Every moment, every milestone of this pregnancy is surreal-- a gift she was sure she'd never get, an experience she'd taught herself not to wait for. But this more than all others-- Mulder's broad hand on her, and the baby stirring within.
"Our son," she affirms. It's smaller and desperate than she wants it to sound, her fingers still wrapped around his arm like she's afraid he'll pull away.
Please want this as much as I do, she prays silently. As if she has the right to ask for more than the myriad gifts she's been given-- but she wants so badly for it to be true. When she'd asked him to help her have a baby, she hadn't asked him to be a father, not exactly; but she'd always hoped deep down--
Not even so deep down, really.
"Your son," she repeats, just a whisper. It's half a secret-- though she expects most people have guessed it, even if she won't say. But he deserves to hear it said aloud.
no subject
"Our son," she affirms. It's smaller and desperate than she wants it to sound, her fingers still wrapped around his arm like she's afraid he'll pull away.
Please want this as much as I do, she prays silently. As if she has the right to ask for more than the myriad gifts she's been given-- but she wants so badly for it to be true. When she'd asked him to help her have a baby, she hadn't asked him to be a father, not exactly; but she'd always hoped deep down--
Not even so deep down, really.
"Your son," she repeats, just a whisper. It's half a secret-- though she expects most people have guessed it, even if she won't say. But he deserves to hear it said aloud.