Chapter Text
Scully sat quietly at the kitchen table in their Unremarkable House, the soft glow from the window casting long shadows on the walls. She rubbed her hands over her growing belly, her thoughts swirling in the quiet morning air. Mulder, standing near the counter, was pouring his second cup of coffee, already deep in thought about some new conspiracy theory he'd uncovered. He looked up, sensing her silence, and came to sit across from her.
"You okay, Dana?" he asked softly, his tone filled with the kind of concern only someone who knew her as intimately as he did could express.
Scully smiled briefly, the corners of her lips barely lifting before fading again. She had been carrying so much inside her, the weight of the public's judgment and her fears for the baby. She loved Mulder and this child, but the world outside their little house wasn’t always as understanding.
"I'm fine," she said, though her voice betrayed her unease. "I've just been thinking."
Mulder raised an eyebrow, his typical Mulder gesture. "That's never good," he teased lightly, trying to coax a smile out of her, but this time it didn’t work.
Scully exhaled deeply, resting her hand on her belly. “It’s not you, Mulder. It’s… me. It’s everything. This pregnancy… at my age…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes dropping to her hands as they traced idle circles.
Mulder reached across the table, his hand brushing hers, a grounding presence she had grown to rely on over the years.
“Scully, I know you’re worried, but…” he started, but she shook her head.
"It’s not just that," she interrupted, her voice firmer. "It’s the way people look at me, the way they talk. It’s like... I’m this anomaly, this freak of nature. Fifty-four years old, pregnant. It’s not supposed to happen, not naturally, not without everyone questioning it. I feel like I’m under a microscope again—like we used to be at the Bureau. But it’s worse now. It’s my body, my life, my choices. And everyone has an opinion.”
Mulder frowned, his brow furrowing. “People are idiots,” he muttered, his protectiveness flaring up as it always did when someone or something hurt Scully. "You shouldn’t care what they think."
She gave him a look that told him it wasn’t that simple. “I don’t care what *they* think, Mulder, but… I’d be lying if I said it didn’t affect me. Everywhere I go, people ask questions. Why would a woman my age want to have a baby? Isn’t it dangerous? Irresponsible, even?” Her voice cracked, and Mulder squeezed her hand tighter.
“I don’t hear anyone asking those questions about you,” she added after a moment, her voice quiet but laced with something deeper—resentment? Frustration?
Mulder blinked, unsure where she was going with this. “What do you mean?”
“You’re fifty-seven, Mulder. Almost sixty. And no one bats an eye at the fact you’re going to be a father again at your age. No one’s questioning your decision, or your ability to handle this. It’s like... it’s expected. Common. Men in their sixties, and seventies, even, having kids. And no one judges them the way they judge me."
Mulder opened his mouth to respond but stopped, realizing she was right. It wasn’t something he had thought about, at least not in the way Scully had. Society was far more forgiving to older men becoming fathers than it was to older women becoming mothers. It was an unspoken double standard, and in this case, one that had escaped his notice.
Scully sighed, her eyes softening as she looked at him. "I don’t blame you, Mulder. It’s not your fault. It’s just… hard. Being the one under the spotlight, all the time. Feeling like I have to defend my decision, defend our child, even before she's born.”
Mulder shifted in his seat, his usual confidence faltering as he realized how deeply this was affecting her. He had always admired Scully’s strength, her ability to face the world’s harsh judgments without letting it break her. But this… this was different. This was personal, intimate in a way that even he couldn’t fully understand.
“I wish I could take that away from you, Dana,” he said quietly, his eyes searching hers for something—comfort, reassurance, anything to ease her burden. “But you don’t owe anyone an explanation. Not for this. Not for us.”
Scully nodded, though her worry remained. "I know. But it doesn’t stop the whispers. The looks. And I can’t help but wonder if they’re right sometimes. What if something goes wrong? What if I’m not strong enough, or capable enough? What if…” She paused, her voice barely a whisper, “What if I lose her, Mulder?”
His heart clenched at her words, and he stood up, moving around the table to kneel in front of her. He placed his hands on her knees, looking up into her face with a kind of intensity that only Mulder could muster.
"You won’t. You are the strongest person I know, Scully. You’ve survived more than anyone should ever have to, and you’ll survive this. We’ll survive this. Together. You’re not alone in this. Like, I told you before, I’m here, and I’ll always be here, no matter what.”
Scully’s eyes welled up, the emotion finally breaking through the walls she’d been trying to keep up. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his, letting the silence between them say what words couldn’t.
Mulder wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, feeling the warmth of her body and the life they had created together growing inside her. It didn’t matter what the world thought, what judgments they faced. In this moment, all that mattered was them. Their family. Their child.
And as long as they had that, they could face whatever came next.