House of Scully. Enter Mulder. "Ready to roll?" he asks. She's crabby. He's awkward. Scully sort of shuffles around her dining-room table while Mulder stuffs a throw pillow under his shirt and makes awkward Lamaze-oriented commentary. He explains that he's knowledgeable about baby stuff because he's been spending his days watching Oprah, which is a total lie, because I know he's sitting around, taking notes on What To Expect When You're Expecting, while watching Passions out of one eye, and then feeling totally cheated because everyone on Passions this week is either having sex or talking about having sex or trying to talk people into have sex with them and he never gets to have any sex. "Word," crabs the Mulder action figure. Scully solemnly thanks him for "doing this with her." More tears well up in her eyes. "What's the matter?" Mulder asks. Scully tearfully shakes her head. She's not sure whether it's the hormones, she says, but she feels so strange. "About having a baby?" Mulder asks. "About leaving work," Scully sniffles. She moans that she feels like a deserter. Mulder tells her that she's more than paid her dues in that office. She sniffs. "You're concerned about Agent Doggett?" he asks. Scully stares at Mulder's neck for a second, then looks up and comments that she always had someone watching her back, and Doggett doesn't have anyone. Mulder wisely declines to point out that "watching her back" often consisted of running off half-cocked and not telling her where he was going, but simply reminds her that Doggett can take care of himself. "He's a big boy," Mulder says. "You've got to worry about the little boy. Or little girl. Boy? Or girl?" Scully just smiles and says nothing, because that's the most frustrating response possible. I take it, from that exchange, that the two of them really haven't had a long sit-down chat about the AlienMiracleBaby. Or maybe they have and they're simply acting obtuse. Nobody knows nothing about anything here.