely irrational things, but what you presented me with yesterday was hard for me to wrap my head around. I want to believe," he tells her.

"Seeing is believing," she quips.

"Scully tell me what you have seen," he implores.

"You can see for yourself," she points to her purse.

He scans the area near his feet. The corner of a piece of glossy paper sticks out from the inside of her purse. He reaches down, and gently tugs on the paper. The page readily flies out of the purse, and into his hands. He doesn't examine the evidence immediately. He places the image on the console, between them. He gazes at the love of his life. He drinks in her facial expression, and her body language. What she projects tells him that the situation is every bit as grave as she had anticipated, or possibly even worse. Her blue eyes look weary, and grey today. He feels his heart skip a beat, as he prays for her to be the one to interrupt the awkward silence this time.

"Mulder, it is worse than I originally anticipated," she informs him.

"In what way?"

"In every way," she admits.

"I'm listening," he answers.

She scoffs, "That is rare."

"I have gained some maturity, and insight over the years, Scully."

"The receptionist informed me that my appointment would be delayed by half an hour, because they had a higher patient volume than usual."

"That could be for any number of reasons."

"She said that they had an unusually high number of newly pregnant patients."

"She did not say that," he argues.

"She may not have phrased it that way, but it was the message she conveyed."

"What was determined in your case?"

"I have been going to the same OB/GYN for ten years," she prefaces the story.

"And?"

"He looked at me like I was crazy," she answers.


The air blowing from vent overhead elicits a shiver, as she sits on an exam table in an eight by ten room wearing nothing more than a blue paper gown. There is a knock on the door, and the physician enters the room.

"Dana, nice to see you. What brings you in today?"

"Dr. Carter I am concerned."

"That was obvious when you called. I typically only see you on routine exams. What's going on?"

"I missed my menstrual cycle."

"I certainly think that it is possible that you are entering the menopausal phase of your life."

"I haven't been feeling well," she adds.

He glances at her chart, and shrugs, "I see the symptoms you have been having here. I am not entirely concerned. There has been a lot of illness lately, and it may just be a virus."

"Everything you are saying sounds completely reasonable," she agrees.

"You don't agree?"

"This morning before I came in I had a blood panel run on myself."

"What did you conclude?"

"I brought a copy of them. The nurse placed them on the chart, near the back, I believe."

He flips through the pages until he finds lab results. He stares at the blood panel in confusion, and shakes his head.

"Do you really feel that this is a possibility? I suspect that this is a false positive result."

"I would like to find out for certain."

He nods in agreement, "Let me grab my nurse, and we can find out right now," he agrees.

He finishes his physical exam, and then leaves the room to retrieve his nurse. They enter the room, wash their hands, dry them, and don gloves. The doctor sits by as the nurse turns on the imaging machine.


He blinks, waiting for her to finish the story. She stops abruptly, and does not continue. He prompts her.

"Then what?"

He watches as her index finger points to the image sitting between them on her console. Her lips move, and the words tumble from her mouth, "It is worse than originally anticipated."

"Worse how? Were you wrong? Is there something wrong?"

"Just look at the picture, Mulder," she suggests.

He nods in agreement, and slides the picture out from under her finger. As he studies the image his eyebrows furrow. He spends several moments examining every detail of the picture. He notes her name, as well as her birthdate printed on the top of the image. The current date, and the time of the exam are also printed on the image. Under the printed portion is an image. He studies the cluster of cells. His eyes wander to a second cluster of cells. He exhales, "What am I looking at here, Scully?" He implores her to open up, and state the obvious. He waits for the words to fall from her lips.

"I wasn't wrong, Mulder."

"Tell me what I am looking at," he insists.

She takes the image from his hands, and holds it up for him to see. Her finger points to one peanut-like shape, "Here is one embryo." His finger moves another portion of the image.

"Would that mean this is a second embryo?" He questions.

"Yes," she nods in confirmation.

He scrutinizes her facial expression, and he can see that she is rattled.

"To summarize, what you are saying is; that at your current age, and highly unlikely, damn near impossible likelihood of conceiving, somehow not only have you managed to conceive, but the conception process has led to twins? You are telling me that you are currently pregnant with twins, and that they were conceived through an old fashioned process, despite the fact that you are fifty two years old?"

"That is what I am saying," she nods in confirmation.

"Do you have any idea how crazy all of this sounds?"

"Yes."

"How is this possible?"

"It isn't, and that is precisely my point."

"Yet, here we are, sitting in the car, staring at some pretty damning evidence."

She breaks eye contact. Her gaze affixes to the image that Mulder has returned to its resting place on the console between them. She clenches her jaw, and her nostrils flare. She exhales, hoping to keep tears at bay. She shakes her head in frustration.

"I don't know how to process this information. This is impossible, and yet here we are. The explanation to how this possibly could have happened is completely implausible, so why do I keep coming to the same conclusion?"