Chapter 13 (Scully)
I could barely concentrate on my work that day, for I was still too concerned with what Mulder might do in my absence. I knew he would hurt himself; he had a tendency to get himself in trouble when I was not around. Hell, he had a tendency to get himself in trouble even when I was around, usually pulling me into it, too. But at least then I would be there to help him out.
As soon as school was out, I raced to meet Missy, hoping to return home soon to ensure that Mulder had not done anything stupid. . . again. Luckily, I found him standing just outside the doorway, wearing a wide smile. "Miss me?" he asked.
"What have you been up to all day, Mulder?"
"The usual you know. Beer, poker, hookers."
"And all under the watchful eye of my mother?"
"It was her suggestion."
"Of course. So, what did you really do?"
"Nothing much. I went to the library to do some research for a project I'm working on with one of my professors next term."
"And?"
"And what? That's what I did." Though at first glance he appeared to be telling the truth, I had known him long enough not to miss how he briefly cast his eyes downward before answering, a sure sign he was lying.
"You played pick up, didn't you?" I guessed.
"But I was careful," he countered. "And nothing happened. See." He raised his shirt far enough for me to see the bandages which were, fortunately, still white.
"Mulder, this is how you get hurt," I sighed.
"Come on, Scully, I was bored. You can't expect me just to sit around all day."
"You could find something safer to do. Like walking."
"But that's no fun." He pouted like a spoiled child, but we did not have a chance to finish the argument, for Missy chose that moment to exit the building.
"Hey, Mulder, I should have expected to see you here. Come on, I'll give you a ride home. Dad should be there by now." She smirked at the two of us. I turned to Mulder who wore a pained expression.
"Might as well face the music," he said. "Just do me a favor and make sure you tell our kid about me after your father kills me."
"Ahab won't kill you," I assured him. "Maim you, maybe, but he doesn't want his grandkid to grow up without a father."
"Gee, that's comforting."
I immediately knew that my father was home when we walked in the door. His aftershave had a very distinctive smell that had comforted me throughout childhood. I loved that when he was home, the scent seemed to be present throughout the house, constantly reminding me of his presence. And even after he left, the scent would continue to linger for a week or two, reminding me of him. When it finally faded during his longer trips to sea, the house seemed emptier and somehow less like home.
As soon as I set my schoolbag down in the kitchen, I rushed into the living room, throwing myself into my father's arms. He stood to receive me as soon as he heard my footfalls in the kitchen, and we shared a long hug. Missy came next, also giving Ahab a hug before settling onto the couch. Ahab next turned to Mulder who still stood in the doorway of the living room, staring awkwardly at a spot on the floor a few feet in front of him. "You must be Fox," Ahab guessed, stepping forward.
"I actually prefer Mulder, sir," Mulder told him, extending a hand.
"Maggie tells me you're dating my Starbuck."
"Yes, sir." It was one of the first times I had ever seen Mulder nervous. Even when we were being chewed out by Skinner, he always wore a calm exterior, seemingly unconcerned about the Assistant Director's wrath. But as he stood in front of my father, he literally cowered. In some ways, I could understand this reaction; my father was by no means a little man. At 6'2" and 200 pounds, he had a solid build obtained from years of navy training. He had a broad chest, wide shoulders, and thick limbs that certainly looked dangerous. Plenty of Missy's boyfriends over the years had not come back after a single meeting with Ahab.
"She also tells me that you saved her life yesterday."
"She helped, sir. It was a team effort really."
"Nevertheless, I'm glad you were on her team. I owe you a big thank you. And you are welcome in my house any time."
"Thank you, sir."
I wondered how welcome Mulder would be after my father had heard the news. But as Mulder had said, we would simply have to face the music. "Actually, Ahab, Mulder and I had something we wanted to tell you," I began, still trying to decide how best to phrase my announcement. My father beat me to the punch, however.
"You're pregnant and getting married."
My mouth dropped open as I stared at my father, the man who I was sure would become homicidal as soon as he heard my news, standing there as if hearing that his fifteen-year-old daughter was pregnant and engaged was an every day occurrence. Mulder shot me a look of confusion, his muscles still tensed as if expecting a blow at any minute. But one never came.
"Your mother told me," Ahab explained, and beside him, my mother nodded.
"I was going to tell you," I assured him quickly.
"I know," he said. "But I could tell the minute I got home that she was hiding something, and I wouldn't let it go until she told me. I can be quite persistent when I want to be." I heard Mulder mutter something about that explaining a lot beside me, but he luckily kept his voice low enough that my father did not hear.
"And you're okay with this?" I questioned incredulously.
"Not okay with it, no. Actually, when I first heard the news, I was ready to go rip this young man's head off. Or possibly another part of his anatomy." He looked at Mulder who unconsciously backed up slightly. "Don't worry, I've gotten past that point," Ahab continued. "Mostly with your mother's help. She assured me that Fox here was a good man and that he would do you right. And she told me about what he did last night. I don't believe that anybody will ever be good enough for you, Starbuck, but a man that will put his own life at risk to save yours is certainly up there. And though I certainly do not approve of your actions and wish that you two had made better decisions, what's done is done, and we can't change it now. And at least it seems that Fox is trying to do the right thing by marrying you. So while I wish you weren't in this situation, you seem to be handling it. But just know, Fox," he turned back to Mulder, "that if you ever, ever hurt my baby girl, the punishment will be far more severe than simply ripping your head off."
"I would never do anything to harm Dana, sir," Mulder said, his voice steady despite the trepidation etched onto his face.
Ahab studied him for a moment. "You know what, son? I truly believe you. And now, if everyone else would be kind enough to leave, I would like to speak with Fox here alone." Ahab looked at Mulder whose eyes immediately sought mine. I raised my eyebrows slightly, asking silently if he wanted me to say, but a look of resolution came over his face, and he shook his head. With a nod, I followed my mother and sister out the door.
I did not honestly think my father would do any bodily harm to Mulder, but I could not help but worry. And so I spent ten minutes standing in the kitchen just out of sight of the living room, listening for any sounds of a struggle. Fortunately, Mulder exited the room after a few minutes unscathed as far as I could tell. As soon as he spotted me, he grinned. "I knew you would be close by."
"I wanted to make sure my father didn't kill you."
"I thought you were sure he wasn't going to."
"That was before he was replaced by a pod person."
"Pod person, Scully? I believe I'm rubbing off on you."
"You know what I mean, Mulder. He was just too calm about this whole thing. There should have at least been some shouting or some threats."
"There was a threat," Mulder reminded me.
"I expected more."
"There was more." I nodded at him to continue. "We talked about the baby and my plans for our future. He told me in no uncertain terms that if I harmed you or did wrong by you in any way, he would come after me. He also warned me that despite what he said earlier, he's still not too happy with me and that I better be on my best behavior while I'm here."
"Mom was in the room," I remembered.
"Exactly," Mulder agreed. "I have a feeling that he's not as okay with this as he made it seem in front of her. But I didn't get the shit kicked out of me, and for that I'm grateful. Especially since the knife wound is already starting to hurt like hell."
"You should let me look at it. You probably over-exerted yourself today."
"It's fine."
"Just let me look at it."
"Scully," he whined.
"Let me look at it or I'll send you back to my father," I threatened. That seemed to work; he immediately grew docile.
"Fine. Let's go look at a knife wound," he remarked sarcastically, following me up the stairs to the bathroom where my mother kept the medical supplies.
I noticed throughout dinner that Mulder had taken my father's warning to heart. He was a perfect gentleman, displaying table manners that I did not even know he possessed. After dinner, he insisted on helping to clean up, so we ended up doing the dishes together again, this time without a water fight. Once we had finished, we both retreated to the living room, I with some homework and he with a psychology journal. My father was already there in his favorite recliner reading a magazine. He glanced up as Mulder and I entered, nodding to Mulder and shooting me a smile. We both returned the greeting before settling onto the couch. Without thinking, I moved so that I was leaning against his side with my legs out across the seat of the couch and my feet dangling over the arm rest. Feeling me curl against his side, he immediately draped an arm across my shoulders before realizing our current position. Quickly, he started to withdraw the arm, but I stopped him.
"It's just an arm," I told him. "Ahab's not going to kill you for putting your arm around my shoulders."
"You don't know that," he told me but kept the arm there anyway. I spent about an hour working through a few physics problems that my teacher had assigned for the coming Thursday. They were not difficult, and I finished in no time. Mulder was still engrossed in his journal, his hand automatically tracing abstract patterns across my upper arm where it rested. Setting my book aside, I leaned further against his body, and he looked down at me. "Finished?" he questioned.
"Yeah. It wasn't hard."
"I figured you'd say that."
I tried and failed to suppress a yawn. "It's been a long day," I told him.
"Go to bed," he suggested.
"Too far," I muttered, too sleepy to form full sentences. My eyelids were already starting to droop from the soporific effect of his dancing fingers and warm arm.
"Then I offer my services as a human pillow." I smiled into his shoulder as I turned my head, burying my face against him and inhaling his scent. In no time at all, I was fast asleep.
I woke up the next morning in my own bed, feeling much more rested than I had in awhile. The sleep the previous night had done me good.
Stretching, I pushed myself out of bed and found a change of clothes. After a quick shower, I walked downstairs to breakfast. Mulder was already there, carrying on a conversation with both Charlie and Melissa. I watched them for a moment and noticed that Missy seemed unusually interested in Mulder. I would have to watch that. It could turn out to be a very interesting situation.
At one end of the table, my father sat with an open newspaper covering most of his face. He would add the occasional comment to Charlie and Mulder's conversation (which of course centered entirely on sports), but for the most part, he was quiet. Seeing me, my mother handed me a plate full of food and waved me to an empty spot at the table before taking a seat herself. All in all, the meal was fairly enjoyable.
Mulder did not show up at school at all that day nor was he waiting for me as I exited the building. I was starting to grow worried until we pulled up to the house and I found him in the driveway shooting hoops with Charlie. "Good, you two are home," he declared. "Now we can play a little two on two."
"What did I tell you about overexerting yourself, Mulder?" I questioned, slightly peeved that he had not heeded my advice. Of course, this was nothing new; Mulder rarely ever heeded my advice.
"I'm not overexerting myself. We've only played a little bit of one on one. I'm mostly just showing Charlie some new tricks with the ball and helping him with his shooting form. Show her what you learned Charlie."
"Okay." Eagerly, Charlie caught the ball that Mulder passed to him and started toward the basket, taking long strides so that he could bounce the ball between his legs with each step. He did well for about three strides before the ball collided with his heel and went flying away. Immediately, he turned and began to chase it down.
"See. I even make him chase after the stray balls," Mulder pointed out.
"Sometimes, Mulder," I sighed, reaching for his shirt so I could make sure he hadn't pulled out his stitches.
"Getting a little frisky there, huh Scully?" he inquired as my hands found the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up. Ignoring him, I checked the bandages for any sign of bleeding but luckily found none. "What's my prognosis, Doc?" he questioned, and I looked up to see him wearing his familiar cocky smirk.
"Not good if you keep that attitude."
He leaned in with a devilish smile. "Are you going to punish me?"
"And that is my cue to leave," Missy said from behind me, reminding me with a start that she had been standing there for the entire exchange. I reddened.
"I got it. Let me try again," Charlie announced from behind Mulder. With a final smile at me, Mulder turned his attention back to my younger brother.
Despite my objections, they played until nearly dinnertime, and Charlie came in bouncing with excitement. My mother sent them both away to clean up, a task they both completed in record time before returning to the kitchen. Charlie took his usual seat at the table while Mulder sweetly offered to help (I could not help but find his attempts to ingratiate himself with my parents endearing). Shooing him away, my mother brought the food to the table by herself.
Dinner was relatively pleasant. My parents seemed to be slowly warming to Mulder despite the less than ideal circumstances, and some of the tension that had hung in the air since our announcement seemed to have dissipated. Charlie had already fallen in love with him, and it seemed that Melissa was well on her way to doing so, too. Of course, I couldn't blame her. Mulder had turned on his full charm, and I had found over the years that he was often irresistible when he did so.
Having finished my homework the previous night, I had no work for the rest of the term, so I suggested to Mulder that we take a walk. He readily took to the idea, and I told my parents where we were going, adding that we would be back in an hour. My mother took a few seconds to agree to let me go, and I could clearly see from her expression that she suspected we would do more than simply walk. In her defense, I had considered it, but I was still tired, and I knew Mulder's injuries were worse than he made them seem, so it seemed inadvisable for us to engage in any sort of strenuous activities.
As we walked across the yard into the woods, I felt my mother's eyes on the back of my head. "She's staring at us," Mulder told me as we slowly ambled into the forest, our hands linked together.
"I know. She's just protective."
"You're her baby girl."
"Sometimes it's rather annoying to be the youngest."
In the dim light of the moon, I saw the shadows flicker briefly across his eyes. "Trust me, being the oldest is no picnic either." I squeezed his hand comfortingly. In all the years we had worked and lived together, he never discussed his childhood much. I knew that though he had never been abused physically, he had been verbally abused quite often, especially after his sister had disappeared until he was in his late teens at which time his mother simply grew distant and rarely talked to him. I knew that despite his feelings for his parents, however, he still cared for them deeply, and their deaths had still affected him greatly.
"I'm sorry Mulder," I told him, easing the tension by rubbing small circles on the back of his hand with my thumb.
"Not your fault. I had a tough childhood, but I've moved past that."
"You know, you have another chance now."
"To what? To reconnect? My parents never really cared about me. My mother blames me for my sister, and my father is just never around. I think that at this point in my life, I was speaking to him maybe once or twice a year and my mother only slightly more. I don't need them, and they don't want me, so I see no reason to change the arrangement."
"Mulder, you said it yourself, this is a new chance. A chance to make new choices, to change our situations."
"This choice was made a long time ago."
I was going to argue with him longer, but a single look at his face told me that further debate would be fruitless. His jaw was set, his eyes staring fixedly at the ground. I knew he had made his decision and as much as I thought he would regret it later, I could not change his mind now. Mulder was extremely stubborn; I had learned over the years that there was a point where you simply stopped arguing with him because further argument simply made him more determined to do exactly what you did not want him to do. I was fairly certain that we had reached that point, so instead of pushing him, I let it go.
"What time is your appointment tomorrow?" he questioned as we started into the woods. Thousands of crickets chirped around us, creating a cacophony of noise. I heard the rustle of leaves as nighttime creatures stirred in the trees.
"Two o'clock," I answered. "I figured I'd just drive over from school."
"Good. Then I'll just meet you there, and we can go together." We continued in silence for a couple more minutes, both of us comfortable enough with the other that neither of us felt the need to speak.
"I think Missy likes you," I said finally.
"Told you I'm irresistible," he responded cheekily.
"She's used to getting her way. Especially when it comes to guys."
"I noticed that." He looked at me carefully. "Don't worry, she won't this time. There hasn't been anyone else for a long time, Scully, and that's certainly not going to change just because we're suddenly thirty years younger."
"I know. I'm just warning you that it's not going to be easy to get rid of her."
"We'll figure something out."
When we returned to the house, both my parents were waiting in the living room for me. My mother had a magazine open in front of her, but I could tell immediately that she was not actually reading a single word on the page, for her eyes continuously swept from the clock to the door. Thankful that we had in fact been out for less than an hour, I walked into the living room, announcing my presence with a loud, "I'm home!" I saw relief cross my mother's face as she made a pretense of marking her place in the magazine, belatedly realizing that she had not actually opened it.
"Right on time," she said with a false smile. "Did you two have fun?"
"It was nice to get some fresh air," Mulder told her.
"That's good, that's good. Oh, Fox, Charlie had something to tell you. He's been waiting for you to get back. He's in his room."
Mulder glanced curiously at me, and I shrugged. I had no idea what my little brother wanted to tell him; Mulder had become Charlie's hero over the past couple days, so it did not surprise me that he was asking for him. "I guess I'll go up and see him now," Mulder said, his voice slightly halting due to bewilderment.
When he had left, I started to leave, but my mother's voice stopped me. "Dana?" she called out. I turned, and I saw the question in her eyes. It did not take a genius to figure out what she was trying to ask.
"No, Mom," I answered simply before making my way up the steps. I paused outside my younger brother's room, listening to the low cadence of Charlie and Mulder's voices. After a few seconds, I turned and entered the bathroom, quickly preparing myself for bed. When I exited, I nearly ran into Mulder who was quietly shutting the door to Charlie's room.
"Were you eavesdropping?" he questioned with a wide grin.
"Of course not. I was just getting ready for bed." I scoffed at his assumption though in truth, I had seriously considered eavesdropping, and I only dismissed the idea because I was sure I could get whatever I wanted to know out of Mulder later.
"Uh huh." He sounded dubious.
"What were you two talking about anyway?"
"Guy talk."
"Guy talk?"
"Yeah, guy talk."
"Charlie's twelve. What kind of guy talk could he possibly engage in?"
"The kind with other guys."
"What did he tell you?"
"Nothing."
"I don't believe you."
"I'm not allowed to tell. He made me promise."
"I'll get it out of you, Mulder."
"That's impossible."
"Is it?" I leaned closer, keeping my body far enough away from his that no part of our bodies were touching while remaining close enough that I could feel the heat emanating from his body. "Still impossible?"
"Highly improbable," he amended. I saw him glance down at my lips, hunger in his eyes, but a firm hand on his chest kept him back. He reached out to grip my hips, but I abruptly stepped away, leaving him standing in the corner staring at me.
"Fine. Don't tell me."
"Scully, where are you going?" he asked as I turned.
"Probably to read a little before bed." I continued to walk toward my room, noting the footfalls behind me with some satisfaction.
"What about my kiss goodnight?" he inquired.
"I don't believe I ever promised anything of the sort." I reached my bedroom door and paused to push it open. Before I could turn the knob, I felt his hands on my hips, spinning me around to face him. His breath was coming in short gasps now, and his eyes had darkened considerably. Leaning over, he allowed his lips to slowly descend toward mine, but before they touched, I turned the doorknob behind me, causing us both to fall through the doorway as it swung open.
I recovered first, having anticipated the sudden movement. Mulder stumbled for a couple more seconds, so by the time he had also recovered, I had already moved away and started gathering my pajamas. "Scully," he whined.
"What?"
"I promised." I swear, sometimes I wondered if his brain had grown younger, too. Actually, scratch that, he had always acted five.
"That's fine. I'm not forcing you to tell me." I busied myself digging through my underwear drawer, purposely holding up a couple of the selections. Though none were particularly revealing, my actions still captured Mulder's attention, and I could feel his gaze during the entire process.
"Curiosity killed the cat, Scully," he said.
"Good thing I'm not a cat then." I selected a pair of underwear before crossing the room, shutting the door firmly. Before Mulder could react, I pulled off my shirt, dropping it casually to the floor as I stretched my arms above my head. Though I would certainly not be winning any modeling contests, my actions were enough to direct all of Mulder's attention to my chest. Mulder started toward me again, but I sidestepped him, turning my back to him as I reached behind me to unclip my bra.
"Fine. Charlie likes one of the girls in his class," Mulder said breathlessly, his tongue involuntarily flitting over his lips. My fingers paused at the clasp to my bra, and I turned to face him fully, my eyebrows arched.
"Really?"
"Yes. And since Bill's not around, I guess I was the next most obvious older male figure who he could solicit advice from."
"I see."
"So do I. Unfortunately, I don't see as much as I want to." He moved toward me again, and this time I did not move away. Reaching me, he wrapped his arms around my torso, his expert fingers making quick work of the clasp. In no time at all, I stood half-naked in front of him as his nimble fingers trailed over my upper body.
"I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with Charlie liking girls."
"You'd rather he liked boys?" Mulder's fingers trailed across my collarbone, followed closely by his lips.
"No, I'd just rather he wait a little longer before noticing girls. He's twelve."
"That's actually about the right age to start realizing girls don't have cooties after all. I had my first girlfriend when I was thirteen." His voice vibrated against my skin.
"Still, he seems so little."
"You know what, Scully? I'd rather not be discussing your brother right now." His hands found my breasts, cupping them as if testing their weight. I moaned slightly and moved closer to him, letting my eyes slide shut in pleasure as he continued his ministrations. I was only a few seconds away from shucking the rest of my clothing when I realized with a start where we were.
"Stop, Mulder," I told him, pulling away abruptly.
"Why?"
"Because we're in my childhood home, and my parents are both three doors down."
"So? I think they've guessed by now that we're sexually active."
"That doesn't mean I want to advertise the fact."
"Fine." He placed a last, lingering kiss on my lips before pulling away. "You might want to get dressed though. It'll make this a little easier."
"Boys," I said with a sigh, turning to pull on a loose t-shirt.
"Men," Mulder corrected.
"I don't think you ever earned that title, Mulder."
"Wow, Scully, you sure know how to cut a guy down."
"I just speak the truth. Sometimes, the truth hurts." I grinned at him, and he responded by moving closer to me again, pressing his lips against mine. After a few seconds, I pulled away. "How do we always seem to end up in this position?" I questioned, attempting to ignore the strong emotions running through my body.
"Maybe you're just irresistible," Mulder suggested.
"Or maybe you have no self-control."
"I resent that statement, Scully. I have plenty of self-control. Otherwise, we would both be naked right now." I shivered slightly at the thought, an involuntary action that he picked up on immediately. "Obviously, the idea appeals to you, too, so I say we go for it. What's the worse that can happen?"
"Trust me, we probably don't want to find out," I told him.
"Really?" He started to lean forward again, but I stopped him with a firm hand on his chest, knowing that if I let him continue, I might not have the control to stop him.
"Go to bed, Mulder."
"Why?"
"Because you need your sleep."
"Scully, it's me. I usually subsist on about four hours of sleep."
"Well, I need my sleep."
"Can I sleep in here with you?"
"No, Mulder."
"Spoilsport."
"Goodnight, Mulder." I turned my back to him, hearing the door open and close as he left the room. Shaking my head, I climbed into bed.
My appointment was scheduled for the following afternoon, so I left school soon after lunch. My mother had offered to come to the appointment with me, but I had asked her not to come, for I knew I would be more comfortable with only Mulder there. Of course, this led to questions about driving arrangements; it had taken almost half an hour to convince my mother to allow Mulder to drive the car. Surprisingly, it was my father who had finally stood up for him, claiming that driving the car would be only one of many responsibilities that Mulder would have during the following years. Evidently, Ahab was slowly warming to Mulder; I think he enjoyed having another male who was not twelve around the house.
When I walked into the parking lot, Mulder was already waiting for me, the front seat pushed all the way back and his legs stretched out in front of him. He smiled when he saw me, and I returned the grin, entering the car. "You know where we're going?" he questioned as I buckled my seatbelt.
"I wrote down directions," I said, waving a sheet of paper at him. "And we have three different maps in the back. Missy has a tendency to get lost."
"Well, let's go then."
We found the doctor's office without difficulty; it was a mid-sized brick building sandwiched between a grocery store and a bank. The parking lot was fairly empty, an occurrence which was only natural given that it was still early in the afternoon, so most people were still at work. Once Mulder parked the car, we walked into the building together, our bodies close but not touching, a habit we had picked up after years together. We had a tendency to keep our intimacy private, a necessity due to FBI regulations and the number of powerful enemies we had made. Though we had both had loosened up considerably since our time travel, old habits died hard.
When we walked in, I immediately started toward the counter to sign in, and Mulder followed slightly behind me, glancing around the room. I knew he felt out of place; he was the only male in the waiting room, and it seemed that the eyes of most of the women there were on him. I wondered if they were judging us because of our youth; after all, we were very young parents. I saw a couple other girls who looked to be around my age, however, so I knew that despite the belittling looks I was receiving, I was not the only girl in my situation.
"It's estrogen central," Mulder hissed in my ear as I printed my name on the line.
"We are at the office of an obstetrician," I pointed out.
"I realize that, thank you. But I thought that it usually took two to tango."
"But only one needs to go in for the checkups."
He looked at me curiously. "Am I not supposed to be here or something?" he questioned. "Because I really don't know, having never done this before. I just assumed that since I was the father, a certain level of. . . participation was required."
"Nothing's required," I pointed out. "Nothing's stopping you from leaving."
"Nothing except twenty years together. And a desire to raise my progeny."
"Trust me, Mulder, I'm very glad you're here. I don't know if I would want to go through this alone." He seemed to relax somewhat after my assurance, reaching to pick up a nearby magazine. Upon seeing that the cover read "Good Housekeeping," he replaced it in the stack, rifling through the other magazines. Finding nothing that interested him, he sighed and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap as he stared at the wall in front of him, lost in thought.
"What are we going to name him? Or her?" he inquired after a couple minutes.
"I hadn't really thought about it," I admitted.
"I've always liked the name Reid," Mulder remarked. "I had a good friend named Reid when I was younger. It seemed like a cool name to me."
"I thought Tubelcain was a cool name when I was little. That doesn't mean that's what I want to name my first born."
"Tubelcain? Really?"
"It's in the Bible. I just thought it sounded funny."
"If we're going with biblical names, perhaps we should consider Methuselah and Solomon. Or how about Judas? I'm sure he'd be well-liked."
"What about Adam?"
"Always a solid choice. Samuel's also good."
"I could go for Samuel. How about for a girl?"
"Lindsey maybe. Or possibly Lauren. Lily is good, too."
"How about Lola?"
"As in flowers in her hair and a dress cut down to there?"
"Hopefully not for a long time," I joked.
"I'm not sure about that one."
I smiled. "I was just joking, Mulder. I thought I'd go with your L theme."
"I didn't mean to have a theme. They just all happened to start with the same letter."
"You know, I think the real way to solve this would be by going through a baby name book and actually looking at the meanings of these names."
"Why? No one ever knows the meaning of your name when you tell them. They just know if it sounds stupid or not."
Before we could argue any further, the door opened and a nurse appeared. "Dana Scully," she read from her clipboard. I stood, and Mulder followed suit beside me. Together, we walked back toward the doorway in which the nurse stood, his hand in its customary place at the small of my back. "How are you today, Dana?" she questioned as we reached the door. It was a standard question asked by just about every nurse that I had come into contact with over the years. It was a way to put patients at ease, to develop a rapport with them which would hopefully help them to forget about whatever problem they had which had necessitated a doctor.
"I'm fine, thank you," I told her, stepping through the doorway after her.
"And you must be the father," she guessed, glancing at Mulder.
"So she tells me," he answered. I glared at him, and he smirked.
"He is the father," I confirmed, turning back to the nurse who had stopped in front of a small room. She waved Mulder and me inside and followed, shutting the door behind us. As soon as we were in the room, she instructed me to change into a hospital gown, pointing me to a connecting bathroom.
"Did you drink water as you were instructed?" she inquired when I emerged from the bathroom wearing only the gown.
"I did," I told her. I thought about adding the fact that I had to pee so badly that it was uncomfortable, but I decided that was too much information.
"Good. If you'll just lie down on the table then we can get started. Dad, you can come over here and sit beside her if you like," she said, pointing out a chair to Mulder who had been standing awkwardly in the corner up until that point.
"Thanks," Mulder said, taking the chair. As soon as I was settled on the table, Mulder took my hand, turning to the nurse.
"This is going to be a bit cold," she informed me as she began to spread the gel around my abdomen. When she had finished that task, she slowly began to move the ultrasound scanner over my abdomen. I felt the press of it on my bladder and shifted a bit, somewhat uncomfortable. My discomfort was soon forgotten, however, as the nurse directed my attention to the screen above me. "And that is your baby," she announced, pausing the motion of the scanner. My medical training allowed me to make out the baby's basic features, but I could see the confusion etched into Mulder's face as he stared at the screen. "That is the head," the nurse declared, pointing. "And you can also see two legs and an arm here." She pointed to each feature, and I saw comprehension begin to dawn on Mulder.
"It's like a Rorschach test," he declared, squinting at the picture. The nurse laughed.
"I guess you could see it that way. Do you want me to print this out for you?"
"That would be great, thanks," I told her.
"Okay." She pressed a few buttons on her keyboard. "I'll retrieve the picture for you. You just lay here; the doctor should be in soon." I nodded and she left the room. When the door had closed behind her, Mulder turned to me with a wide grin.
"We have a baby, Scully," he said in an excited whisper. "Or at least a dark-colored blob that the trained professionals assure me is a baby."
"Trust me, it's a baby Mulder."
"And I get to be here for this one," he declared. "No running off to the middle of nowhere Georgia."
"Birth in a hospital. That'll be nice," I told him.
The door opened again, and the doctor walked into the room. "Miss. Scully?" he asked, looking up from his clipboard. I nodded. "You are," he consulted the chart again, "approximately three months along, correct?"
"I am," I confirmed.
"Very good. Let's just take a look."
An hour later, we emerged from the doctor's office with a picture of the baby and the assurances of the doctor that he or she was developing normally. Mulder and I had both decided that we wanted to wait to find out the sex of the baby; we were simply content to know that we had a healthy baby. Mulder was more excited than I had ever imagined he would be. I knew he would be happy for me, but I had never thought that he would be so enthused over the whole process. He had continued to stare at the ultrasound throughout the entire appointment, and by the time we left, he could accurately identify the baby's features better than I could. He brought up the subject of names again as we drove back to school to pick up Missy. We debated names for awhile, stopping only when we saw Missy waiting for us.
"So you didn't crash it," she observed, climbing into the back seat.
"Just don't look too closely at the fender," Mulder joked.
"What?" Missy reached for the door handle to get out and check the fender, but I stopped her with a hand on her wrist.
"He's kidding," I assured her.
"It wasn't a very funny joke."
"On the contrary, I found it quite hilarious," he remarked, starting the car.
"Bill should be there when we get home," Missy said, changing the topic abruptly. I saw the look of pain cross Mulder's face briefly.
"Oh really? That's nice," Mulder said. "I guess I should go back to the motel then."
"I don't think that's going to happen," I told him. "Bill has his own room that he sleeps in when he comes home. You're fine where you are, and Mom won't let you leave. I can guarantee that."
"But six people under one roof is already a lot. I don't want to add another."
"Trust me, no one will even notice."
"We'll see about that," he mumbled.
Sure enough, when we walked in the front door, I was immediately pulled into a large hug. I wrapped my arms around my older brother, squeezing him for a few seconds before pulling back to look into his bright blue eyes. "Hi, Bill," I greeted.
"Hi yourself little sis," he responded. He looked just like I remembered him; his brown hair was cut short in the style of most military men, and he had the stiff bearing that he had obtained from his military training. He was just over six feet tall and solidly built with broad shoulders and thick limbs. His face was rather plain but not unpleasant; his features were perhaps a bit too disproportionate, but he had still attracted his fair share of girls over the years.
After Bill had also greeted Missy, I gestured to Mulder. "Bill, this is Mulder," I introduced. Bill glanced at Mulder, his smile rapidly turning into a scowl. I suspected for a moment that Bill was preparing to punch Mulder, and I could tell from the look on Mulder's face that he was preparing for just such an occurrence. Fortunately, Bill simply extended a hand which Mulder readily accepted. After a perfunctory shake, they released the other's hand and resumed standing stiffly a few feet from one another, staring each other down.
"I understand you and my sister are dating," Bill said.
"We are," Mulder confirmed.
"You better treat her right," Bill threatened.
"I have every intention of doing so," Mulder responded.
"Good. I must say, you seem better than the last few she's brought home. At least you have some spine." Bill's eyes travelled over Mulder's figure, sizing him up. "You play basketball?" he questioned finally. I should have known Bill would come around to that eventually; like Charlie, his favorite topic of conversation was sports.
A small smile graced Mulder's lips as he responded, "A little bit."
"Good. We can play some one-on-one later. I've been looking forward to finding a worthy opponent."
"Bill, there's actually something you should know," I said before they started up a sports discussion. I knew that both could continue such a discussion indefinitely.
"What's that?" He turned to me expectantly, and I found myself suddenly wishing that my mother had spilled the beans to him, too.
"Mulder and I, well. . ." I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "We're getting married and having a baby," I said quickly. I had found that telling someone news they did not wish to hear was often similar to ripping off a bandaid: the faster you did it, the less it would hurt. Unfortunately, it was not me who was hurt by this particular piece of bad news. As soon as the words left my mouth, Bill abruptly turned back to Mulder, punching him square in the jaw. A second punch landed on Mulder's nose before he finally recovered enough to respond. When Bill attempted a third punch, Mulder caught his fist with one hand, knocking Bill's other hand away with his free hand. With some effort, Mulder pushed Bill's hand down into a less dangerous position. I could clearly see the fury in Bill's eyes, and I began to seriously worry about Mulder. My brother had a horrible temper; I had seen him truly angry only a couple times in my life, and it never ended well for the people involved.
"I guess I should have seen that one coming," Mulder commented, his words slightly muffled by the stream of blood flowing from his nose. Bill tried to land another punch, but Mulder's hand shot up quickly, blocking Bill's fist. "Look, I don't think this is really necessary," Mulder said, deflecting another blow.
"Actually, I think it's completely necessary," Bill hissed.
"You know I have no intention of hurting your sister."
"The damage is already done."
"Pregnancy is not damage."
"I can't believe you!" Bill lunged at Mulder, but before the fight could escalate, my mother entered the room.
"Bill Scully, I don't believe you!" she scolded. "Mulder is a guest in this house."
"Mom, do you know what he did?" Bill inquired, still red-faced with anger.
"Yes, I do know about his and Dana's situation. However, both are dealing with the situation remarkably well. As long as they continue to do so, I see no reason to start fights. I expect better from you. Understand?"
Bill looked at the floor as he answered. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Now come help me with dinner." Meekly, Bill followed her from the room, glaring in Mulder's direction as he left. As soon as Bill was gone, Mulder turned to me, blood still pouring from his nose.
"Do you have any gauze he asked?" I smiled at the odd sound of his voice, and he responded with a glare, obviously unamused.
"Yeah. Come on, I'll go get it for you."
Dinner was somewhat tense, but I had expected as much. Although I loved both my brother and Mulder, both of them had a tendency to cause tension, and I knew the two of them together would never end well. Charlie was the only family member who seemed unaffected by the thick tension which hung heavy in the air; he was just as loquacious as usual throughout the meal, and he spent much of dinner attempting to draw in both Mulder and Bill to his conversation. At one point, he suggested that the two should play a game of one-on-one together, and Bill readily agreed, eying Mulder with an almost predatory expression. I was slightly concerned and was about to suggest that one-on-one wait until another day, but Mulder also agreed to the suggestion before I could say anything.
Again, Mulder offered to clean up after dinner, and again, my mother refused his offer. Bill took the opportunity to remind him of the basketball challenge, and Mulder nodded, turning toward the door. I followed somewhat apprehensively, wondering if I would have to break up a fight.
The game started off fairly innocuously. It quickly became clear that Mulder was the better player; Bill had played basketball with the neighborhood kids growing up, but he had never played seriously. He had always preferred baseball. Though both were fairly evenly matched in speed and size, Mulder had more fundamental basketball knowledge and skills, both of which allowed him to make plays that Bill could not copy. I saw the frustration clearly etched into Bill's face as Mulder once more faked to the right before crossing the ball to his left hand with one deft movement and driving to the basket for a layup. "Eleven-six," Mulder announced as the ball fell through the net into his waiting hands. "We're playing to twenty-one, right?"
"You're cheating," Bill told him, ignoring his final question.
"I'm not cheating," Mulder argued, returning to the top of the three point line that he and Charlie had earlier chalked on the cement.
"Yes, you're cheating."
"How am I cheating?" Mulder bounced the ball to Bill to check it.
"I don't know. I just know that you are." Bill returned the ball to Mulder who simply shook his head at the final comment. Mulder stood for a moment, shifting his weight from one side to the other and watching as Bill mirrored his movements. Without warning, he suddenly moved to the right with a sudden burst of speed, stopping a couple feet inside the three-point line. As he lifted the ball into shooting position, I saw him hesitate briefly. Bill had caught up to him by this time and stood in front of him with a hand in front of Mulder's face. Mulder released the ball, and it sailed in a smooth arc, coming down nearly a foot away from the basket. I glanced quickly at Mulder. In all the time they had been playing, I had not seen him air ball; in fact, I could not remember ever seeing him air ball. He was an excellent shooter, usually playing in the two position on his team (though he had told me once that he had played every position at some point in time during his college career).
A single look at Mulder's face, however, told me that the air ball was not a mistake. He was watching Bill run for the rebound with an expression that I could only interpret as satisfaction. For whatever reason, he had intended to miss that shot.
As the game continued, I started to realize that Mulder was purposely throwing it. His shots were more erratic, his movements slower, and his defense fairly ineffective. I had grown up with two brothers, so I knew sports well enough to see that Mulder was certainly not playing as well as he could. He failed to take a number of wide-open shots and did not drive even when a lane was clearly open. I was surprised that Bill had not yet noticed Mulder's sudden lack of skill, but Bill seemed too focused on winning to worry about why he was suddenly outscoring Mulder. I supposed that Mulder had realized that beating my brother at basketball was not the best way to ingratiate himself with my family; I knew Mulder well enough to know that he was willing to make himself look foolish or inept if he believed that he could benefit from doing so. I had also learned that Mulder was anything but foolish or inept. Obviously, Bill had not yet realized this.
In the end, Bill won 21-17. As soon as the ball soared into the basket for his final point, he turned to Mulder with a triumphant smile. Mulder returned the smile, holding out his hand. Bill hesitated for a moment before taking the offered hand and giving three firm shakes. I watched the interaction with interest; perhaps Mulder throwing the game had worked out better than I expected. Bill's anger seemed to have decreased somewhat; he did congratulate Mulder on a game well-played (though he also not-so-subtly remarked on his continued superiority). Mulder took the comment surprisingly well; he simply nodded, promising that he would play again sometime in the near future, before joining me. Bill disappeared back inside, leaving Mulder and I standing in the driveway alone.
"You threw the game," I observed.
"It didn't seem advisable to cream your brother in basketball. He hates me enough already," Mulder defended.
"You probably did the right thing. Though you took the defeat remarkably well."
"Believe it or not, Scully, I can lose well. Even if I don't lose often."
"And you're oh-so-humble too."
"Almost as humble as Bill." I smiled. After a few seconds of silence, Mulder asked, "Hey, you think your parents will let me take you out on a date tomorrow?"
"A date?" My eyebrows rose.
"Yeah, a date. A proper date. Something we haven't really done much."
"I'll ask, but it should be okay as long as we're back by curfew."
"I think I can manage that."
The following night, I stood in front of my mirror carefully putting on my earrings. The door to the room opened, and Missy walked in, sprawling out across her bed. "I hear you have a date tonight," Missy remarked.
"I do," I confirmed.
"Mind if I join you?"
"On my date?" I turned to my sister, confused.
"Yeah. Jacob bailed on me, so I don't have anything to do, and you know how I hate to be alone on a Friday night."
"Then call Julie or Kathryn or someone." I turned back to the mirror to finish inserting my earrings.
"They have dates," Melissa whined.
"So do I. "
"But we're sisters. We're supposed to share everything."
"I didn't remember that clause in the sister handbook," I said dryly.
"You had to read the fine print. Come on, Danes, please."
"No, Missy. You're not coming on my date."
A sly smile spread across Melissa's face. "And why is that, Dana? Do you and lover boy have something planned that you don't want your older sister to see? Maybe it involves the back seat of the car."
"I don't know what we're doing," I admitted candidly. "Mulder just said to be ready at six and promised that dinner would be provided."
"Sounds intriguing. Are you sure I can't come?" I sighed, deciding that it was best to ignore her. As soon as I had placed the back on my earring, I glanced over my appearance a final time before checking the clock. Seeing that it was five minutes until six, I grabbed my jacket and left the room.
Surprisingly, Mulder was also ready. He was waiting in the living room flipping through yet another psychology book that he had obtained from the public library nearby. When he heard me enter, he stood and smiled at me. "Ready to go?" he questioned. I nodded, and he extended his hand. Our fingers entwined as he led me from the room and out the front door.
Mulder promised that we were going somewhere close, so we had decided to walk. Though the night was cold, my thick jacket blocked most of the chill, leaving me comfortable and warm. We walked a couple blocks in silence before Mulder turned off the road, leading me to a small side street. I wondered for a moment where he was going until he stopped in front of a small restaurant that I did not recognize.
"I was wandering around one day, and I happened to come across this place," he explained. "It looked like something you might like."
"I've never seen this place before," I told him. "Of course, I don't really remember much; Ahab was only stationed her for a couple years."
"Well, I'm glad to give you a new experience." He opened the door, allowing me to pass through it under his arm. The inside of the restaurant was warm and homey. It was lit by soft white lights over each table, and the decorations were more subtle than those found in most restaurants. The colors were also a bit more subdued, giving the place a relaxing atmosphere that I immediately fell in love with.
"A table for two please," Mulder told the hostess. She smiled at us, taking two menus. "Right this way," she said, leading us to a cozy booth in the back corner of the restaurant. We smiled in thanks as she laid our menus on the table, and both of us slid into the booth. Once we were seated, I glanced at the menu, noticing immediately that instead of the usual greasy, fried fare, it boasted healthy meals. I glanced at Mulder to gauge his reaction to the menu, expecting to hear some comment about rabbit food. Instead of remarking on the restaurant's lack of cheeseburgers, however, he was simply calmly reading the menu. I soon realized that he had known before bringing me to the restaurant that it served health food.
"Doesn't seem like your usual fare," I remarked.
"I can deal with it. I knew you'd like it."
"I do. This is great."
He smiled at me. "I was hoping you'd say that."
The food was indeed excellent, and I stuffed myself thoroughly before pushing my plate away. Mulder had already finished his dinner; seeing the remains of mine, he turned to me with a questioning look. "Go ahead. I'm full," I told him.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Positive. If I eat any more, I'll burst." That was all the encouragement he needed; grabbing my plate, he began to shovel the rest of my meal into his mouth. "I thought you didn't like anything healthy," I remarked, watching him eat greedily.
He swallowed before speaking. "I don't. It doesn't fill me up. Thus the need to finish your meal, too," he gestured at the nearly empty plate in front of him. I shook my head at him, watching as he shoved the last few bites of food into his mouth. Catching the waitress's eye, he signaled for the check before turning back to me.
When he had signaled to the waitress, I had glanced in her direction and had happened to catch sight of a small family two booths behind us. I watched as the mother scolded the two small children who were playing some game which involved crawling under the table. It was one of those scenes that I had always watched wistfully, knowing that it could never happen to me. But now it was happening. I did not know how or why, but it seemed that suddenly all of my dreams were coming true. Everything was so surreal, so unbelievable that I still felt as if I was walking through a dream world from which I would awake at any moment to find myself in the middle of some barren, post-Apocalyptic landscape with no friends or family left. That was how I had imagined my life ending—with me alone, watching as the world went to hell around me and powerless to stop the destruction. That was my fate. I was not destined to live a happy life; sure, my life had had its happy moments, but overall, it had been so fraught with suffering and destruction that I had slowly come to realize that for whatever reason, God had simply decided to make my life more difficult than that of most people.
Don't get me wrong, I did not completely hate my life. On the contrary, I believe that in the end, I had fewer regrets than most, for I knew that I had done as well as I could with the hand that I had been dealt. And despite all the hell that I had been through over the years, I never regretted joining the X-files, for this action had brought the one thing in my life that I knew made everything else worth it: Mulder. Few people could truly claim to have found their true love, the one person that complements them so perfectly that the two seemed designed to fit together. Mulder was my complete opposite, the only person who had ever challenged me, pushed me to be a better person. He had frustrated me to no end at times, but at the end of the day, I was grateful for his presence. He had opened my eyes to the world around me, shown me things that my scientific training told me could never occur. Over the years, he had slowly broken down the laws of nature that I once trusted so completely, forcing me to, sometimes grudgingly, admit that there were phenomena out there that science—at least as we understood it—could not explain.
Above all else, Mulder taught me what it meant to love. Of course, I had loved before. I loved my family and my friends. I had even believed myself to be in love at times; there were certainly relationships in my past that I would classify as love. But all of those relationships were different. I had never before loved someone as completely as I loved Mulder, had never found myself so completely wrapped up in a person that life without him seemed pointless. I could not completely describe this unique love; it was certainly more than affection or attraction. It was even more than a willingness to die for one another; that willingness had existed long before our love did. It was our complete devotion to each other, a devotion that had developed slowly over all our years together. It was the knowledge that at the end of the day, Mulder would be there no matter what. It was the absolute trust we had in one another; I had come to realize that even when the rest of the world seemed to be spouting nothing but lies, Mulder would tell me the truth. I did not trust him with just my life but also with myself; he was the one person in the world with whom I could be completely open without fear of what he might think. Mulder knew me; it was scary sometimes how well he knew me, but in ways it was also comforting. It was the reason we could communicate so well without words. And I knew him, too, with a knowledge that could only be born from years together.
"You look pensive," Mulder remarked. I blinked, clearing the thoughts from my head as my eyes focused once more on him.
"Just thinking."
"About anything interesting?"
"Just wondering if all of this is for real."
Mulder grinned at this. "I've lived in a dream world before, Scully. Trust me, this ain't it." I smiled, too. "Any particular reason why you're wondering now?"
"Nothing in particular. I was just thinking that it seems inconceivable that after everything that has happened, we're both sitting here on a real date without having to worry about shadow governments or alien invasions. And to top it all off, we're going to be parents in about six months."
"I think that after everything we went through, we were long overdue for a happy ending. Maybe we're finally getting that."
"Maybe."
"You sound skeptical."
"I'm always skeptical."
"True." The waitress returned with our check, and Mulder glanced quickly over it before removing his wallet and selecting the correct bills. Once he had paid, he stood, and I followed suit. Together, we walked from the restaurant.
It did not take me long to discern where we were going. When we left the restaurant, Mulder turned back toward the main road before starting on a route that I had travelled often during my time in California. "We're going ice skating?" I guessed, knowing that he was going in the direction of the rink.
"You said you had enjoyed it growing up."
"I did."
"Well, I thought you would still enjoy it."
Impetuously, I stopped, myself herself onto my tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. "Thanks, Mulder. This is really great." He smiled at me in answer.
When I first stepped out onto the rink, I finally felt fifteen again. During the few months that I had been living as a teenager again, I still had not grown used to the idea of being suddenly over thirty years younger. But as I started to skate, a bit shakily at first yet growing steadier as the movement came back to me, I realized that I had not completely forgotten what it felt like to be a teenager. The lack of responsibilities was freeing; for the first time in a long time, I could just relax and enjoy myself. It was truly a wonderful feeling.
I suddenly felt two strong hands grip me from behind, and I was lifted off the ice, shrieking with laughter. Behind me, I heard the deep chuckle I knew belonged to Mulder, and I struggled a bit, demanding that he put me down. Still laughing, he set me back on the ice, letting his hands remain above my hips to steady me until I regained my balance. Once I had my feet firmly beneath me again, I turned to face him, noticing immediately that he was still wearing a wide grin. "What was that for?" I demanded, placing my hands on my hips.
"I thought it would be funny." He began to skate backwards away from me, and I followed, skating so that we were only a couple feet apart.
"I didn't know you knew how to skate so well," I admitted, watching how steady he appeared to be, maneuvering flawlessly backwards.
"I played some hockey in high school, and a lot of the guys on the team like to play during the off season sometimes. It's amazing how quickly it comes back to you; I was a bit shaky during the first game, but by the second, it was like I never quit playing." He reached out to take my hands as we continued to slowly skate around the rink facing each other.
"This is really nice, Mulder."
"I was hoping you'd think that." He stopped suddenly, spinning around so that we were skating side-by-side. Reaching out, he grabbed my hand. "Come on, Scully, this is way too slow." He urged me onward by tugging on my hand, and I reluctantly sped up somewhat, expecting to fall on my ass the entire time. Mulder's eyes lit up as we circled the rink faster and faster, and I soon found that his enjoyment was infectious. By our fourth or fifth lap, I, too, was smiling broadly. After a few more laps, we were moving fairly fast when a small child skated in front of me. I turned abruptly to avoid him and lost my balance, falling back toward the ice. Mulder felt me start to fall and attempted to shift his weight to stop me; unfortunately, he was too late to save me, and we both ended up falling to the ice, laughing.
"We must look ridiculous," I remarked, noting how we were both laughing like maniacs. He simply shrugged.
"I've certainly been called worse things than ridiculous."
"True." I placed my hand behind me to push myself up, but he grabbed my arm to stop me before I could fully stand. "Mulder, what-" I started, turning to him, but his lips stopped mine before I could continue any further.
We kissed for a few seconds until a passerby reminded us that we were in a public place at which point Mulder reluctantly pulled away. With one deft movement, he pushed himself onto his feet and reached down to help me up also. Once we were both standing again, we continued to skate, our hands still tightly clasped.
We stayed at the ice rink for another hour or so until both of us had sore feet. As we removed our skates, Mulder checked his watch. "We still have an hour and a half before you have to be home," he remarked.
"You have any more plans?" I inquired.
"We could go parking," he joked.
My giddiness from the day had still not worn off, so I was feeling particularly playful. Without pausing, I simply said, "Okay."
He stopped unlacing his shoes, staring at me as if I had suddenly grown two heads. I knew he had expected my typical eye roll or something similar in response to his suggestion. "That was a quick answer," he finally remarked.
"Why not? I mean, we're teenagers again. We might as well live a little."
"You know, Scully, I think I like this new side of you."
We returned to my house about ten minutes before my curfew. Both my parents were waiting in the living room for me, and I went in to say goodnight. Naturally, they asked me if we had had fun, and I assured them that we had, giving a brief summary of what we had done (though I wisely omitted the last activity). They seemed skeptical but questioned me no further for which I was grateful. After saying goodnight, Mulder and I both trudged up the stairs. When we reached Charlie's room, Mulder smiled before disappearing behind the door.
Missy accosted me as soon as I walked into the room, demanding the details. Her constant urging eventually forced me to disclose most of our activities, eliciting and eye raise and an "I told you so" from Missy. It took nearly thirty minutes before she was satisfied and allowed me to go to bed, and I lay awake listening to her exclaim about how I should have let her come for around half an hour before my eyes finally drifted shut and I fell asleep.
For the next few days, I spent much of my time lounging around the house, often being roped into playing basketball with Charlie, Bill, and Mulder. When he was not playing, Mulder was often wandering around the city, and during these random amblings, he discovered a variety of places which he would then insist on showing me. From a random occult shop on a street down which I would never have traveled under ordinary circumstances for fear of being mugged to a small underground cave in the woods a couple miles from my home, Mulder's discoveries were always interesting and certainly kept me guessing. Charlie, too, loved the "adventures" that Mulder took him on; I could tell that my little brother was quickly becoming attached, and I knew this fact bothered Bill more than anything.
My parents had been invited to a Christmas Eve party by one of the neighbors, and my mother had decided it would be good for us to meet new people, so Christmas Eve found all seven of us rushing around the house preparing to leave. At first, Mulder had hesitated to join us, but my mother had insisted, claiming that he would soon be part of the family. My mother's persistence never ceases to amaze me; eventually, Mulder simply gave in, even acquiescing to her request that he wear one of Bill's suits which fit him surprisingly well.
We arrived at the party a few minutes after it had started, and a woman in her late forties answered the door with a broad smile. I had seen her around the neighborhood a few times, and she had always seemed unnaturally happy to me. She had struck me as one of those people with whom it is impossible to carry on an intelligent conversation, a person who is much happier to stay home and bake cookies than to use her brain. I was definitely not looking forward to this party.