#there seems to be no such thing as an entirely fluffy xf piece

[jintaka-hane]

Sit Down

Masterlist

Summary: Ben Beckman carries too much on his shoulders. The situation on board is a mess, and the weight of the stress is making it harder for him to sleep at night. As your first mate and friend, it pains you to see him so exhausted. So, when things become unbearable, you offer a drastic solution—something he’ll hesitantly end up accepting. Word count: 4900 Notes: MDNI, + 18, NSFW, xf!reader, smut, oral (Beck receiving), fingering (f!reader receiving), friends to lovers, let me take care of you thing, fluffy end, needy Beck, a lot of pet names used (darlin', doll, princess, pretty) Self indulgent? This? Nah Warning: All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

Clink-Crassssh!! 

The coffee pot shattered against the wooden floor, sending shards of glass and splashes of coffee flying across the mess hall.

You jolted at the noise, nearly losing your balance on the stool, and after exchanging puzzled glances with Roux and Hongo, you turned your heads to find the source of the crash.

Before you stood the sad figure of Benn Beckman crouched on the floor, muttering curses as his trembling hands hurried to clean up the mess. His hair was more disheveled than usual, his lips pressed into a tight line beneath an untrimmed beard, and his usually bright eyes seemed dull, framed by deep, dark shadows.

He looked so exhausted, it was painful to see.

"Beck?" You immediately set your drink down and stood up from your seat, rushing to help him.

“Ain’t gotta, darlin'...” he said in a rough, worn-out voice. "I got this."

With a frown, you ignored what he said and grabbed a clean rag, kneeling beside him and soaking it in the spilled coffee. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched his fingers clumsily gather pieces of the shattered pot, his movements so slow and unsteady that you worried he might hurt himself. You tried to push the glass shards away from his hands, but when he stubbornly kept picking them up, you placed your hand over his.

"Beck. Stop. I’ll handle it..." 

"No," the bulky man muttered, giving a small tug to free his hand in such a rushed and clumsy way that it struck the edge of a sharp shard, causing him to wince as his skin split open with a jagged cut.

"Beck!" You grabbed his wrist firmly. "Would you just stop?!"

Beckman sighed heavily and, for once, complied. As blood began to bead along the cut, Hongo rushed to assist him, crouching down to help you lift him to his feet.

“It’s not bad,” the doctor said, focusing on the wound and pressing gently around the edges to ensure no glass remained. “Just needs cleaning and a bandage.”

"I got it," you said immediately.

Hongo raised an eyebrow at your quick response and ran a hand over his shaved neck to asses the situation.

For once, someone from the crew was offering to help, and he wouldn’t be the one to refuse. He gave you a short nod, and that gesture was all you needed to grab the big, wall-of-a-man first mate by the arm, and practically drag him out of the mess hall, marching down the corridor as he grumbled the whole way.

“Darlin’, I’ve got plenty of things to do…”

You grunted. Of course he had things to do. He always had things to do. And that was exactly the problem.

"... and if you're taking me to bed," he continued stubbornly, "it's not gonna work..."

You huffed and without replying, kept striding down the corridor, your fingers digging into his forearm like claws.

We'll see about that …

**********

You weren't exactly having the best time on the Red Force.

The captain was confined to his cabin, bedridden and unable to make decisions. He had caught something nasty on the last island and was under strict orders to rest, spending his days grumbling and complaining like the terrible patient he was.

Roux and Hongo weren’t faring much better. With food and medical supplies running dangerously low, the cook was growing increasingly dramatic, threatening to serve boiled underwear soup, while the doctor prowled the ship’s corners, muttering to everyone that he’d soon be operating without anesthesia.

The ship herself was in no condition to help. The sails were in desperate need of patching, the masts needed reinforcement, and the cannons kept jamming at the worst moments. And to make matters worse, you were trapped in a dead calm. With the ship completely immobilized in the open sea, resupplying or seeking help was impossible, and the weather forecast offered no hope of change anytime soon.

Everything was a mess and completely out of control. And naturally, all the responsibility, worry, and pressure landed squarely on the shoulders of the ever-capable and vigilant co-captain. But the weight of it all was beginning to take its toll.

His body rebelled, depriving him of the restorative sleep he so desperately needed. And with each passing night, the insomnia only worsened, making the once steadfast first mate slowly turn into a tired, miserable shadow of his former self.

**********

"Go in," you said, opening the door to Beckman’s cabin and giving the sturdy man a gentle nudge on his back.

The moment you stepped inside, a sharp smell of tobacco assaulted your nose, and your eyes darted around the room, quickly taking in its disheveled, sorry state.

The bed was unmade, with rumpled sheets and clothes scattered across the mattress. In front of a worn, cushioned armchair, his desk looked disheveled, cluttered with a mountain of papers, maps and an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. On the nightstand, a half-empty glass of whiskey sat next to a small box of sleeping pills.

A sigh slipped from your lips. You’d always heard that a person’s cabin was a window into their mind, and the sight before you was more revealing than any words could be.

Your attention shifted back to Beckman, who stood frozen in the center of the room, his injured hand raised and curled into a fist.

"Sit down," you commanded, stepping closer and looking up at him, your voice steady as you motioned toward the armchair. 

Beckman opened his mouth to protest, but before he could articulate a word you placed your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back and guiding him toward the chair.

"Sit down," you repeated in the most authoritative tone you could muster. 

Becks chuckled but complied, sinking into the cushioned armchair with his full weight. 

“Bandages and antiseptic?” You crouched down to meet his eye level, a finger raised in a questioning gesture.

“Top drawer,” he grumbled.

Without another word, you turned to the nightstand and rummaged through the drawer. Your fingers brushed past rolling papers, lighters, and razor blades before finally finding alcohol and some bandages. Supplies in hand, you perched sideways on the armrest of his chair, extending your hand to take his.

The bulky man allowed you to tend to his wound, remaining silent as you carefully cleaned the bleeding cut, his drowsy eyes following every move of your delicate fingers. He couldn’t help but notice how small and soft your hands looked against the roughness of his calloused skin.

"Beck..." your voice came out like a sigh. "You can't keep going like this. You need to sleep." 

His fingers didn’t flinch as you applied the alcohol to disinfect the wound. 

"I know, darlin’," he said quietly, his gaze now fixed on your face as your brows furrowed in concentration while you cut the bandage. "And I’m tryin’, but—"

"It’s too much stress and weight on your shoulders, I know..." You carefully wrapped the bandage around his hand, tracing small circles in the air.

You liked that grumpy, big-hearted first mate more than you were willing to admit. He was your friend, your confidant, your favorite person on the crew. You wanted to help him. And after all the traditional remedies your crewmates had tried had failed miserably, your mind had begun drifting toward more... drastic options.

Benn Beckman was a reserved man. But despite his discretion, you knew he had his needs. Whenever you reached port, you knew he sought comfort in the arms of willing, affectionate women, eager to spend a few hours in his company. You’d seen him share drinks with them, whispering who-knows-what in their ears while they sat on his lap, hands sensually tracing the lines of his chest in some secluded corner of the tavern. 

And every time you saw him the next morning, a cigarette between his lips, that casual smile of his, and a trail of bruises on his neck disappearing into his shirt, something twisted in your gut.

Something you couldn’t quite define.

Maybe it was curiosity… curiosity about what he did with them all night, tangled in the sheets of an inn bed.

But it had been weeks since you’d seen the first mate blow off any steam. With no wind to fill the sails, the ship had no chance of docking at any nearby port, leaving everyone deprived of the opportunity to unwind and relax with some good company on the shore.

So one idea had started to form in your mind.

At first, you had dismissed it, thinking it was crazy and inappropriate. But as you watched Beckman worsen day by day, you reconsidered, concluding that it might be exactly what he needed to forget for a moment the weight of his responsibilities and, hopefully, get the rest he so desperately needed.

The only problem? Suggesting the idea felt harder than carrying out the remedy itself.

“You’re lost in thought…” His rough voice pulled you back, his hand gently holding yours after you finished tying off the bandage. His thumb moved in slow circles over your wrist as he looked at you with gratitude.

You cleared your throat and stood up, pulling your hand away from his to return the first-aid kit to the nightstand drawer. His gaze weighed on your back, and just before closing the drawer, you clenched your eyes shut, taking a deep breath before deciding to take the plunge.

“I think I can help you,” you said.

A low chuckle sounded behind you, laced with disbelief rather than malice.

"Darlin’," he said, rubbing his eyes, "Hongo's tried everything. He even gave me pills to—"

“I can give you something Hongo hasn’t,” you cut him off, your voice coming out more confident than you’d imagined it would when you’d rehearsed the words in your head. When you turned to face him, though, you felt your heart pounding in your chest.

“And what’s that?” He stopped massaging his eyes, revealing his tired gaze again as he looked at you.

“My mouth.” 

The two words hung in the air, finally freed after days of being locked in your mind.

Beckman stayed silent, his gray eyes locked with yours. With your heart in your throat, you approached the armchair and placed a hand on each armrest, leaning your torso toward the wordless man. He lifted his chin to look at you, and you tried to remain stoic and unwavering, holding his gaze as his eyes flickered between yours, studying your features as if he were trying to see beyond your skin.

"Doll," he finally said, his voice deep and soft. "If you're implying what I think..."

"I am." 

His lips twitched into a wry grin.

"Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not." Your fingers unconsciously dug into the fabric of the armrest.

His smile faded, and this time, his gaze held an animal-like intensity. Frowning, and with his lips pressed tightly together, he seemed to be trying to control an internal battle raging inside him.

"No," he finally said, his chin still lifted so he could look you straight in the eye.

His refusal struck you like a bucket of cold water, though, in some way, you knew that’s exactly what he would say. He always treated you with a respect and care befitting a goddess, and making you lower yourself to the dirt in such a worldly way would probably be unthinkable for him.

“Becks,” you sighed softly, removing one of your hands from the armrest to trail it up to his stubbled chin. “You’re barely on your feet. We’re all worried about you…”

Beckman closed his eyes at the feel of your touch, his chin leaning into your hand as he allowed himself a moment of rest.

“I can help you if you let me…” you continued, “We’re adults, it’d be an agreement between the two of us… an agreement between… friends.”

His jaw tensed in your hand.

“As flattered as I am that someone like you would be offerin’ somethin’ like that to a guy like me," he said, "my answer’s still no."

This time his refusal genuinely hurted you. You pulled your hand away, and his tired eyes opened again, disoriented without your touch.

"Your stubbornness is reckless," you tried to sound composed, but the pain in your voice betrayed you. "You can't work like this. A-a crew without a first mate at his best is a crew in danger. We all need you, Beck... I-I..." Your lips trembled nervously as you spoke, "I need you."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you bit your lip. The last thing you wanted was to add even more weight to the already burdened first mate, and that was exactly what you'd just done.

Embarrassed, you straightened up and began to turn away to leave, but he stopped you, grabbing your wrist firmly and pulling you back toward him, spreading his legs to make space for your body to move closer to his.

"Girl," he said in a rough voice, locking his eyes with yours in a way that sent a spark flickering in the pit of your stomach. He frowned, and for a moment, you thought he was going to scold you. But his expression quickly softened. "You can back out anytime. Got it?"

You nodded, and before you realized it, his hands were around your waist, lifting your shirt and exposing the skin of your abdomen. He pressed his nose playfully against your navel, and his fingers traced the waistband of your pants.

“Becks,” you giggled as the ticklish sensation sent goosebumps racing across your body. “What are you doing?”

“I never let my partner pleasure me without takin’ care of her first,” he said, his voice muffled as he buried his face further into your belly.

Oh. 

Of course.

Benn Beckman, competent first mate and finest gentleman.

Smiling, you placed your hands on his cheeks, guiding his gaze back to yours. As tempting as the situation was, you weren’t going to let him take this turn. You were here to help him, not the other way around.

"Becks, stop... you don’t have to. I’m not asking for anything in return, understand?"

He looked at you, his hands still resting on your waist. From the expression on his face, you could tell he wasn’t convinced.

"Besides," you added, trying to find something that would make him relent, "if that ever happens, I deserve it to be with all your strength. Not like the tired wreck you are right now."

A raspy laugh rumbled in his chest, and you smiled. How you loved that rough, husky laugh.

"Alright, Darlin’," he said, still chuckling.

Your smile lingered as you slowly lowered yourself to kneel between his legs, never breaking eye contact with him. Before your knees could touch the floor, he leaned over to the bed, snatching up his pillow and placing it on the floor beneath you.

"Here," he said, "don’t go hurtin’ those pretty knees of yours."

Why was he always like this? You thought as you made yourself comfortable on the pillow, placing your hands gently on his thighs for support. "Thank you".

Your eyes lingered on the prominent bulge at his crotch, and without thinking, you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue. Beckman’s jaw tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a rare display of vulnerability for a man with his reputation.

“Hey, big guy,” you gave his thigh a comforting squeeze, "it’s just me. Relax, okay? Just let yourself go…”

The tent in his pants seemed to complain within its prison, and you didn’t want to make him wait any longer. Slidding your hands down his knees, you spread his legs just enough to create space for your head.

"Who’s undoing the belt?" you asked tilting your head and looking up at him from beneath your long doe-eyed lashes.  

"You." His tone struck you as the same one he used when handing out tasks on deck.

Your hands gripped the buckle of his belt and unfastened it, your fingers decisively pulling aside the layers of fabric that stood between you, lowering the waistband of his pants and finally freeing his painfully swollen cock.

Benn Beckman was a big man. And his dick matched him well. With a large, pinkish-red head and a prominent vein running up and down a thick shaft. Your mouth watered at the sight, lips parted as you took a moment to prepare yourself.

"Darlin’,” Beckman said, taking the moment of silence as doubt on your part, “you can back out if—Hah~" 

His words dissolved into a sharp gasp as you captured his swollen, mushroomed knob between your eager lips.

His taste was salty and strong in your mouth.

You, on the other hand, felt incredibly sweet on his cock.

Opening your mouth as wide as your jaw would allow, you slowly took him in, giving yourself a moment to breathe and adjust to him. You swallowed gradually more of his cock, eyes closed in concentration, hands anchored on his base for support, until you managed about two-thirds of his length.

He held his breath above you. His abdomen tightened with restraint when you looked up at him, your tongue pressing against the pulsing vein on his shaft, feeling the wild rush of blood running through it. Then his hand cupped your cheek, his lips curling into a smile as he traced with his thumb his own bulge inside you.

With your cheeks flushed by that smile, you began applying more pressure with your lips, rising back up to his large head, giving it a quick lick before taking him all the way down again. 

"That's it... “ he sighed. 

His hand slid to the nape of your neck, his fingers brushing your hair aside with care before settling there. You continued bobbing your head against his cock, making him groan with your upward and downward movements, trying to take as much of him as you could.

“Yeah, nice and slow princess…, just like that," he whispered, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles against your skin.

Encouraged by his sweet gesture, you decided to use your hands as well. One moved carefully up and down his hard cock, while the other dared to venture deeper into his pants. His balls felt heavy and tight between your fingers. The balls of a man who hadn’t known a partner' s warmth in a long time.

"So, so good, princess," the bulky man praised breathlessly, his eyes full of devotion as he watched your head bob sweetly between his legs.

His length twitched inside your mouth and you tasted a salty drop of precum as you ran your tongue through his slit. You smiled proudly on his cock, continuing to suck and bob, feeling sparks ignite between your thighs as your own arousal began to smolder in your core.

“Look at you... hah… so perfect… and takin’ me so damn well,” he groaned, his voice a little deeper and raspier than usual. 

His sweet praises, coupled with the slow, sensual glide of his fingers along the nape of your neck, sent a sharp jolt of desire coursing through you. Your mouth continued working up and down his shaft, increasing the pressure and speed as you felt the weight of his darkened, dilated pupils staring at you.

“Princess, open your shirt for me," he uttered with an unsteady breath.

Arching your brow, you looked at him, holding his gaze with an alluring intensity as you slowly obeyed. Your fingers fumbled with your buttons as you undid them slowly, one by one. As soon as you finished, he tugged your shirt down, baring one of your shoulders.

“So goddamn beautiful…” he whispered, the back of his fingers grazing your soft, vulnerable skin, tracing an invisible line from your collarbone to the curve of your cleavage.

His touch sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you frowned, fighting to control the raw, insistent desire building between your thighs. You continued to sweetly embrace his cock with your swollen lips, sucking him hard up and down, focused on how with each movement, his breaths grew more and more uneven.

"Ah~”  he tilted his head back, his fingers pressing more tightly into the back of your neck, drawing your head closer to his crotch. "Let's go deeper, a'right, Doll? Show me what that pretty throat can do…"

You nodded obediently, exhaling through your nose as you took his cock further, slowly swallowing his entire length inch by inch. 

“That’s it, such a good girl…” He praised you as his hands gently grabbed your head to guide you deeper into him.

His sweet words pushed you to swallow more than your throat could handle, and when his blunt head hit the back of your mouth, you couldn’t stop yourself from choking. 

"Hey, n-no," He huskily chastised you, giving you a little tap on the nose. Though he couldn’t stop himself from closing his eyes and rolling them back. "No gagging, okay? Good girls don’t gag”.

You nodded again, knitting your brows together in concentration, and let him guide you to take the rest of his cock.

“That’s it… breathe and relax for me, okay?”

You had to squeeze your eyes shut as the large tip pressed against your uvula, but once you managed the last few inches, you smiled proudly on his cock.

“That’s my good girl,” he cooed at you, letting out a heavy sigh, unable to avoid twitching over your tongue. “I knew you could take all of me…”

You continued moving your head, up and down, then down and up, always watching his reactions and listening to his breath to match the right pace. His throbs inside you became more frequent and desperate, and you began to fantasize about how his massive cock would stretch you to your limit. 

The thought did little to ease the growing, unbearable thirst inside you. The damp fabric of your underwear clung uncomfortably to your swollen folds, and you pressed your thighs together, seeking any form of relief.

Burning with desire, you increased the pace. Obscene sucking sounds filled the air as you worked your way up to his thick tip, repeating the process over and over again, making him grunt and curse above you in his frantic fight not to cum.

“G-good j-…  -ahh such a pretty good girl…” he had to shut his eyes and scrunch his brow to handle all the pleasure flooding him. “I’m so close, princess... gonna keep bein’ a good girl for me and not let me make a mess on the floor?" 

You don’t remember giving him an answer, but you do remember how your swollen pussy throbbed between your legs at his question.

You desperately wanted to touch you.

You desperately wanted him to touch you. 

And your prayers were answered.

As you whimpered in frustration, you felt Beckman's large hand slip into your pants and slide under your underwear.

“Shh, I got you…,” he soothed in that deep voice of his, his expert fingers parting your labia and pulling up the hood of your clit, circling your perfect spot with astonishing ease. “Go on, princess.” 

Gripping his hand you grounded your pelvis against it, desperately begging him to keep on those sweet circles that were taking you so quickly to the edge. He indulged, and in less than 30 seconds, he had you whimpering and mewling against his cock, eyes rolling and toes curling as you shoved his thick fingers into your clenching pussy.

Your pace bobbing your head decreased during your high, but the force increased. You hollowed your cheeks, raking him down with your mouth with so much fervor, that you had not yet come down from the crest of your orgasm when you felt his hands roughly grab your hair in firm handfuls, his cock throbbing against your palate and filling the bottom of your throat with his thick, salty load. 

“Fuck, princess, sweetheart, -ngah!, you’re too good, too much -so goddamn perfect,” Beckman moaned out a stream of mindless praises while he shoved his cock deeper into your mouth, emptying himself so hard and so deep in your throat that you gagged on his knob again. Tears began to well up in the corners of your eyes, but you continued bobbing your head against him, feeling his hand rest on your throat as if he wanted to feel your windpipe shift with each swallow of his overwhelming stream of cum.

Panting, and sweating, with your hair tousled and your cheeks flushed, you felt the last of his spend spill into your mouth. You pulled away from him, lifting your eyes and finding him as breathless and damp as you.

He smiled, and his hand ran through his hair in an attempt to regain his composure. But as he leaned toward you and his fingers grazed your cheek, his smile disappeared.

"Oh, Darlin’... No..." His voice cracked, his eyes following the tears as they slipped down your cheeks. “Forgive me... I’ve made you cry.”

His large hands wrapped around your waist, lifting you effortlessly and settling you onto his lap.

“Damn, I’m such a fucking brute…” he said, drawing you close against his chest.

“It’s alright, Beck,” you whispered as you pulled your face away, but his hand drew you closer once more.

His lips brushed softly against your cheeks, catching each tear with tender, almost apologetic kisses. You let out a soft laugh, turning your head slowly to allow him more access, and in doing so, your noses brushed together. Your eyes fluttered shut, and in that brief, unspoken moment, his lips found yours.

The kiss was slow, softer than you’d ever expected from that grumbling, broad-shouldered first mate. He had the calm and patience of someone who had waited for this moment for a long time, savoring every second as if your lips were a long-lost treasure. Sighing into the kiss, you allowing yourself to be carried away by the sweet, unhurried motion of his chin.

When you pulled back, your fingers brushed lightly against his cheek before your gaze met his deep gray eyes once again. They held something intense, familiar yet impossible to name.

A look he reserved only for you.

A look that was now hungrier than ever, as if he were staring at something that had always belonged to him.

“And?” you asked, straightening your back and raising an eyebrow.

“And?” he mimicked you, a smile grazing his lips as he looked lovingly at you. “Darlin’, you were… you are gorgeous.”

“No,” you giggled, your cheeks flushing as you gave him a light, teasing tap on his chest. “I meant if you can sleep now.”

“Ah, right… okay,” he frowned and cleared his throat. “The truth is… yeah, I think I can sleep now.”

With a genuine smile, you nodded and gave him another light tap on his chest. As you moved to stand, his large hands tightened around your thighs, pulling you firmly back into his embrace.

“Stay with me…” he whispered, his forehead coming to rest softly against yours.

“I can’t, Beck. I’ve got work to do,” you lovingly brushed your fingers along his stubbled chin.

“No, you don’t…”

“Yes, I do,” you teased, crossing your arms playfuly over your chest. “And if I don’t, my first mate is gonna punish me.”

He lifted his forehead from yours.

"Oh, I see. That first mate of yours must be really mean."

“The meanest,” you leaned in, your voice low and almost conspiratorial.

He hummed in amusement.

“Is he?” 

"You have no idea."

Clearly enjoying having you so close again, he tilted his chin towards you, grinning as he caught the way your eyes darted to his lips. But when you leaned away out of his reach once more, his smile faded.

"Maybe he's just a man," he said, his voice rough and barely a whisper, "who believes he doesn't deserve what he truly wants."

Your eyes darted between his. “And what is that?”

He cupped your cheek and his thumb traced slowly the line of your jaw.

"Stay with me, and I’ll tell you in the morning."

A smile played at the corner of your mouth as you closed your eyes, sighing before slowly nodding to him.

Before you could even catch your breath, he had you in his arms, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you to the bed.

The clothes scattered across the mattress were brushed aside as he gently laid you down, quickly straightening the wrinkled sheets to make sure you were comfortable. Smiling, he tossed his shirt aside and lay down behind you, drawing a giggle from you when the weight of his body made you roll toward him. His bandaged hand came to rest on your thigh, while the other slid beneath your body, wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer.

"Besides..." you heard him whisper, his nose nudging the curve of your neck, "I gotta show you what this tired wreck can do after a few hours of sleep..."

Those were the last words he spoke before letting out a long, deep sigh, his body relaxing behind you as his steady breathing signaled he had finally drifted off.

Beckman slept soundly that night, his heartbeat calm and his brow relaxed, at last enjoying his well-deserved, soothing rest. You, however, couldn’t manage a single blink and endured what felt like the longest night of your life.

.......................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

[snickerl]

Mom’s The Best

A collection of XF ficlets

I started this collection of stand-alone ficlets featuring Margaret Scully because she’s always been one of my favorite characters and a season 11 without her seems too much to take.

This installment is the answer to the prompt of a friend who’s not even on Tumblr. My thanks also go out to @how-i-met-your-mulder and @cinderella819  for helping me out with some narrative details. 

This is the first time ever I took a prompt and I enjoyed the challenge, so feel free to send me story ideas.

So far, the collection contains the following ficlets:

PEPPERMINT TEA APPLE PIE

ROOT BEER

"You can't be serious, mom. You're taking me shopping for baby clothes?" Scully asked from her place in the passenger seat of her mother's old, beat-up Nissan. "You said you would take me on a fun trip."

"This will be fun! You and me and all these cute little baby things. Besides, you're more than eight months along, Dana. What did you plan to dress my grandchild in after he or she was born? A receiving blanket? The nursery is still an empty room. I told Fox to drive to my house while we are away and get the Scully family crib, so the kid has something to sleep in at least. But you also need clothes, a baby tub, diapers, formula and-"

"I'm going to nurse him, mom, I won't need formula, at least not for the first weeks," Scully said before she realized that she disclosed information with it she would have rather kept a secret until the baby was born.

"Him?"

Scully sighed. "Yes, mom, I'm having a boy, but don't tell anyone, especially not Mulder. He's been trying to pry the gender out of me and thinks he's being very clever in his subtle efforts when a matter-of-fact he isn't."

"Oh, that's wonderful, Dana!" Maggie shrieked joyfully. "I've always pictured you as a boy's mother. You were such a tomboy yourself."

Margaret Scully had picked her daughter up half an hour ago. Her grandchild was due in a little more than three weeks and Dana hadn't even agreed on a baby shower yet. She was on maternity leave, had all time in the world to build a nest for her baby, but all she had done so far was attending two Lamaze classes; one all by herself and one together with Fox. Plus, this whole I'm-not-speaking-about-who-the-father-is thing was very disturbing for Maggie. In a way, she understood Dana's voicelessness. At the beginning of her pregnancy, Fox - He was the father, of that Maggie was sure. Who else? - had been missing and had later been presumed dead. Dana had tried to cope with the sad truth that her child would have to grow up without a father, so she had refused to even talk about him. But now that Fox had returned, the entire circumstances of his miraculous resurrection still incomprehensible to Maggie, why would Dana still not name him as the father? Not to mention the fact that some kind of gray veil seemed to be draped over this last stage of her pregnancy which had made her even neglect shopping for baby clothes. So Maggie had decided to take her out for a fun mother-and-daughter afternoon they would spend in several baby shops. Later on, she'd treat her some ice cream, chocolate cake, hot dog, greasy pizza or whatever food she was currently craving.

"First stop. Dawn's Baby Boutique." Maggie pulled over into a parking lane, unbuckled and got off the car. She walked around it to the passenger side to help Scully who was struggling to heft her massive body out of the vehicle.

"How is it that you know baby boutiques, mom?"

"I asked Grace's daughter, Amber. She had her twins half a year ago and she knows all the good stores."

Maggie grabbed Scully's sleeve and tugged her along into the boutique. They heard a chime when they stepped inside. A very attentive shop assistant instantly showed up at their side.

"Welcome to Dawn's Baby Boutique. Just because you're little, doesn't mean you have to dress out of style. My name is Francine, how can I help you?"

Scully rolled her eyes but Maggie was delighted. "It's our first baby," she told the over-zealous salesperson, "we'd really appreciate your help." Her daughter moaned.

"Are we having a girl or a boy?" Francine cooed.

"I...am having a boy," Scully noted somewhat annoyed. She hated being addressed like a five-year-old at the dentist. "And I think we'll be fine, Francine, just show us the boys section, please."

"What kind of style are you looking for?"

"Uh, I beg your pardon? Onesies, bodysuits, pajamas...something like this?"

"No, I meant which of our current collections are you interested in? The pastel collection? The black-and-white collection? Are you looking for casual outfits or something more prestigious for an official occasion?"

"Official occasion? Look, I just need some newborn essentials, okay? Nothing fancy or stylish."

"I see. Well, then here's our 30% off clearance of last year's collection."

Scully grabbed an item randomly off the table Francine was pointing at with some repulsion in her gesture as if she was leading them to the poison chest and held it in the air. "A simple white bodysuit for 29.95?"

"It's a well known French brand," Francine spoke as if to a complete ignorant. "It's 90% organic cotton and 10% merino wool. You have to wash this by hand."

Scully chuckled. "By hand? A baby bodysuit? Well, my child does not need exclusive, stylish clothes. I want something convenient, comfortable and affordable. No frills."

Francine slammed her eyes shut at the word 'frills' and sighed dramatically. "Well, then I'm afraid our boutique is not the right place for you, Ma'am. Our clientele usually consists of people with a sense for fashion," she said with her nose up in the air.

"You know what, Francine? I have the same feeling. Come on, let's go, mom." Scully grabbed her mother's arm and towed her out of the store.

Maggie hadn't said a single word, she had simply listened to the exchange between her daughter and the shop assistant, her mouth open and her eyes wide. "I didn't know you had to be a graduate in fashion design to be able to buy baby clothes," she said when they were out on the street again.

"You don't, mom. Let's find a department store with a baby section. I'm sure they have all we need there." Scully linked arms with her mother and waddled next to her. "She was funny, though." She tried to imitate Francine's slightly nasal, snobbish tone of voice, "our clientele usually has a sense for fashion, Ma'am." Both women looked at each other and burst out in laughter.

Maggie was very pleased. Despite this first abortive attempt of layette shopping, she had already reached the main goal of the afternoon and that was to make Dana forget her worries for a while and enjoy herself. They had been walking for quite a while through the streets in their search for a department store, mainly because Scully hadn't exactly swift feet these days when she abruptly came to a halt and moaned.

"What's the matter, honey," Maggie asked, worry threaded in her voice, "something wrong?"

"No," Scully answered, rubbing her belly, "the baby...it's practicing gymnastics. Ouff!"

"You mean he."

"Yes, he." A huge ear-to-ear smile developed on Scully's face. "I think I'm too used to keeping the gender neutral. It's nice to call him he. Ouch! One more somersault. Hey, junior," she addressed the person in her belly, stroking her protruding abdomen tenderly, "have mercy on your mother. In a bit of time, you'll have so much room to kick around, but not now, please. Grandma and I are going to buy some stuff for you."

Maggie wasn't ashamed of the tears that were brimming up in her eyes. When her daughter had told her after her cancer treatment that she wouldn't be able to have children, she had been heartbroken. Everyone thought that Dana was a career woman, that fighting her way up the ladder in a male-dominated environment had made her tough, stony, and centered on her professional success, but that had never been true. Maggie knew that she was caring and compassionate and had so much love to give, to a man as well as to a child. Being a mother herself, and having found so much joy in this role, she had been awfully sorry for Dana, especially when she had noticed how much she herself mourned the children she would never have, although she had tried to hide it. Of course, she had, like she always hid her innermost turmoil, even from her mother, but today she was showing how much she enjoyed her pregnancy and how much she anticipated her child being born. It hadn't been like this for most of her pregnancy and it filled Maggie's heart with so much joy and hope that she felt like jumping up and down like a little girl. "May I?" she asked holding her hand in front of Scully's abdomen.

"Sure, mom," Scully said and placed her mother's hand at the spot where her son's feet pushed against her belly from the inside. "Thanks for asking though, you won't believe how many people think they can touch a pregnant woman just because they feel like it."

"Yes, I remember. Grandma Scully used to do that, and Aunt Mary, too. It felt like they were sizing me up every time they saw me. I hated it but didn't dare to say a word."

"Oh, I did, believe me. The people who touched me will never touch a pregnant woman again without asking for permission first!"

Maggie laughed. She believed every word Dana said. Her daughter could be very intimidating despite her frail appearance. She'd always admired her for her ability to compel respect and make herself heard. She felt the baby move under the palms of her hands, him. Even after four children and two grandchildren procreation still was a miracle to Maggie, God's work. She stroked Dana's belly with awe through the fabric of her blouse, which was stretched tightly now that the pregnancy was coming to its end. "Is he always this active?"

"Not so much lately. I guess it gets a little tight in there," Scully said with a wry smile, her hands on her lower back.

Maggie pulled her hands back and searched her daughter's face for signs of exhaustion. "Do you need a rest? Shall we go for a drink somewhere?"

"I'm fine, mom. Let's do the shopping first and grab something to eat and drink afterward. I'm craving some cheesecake and a root beer."

With this, Scully linked arms with her mother again and they resumed walking down the street side by side.

"I more or less lived on root beer when I was pregnant with you, Dana," Maggie reminisced. "I sent your father to a 24/7 gas station at night once because I needed a root beer so badly that I couldn't go back to sleep without having one. He was so annoyed, he said you would be our last one. Well..." She chuckled. Charlie, their youngest child, had been born only two years later, and then it had been herself who had shot the bolt after number four because strictly speaking, she had been raising their kids more or less alone with Ahab being absent most of the time. Being a Navy wife hadn't always been easy. She sincerely hoped for Dana to have the baby's father around more to shoulder some of the burdens.

And here she was again contemplating Fox's role. Why was Dana so reluctant to name him as the father? And why was he so aloof? It could only be him, couldn't it? Maggie hoped to get a chance to talk to Dana about it. Later, when the shopping would be done.

"I wished I could have more than one," Dana pulled her out of her reverie. "I loved growing up with three siblings. I imagine life as an only child can be boring sometimes."

"Who says you won't have another one?"

"This pregnancy is a miracle, mom, and miracles don't happen twice."

"We'll see," Maggie said in a voice heavy with meaning and a warm smile. "Look there's Bloomingdales. Shall we have a look in there?"

Three hours later, mother and daughter were sitting in a café downtown, recovering from their extensive shopping, several huge shopping bags scattered at their feet. They had ordered cheesecake and tea, although Scully craved for a strong espresso the doctor had forbidden. Maggie watched with delight how she savored the cake, moaning slightly and licking her lips every time she put a piece into her mouth.

"Mmmm, this is so good. Would you share another one with me, mom?"

"No, honey, I'm full, but you can have one more." Maggie waved for the waitress.

"I can't possibly eat two pieces of cake, I'm already so fat," Scully whined.

"You're not fat, Dana, you're pregnant, and pregnant women are allowed to let themselves get carried away sometimes. Anyway, you'll lose all the weight you've gained once you start nursing, you'll see. So relax and enjoy." She looked at the waitress who had joined them at the table. "We'll have another piece of cheesecake, please, and two root beer floats." When her daughter looked at her questioningly, her left eyebrow hitting her hairline, she said matter-of-factly, "we deserve a bit of indulgence, don't you think?"

Scully furrowed her brows. "I think I've never seen you drink a root beer, mom."

"I guess I had an overdose during my pregnancy with you, I couldn't stand it anymore once you were born. It made me sick, actually. But today, I feel like having one."

"I'll be in a sugar coma once I get home."

"So what?" Maggie asked her and was rewarded with a beautiful smile. "Yeah, so what," Scully silently agreed.

When the supplementary serving of cheesecake arrived along with two outrageously delicious looking root beer floats, the Scully women resumed their pleasurable chat about everything and anything but after a while, Maggie couldn't keep her curiosity in check any longer.

"Forgive my asking you this, Dana, but it's a question that's been keeping me occupied for quite a while now." Maggie looked at her, hesitated a moment, then got if off her chest. "Fox and you...uhm...will you be getting married? It would make sense now that the baby is coming any time soon, wouldn't it?"

Dana's eyes widened. She swallowed. It was clearly something she wasn't comfortable talking about. "Uhm, that's a rather personal question," she mumbled.

"I know, but I'm your mother, Dana, and I'm worried about you."

"There's no need to worry."

"Really?"

"Really."

Maggie was not convinced. "To be honest, the two of you don't appear like a happy couple waiting impatiently for their baby to be born."

"That's maybe because we aren't," Dana said, her features so frozen it made a shiver travel down Maggie's spine.

"You aren't happy?"

"A couple. Happy...Uh, I don't know, mom, it's complicated."

"But he is the father." Maggie chose to phrase it as a statement, putting it as a question entailed too many complications, and besides, it seemed impossible that Dana had been together with someone else but...the mere thought of it was... Maggie shook her head.

"Yes, he is the father, but he's still struggling with his future role. What was dad like when you were pregnant with Bill?"

Maggie smiled at the reminiscences of her late husband. "He would've never admitted it but he was scared to death. I remember how he secretly read those books about how to care for a newborn, believing I didn't notice. It's not easy for men, Dana. We, as women, can bond with the being growing inside us much easier that men. We carry the child in our bellies for nine months, we feel our bodies change in their natural ability to nurture. For them, the whole thing is so abstract and incomprehensible. All they can do is witness their wives change, secretly fearing what motherhood would do to them, whether they will live on mainly being mothers to their child and not so much their lovers anymore. Men struggle with jealousy just as firstborns who are awaiting the arrival of a sibling. But when the baby has eventually been born, when they are able to hold it, the fears and doubts evaporate into thin air. I remember your father's wrinkled forehead when they wheeled me into the delivery room just as much as his blissful face when he was holding Bill for the first time. It happened to your father, and you'll see, honey, the same will happen to Fox."

Her story had touched Dana, Maggie could read it on her face. She had always been daddy's girl and the one who had suffered from Ahab's unexpected passing the most beside herself. Pulling her further down sweet memory lane couldn't harm. "He was thrilled when you were born, Dana. He'd so hoped for another girl."

"Really? I thought men rather hoped for a son and heir."

"He already had his son," Maggie said with a smile. "And he already had a daughter he adored. I don't know what it was between you, but the moment he saw you after you'd been cleaned up by the nurse, he was enchanted. And no matter what you did, the spell had never been broken."

Dana threw her a bittersweet smile, bitter for the hole her father had left behind in her life, and sweet for how close she had been to him. "I wonder how Mulder reacts," she said more to herself than to Maggie.

"Will he be at your side in the delivery room? I wished I had Ahab with me, but men weren't allowed back then."

"I don't know. We haven't talked about it yet. We haven't talked about so many things."

"Why?"

"Because it's so difficult, mom. It's really complicated between us."

"In what sense?"

Dana bit her lower lip, sucked it in and chewed on it. She was fighting with herself whether or not she should tell her. Maggie, on her part, didn't know what to make of her hesitance. All she wanted Dana to do was unburden her heart, so she implored, "Dana?"

"There's something I never told you, mom." She sipped nervously at her root beer float and licked the froth off her lips. "Do you remember when I told you that when Mulder had been searching for a cure for my cancer he also found a vial with ova that had been harvested from me during my abduction?"

"Sure, dear." Maggie remembered every word. What Dana had told her the Christmas she had found out that Emily Sim was her biological daughter had sounded so surreal and had been so incomprehensible that it had taken Maggie several days before she had been able to believe it. Until then, she had always assumed that the chemo and radiation had been the cause for Dana's barrenness.

"What I didn't tell you was that Mulder not only found the ova but had it stored in a reproduction facility. I asked my doctor to check it and he told me the eggs were viable and that he could get me pregnant with them if I had a sperm donor. I...uhm, I asked Mulder. And he agreed."

Maggie nodded. Of course. Fox. Who else?

"It was the most wonderful thing a friend has ever done for me," Dana hiccuped and smiled for a brief moment. "I was so grateful. But it didn't take it, obviously. When I couldn't afford a second attempt, he insisted on paying for it. He so badly wanted this for me because he felt responsible for my being barren. It didn't work out either as we all know. I thought that this was it, that this had been my last chance to have a child and I was devastated. He told me to never give up on a miracle."

"Your FBI partner not only donated his sperm but also paid for the procedure to get you pregnant? I've never heard of anything like it."

"As I said, things are different between us."

"They definitely are. They are wonderful though, Dana. I mean, he must have cared for you a lot to be doing that."

"I know." Dana clenched her jaws and swallowed.

"Is this pregnancy also a result of an in vitro fertilization?" Maggie asked.

"No. Uh, Mulder and I...we, uhm..." her vis-á-vis cleared her throat now. Maggie held her hand up to silence her daughter and help her out of the uncomfortable situation, signaling her she knew what needed to be done to conceive a child the traditional way, and the awkwardness was gone. Dana continued. "Of course, we never expected this to happen. When he went to Oregon, he left a barren women and he can't understand how he returned to a heavily pregnant one. He doesn't feel any connection to this pregnancy. He calls it the baby or your baby, it's never ours or his. He says he's happy for me, and that the child is lucky to have me as their mother. He sees himself as the sperm donor once again, I'm afraid, and not as the father."

A sad sob escaped Dana's chest which tore Maggie's heart apart. She squeezed her hands tenderly to keep them still after they had been fumbling with the napkin the whole time. "Give him time, Dana. He's still here. If he had wanted to escape from fatherhood, he would've left. I'm sure he wants to reach out to you but simply doesn't know how. He's completely and utterly devoted to you, that much is clear."

"Do you really think so?"

"I'm absolutely sure. Ever since you'd been abducted, I knew about his feelings for you. And I want you to stop worrying, sweetheart. You're going to have a baby soon, and you're going to be a wonderful mother. Everything is going be fine, Fox and you are going be fine. Have you decided on a name yet?"

"Yes, I have, but I want Mulder to be the first person to know. No offence, mom."

"None taken." Maggie lifted Dana's chin with her index finger to make her look at her. "Another root beer?"

Dana shook her head. "No, I think I'm going to burst if I swallow down anything else. Plus, my swollen feet are killing me. I need to put them up on the couch. I'd like to go home."

Maggie nodded and beckoned the waitress over. "Alright, sweetheart. Let me get the check, this is on me."

When Scully opened the door to her apartment half an hour later, she dropped her bags right next to the door and rushed to the bathroom without saying a word. Mulder, who was sitting on the couch reading the sports section of the paper, looked up and then shrugged at Maggie who stepped over the threshold behind her daughter carrying some more bags.

"Full bladder?" he asked.

Maggie chuckled. "Probably one too many root beers."

"Oh, that craving again. There's nothing like Scully in a state of hyperglycemia. She'll be active all night."

"I'm sorry, Fox. We just had so much fun eating cheesecake and drinking root beer."

"That's perfectly alright, Maggie. She deserves to have fun. She's too occupied with worrying these days." One of the reasons for her worrying being you, Maggie thought but didn't speak out loud. But at least he noticed her state of mind and was obviously worried about her too. That was a good sign. "Your shopping trip was a success, so it seems." He points to the bags Scully had dropped and the ones Maggie was still holding in her hands.

"Definitely. If your baby was born tomorrow, there would be everything here you need." She'd deliberately chose to say ‘your baby' just to see how he reacted. And he didn't disappoint.

"That's wonderful for Dana. I'd hate to see her lacking something essential once she's home with the baby."

Maggie had just wanted to ask him where he was planning to be once Dana got home but was kept from doing so by Scully crying out in the hallway. Maggie stared briefly at Mulder, then hurried over to her to check for the cause of it. When she reached her at the door to what was to become the nursery, she found her in tears. "What's the matter, Dana? Are you in pain?" Maggie asked in a high-pitched voice, scrutinizing her daughter from head to toe, but nothing seemed wrong with her. She didn't hold her back, she didn't breathe any pain away or grimaced in agony, apparently, the water hadn't been broken either. All she did was lean against the doorframe and stare into the room.

Scully didn't answer her mother. She kept on staring into the room, her eyes watery. "Mulder," she eventually whispered when he had caught up with them, "you painted the wall and assembled the diaper changing unit."

"And you fetched the crib from my house," Maggie added stepping inside the room. She smelt the fresh paint. The wall where Fox had put up the changing unit had been painted in a bright, sunny yellow. Dana had wanted it yellow as it would be okay for both a boy and a girl. Maggie's hand grazed the old crib gently which was standing in the middle of the room. Bill, Melissa, Dana, and Charlie had all slept in this crib. And soon Fox and Dana's baby boy would be sleeping merrily in it, and they would be gazing inside at the miracle they had created just like Ahab and herself had done so many years ago. She forced her emotions down which threatened to overwhelm her.

"Yeah, I got bored." Fox rescued her from the emotional overload. "So, on my way to your house, I went to the hardware store and bought some paint. Yellow, like you said you wanted, Scully. It's suitable for a nursery and safe for a pregnant woman as well, the shop assistant told me. It's latex-based and even saliva-proof, just in case the offspring wanted to lick the wall. The smell will wear off quickly as long as the room is ventilated sufficiently. I also bought some wall stickers for when the paint has dried. They had a set of stars and planets with a UFO," he paused and let the idea dangle in the air for a moment before he continued with a grin, "but I got the zoo set. It has giraffes and elephants and monkeys and all kinds of wild animals. I thought you might like that one better, Scully. Nothing alien-related in your baby's room, right?"

There it was again, he had said your baby. Maggie's chest constricted but Dana didn't seem to bother. She waddled over to him and put a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, that's so thoughtful of you."

"Uh, you're welcome." He raked through his hair shyly as if he was embarrassed by the innocent kiss. Maggie saw in front of her very eyes what her daughter had told her about the lacking connection between them. "No big deal really," he declared with a shrug, "you were away for hours and I didn't know what to do with myself. So, what did you get?"

"Ooooh, so many things. Bodysuits, onesies, tops and bottoms, socks, PJs, hats, a jacket. We got blankets, swaddles, bibs, a towel and washcloth set." She took a deep breath before she continued listing the items they had shopped. "Diapers, wipes, pacifiers, baby nail scissors, a music box and a nightlight. It was so much fun, Mulder."

Fox smiled at her and Maggie saw his love for her flash up in his eyes for a split second. "That's good, Scully," he then said, "now you don't need to worry about any of these things anymore." He used you again as if he had nothing to do with it, while at the same time he had been painting the nursery with non-toxic, saliva-safe paint. Contradiction, thy name is Fox Mulder, Maggie thought and sighed quietly.

"I also bought something for you, Mulder," her daughter gushed, not hiding her excitement. To Maggie's surprise, she pulled a little paper bag with a ribbon out of one of the huge bags on the floor. She had caught Fox off-guard obviously as he asked somewhat flabbergasted, "for me?"

"Well, not exactly for you to use on yourself," she explained.

Maggie was touched by the boyish joy that took possession of him. She hadn't known that Dana had bought a present for him and was as curious as he was. He loosened the ribbon and peeked inside the bag while her daughter couldn't keep an anticipatory smile off her face. He furrowed his brows, reached inside with one hand and pulled a piece of fabric out which turned out to be a onesie printed with...stars, planets and a UFO at the front.

Dana's smile widened, Fox's eyes widened, and Maggie held her breath.

"What happened to 'I don't want anything alien-related in my baby's room'?" he asked, astonishment written all over his face.

"I know I said that, but when I saw this piece at Bloomingdales I thought you might like it."

Maggie's heart almost burst. Those two were simply amazing. Fox complied to Dana's needs as a matter of course, keeping the nursery free from what such a huge part of his life was just because she didn't want it there. And Dana brought exactly this part into her baby's world because she knew how important it was to him. Two people, throwing off their darkest shadows in order to meet the other's deepest needs. It spoke of their utter devotion and infinite love for one another in a way it brought tears to an old woman's eyes.

Maggie found herself proven right, Fox wanted to be the baby's father not only the sperm donor. He had set up the changing unit, had fetched the Scully family crib from her house, was decorating the nursery in a way Dana liked, those were all signs of his desperate efforts to be there for her and the baby. Why he couldn't speak of the baby being his, she didn't know. It had to be some kind of PTSD he was struggling with after having come back from the dead. Well, who wouldn't be traumatized by an experience like that? She understood, and she knew Dana understood, and that was why she wasn't worried at all that these two wouldn't make it. They would sail this storm, Maggie was convinced. Their love was strong enough.

"This is from Bloomingdales? Haven't you checked out any of the fancy baby boutiques?" Mulder interrupted Maggie's contemplations, who chuckled. Scully put her hands up as if someone told her to freeze and implored, "don't ask!"

Fox looked at the garment in his hands. It was blue, had long sleeves and was printed all over with little phantasy planets and space crafts. There were solar systems and an accumulation of stars apparently representing the milky way. He smiled at the UFO on the front. For someone as accurate as Dana, who always insisted that science left no room for interpretation, it was remarkable that she had gotten such a variation of the scientific truth. Not to mention the fact that she had made more than clear she didn't want to have anything in the nursery that reminded her even remotely of their work: no drapes, no plush toys, no rugs, no bed sheets or blankets, and definitely no clothes that had anything to do with outer space or dark figures or even law enforcement. The Lone Gunmen had brought her a T-shirt with 'Baby Agent' on the front once when Maggie had been at Dana's apartment. They had seen it in a tourist gift shop next to the Hoover Building and had wrongly believed Dana would find it funny. She had thrown it wordlessly into the paper bag and had handed it back to them. 'I appreciate the idea, Frohike,' she had said, 'but I want the FBI out of my baby's life.'

The label at the onesie's neckline caught Fox's attention. Without looking up, he asked, "8 to 10 months? Isn't that a bit large for a newborn?"

"It definitely is, but that's the only size they had and the baby will grow into it," Dana explained, adapting the detached way he spoke of their unborn child.

"Does that mean you still want me to be around when the baby is eight months old?"

Maggie shivered because the question was by no means meant as a tease. She decided to leave them alone, to give them the privacy to talk about the obvious cracks in their relationship. But she stayed close, right there in the hallway. Not because her nosiness told her so but because she was worried what a passionate dispute might do to her heavily pregnant daughter.

"Yes, Mulder, I want you to be around eight months from now, and beyond that," Scully said in a voice full of warmth but also determination. Not visible from where Maggie was standing, she walked over to where Mulder had positioned himself next to the diaper changing unit he had assembled and took one of his hands in hers. "I want you to put this onesie on your child when he...or she...is old enough."

Mulder stroked his hair roughly with his free hand. "Scully..." he only said, probably at a loss for words.

"It's okay, Mulder. You don't have to say anything. I just want you to know that there isn't a 'me and you' but an 'us'. This is your child, Mulder, ours. We created this miracle you once told me to hope for, so whenever you're ready to be a part of this 'us', our baby and I will welcome you with open arms."

Maggie had to steady herself against the wall because her knees threatened to buckle hearing her daughter's emotional words. She peeked around the corner. She hoped to see them kiss or at least in an embrace but nothing of that sort was happening. They were gazing at each other, Dana held Fox's hand firmly in her grip not allowing him to withdraw from her. After a moment of inertia and wordlessness, he sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. "Scully, I-" he started but was sushed. Dana had her eyes closed, and Maggie saw how much she enjoyed the most intimate physical contact they had had for a long time. When they broke apart, Fox lifted her hand which still held on to his fiercely to his mouth and kissed it, holding her gaze.

Maggie was touched by the power of the moment. In her heart, an unshakable faith manifested itself that in eight months from now, when their son would be old enough to fit in the onesie Dana had bought for Fox today, they would look back on these difficult months as one more obstacle they had overcome together. Fox would throw his son up in the air, almost forgetting that he had ever doubted being able to be a father to this child. And when he would eventually put him to sleep in his crib, he and Dana would smile happily at a content baby boy smiling at his parents, dressed in an outer-space-themed onesie.

And all would be good.