Summary: Today's the day.

The instant I open my eyes, a feeling of dread wells up in the pit of my stomach, and I find it hard to breathe.

Today's the day.

I always knew this day was coming.

I just didn't think it would come so soon.

Instantly flushed, I fling off the covers and hurl myself out of bed.

I pad over to William's bassinet. He's still sound asleep. I somehow wish I could savour this moment forever. Things just won't be the same ever again.

I gently pick him up and cradle him in my arms. His eyelids flutter open and he looks up at me, whimpering softly, trying to wrestle with the imminent fog of sleep he's engulfed in.

"Hey there, big guy," I whisper in his ear, stroking his warm, rosy cheek. "It's gonna be okay. I promise."

I say it over and over again in my head, desperately wanting to believe it.

, I scold myself.

As if on cue, I hear Mulder himself stir behind me and mumble something incoherent.

"Scully?" he murmurs, sticking out his arm and clumsily patting the empty side of the bed.

His eyes dart open and he slowly sits up.

"Scully? What are you doing?"

"Shh, Mulder," I whisper, glancing down at our son, nodding off again in my arms. "I think he's going back to sleep."

I gently rock back and forth, and I feel William turn to putty in my arms.

I never get tired of that feeling.

Mulder shakes his head and tosses his covers off. He climbs out of bed and walks over to William and I, lost in our methodical mother-and-son dance.

He wraps his arms around us and rests his chin on my forehead.

"It's gonna be okay, Scully."

I nod, knowing he is just as unsure about this as I am.

I gently place Will back in his bassinet, and in a trance-like state, Mulder and I go about the task of preparing for the imminent departure.

The car ride starts off silent. Mulder and I are too lost in our own miserable thoughts to think of anything encouraging to say.

We know that nothing we can say or do will make either of us feel any better at a time like this, anyway.

I glance over my shoulder to see William curiously glancing out the window, happily lost in his own little world of wonder.

"We could just keep driving, all the way to Canada," suggests Mulder.

He means it as a joke, but I don't find it very funny.

When he doesn't even get a smirk out of me, he frowns himself.

"Jesus, Scully. You're not making this any easier."

"Just drive, Mulder."

I instantly feel terrible for snapping at him, but I don't apologize. Instead, I turn my head and fixate my eyes upon the moving scenery whizzing by the window. I stare and stare until all the images eventually blend together into one big blur.

Surprisingly, I feel tears well up, but I dare not let him see.

Not today.

William gurgles in the back seat and thrashes his arms and legs around impatiently.

Mulder glances in the rear-view mirror and I see the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly as he grins at the baby.

"Hey hey," he scolds with tender authority, taking a quick glance at the road before returning his stare to the back seat. "Take it easy, buddy. We're almost there."

My fingers grip the door handle.

No.

Slow the car down, Mulder. Stop. Pull over, even. Just stop the damn car.

I bite my bottom lip anxiously, my heart beginning to pulsate in my chest.

"Mulder...?"

"This is why I'm driving, Scully, and not you."

He grins ruefully at me, and then back at the road.

"Damn it, Mulder," I mumble, ashamed that he got a smile out of me this time.

We arrive at the stoic-looking building a little before ten. I glance nervously around the parking lot to see quite a few cars already there.

We park near the entrance, and Mulder turns off the gas.

We sit there for a few seconds in complete and utter silence, listening to the noises of the car's engine shutting down. Neither one of us want to make the next move to get William out of his car seat.

"We could just make a break for it now," I suggest quietly, my foot itching to get to that gas pedal. "It's not too late."

My heart races. I can almost feel the whirr of the engine starting up again, and the steady tingle of the gas pedal beneath my right foot. If Mulder would just get out of his seat...

"No," Mulder declares, snapping me out of my reverie. "Grab him, Scully. We need to go."

Blood pounding in my temples, I push open the door and step around to the back to unbuckle my child from his car seat.

His arms reach up for me, and I feel a little piece of my heart breaking.

I haul him out of the car and rest him on my hip, blinking into the harsh sun that is already beating down on us.

He knows he's in an unfamiliar place, and his eyes dart around wildly, sizing up the ominous-looking building looming before him.

Mulder reaches for my arm, the look in his eyes needy. I return the look, pressing my lips to my son's temple for comfort. I don't think I can do this.

We enter the building still linked together, feeling the rush of air behind us as the heavy door closes with a 'thwack'.

We stand in the doorway, as pairs of eyes from either side peer up at us sympathetically.

Children of all ages and their parents crowd the waiting room. A young couple with a little girl about William's age catches my eye, and they both turn and look at us wistfully. I clutch William tighter than ever, suddenly realizing that we are still standing in the doorway.

Mechanically, we begin our slow walk deeper into the building, scouring the crowded room for somewhere to rest. And wait.

I can feel many pairs of eyes on us, following our slow steps as we traipse farther and farther away from the door. And freedom.

A child cries somewhere to my left, and I grimace and grasp Mulder's hand tightly. He returns the gesture.

William doesn't make a sound.

It's as though he knows where he's going. And he's accepted it.

I wish Mulder and I were as agreeable.

Finally, we spot two empty seats side by side and we thankfully seize them before anyone else can.

We sit down, and I place William on my lap and rhythmically bounce him up and down on my knee.

He happily chews on his fist and peers around and the strange faces around him.

Names are called every now and then by an impatient- looking woman in a long, white coat sitting at a desk near the entrance to another large room.

"Michaels. They're ready for you now."

"Turner? Mr. and Mrs. Turner?"

"Okay, Larson? Yes, through that door." "Is there anyone named Turner here?"

This continues for a while, and I manage to block the sound of her voice until she checks her list again and calls out a familiar name.

"Mulder?"

I can feel Mulder tense up beside me, and I immediately stop bouncing William and look at him.

Mulder looks at me.

We both look at our son.

We nod silently, communicating the only way we know how. I hand William to Mulder, fearing I'll drop him due to the fact that I'm suddenly shaking like a ninety year-old Parkinson's patient.

Simultaneously, we rise out of our seats and approach the ice-like woman at the desk. I can feel dozens of pairs of eyes from the waiting room piercing into us like tiny, individual laser beams.

Wondering who's next.

Silently praying that it isn't them.

Ice Woman doesn't look up from her checklist. She simply raises a bony arm and points to the large white door looming over us like the angel of death.

"They'll see to you through there," she drones monotonously, and I suddenly wish very, very bad things upon her entire family.

I'm momentarily taken aback by my own viciousness. That was harsh.

However, I defiantly shake it off, determined to focus on the task at hand.

It seems like forever until we reach the door. We stand in front of it for what seems like hours, and the deafening silence soon becomes too much for me to take. Just as I'm working up enough courage to reach out my hand and turn the knob, it swings open.

A large, almost-overbearing man in a white cloak similar to the Ice Lady's appears, and ushers us through the door.

I freeze, tugging on Mulder's sleeve.

"I can't go in, Mulder. I can't do it."

Mulder nods knowingly, and tries to reassure me with his trademark smile.

He tips William towards me.

"Say goodbye, Will," he whispers.

I hesitantly place a long, wet kiss on my son's sweet-smelling forehead and quickly turn away, fearing the man in the cloak and Mulder will see the pathetic display of hormone-induced tears rapidly gathering in my eyes.

"Love you," I croak pitifully, feeling Mulder's strong arms around me for a split second.

"I'll be right back, okay?" he tells me, as though he's speaking to a small child.

I nod disconnectedly, and as if in slow motion, I watch them disappear through the door.

I begin to count, slowly and evenly.

One, two, three...

Time seems to stop.

Four, five, six.

Just as I feel like I can't take any more, Mulder reappears in the doorway.

I let out a relieved exhale, realizing I'd been holding my breath the entire time.

Seventeen seconds.

He stumbles towards me and pulls me into him. I lean into his chest and bury my face as deep in him as I possibly can.

"God, that was hard," I whisper, my voice muffled by his chest.

He chuckles, and I feel his whole body shake.

"I know. And this is just a haircut, Scully. What the hell are we going to do when we send him off to camp?"

Fin.

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Okay, so Scully could have probably cut her own son's hair, but maybe she's just as bad with scissors as she is in carrying a tune. I hope I surprised you:) Yeah, so it's fluff. I can't help it. Just this one time, I promise.
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