I unlocked the door of Mulder's place, as I've been doing almost daily for the last three months. I've been paying the rent, feeding his fish and keping everything clean and in order. It made me feel closer to him and I wasn't ready to give it up, despite my mother's protests and insistence that it's time to let go and move on.

I would sit on his couch for hours and pray for his soul. I prayed for his child and for the strength to keep going without him.

This time, God has answered more than I dared to ask. He gave Mulder back to me.

I entered the apartment and he followed me.

"Something looks different," he said, observing his living room.

"It's clean," I guessed.

"No," he disagreed: "That's not it."

As he walked around, touching his things and staring at them, I took the time to take of my coat. I never once took it of during his time in hospital, partly because I was afraid of his reaction and partly because I didn't want to confuse him further by adding another thing to everything that he had to process. I couldn't keep it away from him for much longer. It was the time to tell him.

I stood there for a long time, searching for the right words and praying for courage to deal with his reaction, whatever it might be. I told him in my mind thousands times, never imagining telling him in his face. I would have never done what I did without his permission if there was any hope of ever having him back.

He walked through all the rooms without looking at me once and I gave him time to accustom with his home, while I just stared at the fish swimming peacefully in their tank.

When he got tired or bored of wandering around he came back to the living and sat on the couch. He stared briefly at the wall and then finally directed his gaze towards me. His eyes skipped mine and settled straight on my belly. Trust Mulder to instinctively know where to look!

I held my breath as he observed me.

"You are gaining weight," he said flatly and I couldn't hold back a chuckle. That's my Mulder! Why did I expect any other remark?

"I'm pregnant," I said as I joined him on the couch. As hard as it was to say those words, they were only the easy part of my confession.

His expression didn't change a bit. He observed my belly for a few more moments, than finally raised his gaze to meet my eyes.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you wanted it," I answered.

He kept staring at me with unreadable expression which I just wasn't able to handle.

"I used your sample," I whispered.

"It's my baby?" he asked, and his expression changed just a tiny bit with a hint of surprise, a hint of curiosity.

I simply nodded, giving up on words.

"I want to feel it, Scully," he said as he reached in my direction. I thought he was going to place his hand on my belly, but he slid it straight into my pants instead.

"Mulder!" I protested, moving away from him: "What are you doing?"

"I just want to feel it, Scully," he said as a matter of fact and slid his hand deeper, unfazed by my reactions. My whole body stiffened as he slid his finger inside me, but I didn't stop him. It this is what he needs, I'll endure it for him. Even in his zombie state I trusted Mulder not to hurt me.

I tried to will my body to relax as he probed me with a second finger, stretching me further and going deeper in search for our miracle. As a father it's was only fair he gets to go down there, one way or another. I couldn't deny it to him.

By the time the third finger joined the party my pain and embarrassment started to give way to pleasure and my hips involuntarily thrust in his direction, as I moaned his name.

He stopped abruptly, but didn't move away. I felt his gaze on my face, but I couldn't force myself to return it. I breathed deeply, my eyes closed, unaware of anything besides the feeling of him inside me. Whatever that was, I didn't want it to end.

Finally, I opened my eyes and boldly met his. His expression was still blank, his eyes still empty. It gave me chills. He stared at me for a moment, then removed his fingers and just walked away. He didn't go far, only to stand by the window, as if there wasn't any place for him to go to, literally and metaphorically.

Seeing him like that brought tears to my eyes, which I didn't bother to try stopping. I left the couch too and went to stand by his side. I didn't look through the window as he was doing, the outside world didn't concern me at the moment. I lowered my forehead on his arm instead while gently stroking it with both of my hands, as if my touch could bring the life back into his tortured body.

"I can't feel it, Scully," he said: "I don't feel the baby and I don't feel you either. I don't feel myself."

"But I do," I said, sobbing hard into the side of his arm: "I can feel you, Mulder... I feel you so strong! I feel all of us…"