a/n: didn't someone say they wanted scenes with the big kids? Hmm, do you read minds, dear reader?

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March 13, 2006

It had been a rough day on the set - Reed has finally gotten a bad review on his book, and his response has been to make everyone who knows him miserable - so Scully wants nothing more than to curl up with a good book and a mug of hot coca. But as soon as she steps into the house, she realizes this won't be in her near future.

Sammy barely lets her take her coat off before seeking her out. "Mom, we have a problem," he solemnly informs her. He's as given to jokes as his father, but he's not definitely joking now.

"What kind of problem?"

"I don't know!" he blurts out, frustrated. "All I know is April wouldn't say anything on the bus, and now she won't come out of her room."

We have a problem? she thinks, making a mental note to make sure she and Mulder privately commend him on taking being a big brother and looking out for his siblings so seriously. Bill junior took it seriously too, she muses, but he was a lot more obnoxious about it.

Looking down at him, which she realizes she won't need to do much longer, she says, "Thanks for the heads up."

"Yeah...Can I get a cookie?"

Normally sweets between meals are off limits, but... "Just one."

"Thanks!" he calls over his shoulder, already headed for the cookie jar he no longer has to climb on a chair to reach.

Scully shakes her head before scaling the stairs so she can check on April.

When she reaches her middle daughter's room, she gently wraps on the door. And when this gets no response, she knocks more forcefully and says "April? It's Mom."

She's trying to decide how to express her unhappiness at being ignored when she hears a faint sigh and the door opens. April's cheeks are red but she doesn't exactly look sad like Scully expects.

"Hi Mom," April says, an improvement over Page's occasional sullen "what?"

"Can we talk?"

April sits on her bed, motioning to her chair. "Who squealed, Sammy or Page?"

"He worries about you."

"I thought it'd be Page." April looks faintly surprised. "She seemed more bothered when I didn't talk on the ride home."

"You want to tell me what's wrong?"

"No," April predictably says. "But I will." That's a pleasant surprise. "Coach Miller came to talk to Jenna, Lydia and me at lunch."

The thought that a random adult could show up at the school to talk to kids does not fill Scully's heart with joy. Upon a moment's reflection it occurs to her how out of character the school allowing that would be, so she decides he must have cleared his visit with the office. When she notices April's frown she stops over-thinking it and asks "What for?"

All of the sudden April seems like she's about to cry. She manages to pull herself together, though. "He said we're all really good players." Jenna and Lydia are on April's little league team too. "And... and we should start thinking about playing softball."

Uh oh, Scully thinks. I knew this was coming, but so soon? "Oh."

"I don't want to play softball! That's for girls. Only for girls," she adds in case her mother is tempted to point out that she is a girl. Scully's not tempted because she understands what her daughter means. "I mean... I like some girly things, like my garden, but softball isn't baseball."

Rather than remind April that some of their neighborhood's best gardeners are men, Scully decides not to derail the conversation. "Did Coach Miller say you have to play softball instead of baseball?"

He daughter frowns up at her. "No. He 'strongly suggests it' but said he's not gonna kick us off the team for being girls. Maybe."

Scully raises her eyebrows. "Maybe?"

"Yeah. That's why I'm mad."

She hardly blames her. What an infuriatingly imprecise thing to say. "That's..."

"It sucks!" April cries. When she calms a little, she says, "If we said no, and I did Mom, he said he's gotta talk to our parents."

To bully them into taking their little girls off the team, she realizes angrily. That's not happening, she vows. "If he brings it up, tell him Daddy and I would love to speak to him." About being a sexist jerk, she adds to herself.

"Okay."

Scully is about to give April a hug and tell her to wash up for dinner when a thought gives her pause. "What do Lydia and Jenna think?"

This elicits a huge sigh from April, cueing Scully to believe her hunch that there's even more to the story is correct. "Lydia didn't say it's unfair," April confides. "Jenna and I think she's just gonna go play softball."

Scully nods, seeing how this could be a blow. Not only will they lose a teammate if Lydia leaves the team, her defecting will weaken April and Jenna's arguments for staying. Already Scully can imagine Miller cajoling them for making a stink instead of rolling over like Lydia. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"Daddy and I will support you, okay?" Scully tells her, prodding her to get up. "We know how much you love baseball."

"Thanks."

"That's what we're here for. Wash up and help David and Jared set the table, please."

"Okay."

Mulder and Scully's Home
March 15

It's a surprisingly nice late afternoon, which is why all of the kids, and Hannah and Rebecca Doggett as well, are playing outside. Page has surprised the adults by volunteering herself and Sammy to look after the younger kids, though the three smallest come in for parental attention now and then, especially two-year-old Rebecca. She's alternated her time between running around and dozing on her mother's lap.

It's during one of these times, while the dark-haired toddler 'recharges' according to her father, that her parents' current caseload comes up. Reyes, sitting in an armchair with her little one, looks at Mulder and asks, "Did you ever have a case where people seemed to be seeing someone who wasn't really there?"

"Of course," Scully says before he gets a chance to reply. "Most of those instances didn't make it into our files, though," she adds with a glance at Doggett. He doesn't say he's read all the case files, to her relief.

Reyes looks puzzled, however. "They're in secret files, then?"

Mulder laughs. "The X-files are the secret files," he proclaims after a moment. "You know that."

"Then-"

"Most of the time it turned out not to be an X-file," Scully says, shrugging. "Often mental illness, or drug abuse."

"Or severe sleep disturbances," Mulder adds. "Although there was something to that once..."

"Sleep disturbances?" Doggett asks. "Like a hag sitting on your chest, you mean?"

"Sure. There are types of hallucinations associated with both falling asleep and waking up," Scully agrees.

Turning to Reyes, Doggett begins, "Mon-"

She shakes her head. "I really don't feel like that's what's going on," she says, frustrated.

"What exactly is the case?" Scully asks, hoping to cut to the chase.

"Leyla found this one case-"

"You're letting Leyla find cases?!" Mulder crows in disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Only because she has ties to the law firm whose clients are having issues," Doggett is quick to explain. He probably only does so they don't question his judgment further.

"What firm?"

"Dunkirk, Scott, and Johnson," Reyes tells him. "Her sister is a lawyer there-"

"No," Scully intercepts, earning surprised looks from the FBI agents. "There's only one female lawyer at that firm."

Doggett goggles at her. "How could you possibly know that?"

"She's psychic," Mulder deadpans.

"So that's where April gets it," Reyes says, disturbing Scully by sounding sincere.

"Funny, Mulder," she complains before looking at Reyes. "One of our former nannies is the lawyer in question."

"Amy," Reyes says, surprising her in return.

"Right. Amy Penda."

"Amy Penda Harrison," Reyes corrects her. "Leyla's sister."

Scully and Mulder stare at each other. "No way!"

Doggett begins to laugh so hard he snorts. After a few seconds he waves his hands and pulls himself together. "I get it now. I totally get it now," he says when he can speak.

"You get what?" Mulder asks suspiciously.

"Her complete and total hero worship of you two," he explains. "She claims she knows about your cases through the billing department, but if her sister was your nanny she probably knew your names while she was still in school, long before she made it to the Hoover Building."

Mulder looks a little green and Scully imagines that she looks ill too. "Uh, Scully... Rachel and Michelle are both only children, aren't they?"

She wants to shrug and ask how they can know for sure since Amy had never mentioned Leyla that she recalled. And really, if a person was inclined to blab to someone about what she'd overheard them say about their cases, she could tell anyone. But he looked so uncomfortable that she just says, "They are."

"Maybe it's just a coincidence, anyway," Mulder says halfheartedly.

She doubts that, but... "Could be."

"They don't look much alike," Mulder still sounds dazed.

Reyes gets what he means. "I should say half-sister. I didn't quite get why she was so specific until we met Amy."

Scully nods, remembering a conversation Amy had with her once, and how frustrating it could be at her college to listen to people argue about whether it was 'better' to be dark or light-skinned like it mattered. If she shares a parent with Leyla, Scully can see how it might be particularly sensitive an issue. Brandon Scully can be touchy about the topic too, although Charlie has been reporting that the worst of his son's teenage moodiness seemed to have passed a few months ago.

Mulder looks moderately desperate to change the subject. "So, what exactly is going on? And is Amy in any danger?"

"I don't think she is," Reyes attempts to reassure him, clearly picking up on how important that in particular is to him. "From what she and Leyla say..."

Virginia County Correctional Facility
Saturday
11:41 p.m.

Inmate 401224018 is sleeping deeply, so deeply he doesn't hear his cellmate below him grumble, for the nineteenth time that night, about his snoring. The other two cellmates are too busy sleeping quietly to pay attention, and the evening wears on in its predictability as Inmate 400076014 tries desperately to fall asleep, in spite of his bunkmate's irritating snores.

Suddenly, the man above him shouts, thrashing around so wildly that he almost falls off his bunk. "Where-? Where'd that old lady go?" Inmate 401224018 yells, his eyes straining to see in the barely-lit darkness.

"What the fuck are you talkin' about?" the irritated man below grumbles, squeezing his eyes shut, like it would make him sleep faster. "This is a mens' only prison, idiot."

"No, there was…" and now the other man falters. "Where am I?"

"Prison," the inmate below repeats. "You retarded or somethin'?"

"What? No. I'm not supposed to be here," the man is working himself not into awareness, but into a frenzy. "I'm not supposed to be here!" He flails and stumbles around, nearly falling headfirst as he leaves his bunk. He grabs the bars of the cell door. "I'm not supposed to be here!"

"Shut up!" Inmate 401124735 snaps sleepily, turning over so that his back faces the room.

"Get me out!" Nestor Garcia, currently known as Inmate 401224018, cries out. He tries to shake the bars as if they would bend in his hands like Samson's, but they don't budge. "I want my lawyer!"

Inmate 400076014 now cracks an eye at the quiet man who's finally snapped. "Oh, shit," he muttered. Lawyers were never good for anything once you were behind bars.

Sunday

A car door slams, then another closes more gently before girlish voices call "Bye!" Then the car drives off. Page and April are halfway up the walk before Scully opens the front door.

"Did you have a good time?" she asks as they come in.

Mulder and Samantha have conspired to trade off getting their daughters - at least the oldest two in his case - together once a month. Little Drew comes over more often than that, but small boys require less planning for happily received co-activities than a group of older girls who range in age from nine to sixteen do. On this particular afternoon the girls have gone roller skating.

"Yeah. I fell down twice, though," April admits. "I think the floor is lumpy."

Scully waits, wondering if this is going to be one of the times Page teases her sister, or if she'll be supportive. Lately it could go either way. The wait is in vain, however, because Page says nothing. It's only as she's asking "what about you, did you have a good time too?" when she notices Page's glum expression.

"Hey." She puts an arm around her oldest. "Did something happen?"

"It's what hasn't," Page mutters, but she doesn't push away.

Scully frowns, trying to decide if she should push the matter or not. "Let's talk about it."

Page doesn't refuse, but she does look over to where two of her brothers are coming into the foyer. "Okay, but privately."

"Sure, we can talk in my room," Scully tells her. "I'll have your dad keep everyone else out."

Page nods, and then looks at April. "You can come too. It is girl stuff, any you're a girl too."

"Okay." April's tone is neutral enough, but Scully can tell that she's pleased to be included.

"Go on up," Scully tells them, and then goes to find Mulder.

He nods thoughtfully as she explains, and she's pretty sure that he's just happy that she's handling... whatever it is.

She's still trying to predict what's up as she opens her bedroom door in time to hear April say "…Alyssa was just being a brat."

It's Scully's immediately instinct to demand to know what her niece did, but she forces herself to hold her tongue; Page and Emily are still close, but as they get older, Page and Samantha's youngest girl clash more and more often. She's not sure if it's because they were much older when they met or due to incompatible personalities, but either way, it's not their first conflict by any means.

Both of her girls are on the king-sized bed, but there's still plenty of room so she climbs on too to their open amusement. Once she settles crossed-legged between them she asks "So... what are we talking about?"

Page looks at her sister before looking back at Scully. "Boobs."

"Boobs?" she repeats blankly.

This has Page guiltily correcting herself, "Breasts." She glances at April who nods encouragingly. "Is that okay?"

"Of course," Scully says quickly. She was just startled, not disapproving. "You know you can tell Dad and me anything."

April covers her face and then groans through her fingers, "We can't talk to Daddy about boobs!"

Scully wants to say that they really can, but decides that the comment wouldn't be very productive right then. "Well, you can always talk to me about this sort of thing."

"Good." April lowers her hands.

"What did you want to talk about specifically?" Scully prompts Page.

Page looks at a loss for words and just says "I..." before shrugging helplessly.

April just says, "Alyssa has 'em."

"Oh," Scully murmurs, thinking. Has Alyssa been bragging? Or teasing?

"It's not fair," Page tells her. "She's the youngest girl in her family and Auntie Samantha is going to take her bra shopping tomorrow. I'm the oldest and I'm not ready for a bra... or other stuff," she mumbles, blushing. "Not even close."

Although Scully knows what her daughter means by other stuff, she decides not to bring it up then, and focuses on the main concern instead. "Page, there's a whole range of time for a girl's development that's considered normal. It's too soon to worry that you'll be outside of it. I'm sure that there are a lot of girls in your grade who haven't started wearing training bras yet."

Even as she says that she becomes distracted by the memory of a conversation she'd had with Missy about the possible things a bra could train you to do. Missy had some hysterical suggestions.

"There are," Page acknowledges.

"So-"

"But they're not related to me!" Page exclaims.

"Emily is," April corrects.

"But the rest aren't," Page continues. "Shouldn't the girls in the same family be alike?"

"They can be, but aren't always. And when you compare cousins, it's more common for the daughters of sisters to be alike than of a brother and sister, like your dad and Samantha."

"Oh," Page says glumly.

"Emily's flat too," April states, and it's not quite clear if she's commiserating or just pointing out the obvious.

"And I have to be honest, neither Aunt Missy nor I were wearing a bra at eleven and a half, either."

"Twelve?" Page asks hopefully.

Scully shakes her head.

"Twelve and a half?" April asks. She's never been in as a hurry to grow up at as Page, but her tone suggests that 12.5 is about the limit she finds acceptable.

Both girls look disappointed when she shakes her head again. "Thirteen."

"Thirteen!" Page cries like their mother has just said thirty.

It makes Scully glad she didn't admit that it was more like thirteen and a half. Trying to convince them that it's not so bad, she says, "Up to sixteen is perfectly normal..." They don't take comfort from this, and frown alike instead.

Looking at April, Page says, "Mom must be right about it not necessarily being the same in families: look at Adrianna." It's only been within the last few months that their oldest same-sex cousin has grown past moaning about a perceived inadequacy in the same area of concern.

"That's true," April notes.

"Sixteen to begin developing, not finish developing," their mother can't help herself from clarifying. When she does, she nearly slaps her forehead, figuring that this will further alarm them. But they actually look relieved.

"Well, no girl in our family was that old," Page says. But looking right at Scully, she asks, "Right?"

"Right." It probably isn't the time to mention that one of their great-grandmothers was flat-chested all her life.

The girls exchange a look, then scramble off the bed, leaving their mother wondering if this means that they're through talking. Page's "Thanks, Mom" confirms it.

"You're welcome. And don't forget, you can talk to me about anything. Even that 'other stuff' too."

"Someday..." Page's cheeks are pink when she ducks out of the room.