Three simple words, three horrible words, three words I never want to hear again.

I close my eyes to block out the sight of AD Skinner’s face; the unbearable sadness and loss that surely must be reflected in my own. I don’t blame Skinner; he couldn’t have stopped him. No one could have stopped him. He was determined, driven to find the answers, driven to find the truth, driven to protect me.

When Byers told me, he said that Mulder was convinced that they would take me again and that he would lose me forever. So he went in my place, with my blessing and with my cross to protect him. I only hope he knows he has my heart as well.

I open my eyes and look at the man standing beside my bed. Smiling through my tears, I tell him that we’ll find him, that we have to. Then I watch his eyes widen in shock when I tell him that I’m pregnant.

Pregnant. The one thing I never expected the one thing I’d resigned myself to never experiencing. I was barren; all the tests said so. He said they’d extracted my ova during my abduction, used them to create Emily and maybe others.

I can still remember the pain of losing her. My daughter and not really mine at all. A child who was never meant to be. Not like this child. I place a hand over my abdomen. This life was meant to be a miracle, physical manifestation of our love.

Once more, I raise my gaze to AD Skinner. I can see the question in his eyes, and he knows the answer I think, so for now, he keeps his peace. He pats my hand and tells me to get some rest and after another searching look leaves my room. I close my eyes then and drift off to sleep.

"Dana? Honey, it’s mom."

I close my eyes tighter, trying to recapture the dream that fled at the soft voice, to recapture the feel of his arms around me, the taste of his lips, and the feeling of completeness that his touch invoked.

"Sweetie?"

I feel her hand brushing my hair back, soothing me, healing me. Opening my eyes, I see the concern in hers, the love, the compassion and yes, the fear. I can see that someone told her that he is missing, gone, vanished. I see fear in her eyes that I will push myself too hard in my quest to find him, and that she will lose me too.

"Walter told me what happened."

Walter? Did I just hear my mom call AD Skinner by his first name? I blink in astonishment and then nod; unable or unwilling to say the words, to shatter her once again by loss. For she loves him almost as much as I. And she has already endured so much loss, a husband, a daughter and a granddaughter. I close my eyes, praying that I have inherited that strength, that something that makes her face each loss with dignity.

She shifts and sits beside me on the bed, gathering me into her arms, her soft voice crooning and calming me like I was once more a child wakened by nightmares. But this nightmare, this is real; this is my life. And somewhere in this nightmare, mingled with the sadness of his loss, is a dream, a dream I never dared articulate. So I tell her. I tell her that where there is pain, there is joy, unbelievable joy.

"Pregnant? How?"

I smile at her, amused by the question. She isn’t amused though, and even less so by the flippant tone of my answer. I can see all the lessons of her youth in her eyes, the rules imposed on her by the church. I know she wants to chastise me for being careless and at the same time, I can see the happiness and the expectation in her face at the prospect of this new grandchild. She hugs me and then asks the question, the one no one has been able to ask.

"Is he the father?"

As much as I want to be indignant want to protest the question, it is a fair one. We had not gone public, as it were, with our relationship. It was ours, private, to be cherished, to be protected.

I remember that last night in the motel when he held me in his arms and told me it wasn’t worth it. I knew that he meant our quest, not our love, and I felt at the bedrock of my soul that his quest truly had become our quest. We would be forever linked, no matter what happened.

Perhaps I already knew subconsciously that we had created this child, but couldn’t yet put the signs together into conscious awareness. It’s just as well. If I had told him he would have sent me home and I needed to be there. I don’t know why, but I knew I had to be with him. Perhaps I already knew that our time together would be far too short.

"Dana?"

I look into my mother’s eyes. I can see that she is fast losing her patience and so I tell her. For the first time I say the words aloud, and watch in amazement as my mother’s eyes fill with tears. I know those tears are for me, for him and for the child who may never know its father and I try to tell her she mustn’t cry. I find myself comforting her, assuring her, our roles suddenly reversed. I hold my mother as once again I drift off to sleep.

"Scully?"

When I awaken, my mother is no longer in the room and I smile at the concern carved into Frohike’s gargoyle-like face. I assure him that I am fine and he takes my hand with surprising gentleness. Or not so surprising, as I have always thought he was the most gentle of men. I would never insult my friend by telling him that, for he thinks of himself as tough and fearless.

My friend. I smile inwardly, for I never would have dreamed I would think of Frohike, or the others, as my friends. But they are and I’m sure always will be. It has become apparent, since his disappearance, that they have appointed themselves my protectors.

The infinite sadness in Frohike’s eyes tells me there is no news, good or bad. I glance up as first Langley and then Byers come to join him at my bedside, wearing their loyalty and friendship like badges. I stifle a laugh, for at this moment they remind of the Dorothy’s companions from The Wizard of Oz. I try to decide who is who as I listen to them exchange theories. They are not willing to say what they truly feel, that we have lost him forever. And in any case, I am unprepared to accept that finality.

A nurse comes in and shoos them out, telling them I need my rest. I want to protest to tell her I need them more than I need rest, but in truth, I am tired and I want to sleep, for it is in my dreams I will see him again.

"Scully?"

I open my eyes and smile at him, drinking in the familiar lines and planes of his face, letting the love in his eyes fill my heart. He comes to my bedside and kneels, pressing his lips to my hand. He asks me to forgive him and tells me he loves me and he will return to me when the time is right. I reach out. I want to tell him about the child growing within me, but he is gone.

I open my eyes to find my mother once more at my side, her eyes troubled as she rocks me in her arms. I sob as I tell her that he was here, that he spoke to me. She tells me she believes me and I do not doubt her words. My mother waves away the nurses and gently tucks the blankets around me. As I drift off to sleep I say the words, the three words I never spoke to him and somehow I know he hears me.

"I love you."

The End.