The next morning, Mulder stood outside Scully's building, jingling the keys to the rental minivan in his hand. He gave a quick wave toward her window, though he wasn't sure she'd seen it, then slid into the driver's seat and started the engine.
His first stop was the rental office, where he returned the van with minimal fuss. As he walked away, he thought about Scully's growing panic from the night before and made a mental note to call her later and check in.
From there, he headed to the office. The familiar scent of stale coffee greeted him as he stepped into the basement of the FBI building. His desk was still cluttered with files and reports, the remnants of investigations that now felt secondary to the new mystery they'd stumbled upon: how three infant girls had come into Scully's life.
Mulder sifted through a few case files, flagging some for Skinner and setting others aside for later review. It wasn't long before his mind drifted back to Scully and the triplets.
By early afternoon, he decided he'd done enough to justify his presence and headed home.
At his apartment, he fed his fish, their calm movements soothing against the backdrop of his own chaotic thoughts. As the tiny flakes scattered into the water, he found himself murmuring, "Don't worry, little guys. I haven't forgotten about you."
His phone buzzed on the counter, interrupting the quiet. He grabbed it and answered quickly, his tone casual. "Mulder."
The voice on the other end was hesitant but polite. "Hi, this is Nancy. You emailed me about the triple stroller I listed on Craigslist?"
"Yes," Mulder said, snapping into focus. "I'm very interested. Is it still available?"
"It is," Nancy replied. "It's in great condition—used, but well-maintained. I've got the rain cover and everything. You can come by this evening if you'd like to see it."
"Perfect," Mulder said, glancing at the clock. "Text me the address, and I'll be there."
Mulder sat at his desk, phone in hand, anxiously watching the screen for Nancy's text with the address. The thought of finally securing a high-quality stroller for the triplets felt like a small victory in the constant whirlwind of past 48 hours. But as the minutes ticked by, his mind began to wander.
Mulder replayed the previous evening in his mind as he waited for Nancy's text, a growing unease tugging at him. He couldn't stop thinking about Scully, left alone to juggle the triplets all day. The memory of her exhausted face as she'd finally drifted off the night before made his chest tighten. He couldn't fathom what the day must have been like for her—three demanding newborns and no backup.
His concern got the better of him, and he decided to check in. Pulling out his phone, he dialed her home number. Instead of the familiar ringing, he was met with a disconnected tone. He frowned, his stomach flipping. That was odd.
Quickly, he switched to her cell. It rang and rang, but there was no answer. He tried again, pressing the phone tighter to his ear as his mind raced. Why wasn't she picking up? Was she okay? The babies? A flurry of worst-case scenarios churned in his head, and his grip on the phone tightened.
Scully wasn't one to panic, but she was also fiercely independent, sometimes to a fault. What if she was overwhelmed and wouldn't call for help? The thought of her alone, exhausted, trying to calm three wailing infants, made him feel helpless. He fired off a text in quick succession: Hey, just checking in. Everything okay? Call me when you can.
For several agonizing minutes, there was silence. He stared at his phone, willing it to buzz. When it finally did, he snatched it up, exhaling sharply.
Her reply came in clipped, matter-of-fact fashion, but it was enough to calm his rising panic. Babies are crying less with less noise. Disconnected the home phone. Gunmen stopped by, helped with the nursery and brought more stuff. All good. Have a nice evening.
He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and leaned back in his chair, a small smile creeping across his face. Of course she'd disconnected the home phone—it was exactly the kind of practical, no-nonsense solution Scully would come up with. And leave it to the Gunmen to swoop in with supplies and nerdy ingenuity.
Still, he couldn't shake the thought of her, managing all of it by herself. It wasn't just the physical toll—it was the emotional weight of those first days with the triplets. He typed back quickly. You're amazing, Scully. I found a triplet stroller. Will bring it by tonight.
He slipped his phone back into his pocket and stood, ready to finish the errand and get back to her. Scully was resilient—he'd always admired that about her—but he knew even the strongest people needed someone to lean on. He couldn't do much to ease the chaos of new parenthood, but he could be there. And he'd make sure she knew she wasn't in it alone.
Later that evening, Mulder arrived at Nancy's modest suburban home, where the triple stroller was waiting for him on the front porch. He parked, got out, and was immediately greeted by Nancy, a cheerful woman in her late forties.
"Agent Mulder?" she asked, wiping her hands on her jeans.
"That's me," he said with a nod, stepping up to the stroller. It looked sturdy, with three seats lined up side-by-side and a detachable rain cover folded neatly on top.
Nancy gestured toward it proudly. "This thing was a lifesaver for us when our triplets were little. You've got your cupholders, your storage underneath, and the wheels are solid—perfect for parks, sidewalks, or whatever."
Mulder crouched down to inspect it, running his hand along the frame. "Looks great. How much did you say again?"
"Three hundred," Nancy said, smiling a little too sweetly.
Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Seems steep for used."
She shrugged. "It's in great condition, and honestly, you won't find one this good for less."
He sighed and nodded, knowing he didn't have the energy to haggle. As he handed over the cash, Nancy tilted her head, clearly thinking.
"You know," she said slowly, "since you're new to the whole triplets thing, I've got some other stuff you might need. High chairs, for example. You're going to need three of those sooner than you think."
Mulder blinked. "High chairs?"
"Yep. And I've got a playpen big enough for all three of them. It folds up for travel, super convenient. Oh, and baby swings—those are amazing for calming them down when they're fussy. I've got two that match, and you can probably find a third somewhere else."
Mulder hesitated, but Nancy wasn't done.
"Do you have a diaper pail?" she asked.
"A what?"
"Diaper pail. Trust me, you don't want to go without one. I've got one with a locking lid. Keeps the smell contained."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, let's take a look."
By the time he left Nancy's house, his car was packed with not only the stroller but also two high chairs, a massive playpen, a diaper pail, and two swings. She'd even convinced him to buy a stack of gently used baby clothes, swearing they were in "like-new" condition and a pile of what Nancy referred to as "burp clothes", even though Mulder wasn't sure what that actually meant or how to use them.
As he drove back to Scully's apartment, Mulder couldn't help but laugh to himself. Nancy had made a killing off him, but at least he was starting to feel like they might actually be prepared for the triplets—or at least as prepared as they could be.
When he finally parked outside Scully's building and started unloading, he muttered under his breath, "Nancy's probably halfway to Hawaii by now."
Still, he couldn't deny the faint satisfaction of knowing he'd done something that would make things a little easier for Scully.
Mulder reached Scully's door, his arms weighed down with bags of baby gear, when he heard the piercing cries of the triplets echoing through the hallway. The sound was overwhelming, but it was nothing compared to the desperation in Scully's voice as she tried to calm them.
"Once your sister has eaten, it's your turn, I promise," she said, her tone edged with exhaustion and frustration.
His heart sank, picturing her alone, trying to juggle three screaming infants. Without hesitation, he set down the stroller and other items, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the key she'd given him long ago.
He let himself in, stepping into the chaos. Scully was in the living room, cradling one baby and attempting to hold a bottle steady while the other two wailed from their carriers nearby. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and her eyes darted to him the moment he entered, relief washing over her face.
"Hi," Mulder said gently, as hr took in the scene quickly before stepping closer. "Where are the bottles? I'll help you feed them."
Scully barely had the energy to answer, nodding toward the kitchen. "They are warming in the bottle warmer. The formula's ready."
Mulder moved swiftly, heading to the kitchen to retrieve the bottle. When he returned, he gently picked up one of the crying babies from a carrier and cradled her in his arms. "Hey, it's okay, little one. Uncle Mulder's got you," he murmured softly as he began feeding her.
Scully sat down heavily on the couch, visibly relieved to have the extra hands. "Thank you," she whispered.
As the cries began to subside, Mulder glanced at her, offering a small smile. "By the way, I may or may not have bought half of Nancy's garage sale for these three. You're going to love the diaper pail."
"The what?" Scully blinked at him, surprised, and then a genuine smile broke through her tired expression. "I'm almost afraid to ask what else you bought."
"Only the essentials," Mulder said lightly, though his grin gave him away. "I got a playpen for the living room. That's probably more comfy than the carriers and you can watch them when you're in the kitchen."
Beatrice let out an impressively loud burp before her tiny body went limp against Mulder's chest, her mouth falling open in the peaceful surrender of sleep. Mulder instinctively adjusted his hold on her, his free hand lightly patting her back. "Well, I'd call that a successful meal," he murmured, glancing over at Scully, who was still in the middle of feeding Joanna.
Joanna, unlike her sister, was still squirming in Scully's arms, clearly intent on draining every last drop from her bottle. Meanwhile, Sabrina sat wide-eyed in her carrier, her small face red with effort.
Mulder tilted his head toward Sabrina. "I think we've got another situation brewing over here."
Scully sighed, the exhaustion plain in her voice as she glanced at Sabrina. "It's been like that all day: eating, crying, pooping, repeat. I haven't even gotten dressed."
Mulder, still focused on keeping Beatrice steady, didn't register her words immediately. Then he looked at her again and froze. She wasn't wearing pajamas, because it was evening.
"Scully…" he said slowly, the realization dawning on him. "You're still wearing the clothes you slept in?"
Scully shrugged. "All they do is eat, poop, scream," she said, her tone a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief. "It's been that all day. Eat, poop, scream, repeat, non-stop—and then there's this smell. I bathed them, I changed them, and the smell is still there."
Mulder immediately picked up on her frustration, as he heard her repeating the same words over and over. He put Beatrice in her carrier and stepped closer, placing his hands gently on her shoulders in an attempt to offer some comfort. His expression shifted almost immediately to one of confusion and mild horror as his fingers encountered something sticky and gooey. He froze, lifting his hands cautiously, trying not to make a face.
Scully noticed his flinch and let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "And then there's the spit," she said, her voice bordering on incredulous. "It's everywhere, Mulder. I've performed autopsies that were less gross. It flies. The spit—it goes everywhere."
Mulder tried to keep his composure, wiping his hand discreetly on the back of her shirt and failing miserably to conceal his grimace. "Nancy, the lady who sold me all the triplet stuff," he began, his tone light and hopeful, "she talked me into buying these cloth thingies. You put them on your shoulder so when the babies spit, it doesn't go on your clothes."
Scully turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Cloth? No, no, no, Mulder, cloth isn't going to cut it. It has to be plastic. Or metal. The spit—it seeps through everything."
Mulder suppressed a laugh, nodding in mock seriousness. "I'll pass that feedback along to Nancy for version 2.0," he said, then softened his tone. "Listen, Scully, why don't you go take a shower and change? Get a few minutes to yourself."
She hesitated, exhaustion etched into every line of her face. "I don't know, Mulder. That smell is haunting me. I've been trying to track it down all day."
Mulder bit his lip, suddenly looking sheepish. "Uh… I think I might know what it is," he said, his tone careful.
Scully raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
He gestured vaguely toward her. "I think it's… you."
Her eyes widened, and she looked somewhere between appalled and ready to laugh. "Me? What are you talking about?"
Mulder gave a half-shrug. "Scully, you've been running on adrenaline for two days, and you haven't had a second to yourself. Between the crying, feeding, and burping..."
"And the diapers and the spit", Scully interjected, her exhaustion more than clear now.
"And the diapers and the spit", Mulder repeated, trying very hard not to smile at this version of his partner he had never seen before. "I don't think you've had a chance to stop and... you know, reset."
Realization dawned on her face, and she let out a groan, her hand flying to her forehead. "Oh my God. It is me. I've been running around trying to figure out what the smell was, and it was me this whole time."
Mulder reached for the baby in Scully's arms. "Give me Joanna, and I'll burp her and I'll handle Sabrina. I want you to take a shower, change into something comfortable, and sit down for five minutes—no arguments."
Scully opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself. The weight of his steady gaze and the quiet conviction in his voice made her reconsider. Instead, she handed Joanna over and stood up, retrieving a fresh diaper for Sabrina.
"Five minutes?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Mulder gave her a lopsided grin. "Okay, maybe ten. Go wild."
As she walked toward the bathroom, Mulder adjusted Joanna in his arms and muttered to the baby, "You see that? That's teamwork. Now let's work on that burp, kiddo."
After Scully disappeared into the bathroom, Mulder busied himself with the triplets, balancing Joanna on his shoulder to coax out a burp while keeping a wary eye on Sabrina, who seemed to be deciding whether to stay content or start wailing again. Beatrice, still blissfully asleep in her carrier, offered the only reprieve.
Time passed, and Mulder began to realize Scully was taking longer than expected. He glanced toward the bathroom, then at the clock.
"You think your mom's okay in there?" he asked Joanna softly. The baby responded with a hiccup and a faint gurgle, her eyelids fluttering.
Mulder set Joanna gently into her carrier, checked on Sabrina, and decided to investigate.
Walking down the short hallway to Scully's bedroom, he peeked through the half-open door and froze.
Scully was lying diagonally across the bed, parallel to her pillows, still wrapped in the towel she must have thrown on after her shower. She was on top of the comforter, her damp hair spread around her head, her face slack with deep, unguarded sleep.
Mulder's chest tightened at the sight. The exhaustion etched into her features was clearer now than ever. She hadn't just been tired—she was running on fumes, doing everything she could to keep the triplets cared for while leaving nothing for herself.
He stepped quietly into the room, scanning it for something to make her more comfortable. A soft fleece blanket hung over a nearby chair, and he grabbed it without hesitation. Carefully, he draped it over her, making sure her feet and shoulders were covered.
As he tucked the edges around her, his fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. Her skin was warm, her breathing steady.
"You deserve the whole world, Scully," he whispered, more to himself than to her.
He lingered for a moment longer, ensuring she was settled, then slipped out of the room, closing the door partway behind him.
Returning to the living room, he glanced at the bassinets and sighed. "Alright, ladies," he said softly, grabbing the nearest pacifier. "Looks like it's just us for now. Let's give your mom some peace."
Mulder sat on the floor in front of the three baby carriers, a fresh diaper in one hand and a dubious look on his face. The smell wasn't the issue—he was a seasoned investigator; he'd been in crime scenes worse than this. No, it was the color.
"That's... definitely something," he muttered to himself, carefully folding the used diaper and placing it in the newly acquired diaper pail. "I'm gonna have to look up if that's normal."
After ensuring Sabrina was clean, comfortable, and securely swaddled, he turned his attention to the other two. Beatrice was still peacefully asleep, but Joanna was wide-eyed, staring up at him as though she were judging his technique.
"Hey, don't give me that look," Mulder said with a soft chuckle. "I'm new to this, okay? Cut me some slack."
Once the diapers were changed, Mulder searched the stack of items the Gunmen had dropped off earlier and grabbed a book from the top of the pile. It was a classic fairy tale collection with faded illustrations and a cracked spine. He sat cross-legged on the floor, opening to a random page, and began reading.
"'Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a beautiful maiden locked in a tower…'" He paused, making a face. "Seriously? A maiden locked in a tower? Come on."
He looked at the girls, their tiny faces gazing up at him—or at least in his general direction—and set the book down with a sigh.
"You know what?" he said, his tone soft but firm. "You girls are so lucky to have Scully as your mama. You couldn't have found anyone stronger than her."
Mulder glanced toward the hallway where Scully's bedroom was, his expression briefly tender.
"She's brilliant. She's brave. And she doesn't need anyone to come riding in on a white horse to save her. You're going to grow up to be just like her—fiercely independent, smart, and tough as nails. I promise you that."
The words felt like a vow as he looked back at the triplets. Joanna was fighting sleep, Sabrina was content in her swaddle, and Beatrice gave a soft sigh in her sleep.
Mulder smiled. "But you're also going to have some of her stubbornness, aren't you? God help us all."
He leaned back against the couch, his voice softening as he began improvising a story about three little girls who outsmarted a dragon and saved themselves—and their mama—from danger.
Very late that night, Scully stirred awake, the faintest awareness of how deeply she'd slept creeping into her groggy mind. The darkened room and the quiet hum of her apartment confused her. She sat up, blinking at her surroundings. Her towel was covered with the soft fleece blanket Mulder must have tucked around her.
Realizing the time and wondering why the triplets weren't crying, she hurried to her dresser, pulling on comfortable clothes. Her mind raced with worry—had she overslept? Were the girls okay?
She padded out into the living room, her heart pounding slightly, only to stop in her tracks at the sight before her.
Mulder was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the three baby carriers, his back to her. He looked utterly transfixed, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward, gazing at the tiny, sleeping forms of her daughters.
All three were blissfully at peace, each snuggled in her carrier with faint, rhythmic breaths rising and falling in unison. The soft glow of a single lamp illuminated the scene, casting gentle shadows across the room.
Mulder didn't notice her right away, too caught up in the serene picture of the babies. Scully took a step forward, her voice quiet but firm. "Mulder?"
He turned, startled for a moment, but then offered a small, sheepish smile. "Hey."
"What… what are you doing?" she asked, her tone laced with a mix of curiosity and lingering confusion.
Mulder shifted slightly, gesturing toward the triplets. "They've been asleep for a while now. I just… didn't want to leave them alone. I figured you needed the rest." He gave a slight shrug, his voice softer. "And I couldn't stop watching them. They're... amazing, Scully."
Her heart softened at his words, her earlier confusion melting into something warmer. She moved closer, sinking onto the couch beside him.
"They are," she admitted, her eyes flicking to her daughters and then back to Mulder. "You've been sitting here this whole time?"
"More or less," he said with a small smile. "I may have nodded off once or twice, but I didn't want to leave them. Or you."
Scully leaned back into the couch, the weight of her exhaustion not entirely gone but now tempered by something more comforting. "You didn't have to do all this, Mulder."
"I know," he said simply. "But I wanted to."
They sat there in silence for a while, the soft sounds of the triplets' breathing filling the room. Finally, Scully rested her hand lightly on Mulder's arm.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He glanced at her, his eyes warm and filled with quiet understanding. "Anytime, Scully. Always."
Mulder glanced at the clock and then at the triplets. "I think we could transfer them to the bassinets in the nursery. That way, you can sit down without worrying about them."
Scully arched an eyebrow, her expression deadpan. "Do that and die. I've tried several times today, and each time, they screamed bloody murder. I'm not tempting fate."
Mulder gave her a teasing grin. "Challenge accepted." He carefully reached for the first baby, easing her into his arms. Slowly, he stood and walked to the nursery.
Scully watched him, crossing her arms, already preparing herself for the inevitable sound of wailing. But the room stayed silent.
When Mulder returned and repeated the process with the second and third baby, still without a peep, Scully's jaw dropped slightly.
He sat back down, looking visibly pleased with himself but trying to hide it under a modest shrug. "Luck, I guess," he said nonchalantly.
Scully gave him a flat look, her arms still crossed. "Or they hate me."
Mulder leaned closer, his tone soothing. "I think it's about timing. They're out like a light right now. I could've transferred you to Antarctica earlier and you wouldn't have noticed."
Scully huffed a small laugh despite herself. "Good point."
She leaned back, relaxing now that the apartment was quiet. After a moment, she nodded toward Mulder. "You mentioned more baby stuff when you got here."
Mulder perked up and stood, motioning for her to follow him. "Yes, let me show you."
Now that the carriers were out of the way, the living room felt less crowded. He knelt and began setting up the playpen he'd brought in earlier.
Scully watched, her arms still crossed but her expression softer now. "You've been busy."
Mulder glanced up with a smirk. "Well, I figured you'd appreciate having somewhere safe to put them that isn't your arms."
As the playpen clicked into place, Scully walked over and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks, Mulder. For all of this. For thinking of everything."
He straightened up, looking at her with that familiar mix of warmth and determination. "It's not everything, Scully. But it's a start."