Headers and Notes in Part 1 Part 10 of 12 Georgetown University Medical Center Georgetown, D.C. Labor & Delivery May 12, 2001 3:30 pm Her labor had finally started to progress, rather quickly actually, for which Scully was eternally grateful. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and wanted the baby out – to finally see her child at long last, and so that she could get some much-needed sleep. Now in transition, her last exam had shown she was eight centimeters dilated. Her contractions were roughly two minutes apart, steadily increasing in intensity, and she was no longer comfortable standing or walking. Fortunately, the intermittent attacks of uncontrollable shivering, or 'the shakes' as the nurses had pragmatically termed them, had not lasted long. Those had been unnerving for both she and Mulder. Mulder. He had become an unbelievable tower of strength. Somewhere in between the babbling, nervous wreck he had been back at her apartment after she had told him her water had broke, the traffic jam on the way, and arriving at the hospital to be admitted around 10:30 am, he had done a complete 180. He was calm, supportive, and not at all offended whenever she got grumpy and started calling him every bad name she had ever heard. And he took it in stride when her grip on his hand became bruising, teasing her with comical winces and expressions of pain. She apologized after each round of course, and he merely kissed her forehead or stroked her hair, or fed her ice chips. He had left the room a few minutes ago on an ice run, and her mother had come in to keep her company. She was regaling Scully with her own childbirth experiences, although keeping her stories light and cheerful. Scully knew better however, she had heard many a time how her mother had been in labor for 36 hours for Bill's birth, and anywhere from 12 to 18 hours for Melissa's, hers' and Charlie's births. Thankfully that did not seem like it would be the case for this particular birth. Another contraction was already building, coiling from deep inside, radiating out from her lower back. Tensing up was an automatic instinct, and Scully forced herself to relax, to breathe slowly and deeply. But her clasp on the hand in hers remained tight, and she caught the wince her mother did not or could not conceal. Scully sent a silent apology with her eyes, unable to speak in her fierce concentration, and her mother smiled gently, giving her hand a squeeze in return. She also panted along with her, and in the back of Scully's mind it was rather comical to see her do so. They huffed together through the contraction, and both of them sighed in relief when it was finally over. Scully released her mother's hand, frowning in sympathy and regret as her mother rubbed it with her other fingers. "Dana?" It was Traci, one of her nurses, speaking softly. She had quietly approached on soft-soled shoes, and reached out to touch Scully's arm gently. "I need to check you again, okay?" Scully nodded, and rolled with care onto her back. She had earlier found it much more comfortable to lie on her side, rotating from one to the other every so often, with Mulder or her mother adjusting the pillow along her spine when she did so. But she could not be examined that way, so she had to move. Her mother smoothed her hand along Scully's forehead and said, "I'll wait outside and be right back, honey." With her blanket-clad knees now up and her legs spread, Scully could not see her mother exit the room. However, she did hear the soft swish of the door as it opened and closed. Her mother had left the room each and every time a nurse or Dr. Newall had come in, despite Scully's protestations that it was unnecessary for her to leave. Scully stared up at the ceiling, studying the stained spot on one tile that she decided vaguely resembled the boot of Italy, and grimaced slightly as Traci's capable hands carried out their task. It wasn't painful exactly, but it was not pleasant either. The door swished open again, and then she heard a gasp that was distinctly Mulder's. One of either embarrassment or shock. "Oh, geez, Scully, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed next. "I...uh...I'll just wait outside." "Mulder!" she called, smiling despite the discomfort of the examination between her legs. "It's all right. Come in, you don't have to leave." After the number of people who had walked in her room, including a male janitor and two lost candy stripers, Scully was fairly certain both John and Walter, and all three Gunmen, could walk in right there and then, and she wouldn't care. Dignity had been thrown out the window after the first examination had been carried out with two medical students in attendance. She could almost sense the hesitation in Mulder's steps as he proceeded into the room, and a second later he was at her side, studiously ignoring what was going on below her waist. She was tempted to remind him he had seen it all before, particularly up close and way more personally, but held back. She didn't want to mock the fact that he was being considerate of any feelings of shame regarding her exposure, despite the fact she had none whatsoever right now. Instead, she smiled at him. "Hey, Scully," he said, the corners of his lips lifting in a smile of his own. One hand came up to stroke through her hair. "How are you doing?" Before she could reply, Traci was gently removing each of her legs from the stirrups. She readjusted the covers after, and then looked up to smile at Scully. "Nine centimeters," she reported. "You're doing wonderfully. I'll be back in a little bit, okay?" It was just after Traci left the room that things went wild. An alarm rang stridently. Loudly. The door flew open, Traci running back into the room. The next thing Scully knew, her bed was slanted at a 20-degree angle, with her head lower than her legs, and an oxygen mask had been strapped on her face. She was aware of more people entering the room, and through her mounting fear, Scully could hear Dr. Newall being paged to Labor and Delivery STAT. Her hands came up and she clutched at Mulder as he leaned over her, staring wild-eyed and panicked into her face. *** 3:40 pm Mulder yawned widely, his jaws cracking with the effort, and rubbed at his eyes before reaching out to open the ice machine for another refill of ice chips. He could not believe how tired he was. He who had often sat on 14 to 16-hour stakeouts, or traipsed through dense forest on elusive quests with unflagging energy and zeal, was exhausted from watching Scully struggle to bring forth their child. Whoever had termed the process of childbirth as 'labor' had done so aptly. He now had a newfound greater respect not only for Scully, but also for all women who had borne children, or planned to. On his return journey down the hallway back to Scully's room, large Styrofoam cup of ice chips in one hand, he saw Mrs. Scully exit the room. The dark-haired woman paused briefly, arching her back into her palms in a mini-stretch, and then moved off, away from Mulder. She had apparently not seen him approaching. Mulder knew she was as tired as he, so he did not call out to her. Nearing the door, he attempted to shake off the lethargic feeling that was close to overwhelming him. Scully did not need to see him dragging his ass while she was the one doing all the work. Plastering a pleasant, 'supportive man' expression on his face, he headed in. And then stopped dead in his tracks, his breath escaping in a noisy, grunt-like gasp. At some point in his sordid, pornographic-filled past, and with Scully now in his life he hadn't needed his movies, magazines or 1-900 calls for some time, something like this had once been one of his fantasies. Okay, it still was a fantasy; just one he knew had absolutely zero chance of being fulfilled. But this was not quite how he had pictured it happening. "Oh, geez, Scully, I'm sorry!" he managed to get out, feeling like the bumbling fool of earlier that morning. Why hadn't he knocked first? Or realized this was why Mrs. Scully had left the room without waiting for him to return? The two of them had made a pact when Scully had first been admitted, to not leave her alone if it could be at all avoided. "I...uh...I'll just wait outside." "Mulder!" Scully called to him, her voice sounding a little strained. And who could blame her? That brief glimpse he had gotten before he had averted his eyes had shown that whatever the nurse was doing was definitely not pleasant. "It's all right," she continued. "Come in, you don't have to leave." Oh, but Scully, I would really rather leave, he thought. At least until the nurse was finished. He'd come right back in then. Before, when either Dr. Newall or one of the nurses, usually the very friendly and helpful Traci, had examined Scully, he'd already been in the room, and had kept himself distracted from the goings-on by amusing Scully. But walking in while one was in progress was very different, and much harder to ignore. Why the hell did they have the foot of the bed pointed directly at the door? The door through which an odd assortment of people had already entered on several occasions. He walked stiff-legged to the head of the bed, focusing his eyes on her face, and her face alone. "Hey, Scully," he said, seeing her smile at him. That was enough to make him smile; forgetting all about what he had unintentionally interrupted. He lifted his free hand to run it through her hair, still amazingly silky soft and rather neat, despite the workout she had been through so far. The incredibly amazing, rapid-fire sound of the baby's heartbeat, loud in the small room, caught his attention yet again, and he looked away from her face for a minute to glance at the fetal monitor. The heart rate ebbed and flowed with each of Scully's contractions, and had a reassuring and hypnotic quality that held him rapt. He remained in awe of the sound, could not stop himself from thinking every so often 'That's our baby'. Movement from the foot of the bed had him shifting his gaze again, pulling his attention from the monitor, to see that Traci was apparently finished. She had put Scully's legs back down and was adjusting the blankets. The nurse smiled then and said, "Nine centimeters. You're doing wonderfully. I'll be back in a little bit, okay?" She left the room, and all hell broke loose. The alarm that was now sounding drowned out the fetal monitor, and had his own heart rate skyrocketing. He dropped the cup of ice chips and crammed himself against the bed, leaning over Scully, meeting her eyes. She looked as frightened as he felt, and her hands came up to grab at him. Traci came flying back in, followed by two other nurses, and in seconds they had Scully's bed cranked to some weird position, so that her legs were now elevated higher than her head, and someone had slipped an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose. He was aware of Dr. Newall being paged, and knew from the word 'STAT' that something was very wrong. Traci came up to Scully on the other side of the bed, leaning over to quickly say, "Dana, the baby's heart rate dropped. But I need you to stay calm for me, okay?" At those words, Mulder's heart nearly stopped. The room and the world itself warped into some strange, distorted reality, where time had slowed and felt oddly unreal. When Scully's nails dug into his flesh, he welcomed the pain, for it brought him back to himself. He shuddered, and made himself look to where the medical staff had huddled between Scully's spread legs, back in the stirrups. Dr. Newall had come in at some point, unseen by him, and was rapping out orders with the skill and precision of a drill sergeant. Traci came back to the head of the bed after what seemed like forever, but was probably actually only a minute, and leaned over, one hand stroking Scully's hair back from her forehead. "Dana, the baby was in distress, but he or she is fine now. When you rolled over onto your back, somehow the umbilical cord was being compressed, cutting off the blood flow, which lowered the baby's blood pressure and heart rate. We're going to monitor you both quite carefully from here on in." She gently removed the oxygen mask, and a moment later was slowly lowering the bed back into normal position. Dr. Newall had come to stand beside Traci. Scully was still breathing rather rapidly, as was he, and her face had not yet regained its usual color. "Are you sure?" she panted out, looking from Traci to Dr. Newall. Mulder did the same, scrutinizing both their faces for any telltale signs of worry. "I'm sure, Dana," Traci said softly. "Everything is just fine." "It is, Dana," Dr. Newall said. "That was quite a scare, but I'm confident if we keep you on your side, the problem will be avoided." She smiled and then said, "You're progressing quite nicely, almost at 10 centimeters. I don't think it will be much longer now." She patted Scully's leg and said, "I wont be far." With that, the doctor left the room. His legs went rubbery with relief, and he was glad he had the support of the bed to keep him upright. "Let's get you on your side, okay?" Traci said then. Scully sucked in a shaky, noisy, deep breath and blew it out, then nodded her head. Mulder helped the nurse roll Scully onto her right side, facing him, and Traci tucked the pillow in behind her. A contraction started, and while he breathed with Scully, Traci rubbed her back and talked her through it. Scully's face pinkened with her efforts as her hand tightened on his. Her mouth was twisted in a grimace, and he imagined her teeth grinding together. Softly he said, "Doing great, Scully." He inhaled and exhaled with her and then continued his hopefully soothing patter with, "Breathe, baby. In and out, that's it." When the contraction was over, Traci said she'd be right back, and left the room. Scully licked her lips, and Mulder looked ruefully down at the mess of ice chips on the floor, wishing he had some to offer her. There was no way he was leaving her side again, unless physically pulled away. And it would take quite a few big, burly men to do so. At that moment Mrs. Scully came in, and over to stand beside him. She was as pale as Scully had been, her eyes worried. "Fox? Dana? Is everything okay? I heard them page Dr. Newall while I was walking, and when I hurried back here, they wouldn't let me come in." "We're okay, Mom," Scully said, in a tired-sounding voice. Mulder added, "The baby was in distress, but Traci said everything's fine now, and that they're monitoring them both very carefully." He looked down at the mess again, kicking some of the slushy mess to the side with his foot. "Mrs. Scully?" he asked. "Would you mind grabbing some more ice chips for Sc...Dana? I dropped the cup." "Of course, dear," she said. She touched Scully's fingers, and then left on her mission. Scully had released his hand when the contraction ended, and he brought it up to cup her face, his thumb moving caressingly along her cheekbone. He knew he probably shouldn't talk about it, but he couldn't help it. "Jesus, Scully," he said, and then stopped, his body going cold as he remembered the stark fear he had experienced. "I know," she whispered, and let out a shaky breath. He watched her eyes start to water, and then as she squeezed them shut. "Oh, baby, shhhh," he crooned. He leaned down until his forehead was touching hers lightly. "I'm sorry. It's okay. The baby's fine, you're okay." "Oh, God, Mulder," she gritted out. "I know, baby, it's okay. Shhhh," he said again. "No, Mulder," she said. "I meant...OHHHHHH!...Oh God, here's another contraction!" Her voice rose on the end, and her hand scrambled for his, squeezing with the most strength by far. "That was pretty quick, wasn't it?" he asked, his own voice a little high and breathless. She really had a strong grip. "Uhhhh..." was her only answer. *** 3:55 pm The latest contraction had completely sapped the remainder of her strength, coming right on the heels of such a fearful, adrenaline- surging incident. Her mind, however, remained very active. The problems earlier in her pregnancy, then later the cramping and spotting after Mulder had returned, and the most recent of all – the partial abruption – had all been frightening, in varying degrees. But when the alarm had gone off her panic had been immeasurable. And then when she had heard those words 'the baby's heart rate dropped', Scully had thought her own heart would stop. Now, as Mulder rubbed his thumb over her cheek and stared at her with eyes that still held traces of his panic, she understood why the nurses and Dr. Newall had reacted with such speed, changing the positioning of her bed and slipping the oxygen mask on without word or explanation, but at the time, their actions had been absolutely terrifying. For both she and Mulder. She felt completely drained now, and so very, very thirsty. Yet the thought of drinking made her nauseous, and had since her labor had begun in earnest, which was why she had been consuming ice chips at a surprising rate. Her mother had not yet returned with another refill. "Jesus, Scully," Mulder said then. That was all, but she understood exactly what he was trying to convey, knew exactly how he felt. "I know," she whispered to him, and breathed out shakily. Tears had been hovering, on the brink of welling, and now they did, stinging her eyes. She squeezed them tightly shut, to stop the tears from falling, and to ease the sting. "Oh, baby, shhhh," Mulder murmured with such tenderness that if she had not already been in tears, she would have cried. His forehead touched hers as he leaned over her, and he continued with, "I'm sorry. It's okay. The baby's fine, you're okay." The staccato sound of their baby's rapid heartbeat was a background noise under his soothing patter, as the next contraction began to build, so soon after the last one. "Oh, God, Mulder," she got out through achingly tight, clenched teeth. There was a new feeling to this contraction, a pressure of sorts on her rectum. It left her with the urge to bear down. To push. "I know, baby, it's okay. Shhhh," he said again. "No, Mulder," she said. "I meant...OHHHHHH!...Oh God, here's another contraction!" Her voice sounded high and breathless to her own ears, rising even more at the end of her sentence. She needed to hold onto something, and she searched blindly for his hand. Finding it, she clasped his fingers with an iron grip, knowing she was probably squashing them painfully. "That was pretty quick, wasn't it?" Mulder asked, the tight, high, pained tone of his voice confirming that she was indeed close to crushing them. She could also hear a touch of fear and excitement in his words. Their baby was coming. She could only respond with, "Uhhhh..." unable to say any more than that. She very briefly flicked her gaze to his eyes, and then returned it to his nose. It was her focal point, for she had found staring into his eyes, at all the emotions there, to be too much of a distraction. Mulder's voice was soft as he coached her through the contraction, uttering gentle commands. "Breathe, Scully. That's it." His voice was not a distraction. It was very welcomed, and needed. It helped her to keep focused. It was also a relief, and a reminder, that he was actually there with her. For the one thing she had feared so very much during his abduction and his hospitalization was that he would not be able to see the birth of their child, and that she would have to go through it without him. Alone. Mulder's free hand was stroking her forehead and through her hair, over and over again, slowly and rhythmically. The motion was also very welcomed, and extremely soothing. She thought about his other hand, how his fingers had to be feeling, and she loosened her grip slightly, hoping it helped. She caught a glimpse of his lips moving into a smile, and knew it had. Scully was vaguely aware of the door opening, and the sounds of footsteps. A second later she heard Traci's gentle voice commenting, "Well, you certainly are moving along, aren't you? I'd say you're definitely in transition and fully dilated now." More footsteps, and then the nurse was at Scully's other side, her hands rubbing Scully's lower back. "That's it, Dana. Breathe and try to relax. Don't clench your jaw. Relax it. Remember that causes your pelvic floor to relax?" If she'd had any spare energy, and was not deep in the midst of a contraction, she would have laughed as the memory of Mulder asking her about kegel exercises popped into her head. She had explained that they were beneficial for both during and after the birth of the baby, and he had teasingly asked for a demonstration. This had been before they had been advised to abstain from sex, and she had grabbed him and dragged him into her bedroom to show him one of the benefits of kegels, one that had nothing to do with birthing a baby. "Uh-huh," Scully groaned. "I remember." That strange feeling near her rectum was increasing, and she shifted restlessly, wanting to sit up, to draw her legs up towards her chest. And push. She huffed a few times, and then panted out, "I feel...like I need...to push." "I'll get Dr. Newall," Traci said. Rapid footsteps and another swish of the door signaled her exit. *** 4:15 pm Scully was incredible. The thought was continually in Mulder's head, and he had told her, and anyone who would listen, that same thing repeatedly in the last little while. In return, he received the ghost of smiles from Scully as she huffed and panted her way through her contractions, and tender, amused ones from Mrs. Scully, who remained in the room, but on the fringes. Close by if her daughter needed her, but out of the way of the nurses and Dr. Newall. Speaking of Dr. Newall, he lifted his head to look down at the foot of the bed, to where she sat on her little rolling stool parked between Scully's bent legs. The altered bed, he amended. Once Traci had returned with Dr. Newall on her heels, and the doctor had done another internal exam, confirming that Scully was indeed fully effaced and dilated, they had done the most interesting thing to her bed. A good section of the bottom of it had been dropped out of the way, so that basically, Scully's rear end was now right at the edge of the mattress. Her right foot was in the appropriate stirrup, but because of what had happened when she had lain flat on her back, she remained partly on her right side. That meant it was physically impossible for her left foot to reach the other stirrup. One of the other nurses, Mary, had the job of holding Scully's left leg up for her. He himself was perched on the side of the mattress; with Scully's upper body somewhat supported by his chest, and his left arm was around her shoulders. His right hand was of course available for squeezing and handholding, whichever was currently required. At that particular moment, Scully had merely threaded her fingers through his. The doctor had also said that the baby was at zero station. Scully had nodded, but he had not understood the term. Traci had obviously seen his puzzled expression, because she had explained that it meant the baby's head was right at Scully's pelvic opening. She had smiled and then added that delivery was very close. Mulder returned his gaze to the woman in his arms. She had lost some of her glow – her hair was damp with sweat, some strands matted to her reddened cheeks and others curling wildly – but she still looked amazingly beautiful to him. The pushing contractions did not come as quickly as the others had, which gave her a minute or two in between each one to rest. She no longer wanted the ice chips, and other than the occasional grunt, she made no other sound. Scully grunted then, a tiny expulsion of air, and her grip intensified on his fingers. He realized she was getting ready to push again, so he tightened his arm around her shoulders and sat up straighter to offer her some of his strength. She rounded her shoulders and tucked her chin down, and began to huff. "Okay, Dana, I want you to bear down through the contraction," Dr. Newall said, and then started counting. "1...2...3...4..." She counted all the way to ten, and Scully exhaled loudly and then sucked in another breath as the counting began again. This time when she reached ten, she told Scully to relax. "That's it, Dana, you're doing wonderfully." Mulder felt her sag back against him, and he brought his face down beside her ear, kissing her cheek. "You're doing great, Scully," he whispered. And said it again. "You are so incredible." He then used his hand to brush the wisps of her bangs that had fallen onto her face off. Scully surprised him by turning her head and cuddling into him. "Love you, Mulder," she whispered. "So glad you're here with me." "Me too, baby," he whispered back, and rocked her slightly. A whirring sound startled them both, and Mulder looked to his right to see Mrs. Scully lowering her camera and smiling with wet eyes. Scully gave a little sigh, and when he returned his gaze to her face, he saw that she was smiling at her mother. Completely unlike her reaction when Frohike had popped his head in about ten minutes or so ago, video camera in one hand, and asked if he could tape the birth. She had growled out, "Not bloody likely!" He had added his two cents – by pointing his finger towards the door and saying, "Out, Frohike!" The little man had shrugged in an 'I tried' manner, and left. "Do you want some ice chips or a drink of water or juice, Dana?" Mrs. Scully asked then, coming a little closer and touching Dana's shoulder gently. Scully shook her head and said, "No, thanks, Mom." Mrs. Scully leaned in to brush a kiss on Scully's cheek, and then straightened up. She patted his shoulder, and backed away, her hand sliding down his arm in a gentle caress as she did so. Yet another nurse was busy in one corner of the room, setting up the clear bassinet for the baby, and laying out sterile instrument trays. Obviously they thought things would not be much longer, which sent a feeling of ebullience through him. His mouth went dry as the reality hit him. The baby was coming, most likely very soon. He wasn't sure if he was ready for this. Scully and he had talked about the delivery, and she had told him what he would see, and that she wanted him to cut the umbilical cord. He had told her that of course he wanted to cut the cord, and he did want to, but he wasn't sure if he could handle it. She had also told him there might be blood, and what the baby might look like, and at the time, it was not exactly surreal, but it was still far enough away to not be real. And now it was. Great, now he was having hot flashes. He shot a quick look to his right, trying to spy the cup of ice chips. He didn't care if they were melted; he just needed something cold in his mouth and throat. But he never got a chance to reach for them or ask Mrs. Scully to pass them to him. For another contraction was starting, Scully already moving her body into position. Mary had Scully's leg lifted up again, having lowered it after the last contraction ended, and she had Scully's knee bent towards her chest, her little foot dangling in the air. This time Scully curled her hand around her own thigh, as if to pull her leg towards herself even further. "Once again, Dana, bear down," Dr. Newall said. "That's it, doing great. 1...2...3..." And up to ten just as last time. Scully repeated her earlier actions, exhaling and then inhaling again as the doctor started to count yet again. "1...2...3... Oh! Dana, your baby's crowning. Do you want to see?" "Uh-huh," Scully panted out, and struggled up even further, releasing her iron grip on his hand. It took Mulder a few seconds to register the little exchange, and Scully's movements, but once he did, he helped her lean forward so she could look between her legs. "Ohhhhh..." she sighed, and Mulder heard her sniffle. "Oh, Mulder... look!" Even if he hadn't gotten extremely curious, and somewhat anxious to see their son or daughter, just hearing the awe in her voice, he had to look. He shifted a little so that he was not pushing on her, and leaned forward too. There was an area about the size of a silver dollar at Scully's opening that was wet and wrinkled and covered with a sparse amount of fine hair. It was the top of their baby's head. "Scuh-leee..." he husked. While all of his adult life he had not believed in God, right that very minute, he did. "Would you like to touch the baby, Dana?" Dr. Newall asked then. "It's all right if you do." "Ye-esss..." was Scully's somewhat shaky reply. Mulder felt his eyes well with tears as she brought her trembling hand down between her legs and laid her fingers tentatively on the little bit of their baby's head. She sighed again and ran them gently over the small surface, before taking her hand away and leaning back into his loose embrace with another gusty exhalation. He couldn't help tightening his arm around and tucking his head into the crook of her shoulder and neck. Both because he wanted to wrap himself and his love all around her, and to try and compose himself. He felt her arm move, and a second later, her fingers sifting through his hair softly. She was crooning too, almost a nonsensical litany. "Mulder, Mulder, so glad you're here, love you so much, Oh God, Mulder that's our baby there...*our* baby, so incredible, I can't believe it." Mulder lifted his head and kissed her ear. "Believe it, Scully," he whispered. "That's our miracle, about to come out into the world and meet it's mommy and daddy." *** 4:20 pm All of her focus and attention was on that visible little bit of their child. The awkwardness of her position, which enabled her to look there, along with her discomfort, was ignored, forgotten. There was no way she could not have looked, beyond being strapped down in four-point restraints. And even then, she would have been fighting with every bit of strength she could muster. Covered in vernix and blood, and wisps of what looked like it might be reddish-blonde hair, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was real. As her pregnancy had progressed, and she had stared wide-eyed and glazed at the ultrasound, seen and heard the baby's heartbeat, watched her belly grow, felt the baby kick for the very first time, all those things had made her pregnancy become more of a reality than a hopeful dream. Those things had pushed away the state of near-denial that stemmed from a belief that she was infertile that she had entered when she had first heard those two words, 'You're pregnant' in a hospital bed so long ago. Having a child, or children, had always been something she had thought about for the future. From her little girl days, pushing her dolls in a carriage and dressing them up, to her teen years when she had first gotten her mother's lecture on the birds and the bees and abstinence, to her first serious relationship, the thought had been there. After joining the FBI, it had become a goal she willingly put aside for the moment while attempting to establish her career. Only to learn it was because of her career, or her association with Mulder, that the ability to do so had been taken away. That knowledge had nearly destroyed her, although she had as usual, put on a brave front. One Mulder had seen through, but allowed her to keep wrapped around her like a tattered shroud. For it turned out, it had nearly destroyed him as well. Whether it was irony or fate, it was most likely because of Mulder that she had regained the ability to bear children. Perhaps it did not matter. All that mattered was that they were having one now. Scully heard Mulder's husky exhalation of her name, and Dr. Newall's next question through a haze of fog, but the words did register, pulling her from her thoughts. Touch her baby? Oh God. To touch her baby at long last. God, yes. "Ye-esss," she answered, her voice trembling as much as her hands and body were. She brought her shaking fingers down, between her legs, and let them glance over the small surface, hardly daring to breathe, let alone apply pressure. The fleeting touch was not near enough. In fact, nothing would be until she was nestling the baby in her arms, bringing him or her to suckle at her breast. But this would have to do until that actual glorious moment. Sighing, she allowed herself to trace over the baby's head for a second or two, before sagging back into Mulder's semi- embrace. When she relaxed, it felt like the baby had receded back up into the birthing canal. This was normal she remembered, as the contraction eased there was nothing forcing the baby down further. Mulder responded to her leaning back into him by burying his head in her neck and squeezing his arm tighter around her. Because he held himself so still, she knew he was experiencing some very deep emotion. She brought one hand up, and managed to touch his head. She stroked through his hair, and spoke softly to him, almost crooning the words. "Mulder, Mulder, so glad you're here, love you so much, Oh God, Mulder that's our baby there...*our* baby, so incredible, I can't believe it." Mulder moved, raising his head, and she felt him press his lips to her ear in a sweet kiss. "Believe it, Scully," he whispered. "That's our miracle, about to come out into the world and meet it's mommy and daddy." "Mulder," she murmured, touched. She remembered her words to him after he had awoken from his medically induced coma, about having her two miracles – he and their baby. "How are you feeling, Dana?" Dr. Newall's voice interrupted their little moment. "Tired, but good," Scully answered honestly, shifting her gaze to meet the doctor's eyes, her hand sliding from Mulder's head to drop onto his thigh. It was covered a millisecond later by his. "A little nervous, but mostly excited." The doctor smiled and nodded, and then said, "I'm going to be applying some warm compresses to your perineum, just like we discussed at your last visit. Hopefully an episiotomy will not be necessary." Or tearing, Scully thought silently to herself with a little internal shiver. That was a very unpleasant possibility. She nodded her understanding and thanks to Dr. Newall, and a moment later felt some pressure between her legs, and soothing warmth. The doctor had been massaging her perineum already; to help stretch the tissues for when the baby decided to make its entrance into the world, but the warm compresses were an added comfort. The urge to push was building again, as was the pressure in her lower back and deep in her abdomen. She sat up a bit, fingers unintentionally digging into Mulder's leg, and started to pant. She bore down, Mulder's gentle murmurings in her ear, and heard Dr. Newall say, "That's it, Dana. Keep panting. Don't hold your breath." A few more contractions passed this way, with the baby's head advancing and receding as they ebbed and flowed. Her mother brought over a cool, wet cloth after the last one, and bathed Scully's face and neck. It felt wonderful, and she whispered her thanks. Her mom leaned in and whispered, "You're doing so good, baby." She backed away then, and returned to her chair out of the way. Mulder massaged her shoulders gently, and she rocked slightly with the motions of her body. Her eyes closed, feeling heavy, and she might have actually dozed. But another contraction started, and she was up again, now once more squeezing the life out of Mulder's fingers. Stretching. And a burning, stinging sensation. Scully gritted her teeth and kept pushing, letting her body guide her. Sweat was running down the sides of her face, and soaking her back, which was pressed up against Mulder's chest, and she could feel a straining in every muscle. Even her toes were scrunched up as she worked to expel the baby. "Ahhhhh...OOOOHHHHH!" she groaned as she felt something 'pop'. Then there was a lot of pressure and more stretching. "There's the head!" Dr. Newall cried out. "Okay, Dana, I need you to stop pushing now. We're going to suction the baby's nose and mouth." Scully scrunched her eyes shut and panted. She still wanted to push, very badly. A moment later there was a very weak, shivery cry. Followed immediately by a very loud, indignant bellow. "Scuh-leeee..." Mulder whispered in her ear, just as she let out a half-laugh, half-cry. "Oh my God, Mulder...listen," she sobbed/laughed, now blinking back tears of happiness and joy. She turned her head into his neck, and he lowered his until his forehead was resting on hers, just above her ear. "I'm listening, Scully, I'm listening," he said. "And it's so beautiful." The urge to push was even stronger, and another contraction had started again already. Scully straightened up and got ready to bear down again. "Okay, Dana, I'm turning the baby, and you can start pushing now," Dr. Newall said. "Don't forget to breathe with it, that's it." The pain was quite intense as the shoulders popped out, and then all of a sudden there was a whooshing, sliding feeling, and Dr. Newall was holding their baby up. "It's a boy!" she exclaimed, and after a moment, laid the baby belly- down on Scully's stomach with practiced ease. "Oh, Scuhleee," she heard from Mulder, along with her mother's happy crying. There were also several quick flashes and the whirring of her mother's camera, but all she could focus her eyes on was the baby lying atop her belly. Scully reached out with a trembling hand to touch their tiny son, her eyes running from the top of the sparsely-haired head, down his little, curled up legs to his surprisingly long feet. Mulder's hand followed and he placed it on top of hers. He whispered, "I love you so much, Scully. You were so incredible." "I love you, Mulder," she replied, and tucked her head into his neck again, but with her face turned out, still watching their baby. Traci stepped in then and draped a blue receiving blanket over the baby, who was shivering and wailing loudly with indignation, his face scrunched up and red. A second later, she had slipped a little knit cap, also blue, onto his head. "Okay, Dad," Dr. Newall said then. "Are you ready to cut the umbilical cord?" *** 4:40 pm Mulder had been in awe, and absolutely amazed when he had seen the top of the baby's head playing peek-a-boo. He had become even more so when he heard the baby's first weak, little cry, and then the very indignant wail right after, as its head had popped out. But when Dr. Newall announced 'it's a boy' and lifted his tiny, squalling, red-faced son up for them to see, he was only able to utter, "Oh, Scuhleeee." There were no words to describe what he felt. Over the sounds of Mrs. Scully taking several pictures of this momentous occasion, he could hear Scully's crying – relieved and happy, he knew. His own eyes were wet, and one tear had actually escaped to roll down his cheek, and now he could hear Mrs. Scully sniffling as well. Even Traci, who'd probably witnessed or assisted in hundreds of births, had a glistening of tears in her eyes. Dr. Newall then placed the baby on Scully's stomach, his belly down, his little head turned to one side. His legs were drawn up, and his hands were curled in tiny fists as he shivered and cried out all his indignities to the room. Mulder watched as Scully's still trembling hand lifted to gently touch their son's head, which was covered with what he hoped would be hair the color of Scully's, and with vernix, as was the rest of the baby's body. His mind quickly supplied the information he had read about vernix – that the cheesy, white substance was secreted by sebaceous glands at around the 20th week of the pregnancy to protect the baby's skin from the amniotic fluid. Without it, the baby's skin could get damaged, and would be very wrinkly. When it came off after birth, the skin of some babies even peeled. He leaned over, careful not to jostle Scully, and covered her hand with his. Even with her hand over the baby, he imagined he could feel the heat and softness of their child. He could also feel the tremors running through their son. Cold, and probably in a state of shock over this new world he had been thrust into. "I love you so much, Scully," he whispered into the side of her head. "You were incredible." That word yet again, and he smiled inwardly. Scully replied, "I love you, Mulder," and cuddled herself into his body, while still watching their son. As if reading his mind about the baby being cold, Traci stepped closer to the bed, and covered the baby with a square-shaped hospital blanket – receiving blanket, he corrected himself. Next was a little hat to cover his head. Dr. Newall spoke then, and at her words, he dragged his gaze from the baby to the doctor. "Okay, Dad. Are you ready to cut the umbilical cord?" she said. Talk about a cold shower. Here he was in the warm glow of new baby love, and now he had to go cut the umbilical cord? Something that just moments ago had been his son's lifeline? Had been his connection to his mother, within Scully's womb? He and Scully had discussed this of course, a couple weeks ago, along with how actively he wanted to be involved in the birth. He had told her he was there from start to finish, that nothing would stop him. And that he did not think he would be disturbed by watching the birth of their child, and wanted to be the one to cut the umbilical cord. And he did still want to. Mulder took a deep breath and replied, "I'm ready." Scully let out a soft giggle and when he shifted his face to hers and quirked an eyebrow in silent inquiry, she said, "You're not facing a firing squad, Mulder." "Very funny," he told her, and carefully extricated himself from beneath her, and lifted off the bed. He pressed a quick kiss on her cheek and another one on the top of her head, and moved to where Traci indicated the doctor wanted him. He now had a bird's eye-view, so to speak, of what had occurred down 'there' while he had been helping Scully through her contractions. And if he paled somewhat, he was sure it was completely normal. He had expected there to be blood, yes, had been warned there would be, but not quite that much! Moving his eyes from Scully's still bared lower body, he saw that Traci had stepped in and lifted the baby, partially wrapped in the blanket and still squalling, and was holding him up. One hand was supporting his head and neck, the other cupping his bottom. Dr. Newall handed him what looked like a large pair of bandage scissors and then grasped the umbilical cord in one hand. "Cut right here, between these two clamps, Dad," she said, and touched the spot with one gloved index finger. His eyes followed her hand, and he saw the two clamps she had indicated – little blue plastic clips that were squeezed around the cord, about three inches apart. The cord itself was a pale grayish-blue, and looked wet – vaguely alien. Taking another deep breath, Mulder fitted the scissors into one hand and brought them to the cord. Opening them, he put them in place, and scrunching one eye shut while fixing the other one on the spot he was required to cut, he cut down. It was easier than he thought, and when neither Scully nor the baby cried out in distress or pain, he relaxed his shoulders, sighing audibly. "Good job, Dad," Dr. Newall said, and the baby was whisked over to the corner where one of the other nurses had set up an examination station of sorts earlier. Mulder retreated before he could witness anything the doctor might be doing down there next, and went back to stand beside Scully. She was regarding him with a proud smile, the exhaustion obvious on her face. "Hey," he said softly, bending down to prop one elbow on the mattress of the bed, bringing his face next to hers. "How are you doing?" "Good..." she sighed and leaned a bit closer to rub her cheek on his shoulder. "Go watch him please, Mulder," she said next. New mother nerves, he guessed. And to be honest, he was getting a bit antsy being this far away from his son. What exactly were they doing to him? Cleaning him up, he was sure, but what else? He kissed her head and headed over to observe. Mrs. Scully was there, camera in hand, and she smiled when he came to stand beside her. "He's beautiful, Fox," she said. Mulder looked at the baby, now naked in the bassinet, red face scrunched up in horror or fear or dismay, little nose flattened, his little fists and...really long feet...pulled tight to his body. Which was still not yet clean. Beautiful? Well... "Yes," he replied softly. "Yes, he is." The two nurses moved efficiently, putting an ointment in his eyes, weighing and measuring him, cleaning him up and diapering him, and then had Mulder wincing in sympathy when they pricked his heel for a blood sample. Then one of them listened to his heart with a stethoscope, and took his pulse, making notations on a chart when she was finished. She also suctioned his nose, which made him cry angrily, his whole body shivering with the force. Mulder realized they were doing the Apgar test on the baby. It was done to evaluate every newborn, and to recognize and identify distress. He wondered what the first score had been – for they did the test at one minute and five minutes after birth – on a scale of one to ten. Ten of course was a perfect score, and babies were rarely 'perfect' at birth. And generally scores under seven could be an indication of trouble or complications. The nurse efficiently bundled the baby with quick, economical movements, and scooped him up, like he was a football. She turned and smiled at him. She held the baby out, and said, "Here you go, Dad. Why don't you take this little guy to his mommy?" Mulder took him hesitantly, making sure one hand supported the head and neck as he had seen in illustrations, and Scully had demonstrated with a baby doll, and the other slid under the baby's back and rear end. He was so light. And still shivering, though his cries had muted somewhat. Mulder's arms instinctively tightened around his son, and he lowered his face to the tiny face barely visible through the folds of the blanket. He cooed softly, "Hey there, little guy." The flashing and whirring of the camera were distant distractions. He could not pull his eyes away from the miracle in his arms. But he knew Scully was anxious to see their son. Turning carefully, he began to walk slowly towards the bed; eyes still intent on his son's face. He looked up once to make sure his path was clear. Just in time to see the afterbirth slide into Dr. Newall's waiting hands. Now that was something he could have happily lived his life without ever seeing. He shuddered once and moved on, and saw that Scully was watching him and the baby, her expression both yearning and tender. Moving into place beside her, he bent over, watching her arms rise up to accept the baby. He placed the bundle into them, gently sliding his out from underneath, and then rested a hip on the mattress to sit beside her. His arm slid around her shoulders, and Scully automatically shifted so that she was nearly cradled into his chest. Propping the baby in the crook of her left arm, and letting his lower half rest on her belly, she lifted her now rock-steady right hand, and pulled at the receiving blanket. Her fingers then moved feather-light along his squished button-nose, over his lips and chin, and down his chest. She avoided the clipped end of the umbilical cord and then tugged more of the blanket aside to study his legs and feet, her index finger stroking each toe. His little hands were next, and then she bundled him back up, the blanket not quite as neatly arranged as it had been. "Dana, why don't you put him to your breast now?" Dr. Newall suggested, finally having risen from her seat on the low stool. She stood with her hands on her hips, regarding her patients fondly. Mulder watched with an amazed anticipation as she lowered her already loosened gown down on one side, exposing her swollen breast. With what seemed like capable, confident movements, she brought the baby up to her breast and settled him into position. She stroked his cheek as he rooted around for a second, and then he had latched on to her nipple with a ferocious move. Scully jumped and gave a startled "Oh!" and the women in the room all chuckled. He stared in fascination as his son's jaws worked furiously. He knew he had just seen the second most beautiful thing in his life. *** 4:50 pm Scully smiled as she watched Mulder preparing to cut the umbilical cord. He had one eye squeezed shut, and his face was twisted in a comical near-grimace. She could also see the tendons in his neck standing in sharp relief, and that his jaw was tight. When they had first discussed his involvement in the birth, and whether he would cut the cord, he had expressed a concern about it being painful for either her or the baby. And that if so, he did not want to be the one to cause them pain. She has assured him that was not the case – the umbilical cord, while a source of nutrients and oxygen for the fetus, was not a pain receptor. Scully thought that might be what he was remembering right then, causing his hesitation. But once he had snipped the scissors through the cord, his entire body relaxed. As did hers, for she had unintentionally been holding herself very still, which resulted in no small amount of discomfort. Sitting up as she was did not help either, so she gingerly lowered herself back down to the pillows, sighing quietly in relief. Her left leg ached from being held in mid-air during the delivery, as did her right hip from bearing most of her weight at the time. Other little discomforts, including a raging thirst and a grumbling stomach, had started to let themselves be known. She was still experiencing uterine contractions, though not quite as intense as they had been as she had labored to bring forth the baby. This was normal - the body waited for the placenta to spontaneously detach from the uterus, to subsequently be delivered. She would continue to have contractions even after the placenta had been delivered for up to a week to ten days, often called afterpains, while her uterus decreased to its pre-pregnancy size. Breastfeeding often made these contractions more intense because of oxytoxin, which was necessary for milk letdown, stimulated the uterine contractions. The other nurse, Mary, had come over when Mulder had vacated his spot to cut the cord, and began massaging Scully's fundus - the top of the uterus - by rubbing her abdomen. This was done both to aid in delivering the afterbirth, and to help prevent unnecessary bleeding. "Good job, Dad," Dr. Newall said then, and Scully saw Traci take the baby over to the examining station in the corner of the room. Although she propped herself up on her elbows once again, with her legs bent and partially draped with a sheet, she could see no more then the edge of the bassinet, and of the nurse's arms. But at least she could still hear her son's shivery cries. Mulder came back to her, resuming his position at the head of the bed, and Mary stopped her massaging and moved to assist Dr. Newall. He leaned over onto the bed, one elbow on the mattress supporting his weight. This position brought his face very close to hers. "Hey," he said low-voiced, his expression still one of awe and wonder. "How are you doing?" Surprisingly, she felt wonderful. "Good," she told him, and rubbed her cheek on his shoulder. She was tired, yes, and sore, but those things didn't matter right then. She was still caught up in the miracle of birth, and their son. Whom she missed enormously already. That brief contact when he had lain on her stomach, and she had been able to finally touch him, had not been enough. She needed to hold him, to examine him – counting his toes and fingers, looking at every inch of him – to see with her own eyes that all was well...and that he was completely normal. Suddenly anxious that the nurses seemed to be taking too long with their son, she said, "Go watch him please, Mulder." A thought flickered to life – had his first Apgar been too low? But there had been no panicked outcry, or the resultant flurry of activity if a low score on his Apgar had been the case, so she reassured herself that she was worrying needlessly. She hoped her face had not betrayed her thoughts to Mulder. He bent and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, not appearing distressed or worried, then straightened up and moved to the corner. To stand beside her mother there, whom Scully had just spied standing a short distance from the nurses, camera in hand. Dr. Newall called her name softly, and when she had met the doctor's gaze, the woman said, "Okay, Dana. We're going to deliver the placenta now. You will probably feel some discomfort, but I need you to push when I ask, okay?" Scully nodded, and a moment later felt the doctor's gloved hand palpating her abdomen. It was uncomfortable, and slightly painful, but at least she was fully on her back now, with both feet in the stirrups and could use that to push with her body more fully. She pushed when Dr. Newall advised her to, although she felt the need to do so anyway with each contraction, which seemed to last roughly one minute in duration. The doctor continued to massage her abdomen for some minutes during that time, before moving her hand away to examine her. Scully experienced three such 'pushing' contractions, and then felt an odd sensation as the placenta was expelled. "Good, Dana!" Dr. Newall said, apparently studying the afterbirth. A moment later she reported, "Placenta looks normal, completely intact." Scully looked over Dr. Newall's shoulder as she saw movement peripherally, to see Mulder standing frozen in place, the newly re- bundled baby held high and protectively in his arms, staring with dismay between her legs. She did not smile, but regarded him fondly. He had held up so well – she had seen him pale a few times during the delivery – and remained steadfast. She was tremendously proud of him, and grateful beyond relief that he had been there. That one of her greatest fears – Mulder never returning to see his child being born – had not come to pass. He walked on then, and came to her side, bending over and carefully extending the baby towards her, straight into her waiting arms. While she stared down into the baby's red, crying face, she was aware of Mulder slipping onto the edge of the bed, his arm coming around her shoulder. She moved slightly, until she was snuggled up against him. He was a warm, secure presence beside her, just as the baby was within her arms. It felt so right. At the end of the bed, Traci and Mary were easing her feet from the stirrups, and lowering her legs onto the now restored bed, having already cleaned her up and dressed her. One of them eased a clean sheet over her, and brought it to waist-high. Scully's desire to see her infant was burning. She arranged him properly, his head cradled in the crook of her left arm, his rear end and legs supported by her stomach, and tugged at the flannel blanket that concealed most of his tiny body. As she gently touched his little nose, flattened by the birth, and his rosebud lips and slightly pointed chin – hers! – she could hear her mother snapping more pictures. But she could not yet spare a moment to look up and smile. The time for formal poses was later; she had a baby to study. Running two fingers lightly down his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, she was careful not to jostle the clip that clamped off the end of the umbilical cord. He was diapered, so she would check that part of him later, and instead moved more of the blanket aside to look at his legs, his dimpled knees and his now kicking feet. Each toe was delicately touched, and counted, before she gently edged one finger into a waving fist, her thumb stroking over his knuckles, the skin petal soft. She marveled at how tiny his fingernails were, none coming close in size to the nail on her pinkie, and the strength he displayed with his grip, before finally rewrapping him. Not as neat a bundling job as the nurse had done, but she would soon have lots of practice. Movement at the foot of the bed had Scully looking up to see Dr. Newall standing with her hands on her hips, smiling gently. "Dana, why don't you put him to your breast now?" she asked. They had discussed breastfeeding almost from the moment she had first started seeing Dr. Newall, and Scully had always been a strong supporter of the act. Scully nodded again in reply, and used her right hand to tug the left side of her gown down, baring her swollen breast. She was very aware of Mulder's interested, heavy gaze, and that of her mother's and Dr. Newall's, all watching this first time. Somehow it did not disturb her as much as the thought might once have. Shifting the baby slightly – and bemusedly telling herself she and Mulder needed to choose a name for the baby, something they had not been able to agree on while reading baby name books – she turned him so that he was on his side, facing her breast and stomach, and stroked his downy cheek. He nuzzled her breast, rooting for her nipple, still whimpering, and then clamped down. Hard. She jumped slightly, her parted mouth releasing a loudly exclaimed, "Oh!" and heard the other women in the room laugh in support and commiseration. Beside her, Mulder made a funny noise – part sigh, part startlement. She turned her head to look at him, and saw that his gaze was fixed entirely on their son's mouth around her breast. He had the most beautiful look on his face, one she could not accurately describe to do it justice. The baby's hands and feet were moving against her body, contained by the blanket, and it pulled her eyes back to him. Her free arm curled around him, her hand almost cupping his head, and her fingers stroked the side of his face gently. The rhythmic sucking of his jaws could be easily felt, and his eyes fluttered open occasionally. She was certain the baby had latched on correctly – very little of her areola was visible, and the baby's lips flanged outwards, not sucked inward. She could only describe the sensation in her breast as a drawing feeling, or a pulling. It was strangely relaxing, and once her initial shock had worn off, not unpleasant in the least. At the most, the baby was only receiving colostrum, a protein-rich fluid that preceded the actual milk, along with some measure of comfort. As well, the contact with her was recommended, although it was best skin-on-skin. She would try that later, in the privacy of her hospital room, with only Mulder in attendance. "I don't think there's any problem with his sucking, is there, Dana?" Dr. Newall's voice interrupted the private little world she had entered, and she looked up in surprise at the distraction. The words registered a moment later, and she smiled and shook her head, before returning her eyes to her son. "No, not at all," she replied softly. "I'll say," Mulder said, equally soft, his lips just inches from her ear. "Takes after his father," he quipped next. She met his gaze again, dragging her eyes away from their son, and smiled. "Definitely a breast man," she agreed. Mulder leaned down to touch his lips to hers in a quick kiss, then said, "He looks so happy and content there. Peaceful." Her mother had finally joined them, standing on the other side of the bed beside Scully. She made a snuffling sound, and husked out, "Dana, baby, he's beautiful." Her hand came up to rest lightly on his little head, as she watched him nurse with moist eyes. She raised them a moment later to meet Scully's gaze and whispered, "Your father would be bursting with pride right about now." "I wish he were here to see him, Mom," Scully replied, rocking the baby slightly, feeling her own eyes fill. Her mom lifted her hand from the baby's head to cup Scully's cheek and said, "He is here, honey. Smiling down on us." She sniffled once more and then smiled with still shining eyes. Clearing her throat, she said, "I'm going to leave you three alone to get better acquainted, and go call your brothers." With that she kissed Scully on the cheek, bent and kissed the baby on his head, and after straightening up again, touched her hand to her lips in a kiss for Mulder, then left the room. "You okay, Scully?" Mulder murmured, his arm squeezing her shoulders a little. His other hand came up to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. She knew he was referring to the moment about her father, and sent him a small smile. But she hadn't just been thinking about her father, she had also been thinking about the absence of Mulder's father, and whether Mulder had been thinking about him too. "I'm okay, Mulder." She blinked a few times, to clear the tears that had not fallen from her eyes, and added, "I think I know what we should call him now." *** 5:10 pm Mulder felt a little pang inside when Mrs. Scully, standing next to Scully, her hand on the baby's cap-covered head, said to her, "Your father would be bursting with pride right now." The pang was for both women, but even more so for Scully, whom he knew missed her father dearly. The sadness in Scully's voice as she answered her mother, hurt even more. He hated to see her in pain – be it physical or emotional, wished there was some way he could make it go away, as impossible as he knew the wish to be. At the same time, the conversation between mother and daughter, particularly when Mrs. Scully mentioned calling her sons to tell them the news, brought a painful fact to the forefront of his mind. He had no family to tell. He could not phone his parents to tell them they now had a grandchild, nor did he have a sibling whom he could call and inform that they were an aunt or an uncle. He recalled with an inward smile how Samantha, despite being determined to do everything he did, absolutely loved to play with her 'babies' – her dolls. She would always tell him he was their 'Uncle Fox', to his horror and dismay. His mind flashed suddenly on a picture of his father's face – stern and unsmiling, and of his mother's – pale and still in death. Would the news of a grandson have brought a smile to his father's visage? Finally reached his mother, and thrilled her beyond anything if she had been alive to hear the news? Mulder forced the damning, haunting thoughts and images of his parents out of his head, and gave Scully's shoulders a little squeeze. "You okay, Scully?" he asked her softly. A strand of her hair was caught on her damp cheek, and he brought his free hand up to tuck it behind her ear. She still looked melancholy, but her voice was lighter when she replied, "I'm okay, Mulder." He watched her blink back the tears that hadn't fallen, or she wouldn't let fall, and was awed once again by her strength. She then said, "I think I know what we should call him now." Ah. A name for the baby – something they had not been able to agree upon. He hesitated before asking what it was. Something in her voice when she had said the words gave him an idea as to what it might be. Clearing his throat a bit, he said, "Hit me, baby." Maybe the lightness of his comment was inappropriate; maybe she'd appreciate it, he didn't know. She chuffed out a small laugh, shaking her head slightly. Her hand rose to adjust the blanket that wrapped the baby, bringing his attention down to the child. Mulder watched him for a moment, content to do so while waiting for Scully's reply. The baby was still and quiet, and seemed to have dozed off at her breast, though his jaw still moved every so often as he sucked in his sleep. He moved his hand to lay his hand atop Scully's, on the baby's bottom. Scully moved slightly, and Mulder lifted his eyes to see that she was regarding him solemnly. "William," she said. He had been correct. She wanted to name the baby after her father. A common practice - naming a first-born son after the father or grandfather - and seeing as there was no way in hell his son was going to be called Fox Junior, William was a logical choice. Scully spoke again. "William, after both our fathers. To honor and remember them both." Mulder blinked, completely stunned. And felt an inexplicable stinging in his eyes. Or perhaps it was explainable. He was touched. Touched that Scully wanted to honor his father with hers. "Scuhleee," he said, his voice husky. He stopped, turning his head to cough into his shoulder, not wanting to move his hand from Scully and...William. He tried again. "William is a perfect name, Scully." Traci, the nurse, interrupted their little private moment. "How's everybody doing here?" she asked softly, moving to just a foot away from Mulder. "He's asleep," Scully replied with equal softness. "Well, your room is ready now, and we'll be getting ready to move you, so it's good that we won't disturb his sucking," Traci said then. "Is he still latched on?" At Scully's nod, she explained what to do, demonstrating with her pinkie. "Curl your pinkie like this," she held up one hand, her last finger curled, "and slide it in the corner of his mouth. Pull gently, until the suction breaks, releasing the seal. You'll feel a small 'pop'." Mulder watched interestedly, his head craned for optimum viewing, as Scully followed the instructions and released William's mouth from her breast. The baby's lips puckered, then smacked together, though he never woke. "Why don't you let Dad take baby for a little while?" Traci suggested to Scully. "There's a handful of anxious men out there in the waiting room who say they're with you. Maybe you'd like to introduce them to your son? That way we can get Mom here all comfortable and ready to move to their new room." Mulder remembered the Gunmen, who had arrived a few hours back. They were his 'family', he supposed, and smiled. His kid would have three wacky 'uncles', that was for sure. And a grumpy one named Bill, he thought with an inwardly sardonic grin. Then he recalled Mrs. Scully telling he and Scully about an hour or so later that 'Walter' and 'John' had arrived – her use of their first names, not his. He looked at Scully. "That okay, Mom?" It hit him then. Scully was a mom. And he was a dad. Holy shit. Scully smiled softly. "That's okay. Dad." She slid the hand that had been cupping William's bottom a little further up, spreading it to support his back, and moved her other hand under him, to cradle his head, and lifted him from her stomach with a little sigh, that was probably of relief. Mulder had already slid his arm from around her shoulders and gotten off the bed, and was leaning over, ready to move his arms into position. It was a bit awkward, but they managed, and a moment later, he was standing with William cradled in his arms. He smiled at Scully, who had that proud yet slightly dismayed look on her face again. "We'll be right back, Scully, I promise." "I know," she said, her smile widening, the dismay gone. "I love you." He winked at her, and then turned and walked slowly and carefully to the door, an almost unconscious sway to his steps. Bending his head down closer to William's, he whispered, "We're gonna go meet lots of uncles, William. Now some of them are a little scary, but don't worry, they won't hurt you." When he reached the door, he had to juggle William a bit, and he was afraid he would drop him. But he managed without incident. It was cooler in the hallway, and William's little face scrunched up, a tiny little mewl escaping. Mulder fought down his panic. He could handle this. "Shh, shh, shh," he cooed to the baby, bouncing his arms up and down slightly, his body automatically adapting as he walked. Entering the waiting room across the entrance to the Labor & Delivery rooms, he encountered the oddest collection of waiting men he'd ever seen. It made him grin. Doggett and Skinner sat in one corner, both dressed in their FBI attire, the chair beside them holding their folded overcoats. In the opposite corner were the Gunmen. Byers, of course, was impeccably dressed in a suit and tie, hair neat as a pin. Langly's long hair was scraggly, though it appeared he had put on a fresh, clean tee shirt for the occasion. And Frohike, well Frohike wore a suit too, with a bow tie, and a carnation in his lapel. When he saw Mulder there in the doorway, he strode over, his face creased in the largest smile Mulder had ever seen on him. "Congratulations, Dad!" he said. His fingerless-gloved hand came up for a handshake, and then he realized Mulder's hands were full. The little man lowered his hand, and stuffed them both in his pants pockets. The other two Gunmen were on his heels, followed by Skinner and Doggett, all wearing expectant, excited looks. Mulder turned sideways a little, and lowered the arm supporting William's bottom half, while raising his other arm upwards, displaying the baby's face. "I'd like you guys to meet William." *** 5:15 pm Scully felt that telltale shift of Mulder's body – minute, and most likely missed by anyone other than herself. She was certain now that she had been correct in her assumption that Mulder had been thinking about his father. Her heart ached for him – so alone in this world. Except that now he had her, and their child, who was at that moment a warm and welcome weight at her breast. Finally Mulder responded verbally to her statement, first clearing his throat quietly. "Hit me, baby," he joked. Scully was not surprised at his attempt at humor – it was one of his deeply ingrained defense mechanisms. One she now understood, and accepted. However, there was no trace of the curiosity she knew had to be there. All attempts at choosing a name, or names, for the as-yet unborn baby, while light-hearted and fun, had been completely unsuccessful. She gave his comment the level of appreciation it deserved – a small, rueful shake of her head, and a chuckle. The baby seemed to shiver then in her arms, so she straightened the blanket he was wrapped in, tucking it more securely under his chin. Other than that one little shiver, and the occasional tug on her nipple as he sucked, he had not moved in the last few minutes. She thought he might have drifted off to sleep. Mulder had relaxed, his body was again loose and easy along hers, and he moved his hand to cover hers, which was cupped around the baby's rear end. She turned her head to look at Mulder, and saw that he was studying the baby. Obviously feeling her gaze upon him, he lifted his eyes to meet hers. "William," she told him, and watched the emotions flickering over his face. When he said nothing, she added, "William, after both our fathers. To honor and remember them both." His surprise was obvious – the startled blink of his eyes, and the slight parting of his lips. When his eyes went glassy, Scully realized it was more than surprise. Mulder was deeply moved by her inclusion of his father in her choice of a name for their baby. He said her name, his voice husky. The syllables drawn out as he did in extreme emotional moments, such as when he was angry, or aroused. He turned his head away then, and she wondered if he was embarrassed or ashamed to have shown such a reaction. She was saddened that he might be, for she had thought they had gotten past the bottling up of their emotions and feelings. After coughing into his shoulder, Mulder spoke again, his voice clear. "William is a perfect name, Scully." A contrite-looking Traci interrupted them then. "How's everybody doing here?" she asked quietly. Scully looked down. The baby...*William's* breathing had slowed and deepened, so she was now certain he was asleep. His mouth was still clamped around her nipple though, as if he were unwilling to let go. Definitely like his father, Scully mused with an inward smile. Lifting her head again, she told Traci, keeping her voice low, "He's asleep." Traci explained that their room was ready, and then demonstrated how to remove William from her breast. Scully had read several online articles, and pamphlets from Dr. Newall's office on breastfeeding, and the importance of both a proper latch and breaking the latch were stressed in every one. The complications could often be quite unpleasant for both mother and baby. She could feel Mulder's eyes on her as she gently inserted the tip of her pinkie in the corner of William's mouth. At the intrusion, he sucked strongly but briefly in reflex. When he stopped, she pulled gently, and felt the 'pop' Traci had described. William's mouth fell open slackly and she shifted him away from her breast. His tiny rosebud lips first drew closed, and then smacked them together, as if he were still nursing, for just a second. His eyes remained shut, his expression peaceful. Scully felt slightly nervous when Traci suggested Mulder take William outside to the waiting room, where several 'anxious men' were waiting. It was silly, but she wasn't ready to let go of William yet. In fact, she was certain she wouldn't be ready to let him go for some time. But Mulder had barely held him, and she had seen the look on his face when Traci had mentioned the Lone Gunmen. He wanted to show off his son. Mulder's expression was neutral as he looked at her, but she could see the need in his eyes. "That okay, Mom?" Smiling a little, she replied, "That's okay. Dad." She moved her hands to better support William as she lifted him, nearly groaning as his weight was removed from her stomach. Mulder's hands were there to replace hers, and with just a bit of awkwardness, William was in Mulder's arms. She watched them both, her arms already feeling empty, and tried to convey only her love and pride. But Mulder saw right through her, of course. His smile said it all. It said, 'Relax, Scully, I will keep him safe. You don't need to worry.' Then he reiterated his unspoken vow verbally, and said with a gentle tone, "We'll be right back, Scully, I promise." And he would be, she knew. She relaxed the muscles that had tensed up when William had left her arms, and let her smile widen. "I know," she told him. "I love you." She got a teasing wink in reply, and then they were walking away, towards the door. Craning her neck, she watched them, smiling softly at the 'baby walk' Mulder had instinctively adopted – that half- sway/half-step walk parents with a newborn seem to know automatically. His bent close to his son's then and he whispered something she could barely make out. She heard the words 'uncles' and 'scary', and knew somehow he was talking about the Gunmen. It was all she could do not to laugh. Once Mulder and William had left the room, Traci came over and said cheerfully, "Okay, Dana. I just need to take your temperature and blood pressure, then check to see if there's any excessive bleeding." The nurse efficiently did so, reporting everything was normal as she jotted the information down on Scully's chart. Putting it aside, she said, "Let's get you up and to the washroom." Scully shifted and tried to push at the covers, but was unable to reach them without causing undue stress on her still tender belly. Traci quickly whisked the sheet off of her, and then wrapped her hand around Scully's upper arm. She offered support as Scully swung her legs slowly and carefully to hang off the bed, and then inched herself forward until her feet had touched the ground. Standing, she wobbled slightly, secure in the knowledge that Traci was there. The nurse made sure she was stable before closing the back of Scully's hospital gown, holding it closed with her hand at the middle of Scully's back. Together they shuffled forward, Scully trying not to wince as her sore hip and leg complained. They took it slow, and at last they made it to the washroom. Scully was a little nervous about this part, she was certain it was going to sting. It did, a little, but not as badly as she had thought. Traci handed her a little bottle of distilled liquid soap, which she told Scully to squirt on herself. As Scully did so, Traci explained possible symptoms or signs that there could indicate a problem, and advised Scully to buzz for help immediately if she experienced any sharp or sudden pains in her abdomen. A bottle of plain water for rinsing was next, and after patting herself dry, Scully rose slowly and baby-stepped her way to the sink. There, she washed her hands and splashed some water on her face which she dried with a hand towel provided by Traci, before looking at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. She was a little pale, and her hair was somewhat lank, but all in all, she didn't look half-bad. Traci next handed her a clean gown, which she took and changed into, glad to be out of the other one, now a little worse for wear. A thin hospital robe was next, and then they headed out of the bathroom, Traci not supporting her, but walking close by in case. Instead of resuming her spot on the bed, she was directed to sit in a wheelchair, which she had not noticed before. Traci tucked a pillow behind her back and asked her if she needed a blanket to cover her legs. "No, thank-you," she replied. "I'm fine." She shifted a bit in the not quite comfortable wheelchair, still tender in her nether regions, and suddenly realized she didn't even know the statistics on her son. "Traci, what were William's Apgar scores? And his birth weight and height?" The nurse paused in the process of bundling up the dirty linen from the bed, and turned. "Apgar at one minute was 8, and at five minutes it was 9. Good scores. William weighed in at seven pounds, eleven ounces, and measured 21 inches long. I like the name 'William', by the way." Scully smiled at the nurse. "Thank-you. It has a special meaning to his father and I." "I'll go see if your two boys are finished visiting, and then we'll get you to your room," Traci said then, and headed out with the dirty linen in her arms. Scully sat in the wheelchair and awaited the arrival of her 'two boys'. *** 6:20 pm Mulder held the sleeping William in his arms, moving gently with the motions of the rocking chair he sat upon. It was comfortably padded, and he had pulled it right next to Scully's bed. His legs were stretched out in front of him and his ankles were crossed. One foot provided the occasional push necessary to keep the chair in motion. At a soft sigh from beside him, he lifted his eyes from his son, and turned his head to study the sleeping woman in the bed. With a fond smile, he recalled how they had been in the middle of a conversation about possible middle names for William when Scully just stopped talking in mid-sentence. He had been studying the baby's tiny facial features, and when her voice had trailed off, he had glanced up curiously. To see her with her head slumped to one side, her eyes closed and her mouth hanging open just slightly. He had been alarmed for the briefest of seconds, until he remembered reading that many women often came down from the 'adrenaline high' of childbirth not long after, and were exhausted. Her body needed to recuperate. Scully had been sleeping now; deeply it appeared, for the last half hour. Aside from the odd sigh or snore – despite her vehement protestations to the contrary, Scully did snore on occasion – she had not moved at all. Her face was still pale, and the tiny lines that bracketed her mouth had yet to disappear, but to him, she looked absolutely beautiful. He was completely content to watch both she and William sleep. Fortunately, William seemed to be equally tired from the ordeal of his birth, so to speak, and was not yet making any demands on his mother. In fact, the little guy had only awakened briefly while being shown off to the Gunmen and Skinner and Doggett, and had been asleep ever since. Mulder glanced down then at William, his smile widening as his mind replayed that first meeting. Langly and Frohike had behaved like strutting cocks, as if it had been they who had produced their progeny, not he. He was thankful they had contained their back-slapping to each other, and touched when Frohike had produced cigars for all – blue- colored bubble gum, labeled "It's a Boy!" Byers had been his usual taciturn self, albeit with a much wider then normal grin. A particular moment had caused Mulder to choke back laughter there in the waiting room, and to stifle a chuckle at the memory, so as not to disturb Scully or William. In his enthusiasm, Langly had gone to clap Skinner on one broad shoulder, and the AD had merely lifted a brow, enough to send the scrawnier Langly back a few steps, his hands raised in mock surrender. Then Skinner had turned his beaming face to William, his normally military stiff carriage relaxed, his facial features softened, and cooed at the baby. It was surely a memory for the books. Skinner cooing. And the AD's look, after realizing the five men around him were regarding him with stunned, bemused expressions, was also a keeper. Where had Mrs. Scully and her camera been when he needed them? Doggett had appeared as genuinely pleased as the rest, though he had been somewhat reticent in his congratulations. He had offered quiet words, and inquired into Scully's well-being, looking relieved when Mulder had replied that she was doing great. While Mulder thought it was unlikely he would ever consider John Doggett a close, personal friend, he had realized one thing earlier on – the man cared for Scully, and had been a friend to her during Mulder's absence. For that, Mulder would accept the man's continued presence in their lives, and be civil, if not friendly. Mulder knew Scully recognized and appreciated his efforts to do so. Doggett had joined them twice more for dinner, after their first, less-than- auspicious meeting. Once with Skinner present, and once when it had just been the three of them. Scully had made only one comment about hoping she would not need to play referee that night, and he had been on his best behavior. He had been handsomely rewarded much later that night too. It wasn't until after all the congratulations had been said that Mulder had noticed a grouping of shiny, helium-filled balloons clustered in one corner, bobbing slowly in the currents of air in the waiting room. He watched them spin and float gently, counting seven in total, and read each one. Two had the traditional "It's a Boy!" on a blue background, one had 'Congratulations' scrolled in pastels across its silver front and back, and two were pictures of stylized storks with a baby hanging from their mouths. Yet another one had a picture of Winnie the Pooh on it, with the words 'Welcome, baby' on it, and the last simply had a picture of pastel-colored teddy bears. Seeing Frohike's grinning countenance, he had suspected the balloons were from the little man. Confirmation had arrived in the form of Frohike's embarrassed shrug, and Langly's quipped, "Uncle Frohike went a little crazy in the gift shop." Mulder craned his head a bit, careful not to jostle William, to look at the balloons. Their ribbons were now looped around the back of a chair in one corner, out of the way but still visible. Scully's tired face had shone with pleasure, a smile slowly growing on her lips, when he had toted the balloons into the room, on the heels of Mrs. Scully, who was happily carrying William. Frohike had declined the invitation to bring the balloons in himself and visit briefly, saying all three of them would come back some time the next day, that Scully should get her rest. Mulder had easily seen that she had been touched by Frohike's thoughtfulness, but also glad the Gunmen's visit had been postponed for the time being. Skinner and Doggett had both asked him to pass on their congratulations and well wishes to Scully, saying that they too would visit the next day. Mrs. Scully had arrived then, and herded them all together for a picture, with he and William in the center. Mulder had then passed the baby to her willing arms, receiving her camera in exchange, and shook hands with the guys, thanking them for being there. After they had filed out of the waiting room, he had turned back to see Mrs. Scully rocking back and forth on her feet, talking soft baby nonsense to William. He had quickly snapped a couple pictures, before she noticed him watching her. Mrs. Scully had taken several pictures of the three of them, with he perched on the mattress beside Scully, and William in Scully's arms. She had then kissed them all one at a time after he had settled into the rocking chair with William, and told them to call her if they needed anything at all. Next she passed on Tara's congratulations, and the news that Bill was at sea, and that she had not yet been able to reach Charles. Promising to return in the morning, she had left after one last fond look at William. It had been nice to sit with just the two of them, and William, of course, after such a long day with people around them at almost every moment. And it was just as nice now, with both Scully and William sleeping while he sat guard. Suddenly in his hand, the one cupped under William's bottom, there was this odd stirring, or fluttering, accompanied by a most explosive sound. Which was immediately followed by a very obnoxious smell, one that had Mulder close to gagging. "Buddy!" he exclaimed in surprise, rather loudly. He looked quickly over at Scully, worried he had disturbed her, and saw that she had turned her head to the other side. She made a soft, sighing sound, but did not move further. William woke then though, with a very loud, unhappy cry, his face screwed up in righteous anger and rapidly turning quite red. His little limbs began fighting the restrictive blanket, and his cry turned into squalling. "Shhhh..." Mulder crooned, trying to keep his own tone of voice down, and started rocking William with more intent. He flicked his eyes to Scully again, and watched her stir. He awkwardly got to his feet, and began to sway, still saying, "Shhh, shhh, shhh." "Mulder?" asked Scully's sleep voice. "Is he hungry?" "Ahhhh, maybe," he said, finding it necessary to raise his voice to be heard over the volume of William's crying. "But he...uh, he...I think he pooped." "That is a normal bodily function, Mulder," Scully responded dryly, and started to push her covers aside, her tiredness obvious. "Hey, Scully. You stay there, I can handle this," he told her, still swaying, if a little more quickly now. He moved in a circle, looking for somewhere to lay William down. Despite being brand-new at this, even he knew a flat surface was required. And supplies. "I'll buzz the nurse," Scully said, and did so, while he rocked and swayed and made 'shhh' noises at William. A few minutes later, Traci bustled in. "How are you doing, Mom and Dad?" she said cheerily. Her eyes lit on the squalling William. "Uh- oh. Someone's not a happy camper. Come on over here, Dad." 'Here' was the bassinette. It was basically a deep, clear plastic bed that sat atop a low, two-doored chest on wheels. There was a blue card tucked in a little sleeve at one end, and he could make out 'Boy – Scully' in black marker, along with William's birth weight and height, the room number, and the doctor's name. Traci opened the doors to reveal one shelf bisecting the chest in two halves. On the top shelf was a small stack of tiny diapers, a container of baby wipes, and what looked to be a stack of washcloths. On the bottom shelf, which was also the bottom of the chest, were several extra receiving blankets and a washbasin. She removed the basin, the wipes, several of the cloths, and a diaper. Closing the doors, she then demonstrated to Mulder, and Scully, now sitting up in the bed, how the bassinette turned into a change table, by sliding out a flat section of board from beneath the bed. "Come with me, Dad, to wash your hands first." He followed Traci obediently to the bathroom, where she took William from him easily, and held him while Mulder thoroughly washed and dried his hands. Oddly enough, William settled down in her hold, reduced to tiny cries. Once he was done, she handed William back to Mulder and said, "I'll fill the basin with warm water," Traci said. "You lay William down and unwrap him." Mulder carefully shifted William and got him situated on the makeshift change table. He slowly unwrapped the blanket from the crying baby, while making soft, cooing noises, trying to calm him down. But apparently William was having none of his soothing efforts. He also seemed to be quite averse to being nearly naked – he shivered, his hands and feet drawn into his body, and started his full-throated crying again. Traci returned then, and put the bowl of water to one side, as William did not take up the entire space. "Okay," she said. "Undo his diaper, Dad." Mulder's fingers felt enormous and clumsy as he plucked at the tabs on the sides that held the diaper on. He peeled it back hesitantly; the smell having been a pre-warning that something unpleasant was likely to be found within. His upper body recoiled when he was hit full force by the aroma of his son's very first bowel movement, and he automatically shut the diaper again. Eyes watering, he began breathing through his mouth, trying to lessen the effect. It was no use. The smell was in his very lungs. Holding his next breath, he yanked the diaper back again. And was promptly baptized by a stream of urine in the face. Slamming his stinging eyes shut, he slapped the diaper down over his son's 'weapon' in mid-stream, hearing Scully's giggle, and Traci's choked, "Oh, dear." A moment later a wipe was being pressed to his face, and she was telling him she had William. He stepped back and wiped his face thoroughly, before cautiously opening his eyes and blinking. Well, at least he could see. And hopefully Traci could scrounge up a scrub shirt to replace his wet tee shirt. "Mulder?" Scully called. "Are you okay?" For her words, she certainly didn't sound concerned, he mused to himself. She sounded downright amused as hell. "Just ducky, dear," he called back with mock-tenderness. "But you get the next diaper!" "Okay, Dad, let's try this again," Traci said, taking his arm and pulling him back to his duty. "For the future, and I'm sorry for not warning you sooner, little boys will always pee up. When you first undo his diaper, pull back slowly, and be prepared to cover him up again." Got it, he thought silently, while plotting a way to have Scully responsible for any and all diaper changes in the future. Traci removed her hand from the loosened diaper and gestured for him to proceed. Taking a deep breath and holding it, he lifted the diaper back slowly. William was done with peeing for now, but what he had done earlier was frightening. It looked like tar. Thick blackish-green tar. Traci saw him hesitate, and explained. "That is meconium. It's what filled his intestines before birth, and is completely normal. Once he's expelled all the meconium, his movements will be softer and lighter in color. Okay, lift his legs gently and pull the diaper out from underneath him." She took it from him, wrapped it efficiently, and laid it aside for the moment. She then handed him a cloth that she had soaked in the warm water. "Always wipe from front to back, and be gentle." One cloth was definitely not enough, he quickly saw, and realized that was why Traci had removed several. By the time he was done, William's bottom was clean, and he had the stuff in his fingernails. He held his hands up and away from his body, and seeing them, Traci laughed a little and said, "You watch me finish up, and then go wash your hands with soap and water, which you should do before and after every diaper change." The nurse then capably wiped William with one last wet cloth before patting him dry with another, then took his feet and legs in one hand and lifted him, sliding the fresh diaper beneath his bottom flawlessly. She picked up a small tube of ointment, and applied a scant amount to William's diaper area. Showing him the ointment, she said, "We recommend you use this or something similar with every diaper change." In seconds the tabs were sealed and William had been rebundled. "Go ahead, Dad. I'll take this little guy to his mom, I'm thinking he's hungry again." Mulder headed to the bathroom yet again, and spent several minutes with his hands under nearly scalding hot water to get the very sticky substance from beneath his nails. When he returned, Traci was waiting with a green scrub shirt for him, and William was at Scully's breast. Mulder changed from the wet tee shirt, laying it over the arm of the chair for now, and then eased onto the bed beside Scully. He put his arm around her shoulders, rubbing her upper arm gently. She looked up at him briefly, smiling, and then looked back down at William. The baby's eyes were closed, but his jaw was working furiously. Mulder could even hear tiny little noises that sounded like gulping. One hand had slipped out of the blanket, and his tiny fingers were clutching Scully's index finger, held near his cheek. "I have to say it again, Scully," he said softly. "You are incredible." He leaned closer and rested his head against hers, his nose almost buried in her hair. "I love you too, Mulder," Scully replied, her voice equally soft. Smiling, although she couldn't see it, Mulder carefully swung his legs up on the bed to make himself comfortable, and settled in to watch their little miracle. *** End of Part 10