Our Struggle

by EmilyToddCarter

Brings the series to a final conclusion by picking up where the series finale left off, and covering the next year of Mulder and Scully's relationship. This is the closure we all needed.

Our Struggle

A Novella

By Emily Todd Carter

Chapter One

"It's more than impossible."

Mulder stared searchingly into Scully's eyes, still breathing hard in the cold night air. Grief, so suddenly mixed with shock and disbelief, left him speechless. As her tears began to spill, he instinctively grabbed her into a hug, tucking her head into the spot below his chin where it fit so perfectly. She turned her head to the side and buried it in his chest, weeping silently as he held her.

He clutched her tightly, wordlessly, for a very long time. There were far too many things to be said, and the silence said them all.

As their breathing slowed together, Mulder turned his thoughts one by one to the losses and gains of the past few moments of his life.

My son was not my son.

The smoking man is dead.

Scully is pregnant.

Scully is pregnant.

Scully is pregnant.

He pulled away and cupped her face in his hands, brushing each tear as it fell down her cheek. He couldn't bring himself to smile – not yet. He couldn't bring himself to hope that this could actually be true.

"How?" he asked, shaking his head in confusion and incredulity.

She chuckled through her tears, whispering, "Well I think you know how." She paused. "I hope we know how."

They looked at each other without speaking, the weight of worry and questions hanging tangibly between them.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"As sure as I can be at this point," she said, pulling her face away from his hands as she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a folded black and white photo. She wiped her eyes as she handed it to him.

Mulder stared at the ultrasound quietly, breathing in and out as he allowed himself to entertain the first small surge of hope. His eyes bored into the tiny white shape of a head and torso, standing out against a larger dark oval. A warmth started deep in his belly and spread to his chest and neck, lighting his face in the smallest smile.

She smiled back and reached for his hand. "There's too much to talk about here. Let's go," she said.

He nodded and walked beside her, holding her hand tightly as they moved towards the car. The night was cold, and wind from the water cut their faces as they made their way along the boardwalk.

After a few minutes, he cleared his throat. "How are you feeling?"

A slight pause, then: "I'm fine."

He turned and met her eyes immediately, laughing.

"That bad, huh?"

She chuckled. "I started vomiting last week. It's been a long few days."

"I'm sorry," he replied, squeezing her hand.

The waves lapped against the sides of the dock as they walked, reflecting the yellow-orange lights of the empty warehouse.

"I'm not," she said. "Nausea correlates with appropriately elevated progesterone levels." She glanced in his direction, then stared at the ground as they kept walking. "It means I likely haven't lost the baby yet."

He swallowed, and his stomach dropped as the warmth he had felt instantly turned to fear.

They continued in silence through the parking lot, finding his hastily parked car. As Mulder reached for the driver's door handle, Scully walked to the passenger side.

Suddenly, she paused, breathing heavily and bracing herself with one hand on the roof of the car.

"Scully?" he said, instantly running around the front of the car to reach her.

Grabbing her around the waist, he held her and tried to hide the worry in his voice. "What's wrong?'

Her eyes closed, she breathed slowly and continued to brace herself against the door. "It's fine. I'm fine. I just got dizzy for a second. I'm-"

Mid-sentence, she lost consciousness and crumpled against him.

"Scully! Scully!" he cried, panic overtaking him as he opened the passenger door and eased her into the seat.

His heart racing, he slowly lowered the back of the seat, slapping her gently on the face as he smoothed her hair away from her forehead. "Scully! Scully! Come on. Come on."

After ten more grueling seconds, her eyes opened suddenly, and she came to.

"What happened?" she asked, breathing in rapidly and sitting up.

He gently pushed her shoulders back into the seat. "It's okay. It's okay. You just passed out for a second."

She continued to breathe hard for a few minutes as he watched her worriedly.

"God, Scully, don't do that to me again. I've had enough trauma for one night."

She chuckled. "Me too. Me too." She exhaled deeply.

He stood, reaching for his phone. "Alright, which hospital is your OB at? Is it close?"

Her brow furrowed. "Hmm?"

He closed her door and walked to the driver's side, opened his door and slid into his seat. "Which ER, Scully?" He pulled up his phone and started typing.

"Mulder, I'm fine. I think I'm just dehydrated. I've been vomiting all day. I just need some water."

He glanced up. "Scully, as far as I know, that's my kid in there too. We're getting you checked out."

She stared at him and sighed.

"St. Catherine's. Shouldn't be too far from here."

He punched it in, handed her the phone to navigate, and backed out of the parking space.

They passed the drive as they usually did – in silence. The streets were mostly empty as Mulder sped through southern Maryland, turning to glance anxiously in her direction every few moments. Eventually the distant sound of sirens grew closer as they approached the hospital, pausing for an incoming ambulance to pass.

Mulder pulled into the ER entrance, put the car in park and came around to Scully's side to open her door. She rolled her eyes and took his offered hand as he helped her out of the car.

"Mulder, I really don't think this is necessary," she protested as she got out of the car. "I really feel—"

At the moment she went to take a step, she collapsed in his arms again.

Fear surged through him as he swiftly lifted and carried her, one arm behind her knees and the other cradling her shoulders. He sprinted for the sliding doors of the ER.

Ignoring the protesting nurse at the check-in desk, he raced through the sparsely populated waiting room and banged loudly on the locked doors to the emergency department.

"Help!" he called loudly through the window, startling several employees in scrubs and white coats walking through the emergency bay. "I need some help here! This woman is pregnant, and she needs a doctor right now. She's unconscious."

One of the scrubbed employees walked far too slowly towards the door and buzzed him through.

In his arms, Scully's face was pale and clammy. She didn't stir at all despite the commotion.

A tall man with a dark beard, long white coat and stethoscope came towards him, directing him to place Scully on the closest empty gurney. Mulder was then shoved out of the way as several employees swarmed around her, placing a blood pressure cuff around her arm, unbuttoning the top of her blouse to listen to her chest, and feeling her pulse. Scully remained completely obtunded.

"BP 80/50, heart rate 120, O2 sat 98%," a nurse cried out.

The doctor nodded. "Let's get a STAT CBC, CMP, troponin and lactate. I need an EKG and a peripheral I.V. now, with one liter normal saline running wide open."

He turned to Mulder. "How far along is she? Has it been a normal pregnancy?"

Mulder stammered. "I-I don't know." He tried to calculate the weeks. "Two months maybe?"

"Who's her OB?"

"I don't know. I don't know. I'm sorry."

The doctor nodded. "Sir, I'm gonna need you to step into the waiting room. We will update you as soon as we know anything. She's in good hands." He placed his hand on the back of Mulder's shoulder and guided him towards the door.

Mulder shook his head and shoved the doctor's hand from his back. "I'm not leaving her."

A stocky male nurse stepped between Mulder and the doctor, staring Mulder down. "Step into the waiting room, sir. We will let you know if anything changes."

Mulder stared angrily at the large nurse, bit his lip and ran his hand across the back of his neck. He sighed and watched as a nurse wiped down Scully's forearm to insert an I.V.. Another unbuttoned the rest of her blouse, placing leads for an EKG.

He turned and headed for the waiting room, pushing the doors forcefully as he exited.

The perturbed nurse at the check-in counter called him over.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to fill these out," she said, glaring at him over her horn-rimmed glasses.

Mulder grabbed the clipboard and sat in the nearest seat. He placed the board in the chair beside him and buried his face in his hands.

Please, God. Please.

Not again.

Not this one too.

Chapter Two

Half an hour later, Mulder was pacing the waiting room and driving the check-in nurse to insanity. Getting him to leave the waiting room to move his car from the ER entrance had taken two security guards, both of whom still remained standing solemnly by the desk and watching him suspiciously.

Every few minutes, Mulder would sit down again, let the tension build, and then burst to his feet. The other patients in the waiting room had been taken back one by one, and Mulder strained to see around them through the doors each time, trying to catch a glimpse of Scully.

A few minutes after he had left her, a tired-looking medical student in a short white coat had come out to take a history. He had stared wide-eyed as Mulder attempted to explain Scully's obstetrical history and…unusual DNA. He then turned back to his clipboard.

"And how are you connected to her? Are you her husband?"

Mulder paused.

"I'm just her friend. And her partner – at the FBI."

The medical student narrowed his eyes. "Oh." He looked doubtful as he took in Mulder's hoodie and shabby pants. "Can I see your badge?"

Mulder instinctively reached for his back right pocket before he remembered that he had been fired that morning and no longer had a badge.

"Damn it. I used to be her partner. Until this morning."

The medical student lifted his eyebrows. "Okay…Does she have a healthcare power of attorney?" He flipped through his clipboard. "It says here her mother Margaret is her emergency contact. I don't see a "Fox Mulder" on here."

Mulder sighed. "Her mother is dead."

"Ok, then who is her closest relative?"

"I guess, I guess it's her brother. But I don't have his number."

The medical student looked confused. "I…I'm not sure we can give you medical information, sir. Not without her permission. I'll talk to my attending but, I think we're going to have to wait until she wakes up and gives us authorization."

Mulder hung his head. Running his hand over his face, he leaned back in the chair.

The medical student stood nervously, glanced at the security guards, and badged himself back through the double doors. Mulder strained and tried to see past him, but Scully's bed had been covered behind a curtain.

So he sat, and waited.

Another twenty grueling minutes passed before finally, the doors swung open again. The medical student emerged, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Sir," he said, "she's awake and asking for you."

Mulder bolted from his seat and pushed the student aside, rushing past him and the milling nurses to Scully's bedside.

She was now wearing a pale blue hospital gown, telemetry leads emerging from the top of her collar and connected to a small rectangular box in her breast pocket. A large bag of clear fluid was running through an I.V. in her left arm, and her finger was attached to a wire giving a continuous oxygen reading.

She smiled weakly at him as he rushed to her side and grabbed her hand.

"They told me you made quite the scene," she said, glowering at him.

He shrugged sheepishly. "You scared the shit outta me, Scully."

She didn't reply, squeezing his hand and swallowing deeply.

He threw his jacket over the back of the visitor's chair and sat down beside her as the bearded doctor returned.

"Alright, Dana, how are you feeling?" he asked.

"A little dizzy. And nauseated. But otherwise okay."

He nodded, glancing through some notes on his clipboard.

"Thankfully, your blood pressure is normalizing and your heart rate is coming down appropriately with the fluids. Your EKG looked normal, just some sinus tach. Your BMP looks pretty dry - I think you were just a little orthostatic from your morning sickness."

Scully sighed gratefully, and Mulder glanced at her. "I was dehydrated," she explained.

"Right," the doctor said.

He set his clipboard down on the bedside table and met Scully's eyes, a hint of concern crossing his face. "Dana, how long have you been spotting? We noticed some blood when changing you into the gown."

Scully's face immediately froze, and Mulder's stomach dropped to the floor.

They both began breathing heavily, and her grip on his hand doubled in strength.

Several moments later, she was able to respond.

"I..haven't been spotting."

The silence roared between them as Mulder's head began to spin.

Please, God.

Not again.

The doctor nodded. "Okay. I'm going to run a beta-HcG and reach out to your OB. Your hematocrit has dropped a bit, and you're still a little tachycardic. I think I'd feel better if we got an ultrasound before you leave."

Scully swallowed hard, looked at Mulder, and turned back to the doctor.

"Thank you. I think I'd feel better too."

After the doctor left to page the OB, Mulder pulled Scully's hand towards him and softly kissed her knuckles. Her eyes began to moisten and fill. She turned away from him and watched the continuous light green wave of the pulse oximeter for several minutes before she spoke.

"It's okay, Mulder. Really, I'm okay." She looked back at him briefly, then averted her eyes again. She sniffed and wiped her cheeks, sitting up in the bed and straightening her shoulders. "I've been preparing for the worst since I found out. The chances of me carrying a pregnancy to term at my age are so slim."

She looked back at him, sniffed, and looked away again, staring at the bed sheets.

"That's why I held off on telling you. I didn't want you to get your hopes up, too."

Mulder nodded slowly but didn't speak.

A gurney rushed past with a flurry of staff calling orders - the medical student trailing behind with his clipboard, taking notes. Scully's I.V. began beeping loudly, and, seeing that the nurses were all busy, she lifted herself up to adjust the tubing and restart the fluids herself.

Mulder sat back in the chair. "Can I get you anything, Scully?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm okay. I think I'd just like to try and get some sleep."

Mulder nodded. He watched as she turned onto her side, away from him, and tucked the thin blanket to her chin. Looking around, he found the switch for the overhead light and turned it off.

Several minutes later, he could hear her sniffling quietly again. He opened his mouth, changed his mind, and closed it again. Eventually, the sniffling stopped, the slight heaving of her shoulders softened, and her breathing became relaxed and even.

The next two hours passed as slowly and excruciatingly as his plane flight to Antarctica twenty years before. He sat helplessly in the cold, hard chair, watching her tiny frame below the stark white blankets. He had gone, and would go again, to the literal ends of the earth for her. But this time, there was nothing he could do to give her what he knew she truly wanted most.

The patient who had been rushed past them eventually coded, bringing several more scrubbed staffers bursting through the doors and crying out orders. Scully stirred at the commotion, and Mulder could tell she was awake – but she kept her back to him and pretended to sleep.

It seemed they were going to grieve this child the same way they had the last one.

Alone.

Chapter Three

Mulder woke with a start when a hand touched his shoulder, light flooding the room with the opening of the curtain.

"Excuse me, sir," a technician said as he wheeled what appeared to be an ultrasound machine past his chair.

Scully started as a middle-aged woman in pink scrubs and a white coat gently touched her arm. "Dana, it's Dr. Hamilton."

Scully quickly sat up and smoothed her hair, pulling the blanket down to her waist.

"Thank you so much for coming," Scully said. The woman smiled and shook Scully's offered hand. Her hair, dark brown with streaks of gray, was braided loosely and fell over her left shoulder.

"So sorry for the delay. I was stuck in a complicated delivery. How are you feeling?"

Scully nodded. "Still a little dizzy. But I have no pain or cramping."

Dr. Hamilton glanced at Scully's chart.

"I think I'll start with a manual exam, if that's ok with you, Dana."

Scully nodded. "Of course."

Dr. Hamilton turned to Mulder. "Sir, if you'll step out for just a minute."

Mulder stood quickly and left the emergency bay, arms crossed anxiously as he walked. Thankful to see the security guards had dissipated, he took a seat in the empty waiting room. Several minutes later, the tech came to retrieve him.

He pulled aside the curtain as a nurse helped Scully straighten her bed again. Mulder tried, but failed to avert his eyes as the nurse discarded a blood-stained sheet in the dirty linens bin.

His heart began to race as he sat down, looking expectantly at Scully. She refused to meet his gaze, staring straight ahead, her expression flat and lifeless as the doctor pulled the ultrasound around to the side of the bed.

Dr. Hamilton lifted Scully's gown, exposing her belly, and tucked the blankets around her waist. She squirted some jelly on Scully's flat stomach. It looked cold, but Scully didn't flinch.

She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, opened them, and turned to face the ultrasound screen which had just turned on to her left. At the same time, without looking his way, she reached her hand out in Mulder's direction. He grabbed it and held it firmly.

Dr. Hamilton compassionately matched their silence, sensing the palpable fear in the room as she moved the probe back and forth.

What Mulder saw was a blur of white, gray and black, moving quickly across the monitor. He tried to read Scully's and Dr. Hamilton's faces unsuccessfully.

Suddenly Dr. Hamilton pushed a button, froze the screen, focused in on a white shape, and made a click.

Scully's held breath gushed forth as the most beautiful sound Mulder had ever heard filled the room.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

Scully squeezed his hand so hard it hurt, as tears filled her eyes yet again.

Mulder jumped to his feet.

"It's okay? Does that mean the baby's okay? Is that the heartbeat?" he sputtered.

Dr. Hamilton nodded, smiling. "Baby has a strong heartbeat." She pushed some more buttons and the heartbeat sounds disappeared. "Looking healthy and measuring appropriately around 9 weeks gestation."

She moved the probe around some more. "And I think I see the culprit of the bleeding here." She paused the frame and pointed to a crescent-shaped gray area along the edge of the screen, juxtaposing the stark white border. "Looks like a pretty significant subchorionic hemorrhage – that's a bleed between the amniotic sac and the wall of the uterus."

Mulder's heart, which had slowed slightly, quickened again.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"Most of the time, it's benign. It can happen during the first trimester. Generally, these stay contained and small, though they may cause further spotting throughout pregnancy. She'll need to be monitored very closely and avoid strenuous activity for the time being."

Mulder squeezed Scully's hand. "But the baby will be okay? Dana – Dana will be okay?"

"Again, most women are able to carry the pregnancy to term despite a subchorionic bleed. But Dana, with your hematocrit slightly down from your baseline, and you still being tachycardic, I think I'd like to admit you, monitor you overnight, and repeat the ultrasound in the morning. Is that okay with you?"

"Of course," Scully said, shaking Dr. Hamilton's hand.

Dr. Hamilton turned off the ultrasound machine and began wrapping the cords around the probe as she headed for the curtain. "Oh, and, one more thing," she said. She then glanced at Mulder. "That restriction includes pelvic rest – for the time being." She raised her eyebrows at him. His face reddened as he nodded, speechless.

As soon as Dr. Hamilton left, Mulder stood and grabbed Scully to him. She turned and buried the side of her head once again against his chest, letting the sobs wrack her body as her arms wrapped tightly around him.

"I was so scared," she whispered.

He held her calmly as she wept, and didn't move until her breathing slowed again and she pulled away.

He sat down in the chair and held one of her cheeks in his palm, gazing at her as his own first tear finally fell.

"I'm a father."

Scully was moved upstairs to a hospital room shortly afterwards. Once the transporter arrived to wheel her gurney to the elevator, Mulder stopped by the cafeteria to grab some food for them.

Her eyes were closed when he snuck into her room.

Immediately, she opened them and sat up in the bed.

"Get it out!" she cried, grabbing for the bedside table and fumbling for the emesis basin.

Mulder panicked, glancing around the room as he set two coffees and bagels on the bedside table. "Get what out?"

She grabbed the basin and turned away, retching over the side of the bed.

Mulder quickly moved past her towards the sink to wet a washcloth. She grabbed his arm as he passed, gasping between retching. "The coffee. Get it out."

Very confused, Mulder grabbed the coffee and ran into the hall, leaving it at the nurse's station and darting back into the room. He moved again to the sink to wet a washcloth.

Scully closed her eyes, lay back on the pillow and accepted the warm cloth from him.

"I forget you weren't around for this last time. The smell of coffee sets me off every time."

"Ohhhh," he groaned, running his hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry. I think I have a lot to learn."

She nodded, eyes still closed. "Yeah. You do."

Mulder sat down cautiously beside the bed. "Can I get you anything else?" he asked sheepishly. She shook her head and rang the call bell, asking the nurse to bring her some Zofran for her nausea.

Once the meds had been run through Scully's I.V., she closed her eyes and lay back against the pillow again.

"This is good stuff, Mulder. I'll probably be out for the next few hours." She looked over at him. "I'm really okay here if you want to go home. I can call you when they're gonna release me."

Mulder grinned. "And miss the chance to sleep on a cold recliner covered in hospital germs? Never."

Scully side-eyed him sleepily. "You've got to be exhausted."

Mulder pulled the lever and clumsily, loudly, brought it into as flat and horizontal a position as it could manage. "Who needs a water bed when you could have one of these?"

She chuckled at him as he settled back into the chair, crossed his arms and closed his eyes. She tucked the covers around herself and turned to face him.

"Good night, Mulder."

"Good night, Scully. You wake me if you need anything."

She closed her eyes. "Mmmhmm."

Mulder waited until her breathing reached the sleeping pace he knew so well, and then let himself drift in and out of a very guarded sleep.

When he woke a few hours later, Scully was still sleeping. The sky peeking through the blinds had turned from black to gray, and the noises drifting in from the hallway signaled a morning shift change.

Mulder watched the hands of the hospital clock tick on and on before allowing his eyes to gravitate to the crucifix mounted below it, on the wall above the bed. A wave of shame and sadness slowly rose inside of him as he took in the painted golden carving. Ever since they had walked onto the unit, he had been repressing the flashbacks threatening to push their way into his direct stream of thought. He didn't want to let himself remember the last time he had been in this hospital, but it seemed his mind was giving him no choice.

He finally laid his head back and let the memories come.

Chapter Four

Four Years Earlier

The elevator doors opened with a ding as Mulder stepped through them and onto the cardiology unit at St. Catherine's. He had brushed his hair quickly for the first time in months, but his beard was too far gone to attempt to detangle – he had trimmed it hastily in the few minutes he had to get ready to leave the house. Thankfully he had a clean set of clothes, though the hoodie and jeans swallowed him whole at this point. He had cinched his belt and hoped she wouldn't notice.

He carried a small bouquet of flowers he had just purchased in the gift shop. The pickings were slim this late in the evening, but at least there were a few daisies in the bunch – her favorite.

Mulder passed several doors, scanning the numbers and stopping outside room 608. He swallowed hard and knocked quietly.

When Trudy opened the door, she stared suspiciously at him for a few seconds before her face lit up in recognition and delight. She stepped into the hall, closing the door softly behind her.

"Fox!"

The wiry but fierce, dark-skinned woman immediately wrapped her arms around him and rocked side to side. "Mmm mmm mmm. How we have missed you, Fox," she said, squeezing him tightly with each word for emphasis. She pulled back, took him in from head to toe, and shook her head.

"Fox, you look like hell."

He laughed softly and shrugged.

"I guess this is what a year without your Sunday cooking will do to a man, Trudy," he said.

She shook her head quietly, tssking at him.

"Maybe you can come over one night after Dana leaves. Let me heat you up a plate. What kind of caretaker would I be if I let Maggie's favorite son wither away like this?"

Mulder smiled politely and noncommittally.

"How is she, Trudy?

"Who, Dana?"

His breath caught for a moment. How very much he wished to know the answer to that, but he resisted the temptation. What did he want to hear? That she was miserable, or that she was happy? Neither possibility made things any easier.

He cleared his throat and said, "No - Maggie. How's Maggie? What's the latest?"

Trudy took in a deep breath and exhaled.

"Things aren't looking good, Fox. Really, she hasn't been doing well for months. The cardiologist said her heart was very weakened by this latest heart attack. There are several blockages he can't fix, and surgery would be too risky at her age. It's only a matter of time. At some point, another episode will likely take her Home."

Mulder nodded solemnly and swallowed, fighting back tears. He ran his hand over his face and turned away.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Fox," Trudy went on. "Maggie asked me to call you as soon as Dana left for the evening, and I know she'll be wanting to sleep soon. I'm not sure what she wanted to talk to you about, but she said it was urgent."

Mulder nodded again. Trudy enveloped him in one more extended hug, before pulling away and squeezing his hand. "I'll be in the cafeteria getting some coffee. Come get me on your way out."

Their eyes locked for a moment, both finding unspoken comfort in sharing the sadness of the moment with a friend. Mulder squeezed her shoulder and turned to the door.

He knocked softly and waited.

"Is that you, Fox?"

He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and walked inside.

A shell of Margaret Scully - the strong and vivacious woman he had known – stared back at him from the hospital bed. Her temples were wasted, her eyes sunken, an oxygen cannula positioned below her nose.

She smiled confidently, reaching out her arms. Her hospital gown hung loosely from her shoulders. Mulder approached the bed and bent over to hug her. She grabbed him firmly and pulled him close, squeezing him tightly.

"Fox," she whispered.

She held him a few more moments before letting him go. He pulled back and took the empty seat beside her, moving it close to the side of her bed. She reached out for his hand and squeezed it warmly.

"I'm so glad you're here."

Mulder nodded. "I would have come sooner if I'd known. I'm so sorry, Maggie. So sorry about what's happening to you."

She laughed brightly. "Sorry? Ha! Fox, I'm 84 years old. You do know everyone dies, right?"

He matched her smile and shook his head. "Not you, Maggie. I guess I just assumed the matriarchs of the Scully family lived forever."

Her eyes twinkled as she continued to look lovingly at him across the bed.

"I've missed you, Fox. I really have."

Mulder nodded and swallowed hard. "I've missed you too, Maggie. Though I can't say my ego has missed getting destroyed at Rummikub by an octogenarian on a weekly basis."

Maggie laughed. "My skills are getting rusty, Fox. Dana can't hold a candle to you at that game." She paused, and her eyes softened. "How I wish you would still stop by."

Mulder sighed and let his gaze shift to the blankets on her bed.

So many, many things he had lost when she left.

They let the silence hang between them for a few moments.

Maggie pulled her hand from his and moved it to his right cheek, cradling the side of his face despite his unkempt beard. He gently turned his head into the palm of her hand, closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel the warmth and tenderness of her undeserved love for him.

"Fox, I have something I need to discuss with you."

He opened his eyes. Hers were serious now, determined and full of purpose. She slowly pulled her hand away from him and placed both hands in her lap. Her voice wavered only slightly as she went on.

"It's something I've been wanting to discuss with you for some time now. And with the news I received from the doctors today, I am realizing that I had better say the things I need to say before I lose the chance."

Mulder's heart began to quicken. He sat back in his chair and placed his own hands in his lap, bracing himself for whatever came next. Maggie took a long, slow breath, exhaled and began.

"Fox, I don't have to be Dana's mother to see that she has loved you from the day she met you."

His heart continued to race, and he shifted uncomfortably in the hard chair.

"There has never been, nor do I think there will ever be, another man who will capture the heart of my daughter. After all you two have been through together, there just isn't room for anyone else."

Mulder stayed silent, listening. He dreaded what would come next.

"As...unconventional...as your relationship has been, I will say I was thrilled when Dana finally admitted to me that the two of you had become more than friends, more than partners. I had come to love you as a son, and I knew that you could love and honor my daughter in the way that she deserved."

Maggie paused, took another deep breath, and measured her words carefully.

"But Fox, you let me down. You let her down."

Mulder finally allowed the shame that had been building in his chest to creep into his face, letting his brow furrow slightly as he reddened and looked away to the side of her bed. Maggie went on, nonetheless.

"To be fair, Fox, Dana knew from the beginning that, no matter how much you loved her, your first love had always been, and would always be, your work – your crusade. Dana knew this, and she followed you anyway, letting your quest become hers as well. I didn't like it, but I knew my daughter was strong enough and smart enough to make her own choices."

She reached out and grabbed his hand, and he slowly moved his eyes up to meet hers again.

"But then came William."

Their gazes locked, and the heat began to build behind his eyes, threatening to spill out.

"Fox, at the moment they were most vulnerable, you left them. You left him. You left her. You left your family to pursue your Truth, your unanswered questions, God knows where. And I know you aren't to blame for what happened to William, but I can't help but wonder what might have happened, what could have been, if you had been here to protect him."

The burning built to a crescendo and finally released, as his first tears began to fall. He tore his eyes away, refusing to meet her gaze. As her voice began to break, he knew she was crying, too.

"And I also can't help but wonder, if the guilt you feel over leaving them, over losing him, has driven you deeper and deeper into darkness, pushing you further into this quest out of some kind of hope that you might find redemption, salvation, purpose, whatever it is, 'out there' somewhere."

Mulder turned his head to the side, sitting back in the chair and wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

"Fox, Dana fell in love with you – all of you – your passion, and your devotion, and your unquenchable drive for justice and truth. She knows this is who you are. And she would never ask you to put anything or anyone ahead of that."

She paused and wiped the tears from her cheeks with her fingers.

"But I am her mother. And I can."

Mulder looked back at her. Her eyes were fierce, strong, and filled with a resolve he had never before seen in her.

"Fox, my daughter deserves to be loved, and cherished, and pursued, ahead of any earthly – or supernatural - things or purposes. I don't know for sure the reason she finally decided to leave you. But I can guess, that she finally realized she could never expect this kind of love from you – not while your heart lay first and foremost in your work."

Mulder leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. He let the tears run down his fingers, falling one by one on the speckled tile floor below. Finally, he felt her fingers gently grasp his hand and pull it away from his face. He looked shamefully into her eyes.

A slow, hopeful smile began to creep across her face. She placed her hand on his chest, directly over his heart.

"But, Fox. You can be more than what you have become."

She pulled her hand from his chest, and reached for her own left hand. As she continued to hold his gaze, she reached for the engagement ring on her fourth finger and twisted it back and forth several times before popping it off and holding it in her right hand. She looked down at it lovingly and smiled.

"A man cannot serve two masters, Fox. You cannot truly love or earn my daughter's love, until you are ready to put what she needs above your own personal crusade."

She slowly extended her right hand, holding out the ring to him.

"And when you are ready to make Dana the object of your life's pursuit, I want you to give her this, and I want you to promise to make her your first love."

She placed the ring into the palm of his left hand, and closed his fingers over it.

They both sat quietly for a moment before Mulder could bring himself to speak.

"Maggie, you know I can't take this. I can't make that promise to her. I can't be that man."

She shook her head slightly. "Not right now you can't. But I know you, Fox. I know your heart. And I know that you can one day bring yourself to turn away from this quest for the sake of my daughter."

He shook his own head. "Even if I could, she could never forgive me for what I've done. For how I abandoned my family and let her lose what was most precious to her in the world. Let her lose..." his voice broke. "Let her lose our son."

She smiled knowingly, clasping both hands around his closed fist. "Oh, Fox. She already has."

Mulder swallowed. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back and breathed deeply several times. When his eyes opened, they landed on the crucifix hanging above Maggie's bed. He let his gaze linger on the gold-painted carving as the hands on the wall clock above ticked steadily around.

After several minutes, he met her eyes, stood, kissed her cheek and left, fingering the ring in his pocket as he headed for the elevators.

Chapter Five

Mulder startled when the door to Scully's hospital room opened with a rapid knock. The heavy wooden door swung wide, and Dr. Hamilton entered with an ultrasound machine, flipping on the light.

Scully sat up in bed, tucking her hair hastily behind her ears and wiping sleep from her eyes.

"Good morning, Dana. How was the night?"

Scully cleared her throat. "Uneventful," she replied, clasping her hands together in her lap. "No cramping. My spotting seems to have slowed."

Dr. Hamilton smiled as she plugged in the machine. "Good, I'm glad to hear it." She wheeled the ultrasound to the bedside, lifted the sheets, and applied some more clear jelly to Scully's lower abdomen.

Scully clenched her jaw, her face expressionless. She instinctively reached for Mulder, who had already been reaching for her hand as well.

"Let's see what we have here," Dr. Hamilton murmured as she began to run the probe over Scully's skin. She searched for a moment, running the probe right and left before finally settling on a nondescript blob and freezing the frame.

Mulder exhaled as the familiar whooshing of the baby's heartbeat filled the hospital room. He felt Scully's clenched fingers relax in his. She briefly turned, met his eyes, and smiled.

Dr. Hamilton then measured the size of the subchorionic hematoma and seemed reassured that it hadn't grown overnight.

"I'm just going to get a few more measurements before I finish up here," she said, running the probe in every direction for several minutes. Mulder's heart jumped every time she passed what he now recognized as the tiny body of his son or daughter.

Suddenly, Dr. Hamilton took in a small breath, paused with the probe, and retraced her most recent movements. Her expression was calm, but her breathing quickened perceptibly. She remained silent, moving the ultrasound back and forth several times over the same region.

"Dr. Hamilton," Scully said, her voice even but clearly suppressing an element of concern. "Is everything okay?"

Dr. Hamilton turned quickly to Scully, smiling briefly.

"Yes, Dana. Perfectly okay." She turned back to the monitor. "Just give me a moment."

She went left and right, up and down with the probe, deftly moving to one side, searching for several moments, and quickly moving to another. Mulder looked to Scully to know how to respond, but Scully seemed as lost as he was. He fixed his eyes on Dr. Hamilton as she watched the screen.

Eventually, her face broke into a broad and genuine smile. Mulder looked back at the monitor as she clicked the mouse and froze it on an image.

He stared and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Against the backdrop of what he assumed was Scully's uterus — a dark, eggplant shape with a bright white border — lay not one but two small white shapes, both with distinct heads, bodies, legs and perfect tiny arms.

His jaw dropped as he sat forward in his chair, drawing himself nearer to the screen. Time seemed to stand still, as all of his blood rushed to his head, sending chills to the very ends of his scalp.

Dr. Hamilton met eyes with Scully, well-worn smile lines creasing across her temples and cheeks.

"Dr. Hamilton — am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?"

Dr. Hamilton nodded. "I should have suspected. At your age, rates of multiple gestation are significantly higher, and subchorionic hemorrhages are more common in twin pregnancies. Congratulations, Dana."

Scully breathed out loudly and incredulously, laughing as she turned to Mulder and met his eyes. He matched her laugh and shook his head, running his hand over his face and blinking away the disbelief.

Dr. Hamilton turned back to the screen. "Now let me do a thorough scan and make sure there aren't any more nuggets hiding in there."

She first printed and handed them each a copy of the image with their two tiny children. She then spent the next few minutes thoroughly searching Scully's uterus and taking some more photos. She wiped Scully's belly down with towels, wrapped up the probe and unplugged the machine. Then she pulled a chair to Scully's bedside, sat down and grabbed Scully's hand in hers.

"Dana, we need to have a frank discussion before I go," she said, looking Scully in the eye with compassion and concern.

"I promise to do everything in my power to bring these babies safely into the world. I know you know this pregnancy started as high risk because of your age. Now with twins, and a subchorionic bleed, things are even riskier." She clasped her second hand over Scully's.

She didn't need to go on. Her expression of worried empathy perfectly complemented Scully's fearful yet determined nod. Dr. Hamilton leaned forward and wrapped Scully in a firm hug.

When she pulled away, Scully's eyes brimmed with tears again. Mulder reached for her hand and held it.

"Alright, then, Dana," Dr. Hamilton said, glancing at her clipboard and making notes with her pen. Your vitals have stabilized, and your hematocrit looks fine morning. I'd like to see you back in the office on Monday for a check-in, but I feel comfortable with letting you leave this afternoon."

She looked at Mulder. "I'd like someone to stay with you tonight, watch for another episode."

Mulder nodded. "Of course."

"Good. I'll see you Monday, then." She nodded at Scully and headed for the door.

As soon as she left, Mulder turned his eyes to his picture of their twins. He was speechless.

He glanced up at Scully, unsure how she would be feeling at the moment. He knew she had already been fearful at the chances of miscarriage with one baby, and now things were even more tenuous.

Scully's eyes stayed glued to the wall ahead of her for a few moments, her face unreadable even to him. She closed her eyes briefly, letting the single tears flow from each one as she did so. When she opened them again, they twinkled as her face lit into a very wide smile.

"Twins," she breathed, shaking her head in disbelief. More tears fell, joyful this time. She finally turned to him and opened her arms. He rushed into them, grabbed her firmly and sat beside her on the bed, rocking her softly back and forth as they both laughed.

"I don't know what to say, Scully," he said into her hair, kissing the side of her head. "It's just too wonderful."

He pulled back, kissed her forehead and rested his own against hers. They both breathed in and out for several minutes as he smoothed down her hair, their foreheads touching.

"Let's get you home."

Chapter Six

Scully's house was quiet as Mulder entered behind her, setting the keys in the foyer table dish, just as she had trained him over their years together. He had let so many habits slide since she left him, but somehow that one had stuck. A small, painful reminder of her absence every time he entered his own empty house these days.

Scully walked slowly into the house, hanging up her coat and turning off the alarm. She paused awkwardly in the foyer, turning to him.

"I guess I'll shower and change. Do you wanna order some dinner?"

"Yeah, of course," he said. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Nothing," she sighed, closing her eyes and holding her forehead. "But if I had to eat something, I guess it would be Thai."

He nodded. "Yellow curry with extra sprouts?"

She shook her head. "Can't do sprouts – listeria risk. Have them make it extra mild."

"You got it."

She moved towards her bedroom and closed the door as he pulled out his phone and called in the order. A few minutes later, he was heading for the kitchen. He rifled through the cabinets, pulling out plates and silverware, pouring glasses of water. He put on the tea kettle, eventually finding her favorite herbal tea and mugs.

Her fridge was as bland as ever, though bland in new ways now – it seemed she had moved to even newer dairy substitutes, with multiple new soy-based products and some strange-looking meat impersonators. He missed her like hell, but he did not miss his fridge being full of this overpriced cardboard.

He went to the bathroom to wash up, taking in his unshaven face and blood-spattered hoodie. He stared at himself for a moment in the mirror. God, he looked old.

He splashed his face again, took a quick smell of his underarms and made a face. He'd try not to get too close to her.

Heading back into the living room, he took in the pristine couch, sharply angled modern furniture and tasteful coffee-table books. He sat down in an armchair and closed his eyes for a few minutes.

The sound of the shower died, some bustling around the room, and then silence for a while. After a few more minutes, he heard a loud thud.

He sprang from the chair, bounded for the door and knocked. "Scully, you okay?" he asked, trying to hide the worry from his voice.

"I'm okay," he heard through the door, the sound of her footsteps, and then it opened. She stood in the doorway, in jeans and a soft blue cashmere sweater, hair tucked neatly behind her ears. "Box fell as I was getting it from the closet."

She handed him a stack of neatly-folded clothes – a Knicks t-shirt, jeans and boxers. "I found them mixed in my stuff when I was unpacking. Never got around to giving them back to you. Guest room's down the hall if you want to wash up."

He took the clothes, thanked her, and headed down the hall.

Half an hour later, they sat at the kitchen table – Mulder devouring pad thai, and Scully staring miserably at a white paper container of curry. She pushed it aside and turned away. Mulder stopped eating.

"I'm sorry, Scully. I can eat later," he said.

She shook her head. "No, no you should eat. I just can't, not right now."

He put down his fork, headed for the tea kettle and poured her a mug. She looked at him gratefully, took the tea and headed for the couch. He followed and sat down beside her.

They remained side by side, silent, for several minutes. She blew on her tea, took a sip, and set it back down in her lap.

Finally, she inched slightly closer to him and softly lay her head on his shoulder, keeping her eyes fixed ahead. He suppressed the urge to smile. Moving his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her close and let her rest her head, taking a sip of tea every few minutes.

Waves of nostalgia came rushing over him, growing stronger with each passing moment. The number of nights they had passed sitting just like this on the couch – though certainly not one so modern and uncomfortable – were more than he could count. Falling asleep side by side to Yankees games (he had eventually made her quite the fan), nature documentaries, classic movies, and sometimes just the sound of the rain or a crackling fire, as they sat debating the finer points of science news or his latest conspiracy theories.

To him, this was heaven. This was what he missed the most.

Eventually, he recognized the sound of her tiny snores and looked down to see her fast asleep against him. A strand of hair fell across her face, moving slightly each time she breathed. God, how he wanted to tuck it behind her ear, to brush her cheek as she slept, to kiss her forehead. To mark her as his own.

But she wasn't. Not anymore, anyway.

Or maybe, not yet.

For now, he would let the dopamine rush keep coming, as he listened to the music of her sleeping beside him. This, this, this was perfection. This was how it was always supposed to be. Although, maybe with a slightly more comfortable couch.

He reached for the blanket beside him, placed it over her, and moved her mug to the coffee table. He closed his eyes and fell asleep almost instantly.

Scully had left the couch by the time he woke the next morning. The sound of her retching was easily audible through the closed door to her bedroom. She eventually emerged in new clothes, fresh hair and makeup.

He stood from the couch. "Can I get you anything, Scully?"

She moved towards the kitchen. "I'm okay. Just going to get to work on an article I was writing for the Penology Review."

She wants to be alone.

He stretched and moved towards the door. "Ok. I guess I'll head home then – unless you need anything?"

"Nope, I'm good. Thank you for staying with me."

He grabbed his dirty clothes from the counter and ran his hand through his hair. He paused before heading towards his keys.

"Scully, we...we really should talk. About what...about us. About how we're going to do this." He glanced at her belly.

She looked down too, then back at him. "Yeah, Mulder. We should."

He nodded. "I think, I think we should take some time. Or really, I need some time. To get my head right."

She stared back at him. "Ok, Mulder," she said. "Just call me."

He grabbed her hand, squeezed it, and turned for the door, closing it quietly behind him.

The next day, Mulder threw his overnight bag into the passenger seat of his car and backed out of his gravel driveway, the tires crunching loudly over the rocks. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon at the end of the distant fields, with soft glows of pink and gray dotting the landscape. He drove slowly through the crisp morning air, the only car on the deserted road.

He turned west and slowly accelerated.

He didn't have a destination in mind, really. What he needed was the drive.

Pausing to ensure his ringer was on in case she needed him, he turned up the music and hit the gas.

Chapter Seven

Two Weeks Later

Even though she knew he was coming, and he had a key to her house, Mulder decided to knock.

He waited for her answer, shifting nervously on the doorstep in his favorite dark gray t-shirt and jeans. He ran his hands through his hair, tousling the top and smoothing it back. He'd gotten it trimmed yesterday, and it still felt freshly cold on the back of his neck when the wind blew through it.

She finally appeared at the door, in an oversized cream sweater and black leggings, hair pulled back in a messy bun with strands tucked behind her ears.

"Hey, come on in," she said, ushering him through the door. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'm good, I'm good," he said, standing awkwardly in the foyer. "How are you feeling?'

"A little better," she said. "Although not much."

She looked down at the brown paper grocery bag in his hands.

"Oh," he said, holding it out to her. "I read that ginger can help with the nausea. The lady at Whole Foods swore by these ginger chews. But then she also swore by some $108 gingko biloba cream for my hemorrhoids, too, so who knows."

Scully chuckled and took the bag. "Thanks, Mulder," she said, setting it on the kitchen counter. "Do you wanna sit down?"

Mulder couldn't help but shift from foot to foot, breathing deeply to slow the pounding in his heart.

"Yeah, yeah, that sounds great."

She eyed him suspiciously and steered him towards the couch. She walked to the kitchen, poured herself some hot water from the blue kettle on the stove, and headed to join him with her steaming mug.

He sat on the couch, fumbling awkwardly with a pillow before eventually tossing it on an armchair to the right. She sat several feet away, tucking both legs underneath her and turning to look at him from the side as she blew on her tea.

They sat there silently for a few moments, the roar of Mulder's pounding heart echoing in his ears. Eventually, she turned and looked ahead, taking a sip from her mug.

Without looking back, she said, "Mulder, you're making your panic face."

He reddened and laughed. "Well, that's probably because I'm panicking."

She turned back to him quizzically. He met her eyes, quickly masking the pursed-lip side-eyed stare that always betrayed his fear.

"Ok, what's going on?" she said. "Where have you been?"

"Just driving," he said. "You didn't need me, did you? I know I went through some spotty reception, but I kept my phone by me."

"No, I was fine. All checked out at Dr. Hamilton's last week. The bleeding has stopped, and my blood pressure has been normal."

Mulder smiled, nervously but genuinely. "That's great. That's really great."

She took another sip and nodded slowly. Then she reached for a manila envelope on the coffee table. "Thought you might like to see this."

He took the yellow envelope and pulled out the thin, stapled stack of papers inside. His eyes ran over a list of what seemed to be several dozen diseases, all with the words "LOW RISK" beside them.

"It's the twins' genetic screen – just a screen for some common genetic abnormalities. Everything checked out fine."

He smiled and breathed a sigh of relief, turning to her. "That's wonderful." She smiled back.

"You might be interested in what's on page two," she said.

He quickly turned back to the second page.

FETAL SEX ONE – MALE

FETAL SEX TWO – FEMALE

His breath caught. His eyes shot from the page back to her.

"One of each?" he said, his excitement surging through the words.

She nodded, her own eyes lit with the same joy. "One of each."

He smiled at her, looked at the paper a moment longer, then lay it back down on the table.

He knew he needed to go on before he lost the courage.

"Scully," he said, still looking at the paper. "We need to talk."

She breathed in beside him, put her mug on the coffee table, and turned to face him on the couch. "Ok, Mulder, let's talk."

He swallowed, willed his eyes to leave the paper, and moved them to look directly at her.

God, she is so beautiful.

He took in one long, slow breath, and began the words he had been practicing for a thousand aimless miles of highway.

"Scully, I have loved you from the day you walked into my office."

He could see her breathing quicken, and her eyes widened slightly. He braced himself and continued.

"It took a very long time for me to tell you, because I was afraid of what I knew was true – I knew that you deserved someone who could give you the normal life you wanted, and I didn't want to get in the way of that."

Her chin lifted slightly, and she swallowed nervously. He went on.

"Somehow you chose to let me love you anyway, even though I couldn't give you that life you wanted. And then we had William, and we had that chance – that chance to be the family you had dreamed of."

Her eyes began to redden, and he knew he had to get this out quickly before he broke down himself.

"And I had the chance to be something I never knew I wanted to be. The chance to be a father." He swallowed hard, took an even, measured breath and continued.

"And then I threw it all away."

His voice choked, and he looked away for a long moment, fighting back the gnawing heat behind his eyes. He couldn't look at her, so he stared ahead and went on.

"I made the choice to put my search for the Truth over the safety of my family, and I left you and our son unprotected when you were both the most vulnerable. And I know you don't think you need protection, and I know you're so, so strong. But I can't help but wonder, how things might have been different, if I had been here to defend him with you."

He could hear her tears begin then, and he saw her shaking her head from the corner of his eye. "Mulder, no, that's not-"

"Let me finish, Scully. Just...let me finish." His own tears began to fall.

"I tried to bury the guilt I carried, Scully. I tried to be the man you deserved, to be enough of a family for you. But my guilt and my grief drove me deeper and deeper into darkness, searching harder and harder for a Truth that was out there-" he motioned to the emptiness before him. "And driving me farther and farther from the place where you needed me. Here."

He turned and grabbed her hand with one of his, cupping her cheek with the other, and letting her tears run over his fingers.

"What I was too blind to see, was that I could not truly love you with my whole heart, I could not be the man you truly deserved, until I was willing to put aside my crusade, to let go of my quest, to stop looking for Truth, and to finally realize that..."

He moved his second hand to her other cheek, cupped her face in both his hands, and brushed aside her tears with his thumbs.

"That thing that I thought was going to fill the emptiness inside of me, that Truth I had been searching for..." He swallowed hard, paused, and softened his eyes as he looked into hers.

"That Truth has always been here. Right here."

Scully swallowed, sobbed softly and shook her head slightly side to side. "Mulder..."

He pulled his hands from her cheeks after a moment, trembling uncontrollably as he fumbled in his pocket. He clenched his jaw, closed his eyes, and slid off the couch onto one knee, turning to face her as he pulled Maggie's ring from his jeans pocket.

Scully gasped, putting a hand to her mouth, eyes wide as she stared at him. She then focused on the ring, and her face softened in recognition. "Mulder, where...what-"

"Scully, please, please don't say no until you hear me out."

She stared quietly, fearfully in response, tears still falling.

"Dana Katherine Scully, you have been, and will always be, the only woman I will ever truly love. I have been a fool, and I have let my own personal quest come before the needs of my family. After all we have been through, after all we have lost, and all we have found: if you will have me, I promise I am ready to let it all go. To pursue you and our children first and foremost, now and forever."

He shifted, moving the ring slightly closer to her.

"If you will have me, I am ready to give myself – my whole self – to you, to our son, to our daughter, to our family, forsaking any personal crusades of my own."

He swallowed hard one last time, choking over the words.

"Will you marry me?"

He let his breath go, heaving slightly as he finished. She sat motionless on the couch before him, tear-stained face staring seriously into his own.

The longest minutes of his life followed, as she silently, solemnly looked into his eyes. He could see her thinking, see her considering, see her wondering if she could really trust him to keep his word. If she could really allow herself to believe he would leave everything behind, for her.

"Mulder, I couldn't, I wouldn't, ever ask you to leave your work," she finally said.

He was prepared for this.

"You're not asking me to, Scully. I'm saying that I want to, I choose to." He paused. "Three decades of this crusade, and all that we have lost – I've found enough answers for one lifetime. I'm at peace. And besides, you know just as well as I do, we can't be out chasing monsters and changing diapers. It just wouldn't work. I have to choose. And, this time, that choice is easy."

Scully sighed. "But Mulder, we have to be realistic. You heard Dr. Hamilton. There's a strong chance these babies might not even make it."

He nodded and swallowed. "I know that. If we lose them, I want us to lose them, and grieve them, together. But Scully, I've had enough time to think it over. If we lose this chance to be a family, and you'd still want to, I think I'd want to try again. I certainly have my preferred method of baby-making, but if that doesn't work, there are a lot of options now. IVF, surrogacy, adoption."

His eyes pleaded, and his jaw clenched with resolve.

"When I held this photo in my hand," he said, pulling the now wrinkled and worn ultrasound out of his back pocket, "when I laid eyes on my children, on our children, I knew I would give anything, anything, to bring them safely into this world, and to keep them safe for you – for us."

She continued to stare at him wordlessly, her brow furrowed, her lips pursed tightly, for several more long minutes. Mulder adjusted uncomfortably on his knee, shifting his weight while still awkwardly holding the ring forward. This was pure torture.

Unable to stand it a moment longer, he broke the silence. "Scully, please just think about it before you say no. Just take some time, and-"

"Mulder."

He paused mid-sentence and waited, heart pounding wildly, eyes begging her to say yes.

"Mulder, I've had 26 years to think about it."

She inhaled deeply, and the corners of her mouth upturned in the trace of a smile.

"Yes. Yes, I will marry you." She then sighed dramatically. "Besides, it seems my mother has given me no choice."

His face melted into pure joy.

He shot off the floor, lifted her off the couch and pulled her to him, breathing in the sweet scent of her, only her, that he had needed beside him, wanted beside him, couldn't wait to have beside him again.

She said yes.

He let go suddenly, held her at arm's length with both hands on her shoulders, and said, "I'll be right back. Just...just gimme one minute."

She watched, befuddled, as he dashed out of the front door. She could see him through the window as he walked around to the other side of his car, lifted both hands into the air, pumped his fists and shouted.

The sound was muffled but easily audible.

"YES! OOOOOOHHHH YESSSS!" He pumped his fists several times, laughed, put both hands on the car and leaned over to catch his breath. He then composed himself, straightened out, and walked calmly back towards the house.

He came back through the door, a determined expression on his face, heading towards her.

"Mulder, I haven't seen you that excited since the day we lost 9 minutes in Oreg-"

She didn't finish. Mulder had walked straight from the door, grabbed the back of her head with one hand, the small of her back with the other, and pulled her into the strongest, most passionate, and still most tender kiss she could remember. He pulled away after several moments, breathing quickly and looking at her with an expression of pure love.

"I do not think it is possible for anyone to be happier than I am at this moment," he said, tucking her hair behind her ears and searching her face, taking in every detail as if truly seeing her for the first time.

He hugged her again and closed his eyes, not wanting the moment to end. Still holding him, she asked, "When are we gonna do this?"

He pulled back, looking at his watch. "What time does the courthouse open tomorrow?"

She laughed, shrugging. "I guess we've put this off long enough. Let's do it. Let's do it tomorrow."

He nodded, grinning and giddy, biting his lower lip.

"Tomorrow."

Chapter Eight

Three Months Later

Scully pushed the swinging screen door aside and let it slam behind her as she waddled into the foyer of the farmhouse. She dropped her keys in the dish on the front table and navigated the stacks of moving boxes lining the hallways. Standing in the kitchen, she listened for the sound of Mulder unpacking.

"I smelled you coming, Clarice."

Scully jumped, dropping the pizza box she was carrying, as Mulder emerged from behind her, wrapping his hands around her belly and burying his face in the side of her neck. "What is that, mushroom? Sausage? Onion?" he whispered, nuzzling the side of her neck and planting soft kisses between each word.

She laughed, swatted him away and squatted to retrieve the pizza – which was thankfully still in its box.

"All of the above, and then some," she said.

"Ahh, nice," he said, taking the box from her and heading for the table. He pushed some stacks of dishes aside to make room for the pizza box. Opening it, he shook his head in satisfaction. "Damn, it is nice to have you eating again," he said. "And again, and again, and again..."

Scully shoved him playfully and grabbed the first slice. Double cheese, mushrooms, onions and five meats threatened to slide off the thin crust before it eventually landed in her mouth. Mulder laughed, wiping pizza sauce from the side of her chin.

She took a plate from the stack of dishes and sat down. "Wow. For a town with a population of 500, that's some pretty good pizza." She took another bite.

"Well, to be fair, 'decent pizza' was one of the criteria in my spreadsheet for picking the perfect small town," he said. "There was quite a bit of research involved."

He grabbed his own piece, took a bite and smiled. "Yeah. That's pretty good." He took a plate and set the pizza down on the table.

"Don't get comfy yet, Scully. Come see what I found." He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. Rolling her eyes, she allowed him to drag her across the kitchen, down the hall, and to the first bedroom on the left.

"Close your eyes," he said, his voice full of boyish excitement.

Scully obliged and let him lead her into the bedroom.

She opened her eyes and gasped. The two white cribs they had erected yesterday stood out against the soft sage-colored walls of the nursery. Beside each one stood matching dark mahogany antique rockers.

"They're gorgeous," Scully said, walking over to run her hands over the smooth wood of the one by baby boy's crib. "Where did you find them?"

"At the flea market down the road. Couldn't get away without telling our life story to the owners - a Mr. And Mrs. Gunderson - who wanted to hand-deliver them, with some pickled okra as a welcome gift."

Scully chuckled. "Can't imagine what they thought of that story."

Mulder shrugged and lifted his eyebrows. "It was slightly editorialized."

He searched her face as she took in the rockers, and decided she did, in fact, really like them.

"I'll work on getting soft covers for the seats and backs. Mrs. Gunderson gave me the name of the town seamstress."

She met his eyes. "They're perfect." She hugged him. "Thank you."

She pulled back. "Now the three of us need our pizza." She waddled back towards the kitchen.

They sat down at the table again, finishing their first pieces and reaching for seconds.

"How did the appointment go?"

"Okay. The hematoma grew another two millimeters, but babies still look good." She reached for her purse and handed him a strip of photos. "With me still spotting some, Dr. Graham wants to keep on with the weekly ultrasounds for now."

He set down his pizza and took a few minutes to look carefully at each frame, smiling at one with very distinct fingers visible on one hand. Though they certainly wouldn't have chosen to be dealing with this bleed, they both found great comfort in the weekly visual reassurance of the twins' well-being.

Scully looked around at the stacks of boxes filling the kitchen. "I'd love to make some progress in here this weekend. I stopped to take a look at the hospital cafeteria on my way out of the appointment. I'm certainly going to want to be bringing my lunches to work."

"Sounds good," he said. I'll work on finding a cooler big enough to hold your four sandwiches."

She stuck her tongue out at him between chews.

"How was class this morning?"

He swallowed. "Good. Thankfully the wireless cooperated, and this group didn't seem to have Googled me beforehand. A lot less questions about aliens and more about actual criminal profiling."

She chuckled, wiping her mouth between bites as she chewed on a crust. "Anyone laugh at your jokes today?"

His face fell. "Kids these days. No appreciation for my refined sense of humor."

She rolled her eyes. Mulder had been teaching online for the FBI academy for the past few weeks now. Thanks to some crafty string-pulling by Spender, he had managed to secure a spot as a freelance consultant, somehow flying under Kersh's radar once again.

"Just biding my time anyway. Not too much longer and I'll officially be a full-time manny."

"Mulder, how many times do I have to tell you, you're not a nanny if you're taking care of your own kids."

He grinned. "I just like the sound of it."

She shook her head at him. It was still hard for her to believe a man who had lived and breathed his career was now wanting to live and breathe diapers and naptimes. He had insisted, though – he knew her passion for her work, and he wanted her to be able to continue it. But without the X-Files, no job really appealed to him long-term. Plus, he admitted he was too paranoid to leave the twins with a stranger all day, at least for the first few years.

Thus, he officially became the stay-at-home dad.

Mulder chewed quietly for another moment and then cleared his throat.

"Scully, I've been wondering," he said.

She raised her eyebrows at him as she chewed.

"You said you wanted to wait until things were more...certain...before talking about names. I don't wanna pressure you, but I was just wondering if, after the anatomy scan last week...if you'd be up for talking about them now."

She kept chewing and looked thoughtful.

His heart rate quickened slightly – he didn't want to add any additional stress to all she was already carrying.

But then she smiled. "Alright, then. What are you thinking?"

He grinned. "Really? Great. Great." He paused.

"You know, Scully, I'm thinking that, in terms of our respective contributions to bringing these children into the world, I very much had the fun part."

She took another bite and raised her eyebrows in agreement. "Mmm hmm."

"And it was really fun," he said. He sat back and sighed dramatically. "Really, really fun." He then looked wistfully into the distance with a mournful expression.

She stopped chewing and set her pizza down. "Hey hey hey, hold the dramatics – you were at that appointment. You know just as well as I do that 'indefinite pelvic rest' was not my idea."

She stood and moved to the sink, finding two glasses and filling them with water. He watched as she moved back towards the table.

He whimpered pitifully. "Yes, yes. I was there. It was a time of dark, dark despair."

She grinned at him, set the glasses down, bent over and pulled the collar of his t-shirt towards her. She kissed him long and hard before pushing him back against the chair.

He sighed again. "And that does not make things any easier." He adjusted his jeans uncomfortably.

She chuckled and turned to sit, grabbing a third slice of pizza. He watched her longingly. "And neither do those damn leggings."

She chuckled at him again.

"But getting back to the point, my contribution to this baby making was the easy part." He paused again, throwing her a side eye. "Though, as I recall, you were pretty easy that night too."

She leaned forward in the chair, shoving his chest playfully.

"Mulder, if there's a point, please feel free to come to it."

He laughed and took a sip of his water. "So I had the easy part in the baby making. And you are doing the hard part. My point is that, I think you should get to pick the names."

She stopped chewing, raised her eyebrows and thought for a moment.

"Okay. Walt and Maggie."

He grinned, saying the names aloud himself, slowly. "Walt, and Maggie. Walt and Maggie."

He reached for her hand, and they met eyes, sharing a long, sad but hopeful look that captured all of the shared emotions behind the names.

"They're perfect."

Chapter Nine

Four Months Later

"Mulder, would you please stop that?"

"Stop what?" he glanced over from the driver's seat.

"The tapping. The fidgeting. The staring at me. It's annoying." Scully shifted her weight from one hip to the other in the passenger seat beside him. He stopped drumming his fingers on the wheel and tried to suppress the more visible displays of his anxiety.

They passed another farm on the rural highway, with yet another field of cows grazing in the late afternoon sun. He glanced at his watch. Both hands on the wheel, Mulder tried his hardest to keep his eyes on the road while stealing furtive glances over at her whenever he could.

He opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and swallowed his words. Scully breathed heavily beside him, as she had been for weeks now, her double-watermelon sized belly leaving her lungs very little room to expand.

She readjusted herself one more time, and he couldn't keep quiet any longer.

"Scully, are you sure we shouldn't call Dr. Graham?"

"Yes, Mulder, for the tenth time, I am sure."

"But your contractions seem to be coming every 8 minutes now. That seems pretty close." He swallowed nervously, eyes trained on the highway ahead.

"We will call when they get to five," she said. "They've been like this for days, and I'm not making a third unnecessary trip to the ER this week."

Mulder drummed his fingers on the wheel again.

"I just want to officially lodge my protest that Mama Brown's is exactly three miles outside of the ten-mile hospital radius we agreed on," he said.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Mulder, we're at term now. We can breathe a bit. I've felt active labor before, and this isn't it. Besides, I refuse to miss my last guilt-free chance at all-you-can-eat ribs before my induction."

He sighed and accelerated. He did not like this. He did not like this at all.

Two more exits, and they reached the turnoff for the restaurant. The classic smalltown standalone barbecue joint, complete with wooden rocking chairs on the front porch, came into view ahead. A large faded red sign advertised the Tuesday rib special from the window. Mulder tried to hide his sense of urgency, pulling as casually as he could into an open spot in the gravel parking lot.

He exited the car and came around to her side. Sometime last week, she had ceased attempting to get out of a car on her own and relented to allowing him to help heave her out. This development correlated closely with her belly becoming too large for her to reach the eyepiece of her microscope in the pathology lab without bumping the slides to the floor. She had delegated her caseload to her colleagues and begrudgingly taken her maternity leave a week earlier than planned.

This resulted in the two of them being stuck inside, alone in the house together for the past week. The July heat had made it impossible for Scully to be outside for more than a few minutes without immediately having more contractions. Despite her attempts to hide them, Mulder had become annoyingly adept at interpreting her clenched jaw, furrowed brow, quickened breathing, and slight bending of the knees.

Needless to say, Scully was more than ready to get this over with.

Mulder opened her door and reached down, bracing himself to lift her now nearly 200-pound frame out from the car. She grunted and heaved, right hand gripping his and left on her lower back. Eventually getting upright, she took a step toward the restaurant.

Then she felt the warmth begin to trickle down her legs, followed by a very audible splash.

They both looked down at the clear yellow fluid now soaking into the gravel parking lot.

Mulder's eyes became saucers and his breathing quickened. Scully groaned as he helped her back into the car.

He ran to the driver's side and closed the door, reaching for his seatbelt.

"What do you think you're doing? I need my ribs."

He stared at her incredulously. "Scully, your water just broke. We are going to the hospital."

"I am going to be NPO for hours once we get there. I want my ribs. I'll eat them on the way." She shoved his shoulder. "Unless you would like 'indefinite pelvic rest' to continue indefinitely: Go! And don't forget my squash casserole."

His face twisted in frustration, he growled and slammed the door, running for the front of the restaurant.

Three and a half minutes later, a very large party emerged.

First was a large woman in a flowered dress, holding two white takeout bags loaded with Styrofoam containers. Behind her came an even larger man, holding two enormous Styrofoam cups with lids and straws. Mulder came next, accepting the bags offered by the woman and trying to secure the white cups in each hand. Next was a man in a sheriff's uniform, who placed his hat on his head and sprinted for his squad car. Five other townsfolk, sauce-stained bibs still in place over their simple country dresses and overalls, hurried out behind them.

Scully rolled her window down, smiling at the crowd. "Thank you, Myrtle, Jim." She nodded at the plump couple. "Perfect last meal."

They waddled up to her door as Mulder ran for the driver's side. "We'll all be praying for you, Dana. Can't wait to get my hands on those juicy baby cheeks. Sherriff Cheney here is gonna escort you to the hospital, make sure you get there real quick."

Mulder threw open the car door, shoving the food in her direction. He impatiently waited for them all to move away from the car, floored the gas and whipped it around. They headed out of the parking lot behind the police car, siren wailing.

Scully sighed contentedly as she opened the first box. "This is the good stuff," she said, grabbing a rib and immediately covering her face in sauce. Mulder turned back to the road and instantly began his finger-drumming again.

Two Days Later

Mulder smiled as five tiny fingers wrapped around one of his. Maggie opened her eyes, looked around and cooed, stretching her arms out of the swaddling blanket. He held her gently, careful to support her head and softly swaying her up and down as Scully had taught him.

Sitting up in the hospital bed beside the recliner, Scully held Walt and kissed his tiny forehead. She looked over at Mulder and smiled. "I think he has your eyes."

Mulder looked down at Maggie. "I think she has yours."

They both listened to the twins coo for a few minutes.

"This just feels so surreal. I can't believe they're actually here. I can't believe any of this." He met eyes with Scully. "It's just too wonderful."

She nodded. "I know what you mean." She paused. "I just wish my mom and Skinner were here to meet them."

"Me too."

Mulder stood carefully, cradling Maggie in his arms as he crossed to the edge of the bed. "Room for two more?"

Scully scooted to the side as Mulder awkwardly lowered himself into the bed beside her, Maggie still in his arms. The twins' heads were touching, and their hands brushed against one another as they each stretched.

"Scully?" Mulder said, his eyes bright. "A year ago, I was beginning to wonder if I would ever be happy again."

He turned and kissed the side of her head.

"And now I can't imagine ever being happier."

She laid her head against his shoulder.

"I love you, Mulder."

"I love you, too, Scully."

Epilogue

Six Weeks Later

Scully opened and closed the screen door extremely gently as she walked into the farmhouse, slipped off her shoes and stepped into the kitchen. Clean bottles dotted the counter beside the sink, a load of folded pastel-colored laundry sat neatly on the kitchen table, and a tattered copy of The Dad's Guide to Mannying lay open beside it. All was silent save for the soft trilling of a whippoorwill audible through the kitchen window. She laid the after-visit summary from her six-week follow-up appointment on the counter and set down her purse.

Padding quietly down the hall, she paused in the doorway of the nursery.

With the soft light of the late afternoon filtering through the blinds, Mulder lay fast asleep in a rocking chair between the two cribs. His right hand was snaked between the bars of Maggie's, a pacifier clutched between his fingers. His left was wedged into Walt's – resting gently on the baby's chest, gold wedding band moving up and down with each tiny breath. The only sounds were the soft hum of the noisemaker, and the steady rhythm of Mulder's well-earned quiet snores.

The last six weeks had been a blur of mostly-sleepless nights, mostly-sleepless days, crying (from everyone) and general chaos. Though Scully had been through this before, nursing for two and getting them both on the same schedule had been a grueling experience for all of them.

But, true to his word, Mulder had thrown his heart and soul into perfecting the art of fatherhood. They quickly established a rhythm that worked - Mulder changing diapers, burping and rocking one twin, while Scully nursed the other. In between feeds, they would power-nap until the next. Thankfully, years of sleepless nights on cases together had trained them to function on fairly little sleep.

This of course left sparse time for much else. Thus, Mulder and Scully were thrilled when Mr. and Mrs. Gunderson showed up on the doorstep one afternoon with a fried chicken dinner. The elderly couple then announced that they had taken the liberty of setting up a meal-train for the new parents. Mulder and Scully's desperation threw their usual self-reliance and introversion out the window, and they welcomed the revolving door of townsfolk and their home-cooked meals.

Many an evening those weeks were spent on the front porch, devouring smoked pork butt or homegrown corn on the cob, and delving deep into the fascinating lives of their new neighbors as they rocked and passed the twins around. Mulder and the high school baseball coach became fast friends – Coach Taylor having played in the minor leagues and then base coached for the Braves before retiring to the country. Scully and the local organic farmers quickly became allies in the fight against what Mulder called "normal people vegetables." She and the town librarian (also a Navy brat) discovered a shared love of nineteenth century nautical fiction, staying out long after the fireflies had died out to debate the symbolism in Heart of Darkness.

Whenever conversation turned to their life before, Mulder and Scully would lock eyes and smile, give vague answers about "catching bad guys with a badge and a gun" and turn the conversation back to the twins and their life now. Their past would be their past, and it would only be theirs – for now.

But in one stolen moment between a nap and a feeding, Mulder had gotten the urge to drive to the local bookstore and buy a blank journal. Late that night, while Scully was still nursing Maggie and Walt had already gone back to sleep, Mulder pulled the leather-bound book from the bedside table, creased open the first page, and began to write.

Beside him on the bed, Scully glanced over.

Dear Walt and Maggie, he began.

Once upon a time, long before you were born, your mother and I had some pretty incredible adventures together. If you're reading this, your mother has decided you're old enough to hear about them.

He paused, looked over at her and grinned.

The X-Files, he wrote, underlining the words slowly and carefully.

"I want them to know, Scully," he said. "In case anything happens to us. I want them to know what we've done."

She nodded. "Me too. But will they believe it?"

"Depends on which version of the skeptical gene they inherited – mine or yours."

"Hopefully a hybrid of them both," she replied, smiling and resting her head on his shoulder as Maggie continued nursing.

He turned back to the page.

It all started on March 6, 1992...

The first journal filled quickly, and the second even faster. Within a week, Mulder realized he had better go ahead and have the bookstore order them a case of the leather-bound volumes. The stories flowed easily from their memories to the paper, and they often found themselves cutting deep into their own sleep times to finish recording their favorite cases.

Some of the memories were so terrifying or painful, one or both of them found long-suppressed tears bursting forth as they processed what they had seen and felt. There were quite a few heated discussions and laughs, as their often-contradictory versions of events would end in one of them crying, "Why don't you write down what you remember, and then I'll write what really happened." More than once, one would stop writing, look at the other, put down the pen and say, "Thank you for risking your life for me."

They made it through the nineties relatively quickly. Dedicating an entire journal solely to the summer of 1998, they allowed themselves to wonder aloud together for the first time, what would have happened if the bee hadn't stung Scully in the hallway that June. Then they passed into the 2000s, and things began to get harder.

Since Mulder's proposal, the distractions of moving and the babies had allowed them to easily fall into old habits of avoiding the topic of William. But as their story marched onward towards Mulder's abduction, they both came to appreciate that this journal offered them a chance to objectively process a trauma they had collectively buried behind years of silence.

Gradually, they both realized that cradling new lives in their arms made it easier to speak about William. These two children – though never a replacement for the lost one – somehow opened the doors for them to verbalize the pain not only of losing their first son as a baby, but of grieving him without the support each of them needed from the other.

"I just wish you would have acknowledged his birthday. I needed to celebrate his life, even if it wasn't with us."

"I just didn't know what to say."

"Every time we saw a boy who would have been around his age, it hurt. I needed you to grab my hand so I didn't feel so alone."

"Father's Day was awful. I needed you to say something, anything."

"I didn't want to make things worse by bringing him up."

"I needed to hear his name."

"I couldn't hear his name."

"I was so angry."

"I was so lonely."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm so sorry."

"I forgive you."

"I forgive you."

As the weeks passed, the sweltering heat of August afternoons gradually gave way to crisp September evenings. The stretches between feedings mercifully lengthened, giving them small windows of freedom to leave the house. One Saturday, Coach Taylor lent Mulder the baseball team's pitching machine, and volun-told his grandson to fetch balls. They loaded up the twins in the double stroller and trekked the dirt path through the woods to the sandlot field (not-coincidentally located half a mile from their house).

Scully sat on a blanket in the shade, the twins napping beside her as she journaled and watched Mulder hit ball after ball deep into the outfield. She studied his face for the first few pitches – deep concentration watching the toss and making the swing, a satisfied smirk as the bat connected, and finally a broad smile as the ball would sail far past the boy fielding for him.

After an hour or so, Mulder jogged over, collapsed on the blanket beside her and downed a bottle of water. Glancing to make sure his ballboy was running in the other direction, he turned and pulled her face to his for a long, hard kiss. He then fell back onto the blanket, smiling contentedly and looking up at the sky.

"This is it," he said. "We found it."

She looked over at him, expectantly. The quiet autumn breeze swayed the Spanish moss in the oak branches above them, and loosened the blankets wrapped around the twins. In one practiced motion, Mulder reached over to re-tuck Maggie's swaddle without waking her.

He looked up and met Scully's eyes briefly, then turned back to the sky.

"Home."

They went on in silence for a few minutes, watching as the roosting birds made their way to the trees, and the sunset began to paint pink and orange streaks across the horizon. The view was hills upon distant hills, dotted with hay bales and a few grazing cattle. Mulder grabbed a sunflower seed, cracked it between his teeth and tossed the shell into the grass.

Scully turned back to the book in her lap.

"We're almost done with this, you know," she said. "I think one more journal and we'll be through."

She paused, absently twisting her mother's ring around her finger with her right hand. "I kind of don't want it to end."

He rolled onto his side again and looked at her, raising his head from the blanket and resting his ear on his hand.

"It hasn't, Scully."

Mulder held her gaze for a long time, the trace of a smile behind his eyes.

He sat up and reached for Walt, who was just beginning to stir beside him. Watching his little hands burst from the swaddle and reach for the sky, Mulder lifted the boy and held his tiny face near to his own.

His eyes still locked with his son's, he whispered, "It won't."

Now watching Mulder sleep in the rocking chair between the cribs, Scully leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. The faint lines of age across his forehead and temples relaxed as he slept, giving his face a hint of the youthful, impish optimism that had first drawn her to him. His chest moved rhythmically up and down – one long breath for each two of the twins. His was a restful sleep, a quiet sleep – the sleep of a man who is truly at peace.

She hated to wake him, but knew he would want her to. Tiptoeing across the rug, she drew near and softly placed her hand on his chest. His eyes opened groggily, looked around, and met hers with a smile. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

"Green light."

Mulder's eyes shot fully open. He turned dramatically towards her and bolted silently from the chair. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her towards the door.

She stifled a laugh as he lifted her into his arms, one beneath her back and the other tucked behind her knees. Expecting to be carted instantly to the bedroom, she was surprised when he paused, looked at her, tilted his head slightly, and waited.

He searched her face slowly, taking her in. Leaning forward, he gently kissed her forehead and pulled back. His eyes told a story only she knew – the story of a man who had searched the world over - and the heavens above - and finally found what he was looking for. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, face completely relaxed and etched with deep, resounding joy.

He then leaned towards her and whispered in her ear, "Come on, Dana. We're married now."

She chuckled softly and pulled his own ear to her. "It's Scully, Mulder." She leaned back, met his eyes and mouthed, "And yes. Yes, we are."

He laughed. Swinging her through the doorway, he crossed the hall and slid into the bedroom, closing the door ever so silently behind them.

The End