Second week of May 1995

When Scully gets up one Saturday morning, the house is blissfully quiet. It worries her a little, since her muzzy mind panics that Page hasn't woken her up for a feeding, until she remembers that Page is oh-so-recently weaned, so Mulder can feed her just as well as she can. The realization of that gives her a pang of regret, but it had to be done before the new baby arrives.

She finds Mulder and Page in the kitchen. Page is amusing herself by picking up her rice cereal with her fat little hands and using it to paint the tray of her high chair. This goes unnoticed by Mulder, who is intent on something he's reading.

Sighing, she grabs a wash cloth and begins to clean Page's hands, must to her daughter's squealing protest. "Um, Mulder? What are you reading? Must be very engrossing for you not to have noticed the mess here."

He gives her a sheepish grin, and wordlessly offers to finish the clean up. Once she's busy pouring herself juice, he tells her what's going on. "My Great-uncle Saul recently died."

"I didn't know you had an Uncle Saul," she remarks, taking a seat at the table.

"You are going to eat something, aren't you?" he asks pointedly, and she shoots him a dirty look. "I didn't know I had an Uncle Saul either. But apparently he knew about me because he remembered me in his will." He decides not to tell her about having spoken to the man while caught between life and death.

"Remembered you how well?"

He gets up to make her toast. "Quite well. According to that paperwork there." He points with his chin. "I've inherited a house, and some money for its upkeep, a real nice upkeep in fact."

"Really?" She looks interested. "Where's the house?"

"Right here in DC, actually. I'm not familiar with the street, though. There is, however, a catch."

"Of course."

"If we want the house, we have to live there for five years before selling it. And if we don't, it'll be sold and the proceeds donated to charity. Along with the money he left for its upkeep."

Scully nods thoughtfully. "I wonder why he'd think we wouldn't keep it."

Mulder wonders that too, he's nearly as curious about that as about where this mystery uncle came from. He must have always had an unknown great-uncle, but did Bill Mulder not dying prompt the inclusion in the will? Bill couldn't have been close to his uncle if he'd never mentioned him, but then Saul seemed to know Bill's secrets...

"Maybe he's one of those old cynics who think that young people aren't likely to appreciate their desire to keep a home in the family, and this clause is to prevent someone from just selling it for quick cash."

"I don't see why someone would. Unless they already had a house they liked better. Unlike us." The expression on her face suggests that she recalls the state of their apartment after that incident the month before.

"You do want to check it out, then?" he asks, keeping his voice light.

"You bet your ass."

Mulder widens his eyes in mock horror and makes a show of covering Page's ears. "Language, Scully!"

"Bite me."

He gives her a leer. "Maybe later."

Two Days Later

"Are you sure this is it?" Scully asks, peering out the passenger side window. She'd offered to drive, but he knew that the steering wheel dug into her these days, so he did the gentlemanly thing and never asked who was going to drive. Usually, she didn't seem to mind his presumptuousness.

"That number there." He points to the wrought-iron numerals nailed to the door. "Match the ones in the paperwork the lawyer gave me. Why, do you hate it? And where is the lawyer, anyway? He's the one with the key."

"No, it's not that I don't like it, Mulder, it's just...wow. I never expected to find a house like this in Washington DC." She looks around at the other houses on the street. "This is like the neighborhood time forgot."

Following her glance, Mulder is inclined to agree. The houses on each side of the street are huge relics of another time. When the old buildings were torn down all in cities all over the country to make way for cheap apartments, this street escaped the wrecking ball's notice.

"I think it's kind of nice," he ventures. "It looks like it could use some fixing up, but the money Saul left me could make over the house top to bottom six times, with enough left over for a couple dozen college educations."

The house does look like it could use some TLC, he admits to himself. It could use new paint, a new porch, and some landscaping. He only hopes that it looks no worse on the inside than the out.

Before Scully can reply, another car pulls into the driveway. The lawyer beats them to the front door because he isn't hindered by pregnancy, or the need to remove a protesting infant from her car seat.

Page is still saying her first and favorite out-loud word, "no", when Scully and Mulder join the lawyer on the porch.

"What a cutie!" The lawyer, one Roger Lavine III, crows and Page scowls at him over Mulder's arm. "How old is she?"

"She'll be one at the end of September," Mulder tells him.

"That's great. My grandkids are two and four which is fun too, but you miss the baby stage."

"I don't think that will be a problem," Scully says dryly as Page's soon-to-be brother or sister gives a fierce kick that makes her wince.

"This is exciting, isn't it?" The lawyer asks as he pushes the door open. All the curtains are drawn, so it's hard to see much as they step into the entryway. The lawyer gropes for a light switch, and sudden illumination fills the room.

"Wow." Mulder can't believe the size of the house. The living room they're now standing in is half the size of their entire apartment.

The lawyer consults a folder he's holding. "Ok, the specs here say four bathrooms, ten bedrooms, two offices, full kitchen- whatever that means- living room, entry room - I guess this is that- a playroom and a library. I bet you won't be filling up a house like this any time soon." He glances at Scully. "Well, probably not, anyway."

Scully does not look amused.

"Did my great-uncle have a big family?" Mulder wonders aloud. ::And if he did, why leave this to me instead of one of his kids?::

"Your great-uncle never married or had any children. Apparently your father spent a fair amount of time with him as a boy, but he didn't have other family besides your grandparents."

"I wonder why had such a big house, then," Scully remarks.

The lawyer shrugs. "For some people a big house is a symbol of status, something they felt they must have whether they truly needed the space or not."

"I guess it doesn't really matter," Mulder murmurs.

Scully and the Lawyer continue to talk about the house's aspects, but Mulder only half-hears them. Page is waving to...nothing. He thinks she really sees something, since he's never known his daughter to display much imagination yet, and she's far too young for an imaginary friend, yet. But what could she be waving at?

"Mulder?"

"Wha?"

"Mister Lavine asked if we'd like a tour of the house."

"Oh, sure."

The house isn't so bad on the inside either, though all the sheets covering the furniture remind him uncomfortably of the movie "The Others," which he can't say anything about given it's 1995 and the movie doesn't come out until 2001.

Thinking about Page's mysterious waving, he wonders if perhaps the shrouded objects aren't the only thing that the house has in common with the movie. He finds the idea sort of exciting, so he's buoyant as they wander through the house.

"So, Scully, what do you think of the house?" he asks, as they stand in the middle of a room that the lawyer has just said would be a great nursery.

"I think it's great, when do we moved in?" she says, giving the place a hungry glance.

"You really like it? You're not just saying that?"

"It's free and it's in DC, what more could we want? At this point I'd move into a house that had to share bathroom with the neighbors across the street," she says looking at least half-serious.

Mulder wonders if he should share his theory about the house possibly being haunted. He decides against it. Page could just the looking at anything, who knows what goes on in very young minds? He certainly didn't.

Besides, a few ghosts are a small price to pay to have their own home. The syndicate would never think of looking for them here. Fox Mulder, in suburbia? It's to laugh.

"You know Mulder, the lawyers right. This room would make a nice nursery. New paint, new furniture, and it will be great. You did mention having money to remodel right?"

Mulder grins at her, knowing her it will still be a few months before they move into their new home. Although, he's not sure that it's wise to let pregnant woman be in charge remodeling their home. Hopefully, she will still like her choices after the baby is born.

The scoops page up off the floor, from where she been playing quietly while her parents talked. "What do you think, Kiddo? Are you gonna like your new room?" Page doesn't say anything, instead she grabs his hair. He takes that has being a affirmative. "Boy, you sure are easier to please than your Mommy."

Scully just glares at him. ::whoops::

Last week of July 1995

He is right. It takes almost two months of remodeling before Scully declares the house livable. All of Saul's interesting belongings have been banished to the attic. He supposes that this is for the best, but the little boy in him wishes he had time to go through all of it in see if there any treasures.

Alas, three-fourths of their boxes are still packed when the next big case springs up to take over their life. Or, his life more accurately, given that Scully is on maternity leave. Although, taking care of Page doesn't seem like much of a break. Of course, she's not really taking much of a break. Every time he comes home with a new case she wants to know all about it. Hoping to avoid repeat of Page's birth, he tries to subtly convince her to stay at home as much as possible, preferably with Maggie around.

This is slightly easier than the tasks assigned to Hercules.

Fortunately, however, he is able to convince her that they ought to go with professional movers. Actually, it might have been the way he framed "shall we get movers, or see if your brother Bill Jr. can help us move?" either way, she was quick to say movers were a great idea. At the moment it's mainly their job to stay out from underfoot while the big burly men tote boxes and furniture.

Still, Scully quickly, and rather ungainly though he would never say that, rushes upstairs to show the movers where the master bedroom, Page's bedroom, and the nursery are. Although, Page's room is more or less a nursery too.

It's a good day for Mulder, which means, for him, he gets to go home early. Which is weird, because he used to dread going home back when he was single and childless. But then again, he never used to come home to Scully. Or Page. Or that house he inherited from his late great-uncle Saul. Yeah, just thinking about exploring all those rooms puts a smile on his face. Not to mention the equipment he's hauling, courtesy of the Lone Gunmen, that's going to help him explore.

Page gurgles as he sweeps her off the floor. "Have you been overworking your Mommy again?" he asks, mock sternly. His baby girl merely grins and flails her arms happily. "I'll take that as a yes."

Now that he knows Scully's out for the count, it'll make sneaking in ghost-hunting equipment easier. He hopes. With Page in his arms, he has to make twice the trips down and up the stairs. "Okay," he tells his daughter, "Daddy's gonna track some ghosts. So be very, very quiet."

She gives him a look like he's nuts, and he grimaces. "You've been spending way too much time with Mommy. Look," he says, as if reasoning with Scully, "you and I have both seen some pretty unusual things around the house lately. Shadows where there shouldn't be, furniture moved around, figures walking just out of the corner of your eye - and I *know* you've been talking to some invisible playpals." He grins at her. "Don't play innocent with me, Page, Daddy sees all."

She snorts, not unlike her mom, and he sighs. "Fine," he huffs, "don't believe me. But once we get the thermal imaging cams, motion detectors, thermometers, and enhanced audio systems set up, this is gonna be a very cherry setup for ghost detecting. And your daddy's gonna have proof for your very skeptical Mommy, right?" He bounces her against his shoulder, her head facing behind him.

She giggles, and he grins. He doesn't see the object of his technological surveillance standing right behind him.

"Mulder, what are you doing?" A groggy voice interrupts his sleep.

He looks up, sees he's still in Page's room, and glances at his watch. Two hours he's been asleep, but five since his unofficial ghost-hunting started. "Scully," he says, sitting up. "I was just..." He pauses, and finds Page asleep in his arms, "getting her to sleep."

His wife folds her arms over her impressive stomach. "That's what she has a crib for," she says reasonably. Then she looks around the room. "What's all this for?" There's no mistaking all the equipment in the child's room that isn't for educational fun, and Mulder groans inwardly.

"All what?" Mulder tries for an innocent look, but fails under the withering glare from the redhead. "Um, security system. Can't be too careful, you know."

Scully gives him another look. " Mulder," she says in a warning tone.

He sighs. "I was ghost-hunting," he mumbles.

"What?" Both eyebrows have shot up. Is this a good sign or a bad one?

"Ghost-hunting," he says, clearer but still in a low voice, so as not to wake up Page. Or so he tells himself. "Haven't you noticed anything unusual about this house?"

"Mul-der!" Scully draws out both syllables in frustration, waking her daughter. "Dammit."

He raises his hands in protesting his innocence, then returns them to hold his daughter, patting her on the back. "Hey, she was doing fine," he says, "this equipment is non-invasive."

Scully tilts her head to the side, her arms still crossed. Ooh, definitely not a good sign. "Mulder, you have fifteen minutes to drag this, these things out of this house! Our house is not haunted!"

Just then, the lights flicker and die out. "You were saying?" He drawls over Page's fresh round of crying.

"Just get to the circuit breaker and turn the lights back on," she mutters, taking Page from him. "This is probably just a localized blackout."

"Very localized," Mulder notes as he heads out the room, flashlight in hand, "We're the only ones on the block without power."

He's pretty sure the flying teddy bear that hit his head was from a non-supernatural entity, rather than evidence of poltergeist activity, but he won't argue that point right now.

"See, lights are on, nothing paranormal about it," Scully says once he returns.

"I didn't do anything," Mulder protests, "The lights came on before I even got to the circuit breaker."

The corners of her mouth twist up. "So what are you saying, that ghosts are playing with the lights?"

He shrugs a little. "Well, yeah."

She sighs heavily, shifting her daughter from one shoulder to the other. "You need to get some sleep. And maybe get a therapist. Everything is fine, Mulder."

"Fine. Sure," he says, as she walks out of the room with their sleeping daughter, "mind if I ghost-proof our house?"

Scully stops, turns around, and looks like she's composing herself. "If you're going to be hanging chicken feet in doorways, you're sleeping on the couch."

"No, no, nothing like that," Mulder says quickly, thinking, ::Damn, there goes the gris-gris:: "just making sure nobody gets hurt. For Page's sake. And yours." He grins hopefully.

She looks at him, then says, in a tone that clearly says she's just humoring him, "Okay, all right. Do whatever you have to. But if Page or I get hurt," she threatens, her jaw setting.

He holds his hands up. Is it him, or does she get scarier when she's pregnant? Maybe he'll ask Skinner if he's noticed. "I get it," he says, placating her, "really, don't worry. You won't even notice it." Not that you've noticed the ghosts, silently he argues, but I'll get incontrovertible proof. And then you can't deny what's right under your nose. He watches as she waddles out of the room and down the hall, grinning a little as if he didn't care about the death threat she's handed him.

Once she closes the door of their bedroom, he exhales. Then he looks around the empty room. "Okay, I know you're out there," he says to nothing in particular, squinting like a cowboy in a spaghetti western, "you're gonna get recorded sooner or later, and when you do, I'll be there." He sweeps the room again, then sighs, and picks up one of the thermal cams. "Just make sure you hang around these hidden cameras, okay?"

"Ah-ha!" Mulder says, dancing around their bedroom.

"Mulder, what is it?" Scully says, wiping the sleep boogers from her eyes. It was the first time in as many as five hours that her bladder didn't wake her up, and she's glaring at the interruption.

"Proof, Scully, I got proof!" he says, his large nose very much in her face. The grin on his face takes up the rest of the space. "Oh, how they laughed! Oh, how they scoffed! Yes, they mocked! And they doubted! But I got it, Scully!"

"Mulder," She sits up, more awake and less forgiving, "What the hell are you

talking about?"

He leans into what's left of his wife's personal space. In a low voice, he says, "We are not alone."

She gives up being reasonable. "Duh. We've got Page, and another one on the way."

"No!" He cries, grabbing hold of her shoulders in his enthusiasm. "We've got ghosts!"

"What?" Scully blinks her large blue eyes at him, not in a ditzy way, but disbelieving. "I'm sorry, did you say we've got guests?"

He practically bounces on the bed like a kid at Christmas, jolting her at the same time, since he's still holding her shoulders. "Of the incorporeal type, yeah. Look!"

Before she can retort, he clicks the VCR remote and the TV displays the interior of Page's room in a grainy black and fluorescent green. Scully glares at her husband as she remembers her threat for him to toss out the silly equipment, and as the words come to her mouth, something appears onscreen. It's child-sized, but bigger than Page, and certainly smaller than either Mulder or herself. "Mulder," she says, "what did I say about the Gunmen pranking us?" Another child-sized figure joins it, and it looks like they're playing ring-around-the-rosy.

"Honest, Scully, we were the only ones home," he protests on behalf of his dubious friends, "besides, I don't think Frohike's the type to wear a dress, even if it was a prank."

"I don't know about that," she mutters, but her eyes are glued to the screen as various objects float around the room. "I'm checking for wires." She shakes off his hands and gets out of bed.

"There aren't any," he says to her back, " and the equipment hasn't been tampered with."

She gives him a "yeah, right" look over her shoulder before staggering out the door. In the meantime, Mulder's amusing himself before Page wakes up by replaying the floating objects section over and over again.

That evening, dinner is somewhat strained. Scully looks suspiciously at the food Mulder made before eating it, and even then, doesn't say anything to her husband. Even Page notices the tension and is unnaturally quiet. Finally, Mulder sighs. "I'm sorry," he says, trying to put some contrition into his voice, despite his usual nature of crowing over things. "I just thought you'd be happy."

Ooh, wrong move. Immediately, the redhead's blue eyes snap with something dangerously similar to lightning. "What made you think proving this house was haunted would make me happy?" Scully says, her voice dangerously even.

"Uh," he says, wondering where all his smooth words went. "Um."

"Exactly," she says, "you didn't think. I was honestly enjoying this place, Mulder, before it got stuck in one of your X-Files. I liked the fact that it was roomy," she says, trying to make him understand with simple words, "I liked that it was pretty much free, that there was no excessive mortgage, or down payment that would include our firstborn. I liked the fact that we would be close to work, and have a nice home without sacrificing for it. I liked having our cake and eating it. And now you've proven that our cake is full of ghosts, Mulder!"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he mumbles.

She sighs. "I just thought having a normal home would be a nice contrast, but I guess that would be too much to ask for. You want an Addams Family house as well as aliens at work." Her expression is worse than angry, it's disappointed, and now he wonders if marrying a Catholic, even a lapsed Catholic, is a good idea for a lapsed Jew.

"I'm really, really sorry, Scully," he says, meaning it. He walks over and kneels beside her. "I'll try to get rid of them as soon as I can."

She looks at him, and something like a smile tugs at her mouth. "We were doing just fine before you got them on tape," she says, "and they haven't hurt us or scared Page. I say we leave them alone." He blinks, and she giggles. "Besides, you could always sell your tape to that Fox network or something."

He smiles back. "Always knew you were my one in five billion," he says, relieved.

"I'd say one in five googleplex," she retorts. "Five billion's too easy."

Page takes that as her cue to start tossing food around. Mulder looks at his wife. "Well, better Page throwing things around than poltergeists, right?"

Her smile is indulgent, but her eyes are mischievous. "Either way, you'll have to deal with the mess."

Ouch, he thinks, going over to coach Page's food into her mouth, rather than the floor or his face. He's thankful that it's blown over for now, but he doubts that, in a bona fide haunted house, the ghosts are willing to live and let live. Or something like that.