The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast a soft light over the room as Scully stirred awake, her newborn's wails pulling her from a light, exhausted sleep. She turned her head toward the bassinet beside the bed, blinking away the blur of sleep. Her son's tiny fists flailed as he cried, his face scrunched in protest.
"Okay, okay," she murmured, her voice soothing but hoarse from fatigue. She shifted her weight carefully, adjusting herself to sit up before reaching for him. "You're hungry, aren't you? Let's take care of that."
Holding him close, she guided him to latch on, wincing slightly as he found his rhythm. The room was quiet except for the soft sounds of his nursing, and Scully glanced around, her eyes scanning the space.
Mulder's absence hit her like a punch to the chest. The armchair in the corner was empty, his coat no longer draped over its back. Her heart sank as she let out a quiet, shaky sigh.
Her fingers brushed against the downy tuft of red hair on her son's head as she whispered, "We made it this far without him, didn't we? We can keep going, right? You and I, we're a team now."
Her voice cracked at the end, and she bit her lip, blinking back tears that she didn't want to let fall. She scolded herself silently, knowing she should have expected this. She'd seen Mulder pull away before, retreat into his world when things became overwhelming. Why would now be any different?
As her son nursed contently, she wiped the tears away with her free hand, trying to push past the ache in her chest.
The soft creak of the door broke the silence, and she froze. The door opened slowly, and Mulder's familiar figure slipped inside. He was trying to tiptoe, his movements comically cautious as if he were sneaking into enemy territory.
His eyes immediately lit up when he saw her awake. "Hey," he said softly, his voice warm, almost relieved. "You're awake. I thought I'd be back before..."
Then he stopped, his smile fading slightly as he noticed the sheen of tears in her eyes. His brow furrowed in concern, and he stepped closer. "What's wrong?"
Scully hesitated, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She adjusted the baby in her arms and offered a small, unconvincing smile. "Nothing. Hormones, I guess."
Mulder's lips twitched in a faint smirk, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You thought I made a run for it, didn't you?"
Her silence was all the confirmation he needed. She didn't look at him, focusing instead on their son, her fingers gently tracing the soft fabric of his swaddle.
"I can't blame you for thinking that," Mulder admitted, his voice quieter now, tinged with guilt. He reached into the bag he was carrying and pulled out a takeout container. "But, actually, I went to get you some food. You've only had that cake at your shower hours ago, and... you need to eat."
He held up the bag with an almost sheepish expression. "I hope you're still craving sushi."
Scully glanced up at him, startled by the gesture. Her tears welled again, but this time, they weren't from sadness. A tiny, involuntary smile crept onto her face, softening her features.
"You... went out and got sushi?" she whispered.
Mulder nodded, his grin returning. "And soup. And chicken skewers. I wasn't sure how much you'd want to share, so I came prepared."
For the first time since she'd woken, Scully let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "You're unbelievable."
He sat on the edge of the bed, setting the bag on the small table beside them. Mulder reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I know I've been... difficult lately. But I want to be here, Scully. For both of you."
Her smile widened, and she nodded, her voice soft but steady. "Good. Because we're a team too, Mulder. All three of us."
He leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple before settling back. "You finish feeding him, and then we'll eat. Deal?"
"Deal," Scully replied, her heart feeling lighter than it had in months.
As Mulder unpacked the food, she looked down at their son, feeling a warmth that erased the doubt that had lingered moments ago. Whatever challenges lay ahead, she realized, they could face them together—one step, one meal, one quiet moment at a time.