By Christine Leigh
Summary: Post-Existence. Takes place immediately following the end of the episode. This story is the fourth in what I call the Party of Three Universe, which is a series of stories and vignettes that are set post-Requiem.
A spell had been cast. It was gentle as the warm light that flowed from the corners of the bedroom, whispering wonderful things that they weren't able to fully comprehend, but that she took on faith, and that he believed, bore them good tidings. It would prove strong, too, in the days and weeks to come; a worthy match for the hearts it had in its hold.
Neither wanted to break the kiss, but the third member, too new to appreciate kisses and spells, deemed that they should stop. Mulder felt his newborn son squirm. It was only a slight squirm, but it got his father's attention, and Mulder reluctantly ended the kiss and looked down at the bundle he cradled in his arms. As the warmth of his lips lingered, Scully smiled, for once knowing as this occurred that all was still right.
"Are you okay?" Mulder directed this to his bundle. "William?"
It was the first time Mulder said the name aloud, and Sully didn't know what her heart wanted to do most, sing or break. Emotion was starting to come faster than she could handle it. She sat down on the bed. Mulder followed and they were side by side. Scully took a deep breath. He turned to look at her.
"Scully, he's amazing. You're amazing."
"Mulder . . ." She stopped, and then out of nowhere, or maybe somewhere, came the sound of laughter. A minute ago tears had been next in line, but now she laughed.
Mulder could see it all, and he was truly amazed. It was the only word to describe the scene. He'd grappled with so many things since his return to the living, and he still wasn't sure where he fit as far as performing the roles of father, and dare he even think it -- husband, were concerned. But at this moment, none of it was eating away at him as it had so often over the last several weeks. So, it was amazing. Quite.
"Scully, I think he might want you." Scully looked at William. Yes, Mulder was right. In the hours since their son's arrival, she'd come to know this look well. She unbuttoned her pajama top, and then took him from Mulder. Then she got up and moved to where she'd been sitting when Mulder had arrived, next to the headboard of the bed. Mulder got up also, and removed his shoes. He sat across from them, his legs upon the bed. From this vantage point, he was able to watch the beauty of the woman who was his life, giving sustenance to the life they'd made together. Upon witnessing this, he understood the poets, and wished he were one.
"Scully, is he good at this? Feeding, I mean? Is he doing it right?"
"Yes, as far as I can tell."
"This is weird."
"Mulder, if you only knew. I thought I did, but I was wrong."
He was surprised to hear this. She looked to him as though she'd been doing this all her life.
She smiled the same smile he'd seen that first day. All his bullshit aside, she was once again ready and willing to take on the job at hand. Had that really been eight years ago?
"I thought that watching Ellen, Jeana, and Tara would prepare me. Even the babysitting I did occasionally back in high school, I thought would have paved a path of sorts."
"Not so?" She was a natural, he could see this.
"No." After several more minutes William finished, and they both watched in fascination as his precious little mouth unlatched from his mother's nipple.
"Apparently. Do you mind?"
"Do I need to hold him up?"
"Against your shoulder." She handed William to Mulder, and then let her breasts feel the air for a minute before buttoning up.
"Scully, I think I like this."
"Mulder, this is day two."
"I'm serious. I could get used to this."
She didn't have a comeback for that. What was playing out here in her bedroom was surreal on many levels, but she intended to stay grounded. They were just a family -- mother, father, child; husband, wife, son. Sure. All right, then. She prayed that they would be given a chance.
"He looks good on you, Mulder."
"I think I'll be okay with this. Does he cry?"
"Not significantly, yet."
"He will, though, won't he?"
"That's okay. We'll weather it, won't we William?" Mulder placed a kiss on the head resting against his shoulder.
"So, you're staying?"
It wasn't just her smile, but that was a large part of it. It was the poem. Unwritten, but there. Of love.
This was their life.
~ End ~
Next in series: Emergence
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This story is (c) Copyright 2005 by Christine Leigh. "The X-Files" and its characters are the property of the Fox Network and Ten-Thirteen Productions and are borrowed here without profit or intent for profit.