Chapter Text
(pre-episode)
After the abruption, Dr. Speake insists that Scully take it easy for the next week and a half. No work, minimal exertion.
So Mulder takes it upon himself to essentially move in.
He's still over at his apartment for at least a few hours every day; he told her that his “death” has inspired him to finally get things in order, so she’s not left dealing with all of his stuff on her own if he dies again for real. And even though he’s not back to work full time yet, he makes a point of getting over to the FBI every few days, just to stay in the loop. Scully’s not entirely sure what he does there, since he’s officially out of the X-Files unit, but he doesn’t offer, and she doesn’t press. The rest of the time, when he’s not at his own place or at work, he’s there with her.
And it’s nice. It’s really, really nice.
It feels like a dream sometimes, waking up beside him, eating breakfast together, the soft kiss he gives her before heading out the door, the way he knocks every time he comes back, even though she gave him a key. If she didn’t have other people in her life who could confirm that he is in fact there and alive, she might have thought she’d had a complete break with reality, that the stress and trauma had finally done her in. But she’s not crazy. He’s really there, and she thanks God for every moment of it.
Which makes it hard to complain about the fact that he still doesn’t want to know the gender of the baby.
“I’ve had an anatomy scan,” she told him that first night after he came home from the hospital, when everything was still new and raw. “If you want to know…”
“Is it okay if I don’t?”
It was more than a little surprising, this coming from a man so dedicated to uncovering the truth about everything else in his life, but she figured he was still overwhelmed. She couldn’t possibly hold that against him, could she?
Even so, some part of her sort of expected that he would want to know eventually, but he hasn’t asked. What he has done, which is equal parts frustrating and endearing and yet somehow also so characteristically Mulder, is use pronouns seemingly at random when referring to the baby.
“Whew, she’s really kicking up a storm in there, isn’t she?” when they’re sitting together on the couch and Scully puts his hand on her belly.
“Good morning, little man,” whispered from beside her in the bed, when Mulder thinks she’s still asleep.
“What do you think she wants, pizza again?” when they’re trying to figure out dinner.
“Kid’s going to have a lot to answer for, once he’s born,” after heartburn keeps her up half the night.
Scully can’t help thinking of all the time she spent putting off that anatomy scan, hoping Mulder would be returned and they could find out together. And now he’s back, but the knowledge is still hers to bear alone, anyway. It’s okay, though. She has done her best to respect his wishes, has stopped herself from referring to the baby as “your son” more times than she can count. She hasn’t told anyone else, either, no matter how many times her mother has promised she won’t spill the beans. She did slip up, once, with a sleepy, “I think he’s got the hiccups,” first thing in the morning, but Mulder either didn’t hear her or chose to ignore it.
Their domestic little routine wavers a little once she’s cleared to go back to work. Mulder starts getting up before dawn, going running or hitting the gym before heading to work, himself. She thinks he might be trying to do her a favor, knowing as well as she does that if he were to keep sticking around for what have become their customary lazy breakfasts, they would both be late every single day.
It’s hard not to feel guilty as she heads to the basement to work with Agent Doggett while Mulder’s somewhere else in the building, doing who knows what. He still doesn’t seem to want to talk about it when they get back to her apartment in the evenings. But he does still come back to her apartment in the evenings, and ultimately, that alone makes everything else worthwhile.
