Scully wakes suddenly, disoriented in time. Rain patters against the window and the ensuite bathroom door is cracked open.

It's 2001 again. The walls of the unremarkable house fall away and she is in Mulder’s Hegal Place bedroom, complete with Mulder himself sprawled at her side.

He shifts and curls in towards her, eyes closed. “Y’okay, Scully?”

“Yeah,” she says, waking from her seventeen year sleep. “Yeah. I just– I had a really strange dream.”

“Hm? What about?”

Mulder’s warm hand settles on the slope of her abdomen. She’s still pregnant. The little trio of circular scars on his cheek are imperceptible in the dark, though she might still feel the raised skin if she reached out and touched him.

“Well, I had the baby, but bizarre things kept happening.”

Mulder opens his eyes, his attention seized. “What kinda bizarre things?”

“I don’t know,” Scully fibs. “I could have sworn that he was…things kept moving around him.”

“Like what?”

“Like his mobile. Maybe other things, I can’t remember. It was a dream.”

Mulder considers his response, poorly concealing his amusement. "Scully, I don't mean to step on your toes here but don't mobiles just do that?"

“Some do. It was just a dream, Mulder, it's not supposed to make any sense. And other things were off, too. You were gone for a while. When you came back, you were on trial for some reason.” Another series of flashes spring back to her and she picks at the neckline hem of Mulder's cotton sleep shirt. “And I…I think I gave the baby up for adoption.”

“It was just a dream,” he echoes sleepily.

“But it was so vivid, Mulder. I became a doctor and we lived in this house with a porch.”

Mulder brushes hair from her face, trailing his fingertip down her jawline. “That part sounds nice.”

“It was,” she agrees. “But there was something missing.”

“Our son.”

Scully scoots closer and Mulder recognizes the request; he takes her hand and kisses it, then holds it against his heartbeat, soothing her.

Eventually, he asks, “Why was I gone for a while?”

“It wasn’t very clear.” She remembers reading an email from him but his words are too blurry to recall. “There was something about you needing to keep the baby safe.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense.”

“No,” she admits. “No, it doesn’t.”

“What was I doing while you were being a doctor?”

“I don’t think you were working. You were on the run.”

“So, I was on the run but also investing in real estate with you? Not my best idea.”

“Well, you must have been exonerated or...forgiven because at some point we started working on X-Files again.”

“That’s nice of the powers that be,” he mutters, lulled by her fantastical bedtime story.

“It was silly, is what it was.”

“Did we ever track down our telekinetic kid?”

Scully tries to call the dream back but it’s already melting away. “I don’t know. We did go on vacation to this island though.”

Mulder chuckles. “You gotta lay off the junk food before bed, Scully. Crazy dreams are supposed to be my thing.”

She remembers heart-shaped floral patterned pajamas and dirt underneath Mulder’s fingernails. He hadn’t found Samantha, but he’d found somebody.

“All yours, Mulder.”

He moves to kiss her forehead, then settles in and closes his eyes again. “I knew it was a boy,” Mulder mumbles, his thumb skimming across the back of her hand.

“The ultrasound tech knew it was a boy,” she corrects.

“No, I had a sense. I told you, remember?”

“I remember you telling me after I gave you the results.”

Mulder insists, “I told someone before that.”

He didn’t, she’s almost positive; but it’s late and if she pushes, he’ll just claim that it was one of the Gunman, and the thought of them comes with another image that she doesn’t want to pull on. A deadlocked steel door with a small window, the scene reeking of contamination. Scully is going to make sure that Mulder accepts their next invite to hang out.

Mulder squeezes her hand. “I can feel you thinking,” he murmurs, a light accusation.

“Sorry,” she whispers, reaching to touch his clean-shaven face. “Hey, Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

In less than a second she’s behind him, pinching his rear playfully through his underwear.

He jumps with a little squeak that sends her into a fit of laughter. 

“Scully! You little-” but before he can finish that sentence, he’s laughing, too, and reaching to pinch her back. She scoots around the table, still laughing.

He chases her for a second, before she gives in and lets him catch her in his arms to press a few kisses to her cheeks. 

They stand there for a moment, smiling and breathing hard. 

“Good morning, Scully.” He grins harder, looking almost boyish with his touseled hair and colored cheeks.

“Good morning, Mulder.” She presses a kiss to his lips, hoping she looks even half as appealing as he does, fresh from sleep. “Thank you for starting breakfast, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. I wanted to.” He releases her, going back to the stove. “The eggs will be done in a minute, assuming someone doesn’t distract me again.” He throws a smile over his shoulder and puts a hand protectively over his ass. “I’m keeping the pancakes warm in the oven, here.” He flips the eggs and points at the fridge with his spatula. “Do you want fruit? I got a variety in the fridge.”

Scully wets her lips and shakes her head fondly. “Is this a normal breakfast at Casa del Mulder? Or are you doing something special for me?”

It’s not the first time she’s stayed over, but it’s the first time they’ve really planned to stay over, especially for a whole weekend. Scully packed a bag and everything before driving to Alexandria the night before. They have plans to go to the park today for a walk and maybe some reading. Tonight they’ll probably play games and watch some silly movie Mulder has picked out that Scully will secretly love. Maybe they’ll order takeout and dessert. Maybe they’ll pick up something to cook together. 

Mulder chuckles with a note of sheepishness. “My breakfasts are usually either from the freezer or nonexistent, unless I pick something up for the both of us on the way to work.” He turns to look at her with a softer smile. “So yes, I am doing something special. For you.”

She swallows and moves across the kitchen, wrapping her arms around him under the flaps of his shirt as she pulls him into another kiss. It’s a longer one this time, and she can taste his toothpaste. 

“Thank you.” She says again. 

He responds only by pressing a kiss to her forehead, warming her from head to toe. 

She licks her lip, aware of him watching her from the doorway. The sponge squeaks with bubbles as she wipes out the stain. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she finds him, the sight of him casually leaning against the wall, hands thrust in his jean pockets, enough to pull half a smile from her. His grin back is goofy and big and something in her chest swells. He saunters over, grabbing the tea towel from the cupboard handle as he passes it. She can't take her eyes off him as the ceiling light casts his face with light and shadow, defining those features she knows so well. His nose and lips are prominent in the warm light and his eyes sparkle something mischievous.

He puts a hand on her back and gives her the tea towel to dry her hands. The warmth of his touch serenades her body.

"You look stunning,” he whispers in awe.

She dips her head but can't help her smile, not ready to accept his affection as eagerly as he gives it. Sensing this, he leans closer, driving his point home: “I'm serious, you look amazing: better than ever.”

She manages a humble thank you as his hand travels up and down her back in slow comforting strokes. His warmth spreads throughout her, both slow and heavy like lava in her veins and quick and sharp like lightning through her nerves. Scully cools herself. Focusing on putting the last glass away, she hides the self-regulation of her breath.

“Thank you,” he says simply.

She turns to him. “What for?”

“For dinner, for this–” he gestures between them with a wave of his hand– “for everything.” Her cheeks, red hot, sting with the sudden touch of Mulder's lips. “I… You are so brave and strong everyday, I…”

It's a sentence he can't finish even now. Instead, he reaches for her hand, tethering them together. His thumb caresses her knuckles showing what with words he cannot express.

Her eyes dart back and forth between his, desperately trying to read him. “Mulder…”

He chuckles. “Scully."

“What–”

He brushes her hair behind her ear and gazes at her, as if he could join with her soul if he only looked hard enough. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her in for an all-consuming bear-hug. She allows herself to fall into the familiarity of his shape, his smell, seeking her own private comfort as he presses his nose to the side of her neck. “I missed you so bad and you weren't even gone. There were times I thought I'd never see you again.”

And there it is; the elephant that can no longer be ignored. She holds her breath and tries not to blink, still as a statue, the threat of gasps and tears locked inside of her. His fingers tentatively part the hair at her neck, sensitive fingertips tracing her fresh scar there.

Scully's stomach drops as he kisses just to the side of his fingers, as if saying a prayer to the metal buried beneath her skin.

“I’m sorry I gave you another scar. It shouldn't be like this,” he mumbles, voice thick with guilt.

She pulls away to see his face. “Mulder… you didn't do this: you saved me. It was your strength that saved me."

He laughs nervously, his eyes beginning to get that sheen she's seen before beside her hospital bed. “I guess I’m just grateful now for your company. Thanks for having me around, Scully.”