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I tucked her into bed and read her a bedtime story when Samantha rubbed her eyes and yawned widely. I thought long and hard before choosing a name; I had to do it myself, and I thought I made the right decision – Samantha Melissa Mulder. She was named after her aunts, her last name after her father, whom she had never seen and likely never would. I raised her alone, and God knows it was hard at first. I quit my job at the FBI and went back to medicine. I had a regular job, and I devoted all my free time to my little sunshine. I tried to provide her with everything she needed, even things she never dreamed of. I could honestly say she had it all, but was I really? She lacked only one thing, something every child her age dreamed of… I was afraid I would never be able to provide for her. I tried to replace him, but I couldn't. I loved her for me and for him, but I couldn't give her what he could give her. Every night before bed, I showed her his picture and told her about him. It was our daily ritual. It was impossible to miss it because it kept her awake. His picture was framed on her nightstand. Sometimes, when I went in the morning to wake her, she'd already sit and stare at it. She could do this for hours… I always wondered what she was thinking. I had no idea what a child might think of a man she knew as her father only from a photo… I wondered if she hated him, liked him, or thought of him fondly. I only knew one thing: she hoped he would come back to her and me. She was just like him – she could believe in things that seemed absurd to me… I finished reading, put the book down, and leaned in to kiss her cheek, and then she kissed me. She reached for the frame, brought it to her lips, and kissed the man in the picture. It was the first time she'd done so. The gesture touched me, and I felt tears begin to flow down my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. I never wanted to cry in front of my little daughter. I didn't want to upset her; when I needed to cry, I did it alone, but when I saw her kissing the picture of her father, I couldn't help myself... My little girl looked at me, and I saw the fear in her blue eyes. Without letting go of the frame, she moved closer to me and snuggled into my body.

"Mommy, don't cry..." I heard her small, frightened voice.

"I'm not crying, I just have something in my eye," I said, kissing the top of her head. I smoothed my hand through her hair and hugged her tightly.

"Mommy, do you love him?" she asked. Her voice was trembling, but I didn't know why. "Because I love him so much, even though I don't know him," she said, snuggling against me. This sent a strange pang through my heart. A new wave of tears welled up in my eyes, so strong I couldn't even try to control them.

"I love him. I love him just as much as I love you," I whispered, nestled in her hair.

"You know he'll come back," she said. Her voice was confident and decisive, as if she couldn't allow herself to think anything else… I felt her small hands wipe the tears from my cheeks.

"I know he'll come back, or at least I want to believe that," I said as she wiped my tears away. He placed his paws on either side of my face and held me there. He looked deep into my eyes.

"Don't cry. He'll come back, Daddy will come back, you'll see he'll come back, and you can't think otherwise." She was so sure of what she was saying. Sometimes I wondered where she got it from. I could never be that assertive. Mulder was like that, so maybe it was because of him. I so desperately wanted him to have as many of his qualities as possible.

"Okay, I won't think otherwise, but you go to sleep." I kissed her again, and she lay down politely, without any resistance, and covered herself with the blanket. When I tried to get up, she grabbed

my hand, and I looked at her. "Mommy, I love you too," she said, kissing my hand. I leaned over her and returned the gesture.

"Goodnight, honey. Sweet dreams," I said, closing the door behind me.

"Oh, Daddy..." I heard her soft whisper. I left the door ajar and quickly walked to my bedroom. I threw myself onto my bed and closed my eyes, which were constantly trying to fill with new tears… I let them flow freely down my face… When I felt there were no more, I turned on the lamp and reached for his picture… I ran my hand over the cold glass next to his face.

“When will you come back to us?” I whispered. I put the frame back in its place, turned off the light, and fell asleep…