6.


In my field of paper flowers
And candy canes of lullaby
I lie inside myself for hours
And watch my purple sky fly over me


A soft whimpering woke Scully from her sleep, and she stirred in confusion. Next to her a small bundle of warmth wriggled like a cat, little legs kicking out and tiny hands batting gently against her arm.

A baby.

She stared down at him through a sleep induced fog of incomprehension, unable to remember how a baby had gotten into bed next to her. A hungry baby, she thought, with sapphire blue eyes, and a hungry little mouth ready to demand food. Before the baby could cry she picked him up, jiggling him against her for a few seconds until she remembered.

Her baby.

Mulder had said this was her baby. Hers and his. Theirs. A little boy.

His skin was soft against her cheek, the light down of his hair tickling her lips and his hands fisting against her clothes. Her eyes stung and her fingers tightened gently on the little baby.

A name, she thought, the little guy needed a name.

"Good morning, Baby," she whispered softly in his ear. His head wobbled against her hand, trying to turn toward her lips, and she smiled into his fuzzy peach head, breathing in his baby scent. "Hungry?" she whispered.

She pulled herself out of the bed. Mulder must have covered her some time during the night because the last thing she remembered was sitting on the bed and watching the baby sleep in her arms. He was wriggling in her arms now, his whimpers more insistent, building toward a crescendo she knew would be enough to wake the dead if she didn't hurry and get a bottle for him. The baby bag was lying on the floor next to the bed, several pieces of its contents spilled across the cream carpet. Scully snatched up a small tin of formula and an empty bottle, making her way out of Mulder's room and into the living area of his apartment.

He was lying on the couch, one arm tucked awkwardly beneath his head while the other rested on his stomach. During the night his shirt had worked up, and a large expanse of his abdomen, golden and lean, lay in view. Her cheeks flushed with humiliated heat as she remembered the previous evening, the intimacy of letting him watch a baby try to feed at her dry breast.

The baby wriggled in her arms again. "Shhh," she whispered, hurrying back into Mulder's room to find a dummy in the mess of baby paraphernalia spread across the carpet.

In the fridge she found Pepsi. She poured some in a glass before dunking the dummy in it a few times and pressing it into his mouth. It wouldn't hold him for long, she knew, and it probably wasn't a good idea at his age, but she didn't know how else to keep him quiet until she had his bottle ready.

Several minutes later the Pepsi and dummy trick had worn off, and Baby was getting angry.

"What a temper," she whispered against his soft head, his stiff little body fighting against her hold. "Just like your Daddy. Another minute, Baby, and then you can have your food."

When he found the teat with his mouth and suckled, his body relaxed and his eyes drooped with contentment, his rhythmic suckling taking over the entirety of his small world. She looked down at him in her arms, holding the bottle with her free hand while he fed.

So small, she thought with amazement. So small and so perfect.

He burped into his bottle, drooling around the teat.

Was this tiny little bundle really hers? She had no doubt that Frohike had been thorough with his testing and information before he took the risk of sending Byers for the child. But was he really hers?

He'd been stolen from her. She'd been denied the right to nourish him into life, to be there when he took his first breath and felt the first touch of air on his cheek. She'd been denied being there, carrying him, and feeling him grow.

Why now? Why had he been returned to her now?

She stroked his cheek absently with a finger while holding the bottle, studying his little features. This was what she had wanted, she thought, this child in her arms was what she had fought for. What she had lived for, only to have him stolen again and again, and now returned. Was it for good this time? Did she really get to keep him? Could he really be hers?

What would they do now? Would they keep fighting? Or would they just take him and go?

This, Scully thought as she watched her son, this changed everything. This was everything.


She was dressing the baby when Mulder got the call on his cell phone. By the time he hung up and turned to face her, she had wrestled a pair of booties onto the baby's feet and propped a ridiculous little blue cap on his head.

"Well?" she asked, staring up at Mulder.

Mulder nodded. "He's ours, Scully," he whispered. "PCRs confirmed it."

She tried to smile, tried very hard to force her lips wide open in a grin, but she failed miserably. Instead her eyes stung with tears, and she found herself struggling to breathe. She pulled the baby tight against her, rocking him against her body and kissing the soft skin of his cheeks and ears, breathing in his baby scent.

"I want to get him checked," she said, looking up at Mulder. "I want to be sure there's nothing wrong with him. Make sure he's okay."

"Scully, Frohike has his medical records, I don't think-"

"I don't care, Mulder!" she said, clutching the child against her. She felt delirious, as though she'd lost control and was spinning wildly out of orbit. All that mattered was the baby in her arms and holding him close and never letting go.

"We'll get him checked," Mulder said. "We will. We need to be careful, Scully, make sure we can trust the doctors."

She opened her mouth to argue, and realised something. "You knew," she said.

"Knew what?" he asked, trying to play cool, but she could see the panic in his eyes.

"You knew," she repeated angrily, struggling to her feet with the baby still in her arms. "You knew Parenti was involved with Transgen and you didn't tell me!"

"No!" he denied. "I didn't, Scully. Not until a few days ago, and I didn't know for sure until the boys turned up with the baby and the documents that proved his involvement."

"You still knew!" she said. Emotion that had surged hotly through her veins seconds before turned to ice as she stared at him. When she spoke again, her voice was controlled and calm. "That's why you asked me about the IVF yesterday," she said. "You knew about Parenti, and you knew there was a possibility the IVF didn't work because of sabotage. You knew, Mulder, and you didn't tell me."

"I couldn't," he said quietly, running a hand through his hair. "God, Scully, how was I supposed to tell you that your last try to have a child could have been deliberately engineered to fail? I didn't know anything for sure until him," he added, pointing at the baby in her arms. "I still don't know for sure if that's what happened. For all we know, Scully, they could have implanted you and tried everything, but it just didn't take. Maybe this all happened because they were desperate for you to have a child so we'd leave the X Files. I don't know anything for sure!"

The anger of his outburst surprised her, and she bit her lip in the face of his rage.

He closed his eyes, breathing heavily. "I was going to tell you," he said, his voice low and tired. "But we talked, Scully, and I didn't want to ruin that. Not the first time it happened."

The words stung like acid. He hadn't wanted to ruin the first real conversation they'd had about the IVF since it had failed. Hadn't wanted to ruin the first steps they made to dealing with the fact that it had happened, and neither of them had known how to respond to it. The fact that he thought their relationship was so tenuous a truth could shatter it was more hurtful than the fact that he hadn't told her, she realised dully.

"I was going to tell you today, because Frohike was going to get back to me with the information today," he continued, "but then they turned up last night, and so much happened that I just never told you."

She stroked the baby's head with light fingers, looking up at Mulder as he waited for her to respond. "Mulder," she said, "we're going to be okay."

"We are?" he asked, confused.

She nodded, hugging the baby close.

He smiled hesitantly at her, and she returned the smile cautiously. "But first we're going to go to my apartment so I can get some clean clothes."


Had it really been over a year ago when her world had been turned upside down and inside out with the discovery of Emily? Almost a year and a month, Scully realised as she carefully stroked the mascara onto her lashes.

A year ago she had thought she'd never have children. A year ago she'd found Emily, and lost Emily. A year ago Mulder had brought her the hope of children in a small test tube with her name printed on it in a plain typeface. A year ago Mulder had helped her try to fulfil her dream and have a child. A year ago, her hopes had shattered and Mulder had held her while she cried the salty tears of broken dreams.

A year ago, she'd given up. All that mattered was continuing. Proving that nothing could break them. And nothing had broken them, she thought with a fierce pride as she blotted her lips against a tissue. Nothing had broken them, though some things had come close.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Scully wondered if she'd be around for the next year. The crumpled tissues hidden in her coat pocket betrayed the lies about the nosebleeds she kept trying to feed herself. Another one since the woods yesterday. Two endless moments where everything she was had been focused on the trail of crimson leaking artlessly from her nose. The woman in the mirror stared back, her face calm and controlled. Emotionless.

Was this who she'd become?

Running her fingers through her hair, watching her reflection mimic the movement, Scully clenched her jaw with determination. This was who she was. She did not give up. She did not admit defeat. She would fight – her and Mulder – and they would give everything they had for the truth that drove them. Everything. They would give everything, because the rules had changed and it was personal now.

Because it is personal, Mulder. Because without the FBI personal interest is all that I have. And if you take that away then there is no reason for me to continue.

Scully placed her brush on the vanity, her tailored suit neat and tidy and professional. She would fight and she would survive, because Mulder and their son were relying on her, and she'd be damned if she let them down.


"I think we should name the baby," Scully said.

"Why? We could always just call him Baby," Mulder suggested.

"Yes, and when he's eight years old that's going to be the reason why he hates school," she said.

"What do you want to call him then?" Mulder asked.

Scully shrugged. "What do you think?"

"I don't mind, Scully," Mulder said. "You decide."

Scully frowned as she looked across at Mulder. "Can I ask you something, Mulder?"

"Sure," he said.

"How do you feel about this?"

"About the baby?"

"Yes."

He thought for several minutes, guiding the car across the icy roads carefully. "I worry," he said eventually, glancing across at her. "I'm scared that this is a set up, Scully. That they'll use this baby against us. Against you. And I don't want to see you hurt when it does go wrong. At the same time, I don't know what else to do."

"You don't think it's a good development," she surmised.

"I'm not saying I don't like the baby, Scully, or that I don't want him, but it's the timing," Mulder said. "Why now? I'm waiting for them to pull the rug out from under our feet. Legally, we stole this baby, Scully. It doesn't matter that he's ours genetically, we stole him. You didn't give birth to him, and we aren't legally recognised as his parents."

"We're living on borrowed time," Scully sighed. "It's not fair, Mulder."

"No," he agreed, "it's not."

"Do you want him?" Scully asked.

"As my son?" Mulder specified.

"Yes."

"I never really thought about having kids," he admitted. "Not until you asked me last year."

"Are we doing the right thing?" she asked.

He met her gaze openly. "I don't know, Scully. I don't know what to do. What do you want to do?"

She sighed. "I know what I want, but whether it's the for the best… I don't know, Mulder."


Mulder and the baby were at his apartment. It would be easier for them to stay at his apartment, given his couch was bigger and more comfortable than hers. She'd driven to her apartment to pick up some extra clothes, and told him she was swinging by the markets to pick up some food for dinner.

She lied to him, and the guilt made her feel dirty. There were some things she kept from Mulder to keep herself apart from him. To remember where he ended and where she began. To remember who she was when she was Dana and not Agent Scully.

But there were things she shouldn't keep from him, and they festered inside her like the cancer growing within her skull. A cancer of the mind, she thought bitterly as she stared down at the black and white radiograph she held in her hands, her eyes focused on the luminescent mass that distorted her scan.

It was back. It was really back.

She'd lied to him. She'd told him she was picking up dinner when she was really picking up her death sentence.

Scully slipped the radiograph back into its envelope and turned to leave the small office she'd been given some privacy in.

She'd tell Mulder soon, but not yet. Not now. She couldn't tell him this now, on top of everything else that was happening.


It felt wrong. She felt her nerves sing with anxiety as she waited for the break to come. Scully had never been good at lying or keeping secrets, and trying to lie to Mulder was making her feel sick with tension.

Mulder didn't seem to feel the tension though, hunched over his laptop and tapping away furiously at the keys.

Scully sighed and shook her head, finishing the salad and rinsing her hands under the tap. "Food's ready, Mulder," she told him, drying her hands.

"Thanks, Scully," he said absently, not moving from in front of the computer.

She didn't call him again, dishing up her own food and settling herself at the small table. He only moved when she'd cleared away all her dishes and wiped down the kitchen counters, his share still sitting untouched on the counter top. "You'll have to heat it up," she commented before going to check on the baby.

In the confines of his bedroom she sat on his bed after making sure the baby was okay, her elbows on her knees and her head bowed.

"Sorry," Mulder said awkwardly when he walked in a few minutes later, "I didn't realise you were busy."

"I wasn't," she admitted, looking up at him. He looked tired, she thought, his hair messy and his suit rumpled. "I was just wondering what we were going to do when our suspension at the Bureau is up."

"At least you've got the extra time to spend with the baby," he quipped, but it fell flat.

She smiled at his effort. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy that I'm getting this time to spend with the baby, Mulder. But it doesn't feel real. He doesn't feel real. It feels like I'm looking after someone else's baby. Like we're playing a game of make believe that's going to be over soon, and then I'll have to give back all the toys."

He didn't answer as he undid his tie, dropping it carelessly over the back of a chair before loosening the first few buttons of his shirt. Silently he moved over to the bed and lay down.

"I keep asking myself why," Mulder admitted. "Why the Gunmen managed to get hold of him so easily, and how they found him."

"It keeps going around and around in my mind," Scully agreed, curling up and facing him. "Do you think we could lose him?" she whispered.

He sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a few seconds before looking at her. "I don't know, Scully."

"Do you want him?" she asked hesitantly, remembering his earlier avoidance of the question.

A smile tugged at his lips. "He's cute," he said eventually. "I… I just don't think I've really conceived that he's mine, Scully. It's like you said; it feels like you're just looking after someone else's baby."

She nodded, sitting up to wriggle under the covers despite her jeans and blouse. "If… if the IVF had worked, Mulder, what would you have done?"

"What would you have wanted me to do?" he asked in return.

She swallowed. "I would have liked it if you'd wanted to be there, to share him," she admitted softly. "To be ours," she added, closing her eyes. "But if you didn't want that, Mulder, I wouldn't have blamed you."

He touched her cheek gently with his fingers, and she looked at him again. He was smiling slightly as his fingers brushed across her skin. "I would have wanted to share, Scully," he said murmured. "To make him ours."

He gathered her in his arms, and they lay together quietly. As his fingers combed through her hair and his heart beat against her cheek, she thought of the radiograph in its envelope, lying pushed out of sight under the bed. She should tell him, she thought, but not now. She couldn't do it now.