Mulder stood frozen, staring at the rear of the rented minivan as Scully hefted the last of the baby carriers into place. She moved with quick, precise motions, the edge of panic just starting to show in her otherwise collected demeanor. He snapped out of his stupor and hurried to close the van door as quietly as possible, careful not to disturb the three tiny occupants. The sound of the latch clicking seemed deafening in the stillness of the Pennsylvania late afternoon.
He turned to Scully, who had already checked the straps on the baby carriers three times. Her hands trembled slightly. "Scully," he said softly, his voice hesitant. "Are you okay?"
She turned to him, her expression a mix of disbelief and frustration. "Am I okay?" she repeated incredulously, her voice rising. "Not only did we stumble over three babies who are my genetic daughters, Mulder, but the state just put me in charge—with no warning, no preparation." Her breath hitched as she threw her hands in the air. "How am I supposed to be okay?"
Mulder held up a hand, calming but firm. "Okay, bad question. Let me rephrase: What do you need?"
She blinked, momentarily thrown off by his tone, and then let out a shaky breath. "Everything," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "I have nothing for them, Mulder. No clothes, no diapers, no cots, no food—God, they don't even have names yet."
Mulder stepped closer, his hands finding her shoulders. He gently but firmly turned her to face him. "We'll figure it out," he said, his tone steady and grounding. "One step at a time."
Scully stared at him, her panic slowly ebbing under the weight of his calm. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Mulder reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing quickly.
"Frohike," he said as soon as the line picked up. "I need a favor. A big one." He glanced at Scully, who was now leaning against the van, her arms crossed tightly as if holding herself together. "I need you to buy diapers, baby bottles, and formula. Go to IKEA and get three bassinets, some baby linens—yes, Frohike, that's a thing. No, I'm not joking." He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"We're still in Pennsylvania," he continued. "Scully and I are on our way back with the triplets. Meet us at her place in a few hours." He paused, glancing at Scully again. "And, uh, think of some girl names. Scully's still a little... beside herself right now, and I'm not sure what she'll come up with on the drive." His voice was half a joke, but his worry was unmistakable.
He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Turning to Scully, he gave her a small, reassuring smile. "See? We've got backup. We'll get through this."
She let out a weak laugh, shaking her head. "Mulder, you just put Frohike in charge of baby supplies. I'm not sure if I should feel better or worse."
"Hey, desperate times." He gestured to the van. "Ready?"
Scully hesitated, glancing back at the sleeping babies through the rear window. She exhaled and nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be."
Mulder opened the passenger's side door for her, waiting until she was settled before circling around to his side. As he started the engine, he cast one last look at the carriers in the back. Three tiny lives, asleep and unaware of the chaos swirling around them.
"We've got this," he said, more to himself than anyone else, as they pulled out onto the quiet road.
The hum of the road had lulled the triplets into an uneasy quiet for the first half of the drive, but as the miles ticked by, soft whimpers began to rise from the back seat. At first, Mulder and Scully exchanged wary glances, each hoping the sounds would fade. But soon, the cries turned into a full-fledged chorus of baby discontent.
Mulder glanced in the rearview mirror, his brow furrowed. "What do you think?" he asked, trying to make himself heard over the din. "Are they hungry? Do they need their diapers changed? Or—" he paused, his lips twitching into a faint smirk—"can they sense we're approaching DC and they're outraged about the conspiracy they're involved in?"
Scully shot him a look, her expression exhausted and utterly humorless. "I don't know, Mulder," she replied flatly. "Let's pull over and check the most obvious: diapers. Then let's feed them."
"Logical as always," Mulder muttered, flicking on the turn signal and steering them into the parking lot of a dimly lit rest stop. He parked under one of the flickering overhead lights and cut the engine, the silence of the stopped car a stark contrast to the wails echoing inside.
Scully was already unbuckling her seatbelt, turning to reach into the backseat. "Grab the bag," she said over her shoulder, her voice clipped.
Mulder retrieved the hastily packed duffel bag full of baby stuff he had randomly picked up at a local Walmart in between the court ruling and the actual handover of the triplets. He handed one of the carriers to Scully, who set it carefully on the bench of a nearby picnic table, then followed suit with the other two. The cries intensified as they unbuckled the tiny occupants.
"Okay," Scully said, rolling up her sleeves. "You check the two on the left, I'll take the one on the right. Let's divide and conquer."
Mulder raised an eyebrow as he snapped open a diaper. "Divide and conquer? Sounds like something the Syndicate would say."
Scully didn't dignify that with a response, her focus entirely on the squirming infant in front of her. Within minutes, they had confirmed the first obvious problem.
"All dirty," Mulder announced, holding up a freshly soiled diaper with an exaggerated grimace. "I'd say they're protesting more than just DC."
Scully snorted, surprising herself with a faint smile. "They're babies, Mulder. This is their job."
Once the diapers were changed, the cries had diminished to small, hiccuping whimpers, but the babies' tiny fists still flailed, signaling another need.
"Feeding time," Scully said, reaching into the duffel for bottles. She handed one to Mulder, who awkwardly held it to the lips of the baby in his arms.
"You're a natural," he said, watching as Scully fed the smallest of the three with a practiced calm he admired.
She rolled her eyes. "I'm improvising."
As the cries finally faded into contented coos, the two agents sat side by side on the picnic bench, bottles in hand. The evening stretched around them, quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves.
Mulder glanced at the babies, then at Scully. "You know," he said softly, "for a conspiracy, they're kind of adorable."
Scully sighed, a small, tired smile playing on her lips. "Mulder, you'd think aliens were adorable if they had big enough eyes."
He grinned. "Depends on the eyes."
They sat there for a moment, the weight of the day easing slightly as they tended to the tiny lives entrusted to them. Then, as the babies drifted back into sleep, Mulder stood and stretched. "All right, let's get back on the road before they decide they've got more grievances to air."