On the drive down to Roswell, Mulder finally had the time to process the last year and a half. Living with Gibson Praise hadn't been easy. He had spent too many nights lying in bed alone; the humidity suffocating him, making him tired and sticky. The only thing that had gotten him through that year was the woman and child waiting for him at home-or so he thought.

The night Scully told him that she'd given William up, he had dreamed of teaching William how to play baseball. His son's eyes were the color of the sky, and his smile a brilliant half moon. He had caught on so quickly, his lanky legs carrying him around all the bases back to home plate. Mulder had hugged his child, smelled the soap on his skin, and ruffled his chestnut hair.

It had all been so real until he opened his eyes to a dark, empty jail cell, his hands grabbing at stale air.

Perhaps they'd been driving for too long, but Mulder began to feel more agitated with every passing mile. She'd given his son away. His son. He remembered the few short days they had together. Mulder never thought he could love something so much, but lying in bed, Scully at his side and William dozing on his chest, he found himself the happiest he had ever been.

The image of William's downy head in his mind, Mulder spoke to her, "Why didn't you let me know what you were going to do?"

Scully lifted her head from the warm window and sleepily asked, "What?"

"Why didn't you at least talk to me before you gave him up? Before you threw him away?"

At his words she instantly became defensive, her voice low and sharp. "I did what I had to do to keep my child safe, Mulder. You weren't there to provide that. Maybe if you had been…And Mulder, even if I could have contacted you I wouldn't have risked it. I'm sorry his safety and yours interfered with you being kept up to date."

He clenched his jaw, only hearing two words. Her child. "Your child? So I don't have a say in any of this?"

Scully lashed out at him, her words striking him like a whip. "You didn't see what he could do, Mulder. You didn't watch strangers come into my apartment and try to take him. You didn't search for him when was kidnapped or find him in the ruins of a ship, dirty and crying but somehow completely unharmed. You may have been his father but you didn't love him!"

The last syllables crackled in his brain, igniting white hot anger. "Bitch." He regretted the remark the moment it parted his lips, but there was no way to take it back.

Surprisingly, she had no reply. Instead, she stared at the encroaching sunset, chin quivering. It was several minutes before either of them spoke again.

"It was the hardest decision I've ever had to make," she said eventually, her voice cracking like frozen glass. "Mulder…"

"I'm sorry," he whispered before she could continue. "I just…just didn't know I would miss him so much." He inhaled a shaky breath, his throat clogged with tears held back.

She took his hand, caressed his pale moon fingernails.