The baby shower wound down as the evening light began to dim outside the warehouse windows. One by one, the guests said their goodbyes, leaving hugs, warm smiles, and a few lingering words of encouragement for Scully. Her mother had been one of the first to leave, promising to call her later.
Now, the once-bustling room was quiet, with only the Gunmen, Mulder, and Scully remaining. The decorations still hung brightly, but the atmosphere had shifted into a calm, almost awkward silence.
Scully glanced around and then reached for her coat. That's when it hit her—her mother had left without her. She sighed and pulled out her phone.
Byers, noticing, frowned slightly. "Everything alright?"
"I'm calling a cab," she replied, distractedly scrolling through her contacts.
Byers stepped forward immediately. "I can drive you home, Scully. It's no trouble." His voice was calm but firm. "I'd feel better if you didn't take a cab alone this late… especially in your condition."
Scully hesitated, touched by the offer, but before she could answer, Mulder's voice cut through the room, low and steady.
"I can take you."
She turned to him, surprised. They hadn't exchanged a single word all afternoon, and now his offer hung in the air like a challenge.
"You sure?" she asked, her tone cautious.
Mulder nodded once. "Yeah."
The Gunmen exchanged glances but wisely said nothing. Byers merely stepped back with a small, polite smile, while Frohike gave Mulder a pointed look as if to say, Don't screw this up.
Scully hesitated for a moment, then grabbed her coat. "Alright. Thanks."
They left the lair together, stepping out into the chilly evening air. Mulder unlocked the passenger door of his car and held it open for her. She gave him a small nod of thanks as she climbed in, her movements slow and careful.
Mulder walked around to the driver's side, slid in, and started the car.
The silence between them was palpable, the hum of the engine the only sound as they pulled onto the quiet street. Scully stared out the window, her hands resting lightly on her belly. She was hyper-aware of the tension in the car, her mind racing as she tried to think of something to say.
When they stopped at a red light, Mulder glanced at her. He hadn't expected to feel… calm. He'd been so sure that her slower pace, her visible pregnancy, her presence, would irritate him. But instead, as she had waddled out of the warehouse beside him, he'd felt a strange kind of peace.
Still, the silence between them was anything but peaceful now.
"Mulder," Scully said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "If this is awkward for you, I can just take the bus."
Her voice was calm but tinged with frustration.
"No," he said quickly, a little sharper than he intended. "It's fine."
She raised an eyebrow, turning to look at him. "It doesn't feel fine."
Mulder exhaled, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. "I'm not exactly sure what to say."
Scully studied him for a moment, then sighed and turned back to the window. "Well, you could start with 'How was your day?' or 'Thanks for letting me help celebrate your baby,' or literally anything that doesn't feel like I'm sitting next to a stranger."
Her words stung, but Mulder knew she wasn't wrong. He had been distant—withdrawn. And now, sitting here beside her, he felt the full weight of that distance.
"I'm sorry," he said finally, his voice quieter now.
Scully blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. She turned to him again, her expression softening slightly. "For what?"
"For being… this," he said, gesturing vaguely to himself. "For not saying anything. For not being… there."
She watched him carefully, noting the flicker of guilt in his eyes. "You've been through a lot," she said after a pause. "I get it."
"That's not an excuse," Mulder replied, glancing at her briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. "Not for this. Not for you."
Scully felt her throat tighten, but she forced herself to keep her voice steady. "I don't need an apology, Mulder. I just need to know that you're still… you."
Mulder didn't answer right away. Instead, he focused on the road ahead, the city lights casting fleeting shadows across his face.
"I'm trying," he said finally. "I'm just… I don't know how to fit into this anymore."
"This?" Scully echoed.
"Your life. Your baby." He hesitated, his grip on the steering wheel tightening again. "You're… different now. And I don't know where I fit in."
Scully's lips parted slightly, his words hitting her like a wave. She hadn't realized how lost he felt—how much he was struggling to reconnect.
"Mulder," she said gently, "you're not some outsider. You're a part of this, whether you realize it or not."
He glanced at her, his expression conflicted. "Am I?"
She nodded firmly, her hand resting instinctively on her belly. "You are."
Mulder swallowed, the words settling heavily in his chest. He didn't answer, but he didn't need to. For the first time in a long time, something unspoken passed between them—a fragile understanding, a tentative step forward.
They drove the rest of the way in silence, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as before. Something had shifted, just slightly, but enough to make the distance between them feel less insurmountable.