The winter he was gone the weather had been mild, but Scully had shivered as she never had before, and wrapped herself in two blankets just to sit on the couch and watch television. She would burn three-hour logs two at a time in her fireplace; she would boil water and pour it into a coffee mug to hold, just to have something to keep her fingers from going numb. Neither of these efforts worked. She was five months into pregnancy and the thermostat was turned to 75 degrees. She had never felt colder.

*****

Mulder's hand rests on her hip, and she is sated and sleepy. *Hips before hands.* How many nights had that memory gotten her through? She no longer wonders how this life they've managed to establish came about, as she used to do so much of the time during their first months together. It is. What a mate she has; what a son they have.

William is asleep in his room and his three-year-old dreams are happy ones, Scully hopes. They've spared nothing in providing their beloved little boy with the best life that they can give him. It isn't lavish, but it is solid and filled with love. Tomorrow is a big day. They plan to tell William about his sister to be. She thrills at the thought of Mulder and her doing that.

It is ten degrees by the thermometer on the porch, but winter is warm this year.

~ End ~

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This story is (c) Copyright 2004 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.