The man on the television reminded him of his father. He wasn't sure why as it was a young, vibrant activist that had no resemblance whatsoever to late Mr. Mulder.

Maybe it was the sound of his voice, the way his nostrils moved under the sun, or the unusual, yet hardly detectable, hand gesture. Perhaps it was something in the background, completely unrelated to him.

Mulder didn't know. His subconscious knew though, and it catapulted his senses back through time so violently that it kicked the breath out of his lungs. For a split second, he was unable to breathe, and it felt like a lifetime.

Again.

The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the couch and shaking under the little body tightly wrapped around him. His arms went around her as he held for dear life, giving in to the ocean of tears.

"It's ok," a soft voice whispered into his ear, pulling him back to the safety.

Mulder reminded himself that he was an adult. That his father was dead, along with the rest of the consortium. That he won, years ago.

Even if Samantha never did…

"Mulder?" Scully was suddenly crouching in front of him. He didn't hear her come in. He didn't expect her. She was supposed to be in the hospital, working a double-shift. Betty was supposed to be staying with him for the night.

As he kept reminding himself of the present moment, Scully wiped the sweat from his forehead, unwrapped the child from his arms and offered him a tissue.

"You always tell me to call you if…" Betty sounded apologetic.

"I know," Scully assured her. "You did the right thing."

The bright smile of an eight year old lit up the whole room. She felt proud of herself for knowing exactly how to handle a crisis. Her father's flashbacks didn't happen often, but she witnessed enough of them to know what to expect. It never happened when she was alone with him before, and handling it just as effectively as she always saw her mom do made her feel like an adult. Proud an invincible.

She took the glass of water that she'd prepared and placed on the coffee-table before hugging her dad, and offered it to him now.

"Thank you," Mulder said and forced himself to drink some, for her sake.

"Can I go to my room now?" she switched her gaze from one parent to the other, seeking permission. Her father was better, her work seemed to have been done, but she wanted to be sure.

Scully stroked her cheek and kissed her on the forehead. "Of course. You did a good job."

"Call me if you need anything," she offered cheerfully, causing both of her parents to chuckle. Then she stormed to her room, right to her closet, looking for a dry shirt to change into. The current one was bathed in tears, which was a perfect excuse to raid her wardrobe. Changing clothes was one of her favorite activities, and she imagined herself as a fashion designer one day.

"May I?" Scully motioned and Mulder moved to make a space for her on the couch. She slumped next to him with a loud sigh.

"Rough day?" he asked empathetically.

"Yeah," Scully kicked off her shoes and raised her legs onto Mulder's lap. She closed her eyes for a second, reveling in the moment of relaxation as she adjusted her position on the couch. "But all the patients are holding on for now."

"I'm fine," Mulder said, reluctantly. He started to massage her feet. "You can go back if you need to."

"And miss this?" she moaned, making him chuckle. He started to relax as well. Having something to do with his hands helped to calm him further.

They enjoyed a few moments of silence, until Betty interrupted them with a loud music.

"Turn it down!" Mulder yelled, and the music immediately went down to an acceptable level. It was soon followed by a squeaky voice of a kid who wasn't destined to become a singer.

"That's my girl," Scully said, feeling a strange pride in the fact that her daughter couldn't sing.

"Hey," her eyes focused on Mulder. She waited until he was ready to acknowledge her and turn his gaze into her direction before speaking again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head no, but said anyway. "I wonder if he knew, Scully."

"Knew what? Who?"

"That he wasn't really my father."

Scully didn't respond. There wasn't anything she could say to give him any kind of answer. She knew those memories were the hardest for Mulder. It happened in his own home, his own bed, with his own father… Just a few times, Mulder had said. Just for a short time. And his father never actually touched him. He only touched himself. Mulder was always still and quiet, pretending to be asleep.

It was his father. Even if not by blood, it was still the man that raised him.

Maybe it wasn't such a rare occasion. Maybe Mulder was actually sleeping during other times when his father wanted to relieve himself in the presence of a young body. Maybe it was the reason why Mulder lost the ability to sleep soundly…

"I wonder if he did it to Samantha," Mulder admitted to Scully's feet.

"Mulder…" Scully's voice was full of sadness, but she didn't know what else to say. She knew him well enough to understand that he would never fully recover, that his soul would always bear ugly scars. There was no reason to hope that Samantha had it better in her short life. Her diary alone was the undeniable proof that she didn't. Saying that she was now in a better place weren't the words of much comfort to either of them.

Scully's phone suddenly rang, cutting her massage short. She went to her coat to retrieve it, but instead of answering, she muted it and placed it on the coffee table, sitting back down.

"Dave?" Mulder asked and she nodded.

"I don't need to answer that," she sounded annoyed.

"Maybe you should give him a chance," Mulder suggested.

"I see him at work all the time," Scully said. "I have a daughter who I want to spend my free time with. I don't have time to date."

"Your daughter also has a father who is more than willing to watch her, after she goes to sleep exhausted from all the quality time spent with her mother, leaving you plenty of time for a romantic evening with a colleague," Mulder countered.

"Every time I dated a colleague it ended up with a disaster," Scully insisted.

"As opposed to you dating tattooed strangers from Philadelphia…"

Scully thought for a second. "Dave has a tattoo."

"See?" Mulder winked. "He's your type."

"Why are you so interested in seeing me with him?" Scully looked at him curiously.

"It doesn't have to be him," Mulder's tone went from teasing to serious. "It's just been a long time for you. I don't want you to feel held back by Betty… Or me."

"You?" Scully raised her eyebrow. This conversation asked for a beer. Mulder must have had some in his fridge, but she had to go back to work so it wasn't a good idea to ask.

"You've been there for me for more than I ever asked. I just want to see you happy."

"I am happy," Scully's eyes filled with tears. Why couldn't he see that she had everything she wanted? What did she ever do to make him feel like a burden? She was exactly where she wanted to be. Even having Betty was all her idea.

"When was the last time you went on a date?" she tried to change the subject.

"I don't date," Mulder said with a mixture of sadness and annoyance. "You know that."

"Neither do I," Scully said quickly, as though she had the answer ready. But she didn't. It surprised her, as she never really thought about it, but it rang true on all levels.

"You used to…"

"I did," she agreed, not offering any explanation. Mulder didn't need her to, since he already knew why.

"Before you met me."

Scully sighed. It sounded so wrong when he said it, but it didn't feel wrong and she tried to find the words to express it.

"Yes," she admitted. "It was before I've met you. But it wasn't your fault that I've stopped. I just… I lost interest in all that. Our work, Mulder, even our friendship if I dare to say, was more interesting, challenging and satisfying than playing seducing games… I stopped dating because I had so many better things to do with my life."

Mulder looked at her intensely. He knew she meant every word, and he felt exactly the same. But she wasn't damaged, not in the way he was, and he didn't want her to follow his footsteps in leading a lonely life. Not if she had other options.

"Don't you have needs, Scully?" he tried with teasing.

Scully chuckled and looked at the floor, embarrassed but amused at the same time.

"Needs…" she blushed. "…can be met in different ways, which, as I recall, was your area of expertise."

It was Mulder's time to blush, but he didn't back away. "I'd pay to see that," he said boldly.

"How much?" Scully smiled with innuendo. Two people could play that game.

Mulder grinned playfully, then leaned to speak softly into her ear. "As much as it takes. I am a wealthy man."

"Who doesn't even have a bedroom," Scully wasn't impressed.

"Only because I gave it to my daughter."

"You painted your walls purple."

"Betty's favorite color," Mulder shrugged.

"Even your couch is now purple!"

"Betty again," Mulder shrugged for a second time.

"You live in a princess castle, Mulder," Scully teased him.

"Jealous?" he smirked.

"Just… amused."

"It makes her happy, and I'm color-blind. It's a win-win."

"But I'm not."

"That gets you in lot of trouble, as I recall," Mulder kept teasing. "On the bright side, you get to enjoy all the purple-ness that I'm deprived of."

Scully's phone started vibrating on the table. She took a glance of it, but didn't pick it up.

"Dave again?" Mulder guessed.

"Dave indeed," Scully sighed. "He wants to keep track of me at all times. He's worse than my mother."

"You should give him a chance."

"No."

"Just once."

"Drop it, Mulder," she stood up and picked the phone, getting her coat. "I need to go back to work. Will you be ok? I can call mom if…"

"I'm fine," Mulder assured her with a kiss on the cheek. "Say bye to our purple lady, don't worry about me."

Scully knocked on the bedroom door before peeking inside. "I'm going back to work, darling."

"Ok, bye mom!" Betty didn't even turn around, preoccupied with her game.

"Can I have a kiss?" Scully wondered.

"Yeah," Betty agreed. She picked up her doll and went to press it on Scully's cheek.

"I meant from you," Scully clarified and Betty impatiently complied.

"I love you, mom, but I have to go change now, because my outfit doesn't match Emily's," she explained.

"I love you, too," Scully kissed her back, feeling a pang of pain. She couldn't get used to Betty's favorite doll being named Emily and every mention of that name filled her heart with sadness.

She had tried keeping Emily's memory to herself. Betty was already burdened with stories of Samantha, since Mulder wanted to keep his sister's legacy alive through her niece. Scully's mother made sure Betty knew all about Melissa and Ahab. Lost family members weren't a taboo for Betty, and no one was keeping Emily a secret. It's just that no one ever mentioned her to the child either.

Scully wasn't much of a talker. She preferred to keep her pain locked inside while keeping busy on the outside. She kept Emily's photo in the locked drawer, instead of the desk or wall. She didn't know how to bring up the subject, how to explain her suffering, her beauty, her innocence… her mere existence. The rest of the family just left it up to her, whenever she was ready.

The thing was, Scully never felt ready and Betty was growing up without knowing that she once, sort of, had a sister.

A few years ago, it all changed when Scully accidentally called her Emily.

"Who is Emily?" Betty had asked. Mulder tried to explain that Scully just made a mistake, but Scully became pale and went to her bedroom. Betty ran after her before Mulder could stop her. They've told her everything that day, trying to answer all the questions she had. And she had plenty. Betty had always dreamed about having a big sister, and once she learned that she really had one, she finally felt complete. She got her own photo of Emily, named her favorite doll after her and kept her alive in prayers and games.

It was the first time she'd seen her mother cry. Her father cried a little too, so she joined them, overcame with the loss of a sister she didn't know she had. When she prayed to God for a sister, this wasn't what she meant, but since God wasn't taking returns Betty decided a dead sister was better than none. Emily was more of a gift than a loss to her.

Scully went back to work, so Mulder sat down to try to write his book. It was a second part of the compilation of the most interesting, yet general public appropriate, cases from The X-Files. The first one was a success, but it was soon forgotten. Mulder's editor was still willing to publish a sequel, and Mulder was trying to write it, though his heart wasn't really in it anymore. He needed more excitement, more action, and he's been contemplating going back to work for a while now.

He wasn't fit to work after Betty was born and becoming a stay at home dad was a natural next step. Scully quickly found a job in the hospital and Mulder didn't want a stranger raising his baby. He would take Betty while Scully was at work, and spend most of his time with them even when she wasn't. The only time he took for himself was for weekly therapy sessions.

His therapist's name was Roger Walker, whose specialty was helping people who were abducted, experimented on and probed by aliens. Scully had found him and, when all the reasonable options for getting Mulder to some kind of treatment had failed, introduced them to each other.

Walker was fascinated with Mulder's work. They've had so much in common, and after a while of exchanging notes, they formed a strong bond. Mulder agreed to a treatment that lasted for over four years. After that, they remained friends.

Except for occasional flashbacks, that still happened few times a year, Mulder eventually learned to leave the past behind. He cared for his daughter, watched her grow, but now, since Scully banned the idea of home-schooling, he was left with too much time on his hands. He was getting restless.

He didn't talk to Skinner for years. Last time they saw each other, Betty was two, and Mulder was at a point that his demand for justice outgrew his shame. The files he found on his last case, the pictures of him as a helpless little boy, the evidence of abuse, the terrible secrets… He wanted it on record. All of it. And there was only one person in the FBI who he could trust with it.

Scully wasn't as fond of the idea, but she went with him as she always did.

Skinner was surprised to see them, and the conversation was awkward at first. Then Mulder tossed the files on his desk and it became super mega awkward.

"What is this?" Skinner asked with annoyance, as he skimmed through the pages. "Where did you get this?"

"On our last case, sir," Scully said. Her voice had a hint of subtle sadness and grief, which didn't escape Skinner's attention. He paused for a brief moment and looked deep into her eyes, then he returned his gaze to the files, observing them in greater detail this time. He looked at the pictures, then he noticed a familiar name on one page.

"Jesus!" he now looked at Mulder. "What is this?"

Mulder just nodded, unable to speak.

"Jesus!" Skinner repeated. He flipped a few more pages, than closed the file, feeling slightly nauseated. He had to read it thoroughly, he had to know the details, but he wasn't ready.

"Do you…" he looked at Mulder, who was trying hard to endure the eye contact. "Do you remember this?"

"Some of it," Mulder nodded. "It came back to me when we found this."

"And before…?"

Mulder sighed and closed his eyes for a second, successfully blocking the tears. "I had no idea, sir."

"I'm sorry," Skinner took off his glasses and rubbed the base of his nose, trying to think faster. Or at all. "What do you need from me?"

"He just wants it on record," Scully answered, as Mulder seemed unable to.

"These people, these… projects," Skinner turned to her. "It's all gone. You two exposed everything."

"Except this," Scully motioned towards the file.

Skinner stood up and picked up the file. He walked up to Mulder and offered it to him. "Burn it. You don't want this on record."

"I do," Mulder insisted.

"There's nothing I can do with this. There's no one left to punish. It can only cause rumors if it gets into the wrong hands."

"Rumors," Mulder grinned, suddenly amused. "I forgot how much I used to worry about those."

"At least your irony is intact…"

"Is that a yes, sir?"

"I don't know, Mulder. Once I file it, you can't take it back. It stays on record forever. Is this what you want some young agent to dig up? It could be your daughter one day."

"I'll try to keep my daughter away from the career in the FBI. But I don't want to teach her victim shaming. If I get rid of this, they win. They wanted it hidden, so I want it exposed. I need it exposed."

Skinner nodded and offered him a hand. After an awkward, but firm handshake, he asked if there was anything else he could do and to feel free to call if he thinks of something.

Mulder never took that offer. He never saw Skinner again. Skinner was a friend, but it was a work friendship. Without the X-files, their bond hibernated and their paths never crossed again.

Mulder still remembered his number, though. He picked up the phone and stared at it, contemplating dialing.

Then it started to ring.

"What's up, doc?" Mulder answered.

"I've decided to take your advice, Mulder."

"Oh? That's a first."

"I will go on a date."

"Good."

"There's one condition, though."

"What?"

"You have to take me to it."

"I don't think Dave will appreciate the third wheel, Scully."

"It doesn't matter. Dave isn't invited."