She spends her night in a deep sleep. When she wakes in the morning she feels disoriented. She lies in the comfort of her bed, refusing to open her eyes. She feels something fuzzy next to her face, and begins to feel vibrations. The vibrations grow louder, and her ears are assaulted by the sound of purring. She opens her eyes, and finds a ball of orange fur lying on her pillow near her collar bone.
"At least you don't snore," she tells the kitten.
"Scully, I find that offensive," a voice next to her responds.
She rolls over, and finds Mulder lying next to her, reading a magazine. She furrows her brow, and tries to figure out what is going on.
"What time is it?" She asks him.
"Seven thirty," he answers.
"Why are you still in bed?"
"Our son is still in a deep slumber, so he wouldn't entertain me. The news has been deemed hopeless, and the cat I have rescued has deemed me unsuitable. She found her leader, and will not be bothered with me. In the end, I had no choice but to read Entertainment Weekly, and wait for you to wake up."
"Thank you for the play-by-play."
"How did you sleep?"
"Did you drug me last night?" Happen to be the first words that tumble from her mouth in response.
He tilts his head, "Why would you ask me that?"
"I haven't slept that soundly in… maybe decades," she admits.
"I didn't drug you. Sometimes I feel like you are the one who is having paranoid delusions. I know that is typically my role, but at some point in the recent past we underwent a role reversal."
"Mulder…"
"Hmm?"
"You need to shave," she stares at his scruff.
"Here I thought you were going to share something insightful, or prophetic."
She scoots a hair closer to him. He presses his lips to her forehead.
"Mulder I'm scared," she announces.
His facial expression softens, "I know."
"Why didn't you say anything?" She wonders.
"I usually anticipate that you are right, and I just wait for the evidence. In this case I hope that your genius brain is having an off day."
"Does it matter?" She queries.
He cocks an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"
"Either way there is one reality that isn't going to change," she begins.
"Which is what?"
"I'm pregnant."
"Sometimes I think that you are making ups scenarios to distract yourself from the actual situation at hand."
"For example?"
"The real possibilities. Your age, and other complicating factors. I think that you're afraid something will go wrong," he shrugs, "Or maybe you are afraid of what will happen if it doesn't. Sometimes reality is scarier than the alternative."
"There are days when I ask myself if I can make it up another flight of stairs. How am I supposed to do this?"
He grins, "That is usually after the twentieth flight."
"It doesn't matter. I don't know how to do this."
"Do you ever feel like we are just running from our lives?"
She furrows her brow, "How many times have I said that? You are just now jumping on that bandwagon?"
"You're right. Chasing the truth is the same as running from our lives."
Her tone becomes more solemn, "We can't run from this."
"I don't know why you worry so much. You have a very natural maternal instinct, even Xena thinks so."
Scully looks down at the cat who is curled up on her chest. She shakes her head, "How does he have any point of reference for Xena, the warrior princess?"
"Apparently, our son is a rebel. I guess that he wasn't allowed to watch TV until after his homework got done, but re-runs of Xena came on right after school. He was mesmerized, and snuck into the den to watch it as dinner was being prepared each evening."
"I am deeply concerned," she announces.
"Regarding?"
"The very real possibility that these babies will end up like you, too."
He furrows his brow, "What do you mean, too?"
"In addition to our son."
"Scully, he has your smile," he insists.
She shakes her head, "I am not travelling down the rabbit hole with you this morning."
"What do you want for breakfast?"
"Do we still have fruit loops?"
He furrows his brow, "Since when do you eat fruit loops?"
She tries to recall the last time she had a bowl of fruit loops, "Never."
"You want fruit loops for breakfast? I'll make you some boring steel cut oats, just the way you like. We even have some fresh grapes in the crisper."
"I want fruit loops," she grimaces at the thought.
"Why are you making that face?" He questions.
"I feel like this is your fault," she admits.
"How could this possibly be my fault?"
"Your genetic material is effecting my choice of breakfast food."
He shrugs, "I am going to go eat the fruit loops. You stay up here, and continue to ponder that."
She makes it down the stairs a few minutes later, fully dressed. Mulder sits at the table with a spoonful of sugary delight. Scully procures the seat next to him, and pours the cereal into the bowl he has set out for her. Moments later a third individual joins them at the table. His hair is wild. He rubs his eyes, and Dana passes him the cereal. Xena sits under the table, waiting for sloppy seconds. William swallows a bite of fruit loops, and looks over at his mother. He scowls at her.
"Since when do you eat fruit loops? Where is your oatmeal? Are you okay?"
"I just felt like changing things up today," she defends her choice.
William locks eyes with her, "Says the creature of habit. You must be sick."
"Why would you say that?"
"If I were eating oatmeal right now, you would say the same thing to me," he points out.
"I'm not sick," she argues.
"So you just had a hankering for a bowl of fruit loops?" William probes.
"You could call it a craving, even," Mulder suggests.
Scully looks at Mulder, who avoids making eye contact with her. He can feel the daggers shooting out of her eyes.
"Is your blood sugar low? Is that why you're craving fruit loops?" William queries.
Dana shakes her head, "You should eat before your cereal gets soggy."
"There are two more boxes. What is going on? Obviously something is going on, that I'm not privy to."
"It's nothing," she reassures him.
He tilts his head, and scrutinizes her as she eats her cereal. He continues to eye her suspiciously as he shovels another bite of food into his mouth. Mulder sits across the table from his son, watching as the young man's wheels turn. Suddenly, he grimaces, and drops his spoon into the bowl.
"You two have been engaging in old people intercourse, haven't you?"
Dana's face suddenly goes a shade of white that even Mulder has never seen before. The white quickly transforms into a bright beet red, that he is more familiar with. William points to his mother.
"Is there something in there?"
"Not something," Mulder mutters under his breath. Scully kicks him under the table.