TITLE: A Simple Kiss III: Revelations
AUTHOR: Jess < JessLB@aol.com >
RATING: PG-13 (only because there's a sufficient amount of swearing
going on)
CATEGORY: SR, some angst
KEYWORDS: MSR
SPOILERS: Christmas Carol/Emily, the whole cancer arc, TGTSC,
Beyond
the Sea, The Blessing Way, The Unnatural
ARCHIVE: Sure, fine, whatever. Just drop me a line so I know.
SUMMARY: Third and final chapter of the 'Simple Kiss' universe. During
the Fourth of July weekend at Margaret Scully's, more than a few
revelations are made; and what began as a simple kiss leads to a
promise for the future.

DISCLAIMER: Oh yeah, baby. They're mine. All mine. ::sticks out
tongue:: No, really, I don't own them; but if 1013 or Chris Carter
would like to sue me, they can have everything. Everything but my X-
Files tapes, pictures, calendar, and my bird Fernando. Leaving my
television would be nice, too.

FEEDBACK: I'm like E! - 'We live for this stuff." Send me feedback,
man.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This, my friends, is the product of one too many
viewings of 'The Unnatural' and too many rewinds back to the hug in
'Milagro.' When it's two a.m. and you've had a severe case of writer's
block for a month, you'll do whatever you have to do to finish the
piece, too. At any rate, thanks once again to my wonderful editor Jan,
who made sure I knew a box from a disposable blister-pack that fits in
a plastic disc. Many, many thanks. ;-)

Hope this sucker lives up to the first two, but I fear it falls into
that old 'the first is always the best' category. I tried. Tell me if
I succeeded (shameless feedback plug).

-----------------

I'm lounging on the couch when I hear the front door open, and I hear
his footsteps sounding in the foyer.

"I'm in the living room," I call to him, before he can ask.

He appears in the doorway and throws me a grin. "Tired, sweetheart?"

"She can reach doorknobs now. What do you think?"

My husband crosses the room and squats on the floor next to me. "I
missed you," he says quietly, smoothing my hair with his hand.

"I missed you, too," I reply softly, leaning forward to give him a
kiss. As always, I'm surprised to notice that we've deepened the kiss
and are, by instinct, heading towards that point of no return, and
it's by pure coincidence that I look up to see a little blonde-haired,
hazel-eyed toddler sucking her thumb as she stares at us. "Mulder," I
say, nudging him a little as I break the kiss.

"Scullllyyy..." he whines, trying to recapture my lips.

I look pointedly over his shoulder. "We've got company, Dad."

Mulder twists his head around and groans. "Tell me again why we had
children, Scully. Come here, baby," he calls to our daughter, whose
face lights up immediately as she rushes into the waiting arms of her
father. He scoops her up into one of those big bear hugs, and she
doesn't disappoint, squealing in that way that only a two year old
can. Mulder's tickling her now, and, with some measure of dismay, I
realize that we won't be continuing that kiss, at least not any time
soon.

I get up off of the couch, tousle my daughter's hair, and head towards
the kitchen to make dinner. "Try not to break anything, you two," I
scold them, a hint of amusement in my voice. I hear his voice float
through the kitchen as I turn on the stove.

"Love you, Scully."

I poke my head around the threshold, a grin a mile wide on my face,
watching the man I love play with Emily. "Love you, too, Mulder."

I return to the kitchen, and not two minutes later, I feel two strong
arms wrapping around my waist from behind me, and he pulls me towards
him. Suddenly, distantly, I hear the smoke detector ringing...

***

I woke up with a start, nearly banging my head on the headboard in the
process. I sat up in bed, the remnants of my dream misting away from
my memory. I glanced over, rubbing my eyes, and assured myself that
Mulder was still sleeping soundly.

The smoke detector beeped again.

What?

My disorientation slipping, I realized it was the doorbell. A quick
look at the clock on the night table told me it was barely seven on a
Saturday morning. I got out of bed as silently as I could, trying not
to wake the sleeping form next to me, and hurried to answer the door.
I opened it on the third buzz.

And wished immediately that I hadn't.

"Bill," I said, surprised.

Mulder told me numerous times that my eyes were the windows to my
feelings. Part of the reason I can't lie, he said, is that my eyes
give everything away. I remembered this as my face fell, hoping my
brother wouldn't detect it.

"Gee, Dana, you sure know how to make a man feel welcome," he said
sarcastically.

I recovered quickly. "Sorry, I just - I just woke up. What...are you
doing in D.C.?"

"We're on our way up to Mom's, and Tara suggested that we stop up here
and drag you with us."

"I, uh, I wasn't planning on leaving until noon, Bill."

I heard the bed creaking back in the bedroom, and I pictured Mulder
rolling over, feeling the bed for me, knowing that he'd panic
instantly. Please, I begged mentally, don't say anything, Mulder. Just
assume I went to the bath-

"Scully?"

I always knew telepathy was a circus trick.

My eyes closed against my older brother's penetrating stare, and I
wondered how long it would take me to find my Sig and shoot myself
before Mulder found his way out to the living room.

When I was sixteen, I had my first boyfriend. Nick, I think his name
was. He was a year older than I was, and he was on the basketball
team. I was thoroughly enthralled by him, surprised that he'd like me.
We went out for two months before I brought him home to meet my
family. We broke up three days later. The memory of Bill's arm slung
tightly around Nick's neck as he spoke in quiet tones in the corner of
the living room was burned into my head. I never knew what exactly my
brother said to him, but that was Friday, and in homeroom on Monday, I
was a single lass again.

And it wasn't exactly a secret that Bill didn't like Mulder. In fact,
it probably wouldn't be wrong of me to state, for the record, that my
brother inexplicably, irrevocably, emphatically abhorred my partner.
They've only met a handful of times, the first being at the hospital
when I had my cancer and the last being at Emily's funeral, but each
time was a tender time where Mulder walked on eggshells to avoid
setting off the explosive temper that Bill's famous for.

I dimly realized that Bill was talking to me. "Dana?" I knew that
'Dana.' It was the same 'Dana' that my father used on me when he found
the cigarette butt in the trash when I was seventeen. It was a 'Dana'
that meant, 'Dana Katherine Scully, explain this *now.*'

I felt Mulder appear behind me. He couldn't see who was at the door.
"Hey, sweetheart, where'd you go?"

Bill brushed past me and entered the dimly lit living room, arms
folded across his chest.

I heard a distinct, "oh, shit" before I shut the door resignedly.

***

There was a moment of tense silence where I remembered exactly how
short my t-shirt was and tried to tug it down, Mulder ran his hand
over his face, and Bill's face went from pale to blue to red with
fury.

"I need coffee," I announced suddenly, taking off for the kitchen. No
answer. I returned five minutes later, struggling not to spill the
three mugs and placed them carefully on the coffee table.

They hadn't moved from the positions I had left them in.

I put a hand on Mulder's arm to get his attention, and he came to
life, looking at me, and I tried to reassure him with my eyes.

'Sit down. It's okay.'

'The hell it is.'

"Bill?" I said, sitting down, pulling Mulder down with me.

A vein in his neck twitched. "Dana, I am trying extremely hard to stay
calm, here," he said tightly.

"Sit down," I said calmly.

He sat, somewhat grudgingly. "What is he doing here?" he asked, his
eyes closed. He opened them and pierced Mulder with a glare. "What are
you doing here."

"Playing house?" he offered dryly. No fear, my Mulder.

"Dana." It was spoken as a command. I could see the situation was
rapidly spiraling out of control, no thanks to Mulder's inability to
stay quiet.

"Is it absolutely necessary to act like I just told you the world has
ended, Bill?" I asked, feeling anger seeping into my bones.

"It might as well, Dana! Of all the goddamn men in the world! Hasn't
he caused enough problems in our family without you --"

"Mulder, would you please go start breakfast?" I asked, ignoring Bill.
Mulder nodded, squeezing my hand before he left to reassure me that he
knew that I wanted to have a few minutes alone with my brother. As
soon as he disappeared into the kitchen, I turned with fury on Bill.
"When the hell did you become such a callous expert on my life, Bill?"
I hissed, keeping my voice low so Mulder wouldn't hear. "You seem to
forget that you aren't my father, and no matter what your opinion is
of Mulder, it's mine that matters, and I love him."

His reddened more, if that was possible. "How can you love a man whose
torn this family apart, Dana?" he demanded, leaning closer to me so I
could hear his quiet voice. "He killed Missy, he almost killed you.
What the hell will it take for you to get the hell away from this guy?
Beyond the fact that he's about an inch away from being clinically
insane, beyond the fact that he put that - that thing in your neck,
beyond the fact that he --"

"Beyond the fact that the implant in my neck was put there by the same
men who abducted me, beyond the fact that he did everything to save me
and to save Melissa, beyond the fact that he's gone to hell and back
for me...yes, Bill, beyond all that, I love him. *Because* of that, I
love him."

"He almost killed you, Dana," he hissed, leaning even closer.

"He saved me," I returned, my gaze hardening.

The sounds of Mulder puttering around the kitchen filled the tense
silence that followed.

"Does Mom know?" asked Bill.

"No. Not yet."

He sneered. "Oh, that's just great, Dana. How long has this been going
on?"

I glared back at him. "That's hardly any of your business, Bill, but
two months."

A knock sounded at my door, and I looked up just as Mulder popped out
of the kitchen. "Want me to get it?" he asked. I nodded.

"It's Tara," Bill said sullenly.

Mulder opened the door, and I saw him blush and step back. Sure
enough, Tara entered the room, Matthew on her hip. "Bill, what's going
on?" she asked in that soft voice of hers.

"Dana's not coming with us," he replied, standing.

"Dana?" Tara asked, looking at me.

"We're leaving at noon," I explained.

My sister-in-law hesitated a moment, then nodded as her husband took
her arm and pulled her towards the door. "We'll see you there," she
said. She turned to Mulder and smiled. Bill slammed the door shut
behind them.

"Well, that went well," Mulder deadpanned.

***

Mulder complained during the entire hour drive to my mother's house.

"It's a family get-together, Scully," he said, refusing to look at me.
His fingers tapped out an irregular rhythm on the steering wheel as
stopped at a red light. "I'm not family. And Bill'll kill me," he
added.

"You are a part of my family, Mulder."

"Well, then let's have our own little get-together," he said, throwing
me a leer.

"You think my couch is comfortable, don't you, Mulder?"

"Ouch," he said, making a face. "Come on, Scully. I can drop you off,
and pick you up tomorrow, or something."

An hour listening to him try to worm his way out of my mother's annual
fourth of July family celebration had finally gotten to me. I turned
my head towards my window and automatically started erecting the walls
around me again. Enough was enough.

"Fine, whatever, Mulder."

I watched the scenery fly by, although I wasn't really seeing it. I
realized with a start that we had arrived at my mother's, although
neither of us made a move to get out.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"No, you aren't, Mulder."

"Yes, I am."

"You're sorry that you're sleeping at your own apartment when we get
back."

"Well, that was something I'm not exactly looking forward to."

"Shut up, Mulder."

"Dana," he said, rubbing his hand up and down my arm. "I just don't
want to make waves today. This is a special weekend for your mother.
For you. My presence here is only going to cause problems."

I turned my head to look at him. "You can't make assumptions on the
rest of the family based on Bill's ridiculous performance this
morning, Mulder."

"I'm not worried about the rest of the family."

"I want you to be here, Mulder," I said.

"I know you do. I want to be there for you."

"Is this what it's always going to be like, Mulder? Refusing to go to
Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner with me because you're afraid Bill's
going to beat you up? Because if it is, I want to know now."

We were both silent for a moment before I heard him open his door, and
a few seconds later, my own was being opened, and he leaned in. I
looked up at him, waiting. "Love you, Scully," he said quietly,
resting his head against mine, his breath tickling against my face.

I sighed and closed my eyes, running my hands up and down the back of
his neck. "Love you, too, Mulder."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I rang the doorbell tentatively, a small part of me have expecting
Bill to have rigged the thing to explode in my face.

We could hear it echo in the house, and we waited.

And waited.

And waited a little more.

I shrugged and rung again. The sound of footsteps met my ears, and the
door was flung open to reveal a petite brunette with a warm smile.

"Dana!" she cried, flinging her arms around Scully, who returned the
hug, although with considerably less enthusiasm.

"Karen," Scully said warmly, pulling back. "I thought Charlie said you
guys couldn't make it?"

I used deductive reasoning to figure out who she was as she launched
onto some story about vacation leave and the Navy. Charlie's wife, I
assumed as Scully took my hand.

"This is Mulder, my - partner," she said finally. I quirked an eyebrow
at her, and she gave me a look. Later, it said. I swallowed a grin and
smiled charmingly for the woman in front of me.

"Nice to meet you, Karen," I said. "You must be Charlie's wife?"

"The one and only," she said, motioning us inside and closing the door
behind us. "Sorry it took so long to answer the door, but we're all
out back."

"Is, uh, Bill here?" Scully asked as we dropped our overnight bags on
the floor in the living room. Karen nodded, starting towards what I
assumed to be the back door. Scully followed her, and I was left at a
crossroads.

Choice a. Go outside, risk William Scully Junior's wrath. Possibly
ruin the Scully family's traditional fourth of July celebration
weekend.

Choice b. Stay inside and cower like the nice little coward I am, risk
Dana Katherine Scully's wrath. Sleep on couch upon return to
Washington D.C. Possibly sleep on floor at Mrs. Scully's house.

The hell with ruining their celebration, there was no way I was not
staying with Scully when we got back to Washington.

I caught up with them just as Karen Scully was opening the back door.
From the hall, I could see the entire family lounging pool side.

Well...inflatable-pool side.

Margaret Scully, the caring matriarch of the clan, sat on a plastic
chair, a cute little girl with brown curls on her lap. Tara sat on the
back stoop, talking to her mother-in-law with her own little boy in
her arms, who was himself busy in a one-on-one staring match with
another little boy who was halfway across the yard in the arms of a
man who was talking to Bill Scully who was-

Glaring at me.

Shit.

I opened the door and huddled around Scully, who had headed
immediately to her mother.

"Fox, you came!" Margaret greeted me, reaching out a hand and
motioning me closer.

I always felt safe in the arms of a Scully woman, so I stepped closer,
and she wrapped on arm around my waist in a half-hug. "Hello, Mrs.
Scully," I replied.

"Margaret," she said firmly. "For the last time."

Who the hell was I to argue with her?

Before I had a chance to answer her, Scully had taken my hand and was
near dragging me across the yard towards the man with Bill. As I got
closer to them, I realized it must be the infamous Charles Scully. The
family resemblance was positively uncanny. I saw Melissa in Bill's
face, but Charlie was pure Dana.

"Charlie," Scully said, dropping my hand and putting her arms around
him. They hugged for a few minutes, whispering things that I couldn't
quite catch, before Charlie pulled away and faced me.

"You can only be the infamous Fox Mulder," he said, a teasing glint in
his eye.

I stepped forward and shook his offered hand. And prayed like I'd
never prayed before.

Please, God, please, don't let this brother hate me; give me one male
member of the Scully family who doesn't want to rip my eyes out and
burn me at the stake.

"The ever-elusive Charles Scully, I presume?" I returned as Scully's
hand found its way discreetly into mine.

Charlie grinned. "I've heard so much about you. 'Mulder, Charlie, not
Fox.' It's nice to finally meet the man who dragged my big sister off
on some ghost hunt last Christmas." My heart almost fell, until I saw
the humor in his eyes belying his words.

"Shut up, Charlie," Scully said, a teasing glint in her eye. "Bill."
The word was spoken in quiet somberness.

"I almost didn't recognize you two with your clothes on. Excuse me,"
he snapped sharply, pushing his way past me and disappearing inside
the house.

"Gee, Mulder, you sure know how to make friends," Charlie said,
deadpan.

"Yeah, you know Bill and I, we're like this," I said wryly.

At least he didn't say anything to anyone.

***

I'd never been more wrong about anything in my entire life.

After an hour or so more outside, Mrs. Scully - Margaret - herded
everyone inside for dinner. The little girl that had been on her lap
somehow found her way to my leg, where she promptly attached herself.
I looked down at her, a smile twitching at my mouth.

"Hey."

"Who you?"

Obviously, straightforwardness was a trait in the Scully women.

"I'm...Fox. What's your name?"

"Unkie Fox?"

Crossroads again. Route one: Say yes to appease her and risk it
getting back to Bill; not to mention the myriad of reactions it might
bring out of Scully.

Route two: Say no, then explain to her what l-o-v-e-r means; again,
dozens of reactions by Scully.

I went for middle ground.

"No, not yet."

She seemed to accept this and reached up her small hand for mine, and
we made our way with the other Scullys into the dining room.

Karen came over, flashing me a smile, and took charge of her daughter.
I took my seat next to Dana.

"Scully?" I whispered.

"Mm?"

"What's Charlie's little girl's name?"

"Megan. Why?"

Again, I sought middle ground, hoping I wasn't wrong in doing so. "She
asked me if I was 'Unkie Fox.'"

To anyone else, it might have seemed that Dana didn't react, that she
wasn't the least bit surprised by this news. To the trained observer,
one like myself, it was blatantly obvious that her eyes widened
imperceptibly and the hand cutting her baked chicken wavered.

"What did you tell her?"

Before I could answer, however, Margaret returned from putting the
luggage in the proper rooms. As she took her seat at the head of the
table, next to Scully and I, glancing over at us.

"Dana, I put your bags in your old room, okay?"

"Where's Mulder's?" she asked, not quite understanding. There was a
seed of understanding that was flowering somewhere within my stomach.

Margaret looked up, a slightly confused look on her face. "With
yours," she replied easily, as though they belonged there. Well, they
did, but she wasn't supposed to know that.

My Oxford-educated brain could only come up with one word to describe
this poorly rehearsed scene.

Screwed.

Scully, to her credit, didn't even look Bill's way, but I saw him
shifting in his chair out of the corner of my eye.

Vaguely, I noticed the table was silent except for the two baby boys'
gurgling.

"With mine," repeated Dana.

Margaret glanced at me, then. "Yes. I thought after Bill told me --"

"Bill," Dana said again, her eyes two deadly weapons. Her gaze locked
with her older brother's, and I almost swore he was scared of her.

"I didn't say anything that wasn't the truth," he defended himself
stubbornly.

Obviously, Bill hadn't learned the finer points of not aggravating
Dana Scully.

"Whatever you told our mother, Bill, was none of your business,"
Scully said in a tightly controlled voice.

"Maybe not, but it was hers."

"It was my choice."

"You were lying to her, Dana!"

"I was --"

I broke in, visions of world war three dancing in my head. I put a
gentle hand over Dana's. "Scully," I said quietly.

It broke the spell. She relaxed her stare on her brother and fell
silent.

"I don't know what this is all about," Margaret said, shooting a
warning look at her son, "but whatever it is, it can be discussed
after dinner, and certainly without the children as an audience."

Even my father in his drunkest, darkest hour had never held such sway
over a family before. Bill nodded sulkily, Dana resumed eating as
though nothing had happened, the rest of the family slowly returned to
their conversations.

And I sat there like a jackass and wondered what the hell I'd walked
into.

***

"He had no right, Mulder!" she seethed, pacing the kitchen. "He's my
brother, not my father!"

"He was just doing what he thought was right, Scully," I said in a
soothing tone, my arms folded across my chest as I leaned back on the
counter.

"That still doesn't give him the right. This was our decision, not
his."

"Scully..."

"Would someone mind telling me what that performance was all about?"
Mrs. Scully asked her signature soft tone.

Bill was right behind her.

Damn.

"What exactly did Bill tell you, Mom?" Dana asked, crossing her arms
and moving closer to me.

Margaret's eyes flickered over the two of us. "Nothing I didn't
already expect before," she said mildly.

Two "Mom!"s filled the air, one indignant, one embarrassed.

"Dana," she said calmly, putting her hands gently on her daughter's
shoulders, "while I don't understand the need for secrecy, I do know
that it is your life, and you could never do anything that would
disappoint me." She searched Scully's eyes. "Okay?"

I saw her shoulders slump a little. Defeat reigned.

***

The night, after that, was decidedly less tense and uneventful. Bill
did his best to be on the other side of a room when I was in it, and I
went out of my way not to *be* in a room with him unless Mrs. Scully
was there.

I was sitting on the couch, Bill across the room in a Lazy Boy,
watching a basketball game on TV. Matthew and Charlie's son, who I had
learned was named Aaron, were playing on the floor between me and
Bill. So far, things had been peaceful. Bill and I were engrossed in
the game, the boys were engrossed in yet another staring contest.
Karen, Mrs. Scully, Tara, and Dana were in the kitchen talking - about
us, no doubt. Charlie had gone out for a quick run. The house was
silent except for the drone of the sportscaster on the television in
front of me.

Megan suddenly appeared next to me on the couch.

"Hey there, Megan," I said. Scully had given me a quick lowdown on the
little girl: three years old, hated little brother, loved Barbies and
My Little Ponies. Steer clear of all subjects related to
aforementioned topics unless I had many free hours on my hands.

She smiled and hesitated. I patted the seat next to me.

And found my lap immediately occupied.

Well.

"That's my brother," she said, pointing to Aaron, who broke eye
contact with his cousin long enough to coo and dribble at her.

"Yep," I replied, straining to see the TV over her head.

"What that?" she asked, watching the game.

"Basketball," I replied. "Do you like basketball, Megs?"

She seemed delighted at the new nickname. 'Megs' nodded
enthusiastically. "Basketball. Who playin'?"

"The --"

"You like Aunt Dana?"

Bill coughed from across the room.

"Yeah, I, uh, I like your aunt Dana."

"You like me?"

I tickled her a little until she giggled, smiling. "Yeah, you're okay,
kid."

"You like Aunt Dana more'n me?"

"I like Aunt Dana differently than I like you, Megs."

"You marry Aunt Dana?"

There's really something to that statement about kids saying the
damnedest things.

Bill's head had, by this time, snapped up, and I noticed he was paying
close attention to every word spoken between the three year old and
myself.

"I..."

I heard a snicker behind me, and I turned my head to see Dana standing
in the doorway. Shit. I wondered how long she'd been there without my
knowing it.

"Megan, we were wondering where you were," she said, coming over to
sit down next to me. She smoothed Megan's fine hair and settled back
against the couch.

"I been here with Unkie Fox," Megs explained earnestly. "Watchin'
basketball."

Bill rose, grabbed his son, and disappeared down the hall.

"So I see," Dana said as Megan jumped off of my lap and settled
herself on the floor to play with her one and a half year old brother.

"How long were you watching us?" I asked Scully in a quiet voice after
a minute. She was watching her niece and nephew.

"Just long enough to see your stricken face. What did she ask you?"

Oh, there was a God. "Nothing important," I said, brushing it off.

She arched an eyebrow. "Nothing? Mulder, I do believe I saw your panic
face."

"You've never seen me panic."

"The hell I haven't."

I gave her a leer and pointed. "Not in front of the children, honey."

Scully's eyebrow went higher, and she got off of the couch, returning
to the kitchen.

I ticked her off. I knew that much. I just didn't know how.

I sighed and turned the volume up a little louder on the television,
not even noticing that I was keeping on eye carefully trained on the
two children in the room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I went upstairs to our designated room and slipped under the covers,
my thoughts in constant turmoil. Some time later, I felt her get in
beside me, and I immediately let all emotion tumble out.

"What the hell is she thinking, Tara! That guy killed Melissa, he
almost killed *her,* he drags her off to Nowhere, USA every other day
on some wild alien chase, and she still chooses to be with him! What
the hell is *wrong* with her, Tara?"

I could see a small smile on my wife's face as she stroked my cheek
soothingly. "Sweetie, Dana's a big girl now. I know you've taken it
upon yourself to be the family's surrogate father, but you have to
realize that she loves Mulder. She's always loved him."

"No she hasn't," I persisted stubbornly. "I don't think she loves him 
now. I think he has her so damn corrupted..." I broke off, a new idea
forming in my head. "He's got her so convinced that he's the only
person who'll ever want to be with her that she can't see straight!"

"Bill!" Tara laughed. "You're talking about mental abuse. I'm not a
psychologist, honey, but I don't see any signs of that. I think you're
grasping at straws, here."

"Then *you* give me one good goddamn reason a woman would stay with
someone like that, Tara. One!"

She kissed me softly, then settled comfortably onto her pillow.
"Because those two are so in love they can't see straight," she said
simply.

Her statement shocked me into silence, and when I finally had a
response to it, her soft snoring met my ears.

She was asleep.

Dammit, she always did that! Said something shocking then fell asleep
so I couldn't argue with her.

My anger faded away as I smoothed her blonde hair off of her hair.
God, she was beautiful. And sweet, and loving, and a wonderful wife
and an even more wonderful mother. Damn the woman for being so
undeniably perfect. I chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose before
falling into a deep sleep.

***

"Bill!" Dana cries, rushing into my arms to hug me.

I hug her back tightly. "Danie," I whisper into her hair. "How've you
been?"

"Busy," she says knowingly, then turns to hug my wife. Mulder appears
behind her. Tara gives him a kiss on the cheek, and he blushes a
little.

I swallow the lump of anger in my throat at this asshole who wormed
his way into my little sister's heart and allow him to pass by me.

We're sitting down at the dining room table, and I can see Dana's
bursting with news. Thankfully, my mother takes care of that.

"Dana, honey? We don't you tell us all what your news is?"

Dana glances quickly at Mulder, who flashes her an encouraging smile,
and she takes a deep breath. "Mom. Bill, Tara. I...I'm pregnant. We -
we're pregnant. I'm going to have another baby."

Before I can digest this news, my mind rewinds to her last statement:
'...another baby.'

What?

I blink, and all of a sudden, the table is filled with children. The
three little girls are blonde and blue eyes, nearly clones of Dana's
dead daughter Emily. The three little boys look just like their
father, only with the trademark red hair of all Scully's.

When the hell did this happen?

"It's twins," Mulder adds, grinning like the jackass he is.

The Mulder children all start shouting and talking, and Dana's patting
her hands contentedly on her rounded belly, and Mom's hugging Mulder.
I turn to my wife, and I gasp.

She's holding one of their children out to me.

Somehow I just know he's my Matthew.

"Billy?" she asks, concerned, when I don't take him. "Billy?"

***

"Bill!"

I jumped up in bed, my heart pounding. Tara leaned over me, putting a
hand to my forehead. "Honey, are you okay?"

I pushed her hand away, breathing heavily. "Just a nightmare."

"Some nightmare. You've been whispering no over and over for the past
five minutes."

"I'm okay, now," I said, pushing her hand away. I needed space, not
comfort. Tara seemed to recognize this and didn't persue it. She
nodded and smoothed my hair back before laying back down again.

Aw, Christ. What the hell am I doing? I wondered. Going for a record?
I can't remember a time, even in *my* distinguished career, where I've
managed to piss off so many family members at once - Mom, Dana, Tara,
and the choice words Charlie offered me when Dana and the sonfabitch
arrived earlier. I bent and kissed her forehead. "I think I need a
glass of water of something. You want anything?"

"I'm okay, Billy."

I held her gaze for a minute, asking for forgiveness. She smiled, and
I knew I had it. "Okay. I'll be right back."

I slipped from under the covers and opened our door as quietly as I
could. I warily eyed the door at the end of the hall. The door next to
the stairs. The door that used to be Dana and Missy's room. The room
where she was sleeping right then.

With the sonfabitch.

God dammit.

I tiptoed past their room as softly as possible and made it into the
kitchen. I poured my water, managed to slow down my racing pulse, and
pulled myself together.

Sometimes I don't even know why I let him get to me this way. I mean,
for God's sake, I'm thirty-six years old. I've been happily married to
the same wonderful woman for the past seven years. After five years of
trying, we finally got our miracle baby. I'm healthy, I have a great
career, a nice house, and a substantial paycheck.

Jesus Christ, I'm living the fucking American dream, here, until that
pansyass mother-

See what I mean? I took another sip of water to soothe my nerves. This
is all Dad's fault. I know I shouldn't go around degrading the dead
and all that, but *he's* the one who let her go into the FBI in the
first place. What kind of educated female in this day in age goes into
the FBI? I had plans for my little sister. Missy was the flighty New
Ager she'd always been. Dana was a real Scully. She was supposed to
get her medical degree and go into practice, maybe at a hospital or in
a family clinic. I was supposed to bring home a nice, strapping lad, a
fellow Navy man, and introduce him to her. She was supposed to get
married, have a couple of kids, and be home on Christmas morning with
her damn family like she's supposed to.

Goddamn prick.

I wondered if he knew the destruction, the sheer havoc, he'd wrecked
on my poor family. Barely a year after our father's death, Missy died.
But not before he had Dana laying in some hospital bed, mysteriously
returned after being gone for almost three months. Did he even
apologize for that?

'Because those two are so in love they can't see straight.'

God, I love Tara, but sometimes she just really misses the mark.

Doesn't she?

I mean, it was a completely ludicrous statement. Wasn't it?

I thought back over all the times I had witnessed Dana and the prick
together; the times I'd seen them holding hands, or kissing way too
close to the mouth for my liking, or standing vigil next Emily's
deathbed. When he'd put his arm around her at her daughter's funeral,
and she had leaned into him, and they stayed that way for the rest of
the day, practically molded into one person. The defiant look in her
eyes when she'd told me, quite coolly thanks, that Mulder would take
her home from the hospital and to give Tara her love. Sitting side-by-
side on her couch, leaving nothing to the imagination, earlier that
morning.

Jesus H. Christ.

Tara was right. My eyes squeezed closed, and my lips pressed together
in a straight line, trying to suppress the rapid string of curse words
that were boiling forth. Anger in check, William. Control. Murder
doesn't look good on an otherwise spotless Navy record.

Suddenly, I had a deep urge to get back to bed, to my wife, and have
her kiss me and tell me I'm not the blind asshole I was beginning to
think I was.

I emptied the remainder of the water into the sink, took a deep
breath, and prepared to bolt up the steps and past their room. Voices
stopped me.

"--oh you're mad at me."

"No, I'm not."  "You gave me the Look, Scully; don't argue."

Don't tell my sister not to argue with you, or when she's angry, piss-
ant.

Dana sighed. "I just - I just don't understand how you could joke
around with Megan today."

An argument, heh? I moved closer, settling my ear up against the door
and tried to stifle my breath.

"What? You mean with that whole 'unkie' thing?" He sounded genuinely
baffled.

She gave another sigh, and I pictured her rolling her eyes at him.
"No, Mulder."

The room was bathed in silence for a moment. I wondered what the hell
was going on in there and moved a little closer. Finally, he spoke.
"I'm sorry."

Sorry? Sorry for what? What the hell? One minute he knows she's angry
at something he doesn't understand that he did, but he knows he did
do, and now he's sorry? Someone please explain to the audience-

"I wasn't thinking," he continued after a minute. "I *was* just
kidding around, Scully." Another hesitant pause. "I wasn't thinking,"
he said again, more as though he were trying to convince himself
rather than her.

My sister fell quiet. "It doesn't bother you?" she asked eventually.

"No," he said immediately. I snorted. Yeah, right. What he was sure
about, I wasn't sure of myself, but he still answered too quick for a
guy who knows he's certain. I'd done that one myself a few times, back
in the early days of our marriage. Before I learned. "It doesn't
bother me," he continued.

"It bothers me," she said softly. I heard the bed creak, and for a
moment, I tensed, ready to plow through the door if so much as a hair
on his body went anywhere near any part of my baby sister's
anatomy....

"It doesn't - *bother* me," Mulder amended after a moment. "And it's
not that I don't think about it everyday and wonder how the hell I
could get those sick bastards for doing this to you - to us. I think
about all the technology the Gunmen can tap into, and how somewhere
out there, there's got to be a way." Another pause, and a creak, and
his voice got soft. "Ever since all this, I haven't laid down next to
you and felt a tug that those pills in that disc thing you keep in
your sock drawer won't ever be used or thrown into the trash can."

Disc thing? Socks? Who the hell are the Gunmen? Shaking my head, I was
about to move on when I heard Dana pipe up.

"You're the psychologist, Mulder. Why don't you tell me why I keep a
virtually useless disc thing - is that what you called it? - in my
sock drawer, of all things - which, by the way, why were you going
through my sock drawer?"

Don't answer that one, I mentally told him, then kicked myself for
trying to help him. Back once when Tara and I first got engaged, I did
a little snoop-snoop myself. It's important for a guy to know who he's
marrying, after all. And we all know that women keep all their little
secret women things in their drawers. Bras and underwear are a dead
giveaway that there's something at the bottom of the drawer. I only
came up with Tara's diary during my little investigative session with
*her* sock drawer, and I'll be damned if the first time I ever did it,
she caught me. Took a hell of a lot of explaining.

I shook my head of out its fog at the sound of a rather amused Mulder.
"--trying to hold onto that one last vestige of hope that one day you
can look at me and we can smile and throw it out together. You've
unconsciously associated not taking the Pill with having a baby.
Throwing it out is throwing out your hope....And I was looking for a
pair of socks. I didn't know if maybe you had seen mine and
accidentally thrown it in with your stuff."

I didn't even get to hear her response. I was already down the hall,
slamming my bedroom door shut with a bang that would have woken the
dead. I flopped onto the bed, careless of my wife, who was jolted
awake.

Babies. Pills. Mulder's babies. Mulder *babies.*

Oh, God, just like my dream. I ran a hand down over my face and a deep
noise from within my throat betrayed my frustration.

Why the hell did I get out of bed this morning?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

We fell asleep soon after our first real heart-to-heart. At least,
Mulder did; I stayed awake, snuggled close up next to him, thinking
over our entire conversation. I wasn't even sure what had sparked the
fire. All that was certain was that for the first time in our entire
partnership, let alone in our entire relationship, we had opened up to
each other, no holds bars. The walls, thank you very much, were
deconstructed brick by brick. And I honestly don't think that I have
strength enough to build it up again.

I needed his reassurance last night. I woke him up around midnight,
for the sole purpose of wanting a companion in the lonely state of
sleeplessness. It wasn't fair that I should lay awake, hurting, while
he should stay snoring next to me. So he woke up, and I opened up, and
the next thing I know, I'm in his arms, tears rolling down my face. My
honest, open talk left me feeling more drained than I had been in
months. Our words have blended together, intertwined somehow during
the night, and I can barely discern who said what and the words we
even spoke. The point remains that we talked, really talked, and now
that it's over, I'm pretty sure there will be more to follow.  ***

We spent the day very much like the normal people we used to be. We
ate breakfast, Mulder and Charlie didn't move from in front of the
television set from ten till two, we ate lunch, and by eight o'clock
the entire Scully clan was herded outdoors for the annual fireworks.

As a kid, we'd always just do our own little celebration in the
driveway, but not in this neighborhood. Apparently, everyone pooled
money to put together a neighborhood show.

It was nice. Very nice. Children ran back and forth across the street,
heedless of any danger. Dusk had settled comfortably over the street,
and the drone of voices gave an almost dreamy overtone to the night.
The smell of barbecue drifted from grill to grill, almost as
intoxicating to me as the sight of Mulder setting up a makeshift
baseball game for a handful of the kids. Smiling, I made excuses to
Tara and Karen and wove my way through the small crowd that had
gathered in my mother's front lawn.

I walked up and stood on the outskirts of the game, a smirk on my lips
as I watched him try to teach Megan how to hit the ball.

"Okay, let's practice," he said suddenly, standing and moving back. He
nodded to a little boy who I assumed to be the pitcher, who also
looked barely a year older than my niece. I shook my head. Fruitless.

He made a great show of winding up his arm, obviously in imitation of
my own Fox Mantle, only to let the ball loose with a slight flick of
the wrists. It dropped a few feet away from Megan, who in turn began
screaming and ran towards Mulder. I grinned and started for them.

"He threw that ball at me, Foxy!" she said in between sobbing
hiccoughs. 
"He threw it *to* you, Megs, not at you," he said soothingly, stooping
to her level. "Remember what I showed you about the bat?" She nodded.
"See, you use the bat and knock the ball away from you." We watched as
her brow furrowed as she absorbed this new piece of information. "Can
you do that?" he asked after a minute. She shook her head, almost
shyly. All of a sudden, I felt his eyes on me, and I caught his gaze.
He glanced back down at Megan. "Hey, Megs, I'll show you how you do
it, okay?"

He trotted over - past me. He went over to my brother - Charlie, of
course - and said a few words to him. He nodded. Charles took up
residence where the little boy pitcher stood, gently explaining he was
going to take over for a little bit.

I felt his arms come around me from behind, wrapping over my hands,
shoving a bat into them. I twisted around to look at him, arching an
eyebrow. He shrugged innocently.

"All right now, Megan, watch what we do, okay?" he called. She nodded,
her gaze completely devoted to the scene.
 Charlie wound up and pitched the ball towards us. Mulder pulled our
arms back and together we swung at the white trail of horsehide
sailing towards us. Contact. I waited for his arms to fall away, but
instead he held strong, pulling me back against his chest, literally
trapping me - yet again - between the bat and himself.

"Red," he murmured. It took me a minute to fully recognize we were
cheek to cheek. And another full minute to realize what he was talking
about. My first instinct was to respond with a 'yes?', seeing as how
he's taken to calling me by my hair color in the past week or so, ever
since his little speech on the importance of pet names. After a
moment's contemplation, I figured out he was pulling a Mulder and
picking up where we last left off from our conversation the night
before.

He does that a lot. Sometimes he'll ask a general question on Monday,
a more specific on Tuesday, and by Friday, he's funneled it down to
the actual question he wants to ask. Or he'll just stop talking and
shut down, only to reemerge, picking up the conversation where he last
left off at a few weeks later. While I'm expected to follow his train
of thought.

"I'd hope not," I murmured back, enjoying the crack the seemed to echo
through the air as we hit the ball.

"I like your hair," he protested as I concentrated on his technique.
Hips before hands.

"Mulder, speaking as a redhead who had to endure being the only child
in elementary school with a mop of --"I broke off as we hit the ball
again, "--orange hair, I would never wish my child, imaginary or real,
to have the same thing."

He made a small noise of disagreement in the back of his throat, but I
was too busy focusing on the game.

I was playing baseball.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

We spent the rest of the night sitting on the front stoop, watching
the fireworks and the people who bustled around. I shifted slightly
for a more comfortable position. I sat on the first step, Scully
settled comfortably between my legs, her head leaning back onto my
chest, her fingers tracing indecipherable patterns on the backs of my
ankles.

"Mulder?" she asked suddenly, breaking the tranquillity of the late
night. I massaged the back of her neck.

"Mm?"

"What did you tell Megan?"

I remembered the past twenty-four hours: 'Unkie Fox?'

'You marry Aunt Dana?'

Dana must have felt me tense up, because I could detect a small smile
on her face, even in the rising darkness.

"What did I tell Megan when?" I asked, trying to buy time. Neither
question's answer was something I felt confidant in telling Scully. I
had no idea how she'd react to either.

"Right before dinner last night. You said she asked if you were Uncle
Fox. What did you tell her? You never did say."

I took a breath and rubbed my thumb over the scar her implant had
left. "I told her not yet." I moved my head a little to the right so
that I could see her reaction. Her face had barely changed. I plowed
ahead. "She, uh --" I cleared my throat, "-- she also asked me if I
was going to marry you."

No response. Frowning, and wondering if she'd fallen asleep on me, I
bent down so we were once more cheek-to-cheek. "Scully?"

Her head turned abruptly and she caught my lips with hers. Her hand
reached up and pulled my head down closer. I distantly thought it was
odd that I should be able to kiss so well in such an awkward position.
When I finally pulled back for lack of oxygen, she simply focused once
more in front of her.

I waited.

"What did you tell her then?" she questioned quietly.

"I didn't get a chance. You snickered at me," I informed her, resuming
my previous position, resting my chin atop her head.

A pause. "It's so nice here," she commented all of a sudden. As though
we weren't in the middle of a vital, all-important, life-altering
conversation. "Peaceful. Look at this, Mulder. It's like - it's like
the Brady Bunch. I didn't know these kinds of neighborhoods existed
anymore."

"What kind of neighborhoods might that be?"

"The kind where people leave their front doors unlocked, and everyone
watches everyone else's kids. Dinner parties and minivans and diapers
and playgrounds."

"Getting out of the car, huh?"

I felt her smile fleetingly, rather than saw it. "Something like
that," she murmured. "It must get kind of tedious, though." She
glanced up at me. "Don't you think?"

"I don't know, I could find of get used to this kind of camaraderie,"
I said, not all together sure I was jesting.

She laughed. "Mulder, you'd be bored in forty-eight hours, maybe even
less."

I watched Bill hold his baby boy, a barely concealed glare on his face
as he saw us.

"What about you?" I asked. Suddenly, it was very important that I knew
I wasn't holding her back from the life that she desired.

"I'd be pacing the halls with you," she murmured.

We were quiet for a few moments, and I couldn't suppress a grin at the
sight of the same kids from earlier trying to resurrect our doomed
baseball game.

"Why don't you want me to call you Fox?" Scully asked.

I started, a little confused by the abrupt topic change. "I don't
know. Do you want to call me Fox?"

"No," she answered decisively.

"Okay." 
She was quiet. "You think there's a rule in the Bureau handbook?"

I snorted. "There's probably a rule in the Bureau handbook on the
proper procedure for pissing, Red. And when have I - either of us, for
that matter - played by the rules?"

"Good point."

"Thanks." 
Another pregnant pause, only ripe with unspoken words and mutual
understanding. "I saw this dress a few days ago, in a shop window.
While we were walking to lunch."

"What's it look like?"

"Long, sleeves just off the shoulders, scoop neck. White." She sighed.
"It's a nice dress."

"We should stop and buy it on our way back to D.C. tomorrow."

"Mulder?" She turned and got onto her knees, facing me. I regarded her
seriously. "Is this completely crazy?"

"It's downright spooky," I said earnestly.

She smiled. "I think I'm free this Wednesday."

"Well, I'll have to check my planner, but I'm sure I could squeeze you
in around noonish."

"Bill's going to break your neck," she warned.

I shrugged. "You'll protect me."

"Mom'll want a big formal thing."

"I have a tux."

"I don't want a big formal thing. Just us, our moms, and our families.
Maybe Ellen." Silence engulfed us once again, until: "I love you," she
said abruptly, moving quickly so that she sat next to me on the stoop.
I pulled her closer and wrapped my arm around her, pressing a firm
kiss atop her copper head.

"Love you, too."

And then we were silent as the fireworks exploded into the night sky,
the sudden burst of color illuminating the velvet darkness. The rest
of the neighborhood oohed and aahed over the display, but me? I was
content to stay where I was for the rest of the night.

I always was one lucky son of a bitch.

I had an odd urge to seal the bargain, so I leaned down and kissed
Scully. There was nothing passionate or demanding about it. It held a
promise of what was to come. It was just a kiss.

Just a simple kiss.


the end.