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The Return
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are not mine. 
Well, Mulder is in my dreams but that's 
beside the point. This work is for fun and I 
am making no money from it. For ownership, 
see 1013, Fox or Chris Carter. Yada, yada, 
yada.
Time Period: Post-Requiem 
Spoilers: Requiem only. This is my own 
little glimpse into their lives, in my own 
little world. No mention of any eps past 
Requiem.
Category: MSR, a bit on the angst side of 
Fluff
Synopsis: Something happens while Scully is 
writing a letter to her unborn child.
Archive: If you really want to, just let me 
know.
Feedback: Always appreciated 
egbement@yahoo.com
Rating: PG


The Return
Dana Scully sat down at the small desk in 
the main room of her apartment. Pushing 
aside the real world for a while, she picked 
up the letter she had begun earlier that 
morning.
 
Little one,
This is a hard thing to do. But I feel the 
need to get my thoughts together now, so 
that I can explain them to you when you are 
older. There are things you need to know, 
things about your father. I only wish that 
you could have the opportunity to know him, 
but I fear that you will only know him 
through my memories. I have exhausted all 
avenues in my hopes of finding him and I am 
now trying to find the strength within me to 
carry on his quest alone.
I received the news that he was missing on 
the same day I heard of your pending 
arrival. Mulder would love an irony like 
that. Mulder. We rarely used each others 
first names. At this moment, I can only 
think of one or two occasions your father called me 
Dana. I can't remember a time that I thought 
of him as anything else. Never in my life 
did I believe that my last name could be a 
term of endearment, but it was when he spoke 
it. 
We had such a bond, Mulder and me, that at 
times we needed no words to communicate. A 
look could say volumes, and often did. The 
sometimes dangerous and usually confidential 
nature of our work only strengthened it. 
Ours was not a pairing full of passion, but 
one deeply rooted in friendship and respect. 
We stumbled into love, a love that remained 
unspoken. That is my greatest regret. 
Wherever your father is, whatever he is 
enduring, he doesn't have the memory of soft 
words from me to draw on. Only an embrace in 
the FBI hallway. I tell myself that that is 
enough. I had less during my absence from 
him, but the strength of a touch to my hand 
brought me back. Back to him, and to our 
work together. I can only pray that 
lightning strikes twice.
Rereading this letter, I realize that I have 
generated more questions than I have 
answered. That was not my intent. But 
perhaps it will serve its purpose, and open 
a dialogue that will bring closure to us 
both.
Scully leaned forward again to finish when a 
chill ran down her spine.
She heard the voice that haunted her dreams, and 
nightmares whispering through her head. Even 
though she knew she was alone, she turned in 
her chair and surveyed the room. Then she 
rose, crossed to the door and opened it 
before she realized what she was doing.
She was just about to close it again, when a 
huddled form at the end of the hallway 
caught her eye. The overhead light was out 
and she couldn't see who it was. Until he 
lifted his face.
"Mulder," Scully breathed in disbelief and 
prayer.
Rushing as fast as her pregnant body could 
take her, Scully slipped an arm around his 
waist and led him into the apartment.
 
"Mulder?" she said again, trying to get any 
sort of reaction from him, but he remained 
mute. Nearly catatonic thought the doctor in 
her.
Not knowing what else to do, Scully led him 
to the bedroom as she had once before. She 
backed him up to the bed and gave a slight 
shove to make him lie down. He did without 
protest, curling into a fetal position and 
closing his eyes.
For the next 48 hours she did little but 
watch. Watch him sleep, watch the steady 
rise and fall of his chest, watch the second 
hand as she checked his pulse. Watch the 
hour hand crawl around the clock face.
Emotions coursed through her ranging from 
elation to doubt and panic. In the height of 
her doubt, she unbuttoned his shirt and 
checked for the scar she had put on his 
shoulder when she shot him. In the height of 
her panic, she changed clothes trying 
desperately to hide what wouldn't be hidden. 
Finally, he woke. Scully, who had been 
sitting next to him, stood suddenly. Mulder 
met her eyes for a long moment. Neither 
spoke, nor did they need to. Six months 
apart hadn't lessened their bond, Scully 
noted, relaxing a bit.
That's when Mulder's eyes widened.
"Something you want to tell me, Scully?" 
he'd said after a long pause. Just the sound 
of his voice, hoarse as it was, caused her 
to sink to the bed and dissolve into tears.
And then, after Scully's long vigil over 
Mulder, it became his time to take care of 
her. He sat up and pulled her to him, 
cradling her head onto his shoulder. He said 
nothing knowing that empty words were not 
likely to comfort her.
When the tears were spent, Scully pushed 
away from him. "I'm sorry for that," Scully 
said in a voice roughened by tears.
"That's a change," Mulder responded, placing 
a finger under her chin and forcing her to 
meet his eyes.
"What is?" Scully's brow furrowed in 
confusion.
"All I usually hear is 'I'm fine, Mulder'."
Scully laughed briefly then turned serious 
once more. "Mulder," she said, "I need to 
know what happened."
"That should be my line," Mulder quipped, 
his gaze indicating her swollen abdomen.
 
"We'll get to that next," Scully said with 
finality, indicating that she wanted her 
question answered. Now.
"I don't know," he responded. "The last 
thing I remember before seeing you in the 
hallway was standing in the forest with 
Skinner."
 
"Missing time," Scully muttered, using 
Mulder's terminology for abductees with no 
memory of the event. And however frustrating 
it was to her, Scully knew that no question 
would clear away that mental block. She 
herself refused to even try. How could she 
ask any more of him? Based on what they had 
pieced together about her abduction, she had 
come to the conclusion that she didn't want 
to know.
And she doubted Mulder did either. Searching 
for the truth was one thing, reliving 
torture was another.
"So," Mulder said abruptly, his eyes once 
again drawn to her stomach.
A small smile tugged at the corners of 
Scully's mouth as she took his hand and 
placed it over their growing child. Perfect 
timing, little one, she thought as the baby 
chose that moment to shift positions. 
Mulder's hand flew from her stomach as if 
He'd been bitten.
"Whoa," Mulder whispered, then placed his 
hand back where it had been. "How did this 
happen?" he asked, his voice still a 
whisper.
"You mean to tell me that with all those 
videos you like to watch, you honestly don't 
know?" Scully smiled again, trying to 
lighten the mood.
"I told you those weren't mine," Mulder 
responded in his "that's my story and I'm 
sticking to it" voice. "I thought you 
couldn't have children. That's why we 
didn't..."
"I thought so too," Scully cut him off, not 
entirely sure she wanted to have a post 
mortem on an event that took place seven 
months ago. "I saw my doctor right after I 
found out and he did an ultrasound. It seems 
the human species need to procreate is a 
strong one. He found no evidence of 
sterility. Whatever they did to me, it seems 
to have reversed itself."
"And, um..." Mulder cleared his throat. "I 
guess that means..."
"You're going to be a father, Mulder." 
Scully barely got the words out before her 
throat closed with emotion.
 
After that, the words came easier. Scully 
brought Mulder up to date on her recent 
cases. She touched on the basics only, not 
wanting the real world to intrude into their 
reunion. Once Agent Doggett and Skinner 
found out he'd returned, all hell would 
break loose. Scully wanted to savor their 
time alone. For as long as she could.
A comfortable silence surrounded them. But 
the events of the past two days caught up 
with her and she leaned her head back, 
letting her eyes drift shut.
"I'm sorry, Mulder, but I can't keep my eyes 
open," Scully said softly.
"Then don't," Mulder responded, matching her 
soft tone. Scully drifted off to sleep, 
happy for the first time in months. Her last 
conscious sensation was Mulder's hand on 
their baby.
A few hours later, Scully sat bolt upright 
in bed. Shaking her head slightly, she 
glanced at the other side of the bed. It was 
empty. Melancholy filled her as her mind 
tried to tell her it had been a dream. "But 
it seemed so real," Scully said to the empty 
room.
"What did?" Mulder asked, walking back into 
the room and shutting the bathroom door.
"Nothing," Scully smiled, trying not to 
exhale too loudly.
The room filled with the faint sounds of 
bedsprings and sheets rustling. Mulder lay 
next to her, with both of them on their 
sides. Scully marveled at how right this 
felt, how sure, lying in bed with Mulder's 
hand covering their child. 
"Did you think I'd left?" Mulder asked.
"I thought it was a dream," Scully 
clarified. 
"Do you want me to leave?" 
"Never." 
"Scully?" Mulder asked.
"I mean it, Mulder. Don't ever leave me 
again." Scully once again found her throat 
constricted with unshed tears.
"I'm not going anywhere, Scully. And I'll 
promise that in front of any one, any where, 
any time."
"Mulder?" Scully sat up and turned on the 
nightstand light, not sure exactly what he 
was saying, afraid to even hope.
"Well, we've been partners for seven years, 
Scully. Don't you think it's time we made it 
official?"
Scully could think of no words that would 
fit this moment. She couldn't even bring 
herself to answer. Instead, she placed her 
hand on the back of his neck, threaded her 
fingers through his hair and pulled him to 
her. It surprised her when she felt 
resistance.
"What's wrong?"
"I won't go any further until you say you'll 
make an honest man of me, Scully."
Scully smiled until the smile burst into a 
laugh. "Of course I will, Mulder," she said, 
then paused. There had been no words of love 
from him, only a backhanded marriage 
proposal. It wasn't that she expected hearts 
and flowers, that just wasn't Mulder. But a 
small doubt had crept into her thoughts and 
refused to be dislodged. "Maybe I should say 
we will."
"I wasn't asking SJ," Mulder said, his eyes 
fixed on hers. "I was asking you. You have 
to know that I love you, Scully."
"I do?" She paused and let out a sigh. "I 
do," she said with conviction. "And I love 
you. I have for so long, I don't remember a 
time that I didn't."
Another silence descended. This time, an 
unsettling one. They were on unfamiliar 
ground. Neither was the romantic type, and 
words like this didn't come easy. On the 
other hand, both knew they needed saying.
"Same goes. So we're agreed?" Mulder asked, 
an almost childlike uncertainty on his face.
"We're agreed."
And they sealed the agreement in the most 
fitting way.
Later, as Scully drifted closer to sleep 
once again, she turned to face Mulder. "SJ?" 
she asked, confused over the initials he'd 
used earlier.
"What else?" he responded.
"Scully Jr.," they said in unison.

 
 "Hey, Mrs. Mulder?" a voice called from the 
back room. 
Mrs. Mulder. Scully shook her head at 
Mulder's new pet name for her. After much 
internal debate, Scully had decided to keep 
her maiden name after they were married. 
Professionally, it made the most sense. Not 
that that stopped her partner. He only used 
it occasionally, but it was becoming more of 
an endearment to her than "Scully" was. They 
still called each other by their last names. 
Scully guessed they always would.
Explaining that one to the PTA was going to 
be interesting, she laughed to herself.
"What?" she called back.
"Whatever this little guy wants, he clearly 
doesn't want it from me," Mulder said, his 
voice getting clearer as he approached.
Scully turned in her chair to look at him. 
Jeans and a grey t-shirt. How many times had 
she seen him dressed like that? Only this 
time, the t-shirt was stained with something 
vaguely resembling milk, and he was cradling 
a baby in his arms. The bottle he was 
supposed to be feeding his son was in his 
one hand, still full.
The piercing wail of a hungry baby put all 
other thoughts away, and she took the child 
from him. "I guess he's not quite ready to 
give me up," Scully grimaced as the baby 
latched on.
"Can't say that I blame him," Mulder grinned 
and Scully swatted at him with her free 
hand.
"By the way," Mulder said, "this came in the 
mail."
Scully took the piece of paper from him and 
scanned it. A slow smile crossing her face. 
The baby's birth certificate. They'd talked 
for hours on end about what to name their 
child. There were so many names to consider, 
names of honor to those that had died or 
touched their lives during their quest for 
the truth. Samantha, Melissa, Emily, Penny, 
Bill, Walter, Albert, Jeremiah. But all were 
discarded for the same reasons. They simply 
couldn't choose. How could you honor one 
without honoring all?
In the end, they had chosen Stephen James. 
Neither name had any strong connection, but 
had a private meaning for them alone. 
As if he could sense his mother's thoughts 
on him, SJ chose that moment to disengage 
from his lunch, arch his back, and let out a 
resounding belch.
His father, standing behind them with his 
hands on his mother's shoulders, could only 
grin once more.
"That's my boy."
--End
That's it. My first attempt at X Files 
fanfic. I wrote this for myself...mostly to 
get it out of my head so I could return to 
the things I'm supposed to be writing. I 
hope you liked it, but if you didn't move 
on. Life's too short.