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“You’re a miracle, do you understand, little William? You’re our miracle, mine and your daddy’s.”
Scully kisses her baby’s head and inhales his newborn scent, the velvety peach hair tickling her nose.
“I can’t explain how your father and I were able to make you but it doesn’t matter anymore. You’re ours now, and we’ll never let go of you.”
A tear runs downs her cheek, coming to a rest on baby William’s forehead.
“I love you to the moon and back,” she whispers to the rosy bundle, “and I don’t care if we ever get to the botton of your conception.”
She really means it, now that everything she’s been through to reach this point in her life is forgotten in her post-partum, hormone-induced complete and utter bliss.