The next morning, Mulder walked into the FBI Headquarters with a focused determination. He strode through the halls, his mind rehearsing the words he needed to say, until he reached Assistant Director Skinner's office.

"Agent Mulder," Skinner said, looking up from his desk as Mulder entered without preamble. "What's so urgent that you couldn't schedule a meeting?"

Mulder shut the door behind him and took a seat. "Sir, I need to talk to you about a personal matter."

Skinner raised an eyebrow but gestured for him to continue.

"Listen," Mulder began, his tone uncharacteristically earnest. "I know I'm not the girls' father, but Scully is completely overwhelmed. Her mother is out of town for another few weeks, and given the nature of our work... let's just say her circle of people she can rely on is pretty limited. She doesn't trust hiring anyone for help—not with how they came into the picture."

Skinner leaned back, watching Mulder closely but saying nothing.

Mulder pressed on. "Is there any way I can get some form of parental leave? Something that lets me help her without completely crippling my finances? I know it's not a conventional request, but—"

Skinner held up a hand, silencing him. For a long moment, he said nothing, just studied Mulder with his usual inscrutable expression. Then he exhaled and spoke.

"I have a ton of old reports that need reading and crosschecking," Skinner said. "Case files from backlogged investigations. It's tedious, bureaucratic work—making sure profiles match, evidence is labeled properly, and all the paperwork is in order. Not the most exciting thing in the world, but..." He paused. "It's work you can do from home. On your own time. And it pays your regular salary. However, there is a weekly meeting with me to discuss your progress—here or elsewhere, your call."

Mulder blinked, caught off guard by the offer. "You're serious?"

"I wouldn't say it if I wasn't," Skinner replied curtly.

"Thank you, sir," Mulder said, sincerity evident in his voice. "Really. Thank you."

Skinner shifted uncomfortably, unused to this level of emotion in the office. He straightened his tie and asked, "How's Agent Scully doing? I mean, mentally. Going from zero to three children in one court ruling—how's she handling it?"

Mulder hesitated, then answered honestly. "She's doing her best, but it's a lot. She's exhausted, overwhelmed... trying to figure out how to manage three newborns on her own." He leaned forward slightly, his tone softer but firm. "Look, I know the X-Files and the investigation into how the girls came into existence are important. But Scully and those babies—they're here now. They're real. They need me. And I can't leave her hanging to chase something that might turn into a dead end."

Skinner nodded slowly. "I can't argue with that logic."

"As for the girls' origins," Mulder added, a trace of his usual edge returning, "I've got friends working on it."

Skinner's brow furrowed. "Non-FBI contacts?"

"It's probably best if you don't know the details, sir," Mulder replied with a faint smirk.

Skinner sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. But you keep me updated. And Mulder—take care of her. And yourself."

Mulder rose to his feet. "I will. Thank you again."

As he left the office, he felt the weight on his shoulders lighten just a little. There was still a long road ahead, but for the first time in days, it felt like they might be able to manage.

That evening, Mulder arrived at Scully's door with two duffel bags slung over his shoulders. His knock was soft, but deliberate, and when she opened the door, he stepped inside without hesitation.

"I'll stay with you for as long as you need me," he said, setting the bags down by the couch, "or as long as you can tolerate me. Whichever comes first."

Scully folded her arms, a mix of exhaustion and gratitude flickering across her face. "Mulder, I appreciate this, I really do, but you can't put your life on hold for me. You need to live your life, do your work... the things that make you, you."

Mulder met her gaze, his expression unwavering. "You did hear me when I told you that you made me a whole person, didn't you?" he asked softly. "I meant it. Let me give something back."

She blinked, the weight of his words sinking in as he continued.

"You need all the support you can get right now. You have three babies but only two arms, Scully. Use me—use my hands to feed them, my shoulders to carry them, my patience to help you catch a nap when you need it."

Scully sighed, rubbing her temple as she leaned her back against the door. "They're my whole life now, Mulder. Everything I do is because of them or for them. I don't even know if there's space for anything else."

He stepped closer, careful not to overstep but making sure she heard him clearly. "I understand that. And I'm not pushing for us to be something neither of us is ready for right now. I'm not here to complicate things, Scully. I'm here to make them easier, in whatever way I can."

For a long moment, she didn't respond, her thoughts racing as she looked at him. Mulder didn't waver, his quiet conviction palpable.

Finally, she nodded, a small, reluctant smile breaking through the fatigue. "Alright," she said. "But if you're staying, I'm putting you to work. Those diapers don't change themselves."

Mulder grinned. "Deal. Just point me in the direction of the next disaster."

Scully glanced toward the playpen, where the triplets were beginning to stir. "You'll regret saying that in about two minutes."

"Never," he said firmly, already rolling up his sleeves. "I can't wait to see what unsightly color the diaper contents are today."