Title:  Spondeo (Terra Firma Series, Part II)

Author: Malibu Sunset

E-mail: malibusunset88@gmail.com

Category: MSR, married, family fic

Rating: NC-17 

Spoilers: Through Season 8. This is Part II in the 
Terra Firma Series. Please read that story first. 

Summary: Mulder and Scully further their relationship 
while continuing to navigate parenthood.  No X-File 
whatsoever. Very low angst. Pretty much a feel-good, 
happy story. Angst is coming in future installments, 
don't you worry. For now, warm and fuzzy.  The title 
translates to "Promise." 

Disclaimer:  Not mine. All theirs. But I love them 
like they were my own.  







May 12, 2002



Mulder sprinkled a little salt and pepper onto his 
masterpiece, then folded it over and carefully 
flipped the omelette with a spatula before returning 
to the task of slicing cantaloupe into neat little 
wedges. Two slices of rye toast popped up from the 
toaster. He examined them and then popped them back 
down for a second round. 

William was sitting on the floor playing with a stack 
of plastic cups, measuring spoons, and refrigerator 
magnets that he definitely shouldn't have, but Mulder 
didn't have the heart to take them away from him 
after he had put forth such great effort in pulling 
himself up against the fridge and reaching for them. 
Mulder figured he had about thirty more seconds 
before the child attempted to put them in his mouth 
and he needed to negotiate them away, for safety's 
sake. If Scully were watching, she would have 
retrieved the magnets immediately, despite the wails 
and protests of an eleven-month-old, and would have 
followed up by shooting Mulder a look that conveyed 
her disapproval of his lenient parenting. Either 
that, or he would have gotten the lecture again about 
not allowing William to put anything into his mouth 
that was small enough to fit into the end of a paper 
towel roll. It was difficult. He was with William all 
day while Scully was at work and the child put 
literally *everything* into his mouth. Totally 
unsurprising that a child of his would have an almost 
desperate oral fixation. Mulder sympathized and tried 
to cut the kid some slack whenever possible. 

"Ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba," William babbled, reaching 
his chubby arm toward the refrigerator. 

"Yeah, I know, Dude. Hold on just a second," Mulder 
replied, without turning around. He flipped the 
omelette again, arranged the fruit onto a plate, and 
glanced around the counter, trying to remember what 
he was forgetting when the toast popped back up, 
black and burnt to a crisp. 

"Damn." He grabbed the toast from the slots, burning 
his fingers in the process. "Ow, crap." He tossed 
them into the garbage and popped two fresh slices of 
bread in, pausing to adjust the settings on the 
toaster. 

"Ow ow ow ow ow..." babbled Will. Then, "ba ba ba ba 
ba BA BA BA BA...." in a progressively more insistent 
tone. The baby tossed the measuring cups against the 
side of the dishwasher and let out a wail. 

"Shhhhhhh, Will. You're going to wake up Mommy. This 
is a surprise, remember?"

Mulder went to the refrigerator to retrieve the 
object of William's desire. A row of filled baby 
bottles stared back at him from the top shelf. 
Formula or milk? Formula or milk? They were supposed 
to be weaning him off formula and onto whole milk as 
William approached his first birthday in another 
week, but Mulder couldn't remember which one the baby 
was supposed to get first thing in the morning. 
Scully usually did the wake-up shift while Mulder 
showered. 

He shrugged and grabbed a bottle of formula, then 
unscrewed the cap and popped it into the microwave 
for twenty seconds. William, who had spotted what was 
coming and wasn't much for delayed gratification, 
began crawling toward the microwave. "BA BA BA BA BA 
BA!" he chanted as he pulled himself to a standing 
position against the cupboard and reached 
insistently. The microwave dinged, Mulder pulled the 
bottle out, screwed the cap back on, gave it a quick 
shake and handed it to his son, who tilted his head 
back and plugged it in.  Mulder took advantage of the 
distraction to retrieve the prohibited magnets from 
the floor where William had abandoned them. They were 
already covered in spit. Too late. Mulder popped them 
back up on the fridge, further out of reach this 
time. 

After arranging an omelette, fruit, toast, orange 
juice, and coffee on a tray, Mulder smiled with 
satisfaction and started toward the bedroom. He 
turned back toward William and motioned with a tilt 
of his head. "Come on, let's go wake her up."

William popped the bottle from his mouth. "Ba ba dun 
ma ma ba ba ba ma ma ba ba ba...." he said, thrusting 
the bottle toward Mulder.

"Yeah, bring it. Come on."

William plopped down onto the kitchen tiles in a 
seated position and stared after Mulder with a frown 
on his face.  Then he picked up his bottle in one 
hand, crawled a few feet awkwardly, then sat back 
down, tilted his head back, and plugged the bottle 
back in. He sucked voraciously and stared up at 
Mulder as if to say, "I can't do both, so I'm just 
gonna hang out here and eat instead."

"Right," said Mulder, bending down to a kneeling 
position. "How about you concentrate on transporting 
yourself and the bottle can catch a ride on the 
tray." William trustingly relinquished the bottle and 
Mulder placed it on the tray next to the orange juice 
and continued on. William followed eagerly on all 
fours. When he got to the stairs that led to the 
second floor, Mulder stopped and extended his arm 
down to his son. 

"Will, UP," he said, offering his left arm while 
balancing the tray with his right. William pulled 
himself up on Mulder's leg, clutching handfuls of his 
pajama pants. Mulder lifted him like a sack of 
potatoes and hauled the baby and the tray up the 
stairs. Cooking breakfast with a baby wasn't for 
wimps. 

It was only 8:00. Mulder felt a little guilty for 
waking her, but unbeknownst to her, Scully had 
somewhere to be in a couple of hours and he wanted 
her to have time to enjoy the breakfast they had 
prepared for her. He set the tray down on the dresser 
and crossed the room to open the blinds. It was grey 
and dreary outside ? the kind of drizzling rain that 
lasted all day, and Mulder realized with 
disappointment that he and William would need to find 
an alternative to the playground to keep them busy 
while Scully was off enjoying her Mother's Day gift. 

Mulder sat down on the edge of Scully's side of the 
bed and leaned over her, smiling. She was sleeping on 
her side, facing away from him, one arm tucked 
underneath her pillow, her fiery hair fanned out. One 
bare shoulder peeked out from underneath the top of 
the comforter with only the thin, light blue 
spaghetti strap of her tank top visible. A subtle, 
yet notable shift had taken place in Scully's 
nighttime wardrobe in recent months. Her sleepwear of 
choice had always been long-sleeved tops and bottoms 
in silk or satin, sometimes flannel in the coldest 
months. She did own a couple of matching silk 
camisole and shorts sets and one little black number 
with tiny straps that made Mulder weak in the knees. 
On occasions when Scully emerged from the bathroom 
after her bedtime cleansing ritual wearing any of 
those particular outfits, Mulder knew the odds were 
in his favor that if he wandered onto her side of the 
bed without his boxers on, he would be welcomed. 
Scully was not overly aggressive when it came to 
initiating sex. Lingerie was her indisputable signal 
? her version of a mating call. A couple of months 
ago, however, he had taken it upon himself to mention 
to her, as he was busy inching the tiny strap down on 
one of her camisoles and peppering the slope of her 
neck with open kisses, how much he approved of her 
choice of sleepwear. 

"I like this," he had muttered with his mouth muffled 
against her bare skin. "A lot."

"You've seen it before," she had replied, tilting her 
head to allow him better access.

"Mmmmm hmmmm...and I like it with renewed enthusiasm 
each and every time."

She had giggled softly and ran her fingernails 
through his hair. 

"It's the shoulders," he had continued, breathlessly. 
"I like seeing your bare shoulders. They make me want 
to do very naughty things." And then he had proceeded 
to show her exactly what things he was referring to. 

Since that night, a few additional items had appeared 
in her pajama collection: two more silk camisole sets 
? one with matching shorts, the other with pants, and 
yet another slip-like piece (negligee? He wasn't 
exactly sure what the proper terminology was and 
frankly, he might have been slightly concerned for 
his manhood if he did know) in a soft champagne 
color. All of them bared her shoulders. The only 
drawback, if you could really call it one, was that 
he could no longer rely on her choice of sleepwear to 
tell him whether or not he would be getting any. He 
had gradually been learning to become more astute at 
reading the other signals. 

For example, a pass through the living room with a 
stop for a quick peck on the lips and a "I'm going to 
turn in now. I'm really beat," meant go ahead and 
finish watching the game on TV because it's more 
action than you're going to see in the bedroom 
tonight. However, that same pass through the living 
room, accompanied by a lingering caress along the 
neckline and a "Mulder, are you coming to bed?" and 
he could practically hear the chorus of Marvin Gaye's 
"Let's Get it On" singing through her pores. 
Likewise, a leisurely nighttime bath, followed by 
reading in bed, meant good night, sweet dreams. 
However, a quick bedtime shower, followed by lit 
candles and sometimes music meant she wanted oral 
sex. His profiling skills were coming in handy in 
more ways than he could have ever imagined.

Mulder leaned over her now and planted a gentle kiss 
on her bare shoulder, then another behind her ear and 
whispered, "Wake up, Sleepyhead. Rise and shine."

Scully stirred slowly and rolled onto her back, her 
eyes fluttering open. "Hi. What time is it?" she 
asked, yawning. 

"A little after eight. Happy Mother's Day." He bent 
to kiss her again, this time on the lips. "The Sprout 
and I have a little treat for you."

As if in agreement, William pulled himself to a 
standing position alongside the nightstand. "Ma ma ma 
ma ma ma ma ma ma," he babbled, waving his arm in the 
air before noticing the telephone on bedside table. 
He redirected his attention toward making long 
distance calls to Saudi Arabia.

Mulder stood and retrieved the tray from the top of 
the dresser and brought it to the bed as Scully 
pulled herself up to a seated position. 

"What is this? You guys made me breakfast in bed?" 
She took a sip of the orange juice. "And what do we 
have here?" she asked, lifting the baby bottle off 
the tray and offering it to a smiling William, who 
immediately gave up on the telephone and turned 
toward the bed, taking two steps away from the 
nightstand until he could reach the mattress. 

"Did you see that?" Scully asked, eyes wide. "He just 
took a couple of steps."

Mulder nodded. "He's been doing that this week. Just 
one or two here and there. I didn't want to say 
anything because I wanted him to do it for you."

Mulder reached down with one arm and scooped up 
William underneath the arms and boosted him onto the 
bed, in the middle, next to Scully. 

William placed his little chubby hands on both sides 
of her face. "Ba ba ba na dun wooshee ba ba ba ma ma" 
then he blew a raspberry and drooled a little onto 
the front of his sleeper. Scully kissed his cheek, 
then handed him the bottle and he plugged it in and 
sucked, flopping back onto the bed with one knee 
bent, his hand holding onto the bottom of his pajama-
covered foot. 

"Thank you," she said, taking a bite of rye toast. 
"Nobody's ever made me breakfast in bed. I could get 
used to this." 

"Well, you might have to get used to the same thing. 
This is the only breakfast trick I have up my 
culinary sleeve. This and cereal. So we can alternate 
between Raisin Bran and omelettes."

"Mmmmm, sounds good to me," she said, forking a large 
piece of egg into her mouth, then cutting another and 
offering it to Mulder. He dipped his head and bit it 
off her fork. There was something surprisingly erotic 
about her feeding him, he decided. Father's Day was 
coming up. He wondered what it might take to get her 
to feed him his entire breakfast. Then again, maybe a 
late dinner after the baby had gone to bed would be a 
better idea, since he was pretty certain he'd want 
something other than food for dessert. 

William polished off his bottle and sat up, reaching 
for the tray on his mother's lap. Scully broke off a 
small piece of cantaloupe with her finger and slipped 
it into his waiting mouth and he sucked on it, making 
a satisfied humming sound.  

"You know, Mulder, if he's taking steps now, it won't 
be long before he's running all over the house. I 
know you don't think you need help, but you might 
want to reconsider if you plan on getting any writing 
done during the day."

"We'll manage. I can write on my laptop in the 
playroom, at my desk during naptimes. I don't want 
somebody else taking care of him, Scully."

Scully nodded her head, understandingly. "I applaud 
your determination, but looking after an active 
toddler is tough work. Just ask generations of stay-
at-home moms. But add working from home to that mix? 
I don't know, Mulder. Just consider it, that's all 
I'm saying. There are plenty of perfectly competent 
nannies out there. Part-time, even."

"We're okay, Scully. Really. We have a system going, 
us guys.  Right Buddy?" He looked at William, who 
grunted and reached for more cantaloupe. "But I love 
you for worrying." Mulder leaned over and kissed  the 
tip of her nose. "And I'll take it under advisement 
if things get out of hand."

He lifted the near-empty tray from her lap and placed 
it back on top of the dresser and then pulled back 
the covers. "But for today, it's time for you to get 
up and get ready to go."

"Go where? Where am I going?" she asked, 
suspiciously.

"It's a surprise. A little Mother's Day gift from 
us."

"But you already made me breakfast in bed."

"This is better. C'mon, Scully. Take a shower and get 
dressed. Wear something comfortable."

"Mulder. What are you up to?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise. Just trust 
me." 

Mulder scooped William from the bed and tucked him 
underneath one arm, grabbed the breakfast tray with 
the other and headed for the bedroom door. "The 
Sprout and I will be waiting downstairs. You have..." 
he glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand, 
"...thirty-five minutes. Come on, Will, let's go 
clean up the kitchen and get you dressed."



*****************************************************


A few minutes before ten, Mulder pulled off the road 
onto a steep winding drive that led up a hill. An 
enormous wood carved sign stood at the base of the 
driveway, along with another that cautioned them to 
drive no more than 10 miles per hour up the narrow 
two-lane road. 

Scully looked at Mulder apprehensively with raised 
eyebrows and carefully placed her coffee thermos in 
the vehicle cup holder. "Mulder. Are you serious? The 
Beaumont? This place was featured in the Sunday Post 
a couple of weeks ago.  It's the most exclusive spa 
in the D.C. area."

"Then they better do a good job," he said, pulling 
the car up in the front circular drive. He reached 
over in front of Scully, popped open the glove 
compartment to retrieve an envelope, and handed it to 
her. She took it between her thumb and forefinger as 
if it might burst into flames at any moment. 

Her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide. "Rumor 
has it this place books up over six months in 
advance. I don't understand. How did you-"

"I know a guy who knows a guy," he replied with a 
cryptic smile. 

"Like...the President?" she asked, laughing.

"Byers' brother-in-law's cousin's wife cleans massage 
rooms."

While sorting that out in her head, Scully shot him 
another dubious look and silently mouthed the word 
"wow."

"I guess she's a really good cleaning lady."

Scully nodded, both brows raised in disbelief and 
amazement.

"Anyway, just hand them this certificate when you get 
in there. Everything's taken care of. We'll be back 
to pick you up at 4:00."

"4:00? Mulder, that's six hours from now. What am I 
going to be doing for six hours?"

He sighed and took the envelope from her, opened it 
to pull out the card inside and read, "Um...manicure, 
pedicure, full-body Swedish massage, facial, 
and....something called a rejuvenating seaweed wrap."

She looked at him with something that might be a 
cross between morbid curiosity and slight fear.

He shrugged. "I don't know either. But if you end up 
looking like an Ubermensch, can you get someone to 
snap a picture? Oh, and the package also includes 
some kind of fancy macrobiotic lunch in there 
somewhere."

A sudden look of realization appeared on her face. 
"Uh oh. Lunch. I'm supposed to meet my mom for lunch 
this afternoon for Mother's Day. I totally forgot to 
mention it to you yesterday."

He smiled. "All taken care of. She's meeting you here 
instead."

"For lunch?"

"For the whole day."

"You two plotted this together?" she asked, 
incredulously.

"Never underestimate your mother's propensity toward 
covert operations, Scully. Now I know where you 
inherited your poker face."

She smiled, a big one this time. "This is...wow, 
Mulder. I don't know what to say."

"I'll think of ways for you to express your gratitude 
later. Now get in there. You were supposed to be 
changing into a big fluffy robe and drinking a six 
dollar bottle of mineral water five minutes ago."

She leaned over and kissed him on the lips, then 
grabbed her purse and got out of the car.

Mulder pulled away, glancing in his rearview mirror 
at Will, who was busy strategizing ways to get his 
whole fist into his mouth. Mulder reached behind his 
seat with one hand into the diaper bag and pulled out 
a ziploc bag with teething biscuits in it. He slid it 
open with his teeth while steering with his other 
hand, retrieved one and handed it back to his son. He 
had never realized all the things he could do and 
drive at the same time until he had a child.   

"Just you and me, Will. Let's go find some guy stuff 
to do. Something messy that Mommy wouldn't approve 
of, whaddaya say?"

William didn't respond. He was too busy smearing goo 
from his teething biscuit into his hair. Apparently, 
he was getting a head start on the messy part.

*****************************************************


Later that evening, after a dinner of barbequed ribs 
on the grill, one of Scully's favorites, Mulder 
loaded the dishwasher while Scully bathed William and 
put him to bed. Despite cruising through his days at 
warp speed, or perhaps because of it, Will had a 
habit of crashing out pretty much immediately after 
dinner each night. By 7:30, he was nodding off in his 
peas and carrots and ready to call it a day, which 
allowed Mulder and Scully the luxury of plenty of 
quiet time together in the evenings. The one drawback 
was that oftentimes, Scully didn't arrive home from 
work until 6:00, so her time with the baby was 
limited during the week. Mulder knew it bothered her, 
so he made a point of taking William to meet her for 
lunch a couple times per week, as her teaching 
schedule allowed. Scully was an early riser though, 
as was Will, so they always had an hour or so 
together in the morning as well. By 6:00 a.m., she 
was usually running on the treadmill while Will 
downed his morning bottle in a heap on the playroom 
floor, surrounded by a pile of toys, catching up on 
episodes of Sesame Street and Blues Clues.

After William was settled for the night, Scully 
padded down the stairs in her bare feet and into the 
living room, still wearing the black yoga pants and 
fitted white T shirt she had worn home from the spa.  
She set the baby monitor receiver on the coffee table 
and flopped down on the sofa next to Mulder, who was 
reading with his glasses on, feet crossed on the 
coffee table. He opened one arm to her and she folded 
herself into it. There were two full glasses of red 
wine on the end table next to Mulder. He reached 
without looking up from his book and handed one to 
Scully. 

"Did he go down okay?" Mulder asked, still staring at 
his book. 

"Mmm hmm," she said, sipping from her wine glass. "He 
was exhausted. What did you two do today to wear him 
out like that? I haven't seen him that tired since 
Easter when you let him eat that chocolate egg and 
then he was buzzing all afternoon, skipped his nap, 
and did a face dive in his macaroni and cheese." 

Mulder chuckled. "Top secret guy stuff, Scully. If I 
tell you, I'll have to-"

"Yeah, not going to work, Mulder." She gave him that 
look that indicated she wasn't about to give up that 
easily and he might just as well come clean.

"Well, when I said 'guy stuff,' I wasn't just 
referring to Will and me."

"You didn't. You took him to the Gunmen's, Mulder?"

"Would you rather they came here to hang out?"

"Good point." 

"Besides, he's been there before. It's no big deal. 
The Guys are great with him."

"I know they are, but he wasn't crawling the last 
time he was there. Please tell me you didn't let him 
crawl around on that floor. I can't imagine what he 
might have put in his mouth."

"Give me a little credit, Scully. We were on him the 
whole time. He had a blast. We played video games and 
um, well, that's about it really. Not much else."

"Mulder. What exactly is 'not much else?'"

"We may have stuck around to watch Langly's band 
practice."

Scully grimaced and closed her eyes, the mere idea of 
it appearing to cause her pain. 

Mulder smiled. "What? I think it's our duty as 
responsible parents to expose him to many styles of 
music and let him explore his choices. I mean, we 
already know he likes Elvis, The Stones, Red Hot 
Chili Peppers, and that woman with the really wispy 
voice that you like to sing along to while you're 
folding laundry-"

"Sarah McLachlan."

"Yeah, her. Well, turns out he also likes The 
Dropkick Murphys and Social Distortion, but not so 
much Rancid."

"Thank God for that," she said, sarcastically.

Mulder reached for the wine bottle and refilled both 
of their glasses. 

"Mm, thank you," said Scully, popping her bare feet 
up onto the coffee table and rubbing them against 
Mulder's sock-covered ones playfully.  

"Your toes are pink, Scully."

"Yes, they came with the pedicure."

"You never paint your toenails. It's cute."

"Women who paint their toenails have too much time on 
their hands," she replied.

"I'll do it for you."

She giggled softly and reached for the TV remote, but 
Mulder covered her hand with his and gently took the 
controller out of it. Her brows arched and she gave 
him a questioning look.

He cleared his throat. "I um...got a call Friday 
afternoon," he began. "From New York. I've been 
offered a book contract." 

"Oh my God, Mulder. That's incredible. Why didn't you 
tell me sooner?"

"I've just been kind of waiting for a quiet moment 
together, with just us."

Scully slowly shook her head back and forth, grinning 
from ear to ear. "I'm not surprised, you know. I knew 
it. I knew you'd get one. Which outfit?"

"Random House. Ted Markley, a senior editor there, 
saw me speak at a conference at NYU a few years back 
and remembered me."

"You are memorable."

"They want the first few chapters by the end of July 
and a completed first draft in six months."

"That's an ambitious timeline, Mulder. Can you do 
that?"

He sighed. "I'm pretty sure. Most of it has been 
swimming around in my head for years. And I've almost 
got the first chapter typed out already."

Scully's face took on a serious expression for a 
moment. 

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing. I'm just thinking about our conversation 
this morning...about William. I'm just concerned, 
that's all. I don't think you're being realistic 
about how challenging it's going to be to balance all 
this."

He nodded slowly. "You might be right. But let me try 
it my way first, okay? I promise I'll be open to 
hiring someone if I need it." 

She nodded, taking his hand in hers and lacing their 
fingers together. Then she reached her other arm up 
and behind his head and pulled him down to meet her 
lips. The kiss lasted for that curious amount of time 
where Mulder was uncertain if she meant it to be 
finishing something or starting something. They had 
just made love the night before last, so he thought 
probably not, but he couldn't be sure. She pulled 
away long enough to catch her breath, then kissed him 
again, slow and soft, nipping gently at his lower 
lip. Optimism was just starting to flood to certain 
parts of Mulder's body when Scully ended the kiss 
with a satisfied sigh, reached for the TV remote 
again, and Mulder was back at 'probably not.' 



*****************************************************


A couple of hours later, Mulder exited William's room 
after checking on him, closed the nursery door 
halfway, and then crossed the hall to the master 
bedroom. Noticing that Scully was still in their 
bathroom with the door closed, he went back down the 
hall to use the other upstairs toilet before getting 
into bed. That was one of the advantages of a four 
bedroom, four bath house ? no waiting. They had only 
been living in the house for seven months and Mulder 
was still getting used to the size of it. At times it 
felt cavernous. When it was just he and the baby at 
home, they stayed on the first floor, a gate blocking 
William's access to the stairs. There were times, 
however, when both he and Scully were home together 
and an hour or more would go by before he'd remember 
she was somewhere in the house with him and he had no 
idea where. Then he would wander from room to room 
searching for her until he found her in her upstairs 
office checking email or in the laundry room sorting 
clothes or in the large pantry off of the kitchen, 
looking for tea bags or microwave popcorn.

Scully slid between the sheets smelling of mint 
toothpaste and moisturizer. She inched closer and 
touched her bare feet to his shin and he jumped.

"Scully, your feet are freezing."

She giggled and burrowed further under the comforter, 
tucking her head into the space between his head and 
shoulder. Her hair tickled his chin. He wrapped his 
arm around her and gently traced her spine through 
the slippery fabric of her camisole. He was rewarded 
with the sound of her exhale as she settled against 
him, fully relaxed. She lifted one smooth leg up and 
lazily draped it over his. Since this particular 
signal sometimes meant something and sometimes didn't 
and he figured he had nothing to lose, he allowed his 
hand to drift to cup her breast, thumbing her nipple 
through silk. 

Scully nuzzled into his neck and kissed the soft spot 
under his earlobe. "Mmmm...we can't tonight," she 
breathed quietly while simultaneously arching her 
back into his eager hand.

Okaaay. Now he was confused. When Scully said no, she 
said no. He was receiving mixed signals and he didn't 
know why. Her response sounded more like a "not 
convenient" than a "not in the mood." She wasn't due 
for her period for at least another week, so it 
wasn't that.

"Um...I'm not complaining, but why is that again? I 
mean, my brain is a little fuzzy with you grinding 
your crotch into my thigh and sucking on my earlobe."

She sighed, rolling onto her back with her head 
resting on the crook of his arm. "I'm sorry, Mulder. 
I wasn't expecting to be so turned on tonight. It 
must've been the wine."

Mulder nodded slowly in the dark, his brows knit in 
confusion. "Right. Um...I think I might still be 
missing a key piece of information. Usually if you 
want to do it and I want to do it, then we just do 
it. Kind of simple, I know, but it seems to work."

He felt her reach for his hand and guide it down over 
her thigh and to the front of her panties. 

"Scully, do you remember in those high school health 
classes when they warned us not to let heavy petting 
sessions go too far because it would only lead to no 
good? This might be what they meant."

She chuckled. "Shut up, Mulder, and put your hand in 
my underwear."

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." He slipped his 
fingers up and over the waistband and down to her 
mound and felt....nothing. Well, damn well close to 
nothing. Where her small, trimmed thatch of curls 
used to be, Mulder's hand rested against silky smooth 
skin and just the tiniest narrow strip of hair. He 
sucked in air sharply. 

"I might have had some waxing done at the spa," she 
whispered. 

"Oh my God, Scully." He tossed the covers off her and 
not-so-patiently pulled at her bikinis. "I want to 
see it." 

Scully reached for his shoulders and stopped him. 
"Wait. No sex for at least twelve hours after waxing 
because of the risk of infection. That's why I said 
we can't tonight."

Mulder groaned and dove for the bedside table.

"What are you doing?"

"Setting the alarm. You had this done, what, before 
four o'clock when I picked you up, obviously. So if I 
set the alarm for 4:00 a.m., we should be good, 
right?"

Scully giggled and pulled him back down next to her, 
kissing him. "I think we can wait until tomorrow 
night."

"Your confidence in my self-control is admirable, 
Scully. Misplaced, perhaps, but admirable." He 
continued kissing her. His hand drifted lower again 
and she caught his arm.

"Tomorrow night, Mulder."

He tipped his forehead against her shoulder in 
resignation and moaned. "Can I see it, at least? 
Wait, never mind. I can't look and not touch, so 
forget it. Aaaaaaaargh, why did you even tell me, 
Scully? Now that's all I'm going to be thinking about 
for the next twenty-four hours."

She laughed. "I don't know, I was looking forward to 
surprising you, I guess. I didn't realize you'd like 
it this much." She pecked at his lips gently.

Mulder flopped onto his back, sighing. "How do I say 
this without sounding ungrateful? Um, I do like it. A 
lot actually, but Scully, you could be as hairy as a 
Yeti and I'd still want to jump you."

She snorted. "That's...charming."

"I just meant that...yeah, your body is hot - really, 
really hot, actually -  but I'm attracted to the 
whole package. I was so in love with you by the time 
I finally took your clothes off that it really didn't 
matter what you looked like underneath."

Scully clucked her tongue affectionately. "That's 
actually really sweet, Mulder."

"Yeah, I know. I should be writing greeting cards in 
my spare time," he joked. 

"I don't know if I'd go that far. Maybe you should 
leave out the hairy Yeti line."

Mulder chuckled and rolled toward her, propping 
himself on his elbow. He traced an invisible line up 
and down her bare arm with his fingertips. 

"I don't know why, but for some reason I'm finding it 
incredibly erotic. I guess it's just because it's 
you. And you did it for me."

She cleared her throat. "Well, mostly. And because I 
like the way it feels."

"You mean you've done it before?"

"A few times."

"While we were working together?"

"Mmmm hmmm..."

"Jesus, Scully," he hissed. "It's a good thing I 
didn't know you looked like that under your suits or 
I would have done something incredibly 
unprofessional. You would have had me brought up on 
sexual harassment charges."

"Doubtful. We probably would have just ended up in 
bed together years earlier," she giggled. 

Mulder slid one arm underneath her and gathered her 
to his chest. He kissed the top of her head and she 
settled into him and sighed.  "Thank you, Mulder, for 
an amazing first Mother's Day. You've raised the bar 
really high, you know. I have no idea what I could 
possibly do for you for Father's Day that could even 
come close."

And that's when he said it. After all the hundreds of 
ways he had considered saying it, all the possible 
perfect scenarios he had entertained over the last 
year or so, he never anticipated that he would blurt 
it out half-naked in bed without a smidgen of 
forethought or preparation. 

"You could marry me."

She was perfectly quiet. He couldn't even feel her 
breathing against him and he wondered if she might be 
holding her breath. 

"Mulder, don't joke about something like that."

"Do I sound like I'm joking, Scully? I told you a 
year ago that I wanted to marry you. I wasn't joking 
then and I'm sure as hell not joking now. I told you 
that I would ask you someday and I wanted you to 
think about it." 

The room was suddenly obscenely quiet and still. His 
eyes had adjusted to the dark and he could see the 
silhouette of her face on the pillow next to him. She 
wasn't looking at him, but was instead staring up at 
the ceiling. Her eyes were huge and wet and her 
eyelashes looked impossibly long. She blinked once.

"Have you thought about it, Scully?"

"Yes," she replied in the barest of whispers. He 
wasn't altogether sure he had even heard anything at 
all. Then the sound of her voice came again. "Are you 
asking?"

"No," he replied and her head swiveled on the pillow 
to stare at him in confusion. He couldn't be sure in 
the dark, but he almost thought he saw hurt in her 
eyes. He jumped up off the bed quickly.

"Don't go anywhere, Scully. I'll be right back."

Mulder darted down the hall and descended the stairs 
to the first floor. He rounded the corner to the far 
back of the house and entered his office, flipping on 
the light switch. Before he opened the bottom drawer 
of the filing cabinet, he paused with both of his 
palms flat against his desktop, eyes closed, trying 
to calm his nerves. Then he knelt and retrieved what 
he had come for, turned the light off, and returned 
to the second floor, taking the stairs two at a time. 

When he got to the bedroom, she was still lying in 
the bed, exactly where he left her. He switched on 
the bedside lamp and Scully squinted at the sudden 
light. He sat down on the edge of the bed and she 
pulled herself to a seated position next to him, her 
hands clutching at the comforter that was tucked up 
under her arms in an apparent case of sudden modesty. 
She licked her lips nervously.

Mulder fingered the tiny black velvet box in his hand 
and drew in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. He 
reached for one her hands and pulled it to him, 
holding it against his bare chest. 

He smiled gently. "Now I'm asking."

Her eyes locked on his. They were wide with emotion 
and she bit her bottom lip. Her hand tightened around 
his.

"This isn't exactly how I planned to do this, but for 
some reason, it seems right. This has been locked in 
my office for months now and every time I try to 
figure out how to ask you...well, nothing is good 
enough." 

He sighed. "I didn't rehearse this at all, so keep 
that in mind, okay?"

Scully's eyes were the size of half dollars and she 
looked like she might be about to run for the 
bathroom, so he figured he had about two minutes to 
give this his best shot.

Big breath in, then out. Speak, Mulder. 

"I think...I forgot how to exist without you a long 
time ago.  I've been without you, Scully, and it's 
not something I ever want to be again.  There won't 
ever be anyone else for me. You're it. I'm as certain 
of that as I've been about anything in my entire 
life. Will you marry me?"

Scully opened her mouth to breathe again and the air 
caught in her throat. A tear escaped out of the 
corner of one eye and she let it fall. Mulder looked 
at her with every ounce of hope he could find and 
waited. More lip chewing from her. Should it be 
taking her this long? In the movies, the girl would 
have thrown her arms around the guy's neck and 
shrieked by now. Granted, Scully was much more of the 
strong, silent type, but still, movement from her 
would be nice. He didn't think this was coming out of 
left field. Slowly, she began to nod her head. A few 
more tears fell and made wet splotches on the front 
of her silk camisole and Mulder reached and cupped 
her wet cheek. 

"Yes," she whispered, in perhaps the smallest voice 
he had ever heard from her.  She covered the outside 
of his hand with hers and held it to her cheek, then 
turned and kissed his palm. "I'll marry you." 

Mulder leaned forward and covered her mouth with his. 
Her cheeks were wet and when he pulled back to look 
at her again, his were too. A grin began to spread 
across his face. "I have this ring here. Don't you 
want to see it?"

She smiled and sniffled at the same time. "I do."

"Oh that's okay, Scully, you don't have to say that 
part until later," he joked.

She chuckled a little, clearly appreciating his 
attempt to lighten the mood.

Mulder took yet another deep breath and held the 
velvet box out to face her, slowly opening the hinged 
top. He heard her draw a sharp breath and her hand 
rose to cover her mouth. 

"Mulder, oh my God. It's...beautiful...and huge."

There was a suggestive innuendo in there somewhere, 
but he figured it might not be the right time.

"It was my Mother's ring. Well...the stone was. I had 
it reset into a simpler setting that I thought you 
might like, but if you don't, we can always-"

"I love it ? it's gorgeous. Your Mom's ring, Mulder. 
I don't know what to say. I'm honored."

"Try it on." He pulled the ring from the box, reached 
for her left hand, and very carefully slipped it on.

"It fits," she said, surprised. 

"I know."

She looked up at him in question.

"You don't own much jewelry, Scully, so you didn't 
make it easy on me. But you do have a college ring in 
the bottom of your jewelry box. I took it with me to 
the jeweler's and just had them size this one the 
same. Are you sure it's not too big?"

She shook her head, holding her hand out in front of 
her to admire the ring. "I need to be able to get it 
off when I perform autopsies, so it's perfect."

"Yeah, I guess it wouldn't do to lose a two carat 
diamond in some dead guy's cavity, would it?"

"Two carats?" Her eyebrows rose and her mouth fell 
open. "My God, Mulder."

"About two and a half, actually. But who's counting?"

"Your mother had exquisite taste."

"That's one way of putting it." 

Scully shook her head slowly in disbelief. "Should I 
sleep with it on? I'm afraid I'll injure you," she 
joked, smiling. 

Mulder placed the ring box on the nightstand, turned 
off the light, and climbed back into bed. He settled 
onto his back and let out a long sigh. "I can't 
believe you said yes."

"I never could say no to you, you know that."

"Yes, you can," he teased.

"No, I can't."

Mulder rolled toward her and his hand skated down 
beneath the covers to brush over the front of her 
panties.

"Mulderrr," she warned.

"See? I told you you could say no."

She laughed and kissed his lips, then turned away to 
spoon herself against him. His hand rested on the 
curve of her waist and he buried his face in her 
silky hair and breathed deeply. She smelled of 
vanilla lotion and warmth and his future. 



*****************************************************



May 13, 2002



When Mulder lumbered downstairs in his plaid pajama 
pants and grey T shirt and rounded the corner into 
the kitchen the next morning, Scully was sitting at 
the table with her back to him, already dressed in 
her suit, drinking coffee and reading the paper with 
her glasses on. She didn't hear him right away and he 
stood in the entryway watching her. Her stocking 
covered legs were crossed at the knees and her one 
foot flexed and bobbed up and down, her high heeled 
shoe dangling precariously from her toes. She took a 
sip from her coffee mug and set it down next to a 
plate with a half-eaten English muffin on it. The mug 
had a pink lipstick smudge on the rim and when she 
absent-mindedly fingered the handle, he noticed that 
her diamond caught the sunlight streaming in from the 
picture window and sent tiny prisms of light darting 
around the room. 

"Da da da da da da da da da da," called William from 
his exersaucer when he spotted Mulder. The baby 
bounced up and down excitedly for a moment, then 
redirected his attention back to the Cheerios 
scattered around on his tray. Scully looked up and 
rewarded Mulder with a wide smile.

"Good morning," she said, tilting her head up.

"Hi." He planted a kiss on her lips. "I overslept. 
You should've woken me when you got off the 
treadmill."

"Actually, I overslept too. I never made it onto the 
treadmill this morning."

Mulder squatted down next to William to say good 
morning and the baby blew a raspberry, picked up a 
Cheerio in his pudgy little hand, and fed it to 
Mulder. "Mm, not bad. I'm partial to Fruit Loops, but 
Mommy says no. We'll have to wait until you're a 
little older to introduce you to the list of banned 
breakfast cereals. Or at least until you can keep a 
secret." 

The edges of Scully's mouth tugged upward, but she 
kept her eyes on the newspaper. "At least let the 
rest of his baby teeth come in before you start 
working on giving him tooth decay. Speaking of- have 
you been using the finger tooth brush on him?"

"Everyday after breakfast," replied Mulder. "He 
bites, though."

"You don't have to tell me that. I breastfed him. You 
have to shake your head and say 'No biting' in a 
serious voice. He knows what you mean. If he keeps 
doing it, put him down and don't reward him with 
attention for a few minutes. Then go back to it 
later."

"It's like training a Golden Retriever."

Scully smiled. "But with a more advanced grasp of 
language."

William blew another spit bubble and squealed, "Ba ba 
ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba," while thrusting his arm 
toward the fridge and opening and closing his fist.

"Yeah, that's debatable," said Mulder. He took out a 
bottle, popped it in the microwave for twenty 
seconds, handed it to William, then took a seat at 
the table across from Scully. He sifted through the 
folded sections of newspaper until he found the 
sports section. 

"So Scully," he started without looking up. "When?"

"When what?"

"When do you want to get married?"

Her head bounced up to look at him briefly, then 
retreated back down into the editorial. She cleared 
her throat. "Well, seeing as how I've only been 
engaged for eight hours, I haven't really given it 
much thought."

"Do you want a wedding?"

"Do you?" she countered.

He smiled. "I want to marry you. You decide how that 
happens. Although...I don't know what kind of wedding 
it would be." He tilted his head, considering. "I 
don't really have any family besides you and William. 
We might have to do away with the whole bride's 
side/groom's side tradition."

She shook her head with an amused smile, then sighed 
and placed both hands on the table in front of her, 
thoughtfully touching the ring on her finger. She 
appeared to be choosing her words carefully and 
Mulder waited patiently.

"I don't want a wedding, Mulder. And I don't really 
think you do either. I don't know ? we're not really 
a first dance, cut the cake, throw the bouquet sort 
of couple. There may have been a time in my life when 
I would have wanted that, but not anymore. But what I 
do want..." she paused and took another deep breath, 
continuing to finger her ring, turning it back and 
forth nervously,"...is to go away somewhere...with 
you."

"Like a honeymoon?" he asked.

She nodded her head. "We've never gone away anywhere 
together, Mulder."

He chuckled. "C'mon, Scully, we've stayed in nice 
two-star motor courts all over the country together."

"You know what I mean," she frowned. "I was actually 
thinking...we could do it all at once. Go away for a 
week together and um, come back married."

"You want to elope?"

"Well...yeah, I guess. Although that implies running 
off without telling anyone what we're doing, and I 
don't see the need for secrecy."

"Your mom won't be disappointed?"

Scully snorted. "I think she gave up on us doing 
anything conventional somewhere in between you 
getting abducted by aliens and returning from the 
dead. The baby born out of wedlock was just the icing 
on the cake.  I think if I told her we were going to 
have a traditional church wedding now, she'd probably 
keel over." They both laughed together at the 
absurdity. 

"I think we should do it," he agreed. "I like the 
idea. But what about-" he tilted his head toward 
William, who had managed to get one sock off and was 
filling it with cereal. 

"I already called my mom this morning and asked her 
to meet me for lunch-"

"Did you tell her?"

"Not yet. I plan to at lunch...although, I'm not sure 
I'll need to. It's tough to miss the planet on my 
third finger," she smiled. "I'll talk to her about 
keeping William."

"More like a meteor, actually. Planets are mostly 
gasses."

Scully ignored him and got up from the table to take 
her dishes to the sink. Then she bent over and pulled 
William from his exersaucer and held him while she 
washed his hands and mouth with a wet paper towel. 
Mulder walked over to take him from her so she could 
get out the door to work when it hit him. He grimaced 
and held his nose. 

"Give me a break, Scully. Don't tell me you didn't 
notice that."

She smiled and held the baby out to him like a bomb. 
"I already did one first thing this morning; this 
one's all yours. Besides, I'm already late." She 
kissed him once on the lips and planted another on 
top of William's head before pulling her suit jacket 
from the back of the kitchen chair and slipping it 
on. "Use the diaper cream on him. I noticed he was 
getting a little red." 

"It must be the whole milk or something, Scully. He's 
averaging, like, five bad ones a day now. The EPA is 
going to issue us a warning."

She chuckled. "It'll slow down as his system gets 
used to it. He needs the fat in whole milk until he's 
two, then he can switch to skim. The fat aids in 
proper brain development," she rattled off in her 
best know-it-all doctor voice. 

Mulder continued holding his nose so his words came 
out nasally.   "How 'bout we switch him now and just 
quiz him with flash cards instead." He sighed in 
resignation and headed for the changing table in the 
playroom. "Come on, Dude. Let's get this over with. 
You're never going to pick up chicks at the 
playground smelling like that."

*****************************************************


At a quarter to six, Mulder pressed speed dial on his 
cell phone.

"Scully."

"Hey it's me, where are you?"

"Stuck on the beltway, a half a mile from my exit. 
Where are you guys?"

"Well, the Sprout and I are late coming back from 
running errands, so we figured we'd order take-out. I 
was just calling to see what you want from The 
Hollywood Cafe."

"You read my mind. I was thinking the other day that 
I had a craving for their Asian sesame chicken 
salad."

"Okay. That's it?"

"Dressing on the side. Ooooh....and they have amazing 
cheescake. Split a piece with me?"

 "You got it. See you at home. Oh, and Scully. How 
did lunch with you mom go?"

"Good, actually. She said it was about time."

"She's right."

Scully laughed lightly. "I'll tell you more about it 
at home."

"Drive carefully, Scully."

*****************************************************


They sat at the kitchen table with empty take-out 
containers strewn around and a half eaten piece of 
cherry cheesecake abandoned between two forks. 

"It's all yours, Mulder. I can't eat any more."

He stuffed the last two extra large bites into his 
mouth. Scully looked at him, her forehead wrinkled in 
a mix of awe and disgust.  

"Whaa?" he asked, innocently with his mouth full. "I 
wa huhgwee." He finished and swallowed. "My lunch 
consisted of the leftover crust from Will's grilled 
cheese sandwich and some mandarin oranges he fed me 
with sticky fingers."

William slouched in his high chair and chased noodles 
around on the tray with slippery hands. His forehead 
was furrowed in concentration as his brain sent 
signals to his fingers on how to pinch rotini between 
his thumb and forefinger and maneuver it to his 
mouth. On average, it took him three attempts before 
successfully scoring a mouthful.

"Scully, I think he got more on the floor than he did 
in his mouth."

"That's why we're stuck eating over the tile floor in 
the kitchen. Someday we'll be able to eat in a dining 
room with a rug again," she said, kneeling by the 
high chair in her stocking feet with a rag to wipe 
the floor.  "He's tired. And he needs a bath. Do you 
want kitchen clean-up or baby duty?"

"I got this," he replied, stacking take out 
containers. "You haven't seen him all day."

"C'mere, baby." Scully smiled and lifted William onto 
her hip, carrying him toward the stairs. She blew a 
wet raspberry against his neck and he squealed loudly 
and erupted into a belly laugh.

*****************************************************

A little past ten, Scully, who had been nestled in 
between Mulder's legs and reclined against his chest 
reading her book, stretched and got up from the sofa. 
"I'm going to go take a shower. Don't read too long, 
Mulder." And she ran her hand along the back of his 
shirt collar, her nails lightly scratching his neck.  
His cock twitched involuntarily and he tried to go 
back to his book, but ended up reading the exact same 
sentence six times before conceding that a shower 
sounded like a damn good idea. He turned the lights 
out on the first floor and ascended the stairs, 
tugging his shirt off over his head before he reached 
the top. 

The water was already running and he could hear her 
humming behind the glass shower door when he entered 
the bathroom. He could just see the distorted outline 
of her shape through the beveled glass and he felt 
himself start to harden. She had her back arched to 
the shower head, her arms raised and sweeping over 
her wet hair. Mulder unzipped his jeans and lowered 
them, along with his boxers. They fell to a puddle on 
the bathroom tile and he stepped out of them, then he 
headed for the shower door and opened it just enough 
to pop his head in. 

"Is there room for two?"

She jumped at his voice and her humming ceased. 
"Mulder! You startled me."

He stepped in and shut the door behind him. Then he 
just stood there and let his gaze drift slowly over 
her from top to bottom. Her hair was wet and slicked 
back and her skin was flushed a rosy pink color from 
the heat of the shower. Streams of water sluiced down 
her shoulders and ran over her rounded breasts in 
tiny rivers and down, down, down over the gentle 
swell of her hips. Over the taut muscles of her 
abdomen ? flat again only a year after giving birth, 
a few tiny silver stretch marks the only remaining 
evidence ? and finally to the soft space between her 
thighs. He allowed his gaze to rest there and she 
shifted her legs open ever so slightly to accommodate 
his curiosity. 

He had since hardened fully and his thickness stood 
out at a forty-five degree angle in front of him, 
pointing straight at her. It made him feel ridiculous 
and he glanced down at himself, then raised his 
eyebrows and shrugged at her, the silent equivalent 
of "whatcha gonna do." She rewarded him with a  
playful smile, then reaching and wrapping her hand 
around his cock. He gasped as she gently tugged him 
toward her and he stepped forward awkwardly until 
their lips met. 

After a long, very wet kiss, he pulled back 
breathlessly. "What do you want to do?" he teased.

She huffed out a quiet laugh and with her eyes 
closed, reached for the shower gel and a washcloth. 
"Wash me." So he did.   

After she returned the favor and they were both 
slippery and clean, he pressed her body tightly 
against the tile wall and placed a gentle, but firm 
hand against her collarbone, his long fingers 
extending up the side of her slender neck. It was 
insistent, needy, bordering on rough, and her eyes 
widened in surprise. 

He bent his head and growled into her ear, "I've been 
thinking about this all day."

"Me too," she whispered.

"What? Tell me what you were thinking about." His 
fingers slid down her to pinch one nipple between his 
thumb and forefinger. 

She gasped and her eyelids slid shut. "Your mouth," 
she panted, licking her swollen lips. "On me." 

He smiled and nipped at her earlobe. "Mmmm...I was 
hoping you'd say that." Then he reached to turn the 
water temperature up a notch and began his descent. 
Slowly, he ran the open flat of his tongue down each 
inch of her body, lapping at the water that flooded 
over her curves, pausing to suck on miscellaneous 
expanses of skin, taking one rock hard nipple between 
his teeth, then the other. She arched against his 
mouth, her hands resting, palms flat, behind her 
between her buttocks and the tile wall. He continued 
with his tongue bath, down the gentle slope of her 
tummy, pausing to sink into her naval and causing her 
stomach muscles to clench and tremble. 

Finally, he found himself in a kneeling position in 
front of her. He paused to take her in, his first 
real concentrated look at the wax job she had treated 
herself to just the day before. Normally fastidious 
about her grooming in general, she typically treated 
the care of her nether regions with equal commitment 
and deliberation, without being overly self-
indulgent. The end result was usually a small trimmed 
patch of auburn curls nestled unobtrusively an inch 
or so above where the real action began. Mulder liked 
it, loved it actually. But he had no complaint with 
the vast majority of female genitalia, at least the 
ones he had had the good fortune to enjoy. However, 
he was largely open to trying new things,  in both 
life and sex,  and he had to admit that what he saw 
before him now had him harder than a sixteen-year-old 
virgin on prom night. Her labia and surrounding area 
was pink and completely smooth. Her normal patch of 
pubic hair had been trimmed down to a simple narrow 
landing strip and he could've sworn he heard air 
traffic controllers beckoning him to drop his landing 
gear and prepare to touch down. Yeah, he could 
definitely get into this. 

Mulder kissed the insides of both her thighs, then 
took both thumbs and carefully parted her folds. Her 
legs were trembling in anticipation and one of her 
hands came down to clutch the back of his head, 
urging him toward her. She wasn't usually this 
forthcoming with her need and it turned him on even 
more, just knowing how desperate she was for it, 
imagining her thinking about it throughout the day. 
He wondered if she had been distracted during her 
lectures, if her cheeks had been flushed, if her 
illicit thoughts had made her wet. He wondered if any 
of her students had noticed the ring on her finger, 
if they had imagined her being kissed, licked and 
caressed, being made love to. 

He dipped his head forward and touched the tip of his 
tongue to her and she jumped, emitting a long drawn 
out moan and a breathy "Oh Mulder." Encouraged, he 
forged on, alternating between teasing her clitoris 
by fluttering it with the strong muscular tip of his 
tongue and running the whole flat of it all the way 
up her slit. She spread her legs further apart and 
bent her knees slightly to give him better access, 
both of her hands raking through his hair now, her 
fingernails scraping his scalp. The water ran down 
her body in rivulets, falling on his head. His cock 
was painfully hard now, standing straight out in 
front of his kneeling body and he took one free hand 
and stroked himself languidly, being careful not to 
get too carried away. 

She was panting hard now and her thighs were 
trembling. "Mulder....Oh God. I can't...I can't stand 
up much longer." 

He pulled back reluctantly and raised himself to a 
standing position and then kissed her on the lips 
hard, thrusting his tongue into her mouth so she 
could taste herself.   She moaned into his mouth and 
cupped his face with both hands. 

"Let's move this party to the bedroom," he said, 
shutting the water off and opening the shower door to 
reach for two towels.

A few minutes later, he was backing her into the 
bedroom until her knees hit the mattress and she fell 
onto her back, her breasts bouncing enticingly. He 
covered her body with his own and his erection 
pressed insistently against her wetness, but he 
didn't allow himself to enter her. He had something 
else in mind. He pulled back from her kiss and rolled 
onto his back. She looked at him in confusion, 
breathing harshly. 

"You want me on top?" she asked, crawling to straddle 
him. 

"Yeah, but...I want to finish what I started," he 
said, wrapping both hands around her buttocks and 
urging her to move upward on him. Her eyes widened in 
realization and her mouth formed a silent O as he 
coaxed her forward until she was hovering just above 
his head, his ears pressed into her thighs.

She looked uncertain. "I've never....had it like 
this," she whispered.

He smiled. "Just relax into it. You control the 
pressure. Don't be shy about it ? take what you 
need." He squeezed the firm globes of her ass with 
his hands and lapped at her slickness. "Mmmm...you 
taste incredible."

Scully gasped and her eyes fluttered shut. Then she 
pitched forward to brace her hands on the headboard 
and lowered herself to his eager mouth.  

She was tentative at first and Mulder had to stretch 
for her, lifting his head. But after a few minutes, 
she seemed to lose her inhibitions and settled 
herself against him, moving her hips forward and 
backward in a rhythm. She gripped the headboard 
tightly and it made a quiet tapping sound as it 
bumped against the wall in tandem with her movements. 
For some reason, the sound was incredibly arousing to 
Mulder. Nothing said reckless abandon quite like a 
rattling headboard. The idea that his conservative 
partner of eight years, the woman who had made a 
habit of ignoring his innuendos and chastising his 
suggestive comments, was currently sitting on his 
face ? and by the looks of things, really enjoying 
herself ? made his head want to explode. As for 
Mulder, he was thoroughly enjoying the view from 
below. He couldn't imagine anything more enticing 
than looking up and seeing Scully sliding back and 
forth over him, her cheeks flushed, eyed shut tight, 
forehead furrowed in concentration as she worked 
toward her release. Her arms were stretched forward, 
gripping the headboard and her firm round breasts 
swayed gently and rhythmically. 

He sensed she was getting close. Her thighs were 
tensing around his head, her movements becoming more 
frantic and erratic.  He tightened his grip on her 
ass, spread her open wider and dug in, drawing her 
clitoris all the way into his mouth and sucking on it 
with purpose. She cried out loudly, once, then twice 
and ground herself into him harder, then her 
movements slowed and he felt her thighs quake almost 
violently. Wetness flooded his mouth and he could 
feel her internal contractions against his tongue and 
lips. She lifted her hips from him slightly and he 
eased off, knowing that she was too sensitive to take 
any more stimulation. 

She folded forward and rolled off him and to the 
side, clutching her knees to her chest, and panting 
harshly. 

Mulder chuckled. "You okay?"

"I will be. I think. I'm just....a little dizzy...." 
Then she giggled and it was so endearing that he 
rolled and placed his mouth against her bare 
shoulder, kissing it softly. 

"You've really never done it like that?"

"Mmmm mmm, no. It was um...different. The stimulation 
was ...intense. I liked the control."

He laughed out loud at that one. "I figured you 
might."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that you're not a passive person, Scully. 
You're a very assertive woman. And you enjoy being on 
top during sex-"

"Sometimes," she interrupted.

"More than anyone else I've been with."

"Really?"

"Definitely. But don't worry, it's a huge turn on. 
The view alone is mind-altering." He could almost 
sense her blushing next to him in the dark. 

"Do you want to be on top more?" She was 
overthinking. If anyone could do that two minutes 
after orgasm, it would be her. 

"I like it both ways equally," he said. "I think I 
last longer when you're on top. I tend to get overly 
enthusiastic when I drive." 

She chuckled and rolled toward him, reaching in the 
dark and wrapping her hand around his still hard 
penis. "I could go for some enthusiasm about now."

He sucked in a quick breath and got up onto his 
knees, supporting himself with one arm and reaching 
down to guide himself to her with his other hand. He 
leaned forward and kissed her long and hard at the 
exact moment he entered her and she moaned her 
approval into his mouth. Their tongues slid against 
each other, mimicing the thrusting of his body into 
hers. He established a slow and steady rhythm and she 
lifted her hips to meet his downthrust each time. Her 
nails raked lightly over his bare back and he pulled 
away from the kiss to groan, his jaw clenching and 
his eyes slamming shut as he felt that enthusiasm 
that always got him in trouble starting to kick in. 
She wrapped one leg around his hip tightly while her 
other knee remained bent, her foot flat against the 
mattress, seeking leverage. He drove into her faster 
and harder, their bodies making a slapping sound as 
they met and separated. 

He dimly realized that he had been in various stages 
of erect for at least an hour and his body was 
screaming toward release even faster than usual. He 
was losing just a tiny bit more of his self-control 
with each thrust.  He had hoped to be able to take 
her over the edge once more, but he knew it wasn't 
likely. Occasionally she came twice, but it wasn't 
typical and usually took awhile. Not that he ever 
minded, but he was pretty sure time wasn't on his 
side in this case. 

"God, Scully, you feel so good," he growled. His eyes 
were closed tightly in concentration and he turned 
his head back and forth slowly. "I'm close...can't 
help it," he panted. "Do you want...to get on top?"

She reached to cup one of his cheeks in her hand. 
"It's okay," she whispered. "Go ahead."

And he did, just like that, thrusting one last time 
into her, hard. He felt the contractions in waves all 
through his body as he flooded into her over and over 
again. His one arm gave out on him and he pitched 
forward onto her, his other arm still supporting half 
of his weight. He fought to catch his breath, mouth 
open against her bare shoulder. She brushed back his 
hair from his damp forehead with her fingers, 
affectionately, and kissed his head. God, he loved 
this woman. 

He managed to summon enough strength to roll off and 
settle next to her. "I'm sorry, Scully," he panted. 
"I wanted to get you again."

She turned and placed her arm over his waist and her 
head on his chest. "Do I sound disappointed? You're 
talking to a very satisfied woman."

"But isn't two better than one?" He caressed her bare 
back with his hand, causing goosebumps to form.

She shivered and reached to pull the sheet up over 
both of them. "Haven't you ever heard the saying 
'quality rather than quantity?'"

"Yeah, but still. It's orgasms we're taking about 
here, Scully. There are no truly bad ones, so why 
wouldn't you want as many as you can get?"

"Um...how do I say this without having to hear you 
gloat for the rest of my life? Mulder, you're one of 
the only guys I've been with who has actually cared 
that I have an orgasm at all during sex, and the only 
guy who has ever made it his personal quest to make 
sure I come every time, one way or another. Yes, one 
orgasm that I don't have to give myself is wonderful. 
It's perfect, in fact."

"Wow. Thanks."

"Yeah, don't let it go to your head." 

He chuckled. "So tell me, Scully. Have you ever faked 
it?"

"Mulderrr," she warned.

"Come on, Scully. I wanna know. Lay it on me. I can 
take it."

"Are you asking me if I've ever faked it with you or 
with anyone?"

"Yes."

She sighed and was quiet for a minute before she 
replied. "No and yes, in that order."

Mulder exhaled and relaxed. "Why do women do it? Why 
would you want to sabotage your chances at orgasm?"

"Because sometimes...sometimes it just isn't going to 
happen no matter what and he isn't going to give up 
no matter what and you want to just go to sleep. 
That's the truth."

"Scully?"

"Hmm?"

"Promise me you won't ever fake it with me."

She snorted. "I wouldn't give you the satisfaction, 
Mulder. Besides..." she stretched her head up to kiss 
him, "I doubt I'd ever have a reason to. You're 
pretty tenacious, you know." She kissed him.  "And 
cute...," another kiss, "and you have a really nice 
ass." More kissing. 

"You're thinking about that second orgasm now, aren't 
you, Scully?" he mumbled into her mouth. "Geez, you 
give a girl a ring and suddenly she can't get 
enough."

She pinched his arm teasingly. "Mmm, speaking of that 
subtle rock on my finger...my Mom can take William 
for the last week in June.  Tara is coming out with 
the kids that week. The two of them can manage all 
the monsters together. Unless...you think that's too 
soon."

"Too soon? Let's put it this way: how does tomorrow 
look?"

"Mulder."

"I'm just kidding. Sort of.  Scully, if you said to 
me 'Mulder, let's get out of bed and go find a 
Justice of the Peace right now,' I'd say 'Give me 
thirty seconds to pee and get my shoes on.' So no, 
the end of June is not too soon."

She huffed out a little breath slipped one leg 
casually over his. "We need to figure out where we're 
going."

"Um...I might have an idea."

"It had better not be within a hundred mile radius of 
reported crop circles or Mexican goat suckers."

"Scully. Give me some credit. I have a few romantic 
bones in my body."

"Okay, I'm listening with bated breath. What did you 
have in mind?"

"Actually, I wondered if you trust me enough to 
surprise you?"

"Mulder," she said, the skepticism evident in her 
tone. 

"I did okay with the Mother's Day surprise, didn't 
I?"

"Yes, but this is the place where we're getting 
married. The stakes are just a little bit higher, 
wouldn't you agree?"

"Okay, why don't you tell me what your criteria are 
and I'll tell you whether or not the place I have in 
mind fits."

Scully sighed. 

"Just...play the game, Scully. Come on."

"Okaaay. Um, I want it to be moderately warm, but not 
too hot. Some place off the beaten path, not too 
crowded. I want the actual place where we exchange 
vows to be private and...outside? Hmmm...yeah, I 
think outside.  I want to sleep late, eat good food, 
and just relax and do nothing with you. 
Well...something."

"Lots of somethings, hopefully." He allowed his pinky 
finger to just barely graze the edge of her breast 
resting against his side. 

"Okay, Scully, based on those criteria, I can 
confidently say 'done, done, done, and done.' You're 
easy."

"Can't you tell me anything about it?" she asked.

Mulder breathed deeply. "I've been there before, but 
it's been a long time. It's somewhere Samantha and I 
used to go as kids. And I was happy there. I want to 
take you," he whispered. 

Scully tilted her head upward to look at him, but it 
was too dark for them to see each other clearly. 
Still, he felt her emotion reach out and tangle with 
his own. 

"I want to go," she said.  "Let's get married there."



*****************************************************


June 26, 2002



Their plane had touched down in Boston a little after 
10 a.m. and they rented a car and drove to the Cape, 
arriving almost an hour before the next ferry was 
scheduled to depart. There were alternate ferries 
that left sooner, but since they wanted to take their 
car with them, they were limited to the Steamship 
ferry. 

She knew where they were going, had confirmed that 
fact on their flight from Washington to Logan  while 
enjoying mimosas and those little individually 
wrapped biscuits that most people complained about, 
but that Mulder found quite tasty. They flew first 
class, so he got as many as he wanted, plus more leg 
room. She admitted to him that she had accidentally 
seen a flight confirmation to Martha's Vineyard 
minimized on his computer screen a few weeks ago when 
her laptop had crashed and she had used his computer. 
Her wide smile indicated that she was quite pleased 
with the plans. That, combined with the fact that she 
had kicked off her sandal and was rubbing her bare 
foot against his calf, made him forgive her for 
snooping. Come to think of it, some things made sense 
to him now ? why she never asked about needing her 
passport, why when he gave her a typed packing list 
of suggested items, she had glanced over it and said, 
"You forgot to list a sweater or light jacket, 
Mulder. The nights can get pretty cool, even in 
summer." He should have guessed then that she was 
onto him. He smiled now, recalling their conversation 
after she had had a chance to peruse the packing 
list.

Her eyebrows had risen and her hand had paused midway 
to her mouth, spoonful of cereal poised and dripping 
milk back into the bowl as her attention was diverted 
to the list in front of her.

"Mulder. Little blue dress with spaghetti straps?"

"Yeah, the one you wore to that thing Skinner made us 
go to that one time. Um, it's in the back of your  
closet next to-"

"I know where it is, Mulder. That was four 
Christmases ago. How do you even remember that?"

"I just do. You wore it with those sapphire earrings 
that look like little teardrops. In fact, bring those 
too."

Scully stared at him, her mouth dropped open 
slightly. She had returned her spoon to the bowl, 
still full of cereal. 

"Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"What shoes was I wearing? With the blue dress? Four 
years ago."

He cleared his throat. "Um, well. They were black and 
had this little criss cross strap over the top of 
your foot, open toe, I think. Wait, maybe closed." He 
thought for a moment. "No, open. Definitely open 
toe."

She stared back at him, blank expression.

"Am I right?" he asked, looking down uncomfortably.

"I have no idea. I have about six pairs of black 
dress shoes. I can't remember. But you do, 
obviously."

He was busted big time. He didn't even bother trying 
to bail himself out. He had been tried and convicted 
of first degree ogling of his professional work 
partner and platonic best friend. Said violation 
happened over four years ago. He would have had no 
reason for remembering exactly what she was 
wearing...unless he had been staring at her that 
night, fantasizing about removing all those articles 
of clothing, which of course, he had been. Busted. 

Scully had rolled her eyes, then continued down the 
packing list until something else caught her 
attention. She looked up again. "Windex colored 
bikini?" This time the look on her face bordered on 
painful.

"It's in the second to last drawer of the tall 
dresser. Next to the black one piece."

"You know where my turquoise bikini is." It wasn't a 
question. 

"Yup."

She had continued reading, spooning some more cereal 
into her mouth. "Lingerie of your choice?" she said, 
mouth full. "Finally. A  vote of confidence in my 
ability to choose my own underwear," she had said 
sarcastically.

"I could make some suggestions there too, if you 
want."

More reading of the list. "Wedding dress, Mulder? 
What makes you think I have such a thing?" She 
offered him her poker face.

"Beeeeecause.... before you went to meet your Mom for 
lunch two Saturdays ago, she left you a message not 
to forget to bring a strapless bra for trying on 
dresses."

"Jesus, Mulder."

"I'm just trying to keep my investigative skills 
sharp. They say you lose it if you don't use it." 

"Well, we're not having a wedding," she had said, 
smiling.

"You know what I mean."

"I might have something to wear. And stay out of my 
closet, Mulder!"

He chuckled. "It's in a zippered garment bag. I 
didn't peek. I want to be surprised." 

After she had finished her breakfast, she had gotten 
up to leave, then turned back, staring down at the 
list again. "You forgot to list pajamas."

"No I didn't."  

Shaking her head and smiling, she had kissed him 
goodbye and left for work. A week after that, he had 
noticed that her suitcase was open in the corner of 
the bedroom. She had been adding items to it little 
by little. He spotted both the blue dress and the 
turquoise bikini peeking out from inside.



They parked their car near the ferry and grabbed some 
lunch while they waited. They sat at an outdoor cafe 
table eating the best hot dogs Mulder had had since 
his last Yankees game. 

"So have you ever been to Martha's Vineyard, Scully?"

She shook her head, chewed and swallowed. "Boston, 
but not the Cape or the Vineyard."

He reached to wipe ketchup from the corner of her 
mouth with a napkin. She smiled and let him. 

"Are you going to tell me where we're staying or do I 
have to wait?" she asked.

Mulder finished his hot dog, then was quiet for a 
minute. He stared off over the horizon of water 
behind where Scully sat sipping lemonade. 

"I spent every summer on The Vineyard ? from as early 
as I can remember until...well, until I left for 
college, I guess. Sam and I used to look forward to 
it for months. As soon as the weather began to turn 
warmer, we couldn't wait for summer to end so we 
could go. We had a whole group of friends there, kids 
that we only saw for the summer. Some lived on the 
Vineyard year-round, others just spent summers there, 
like us. One of my closest summer friends was this 
kid named Todd Reardon. He was a little younger than 
I was, one grade, and spent every summer with his 
grandparents on the Vineyard. His parents were 
seriously messed up  ? his mother was an alcoholic 
and I think his father left when Todd was really 
little. Anyway, we hit it off right away, spent 
nearly every day during the summers together, playing 
baseball, swimming, sleeping outside in tents. It was 
me, Todd, Alan, Marty, Jeff, Gordie, and Frank, who 
everyone called Weasel for unknown reasons. Samantha 
had her own group of girlfriends, but a lot of the 
time, she tagged along with us. She was everyone's 
little sister. 

The summer we were ten, this girl named Elizabeth 
showed up on the Vineyard. Her parents had purchased 
a place right next to Todd's grandparents and they 
had moved from New York to live on The Vineyard year-
round. Her parents were what my Mother used to call 
'new money.' The first time we met Elizabeth, she 
came over to where about a dozen of us guys were 
playing baseball and asked if we needed a pitcher. By 
the fourth inning, she had struck every one of us 
out. It was the beginning of a beautiful thing. She 
became like one of the guys and I think over a string 
of summers, each of us managed to have at least a 
minor crush on her at one time or another. But Todd ? 
he had it the worst. He was in love with her from the 
minute she threw that first pitch.  

By the time we all graduated high school, Todd and 
Elizabeth were an item. They both went off to Boston 
University together. During their senior year at 
B.U., she got pregnant. According to Todd, her 
parents threatened to cut off her college fund unless 
she had an abortion. She refused, they got married, 
had the baby, and beat the odds. Todd went on to law 
school and eventually became a family court judge. 
Elizabeth is a midwife now. They're still together 
and eventually had a second child."

Scully nodded her head and waited for a minute. "It's 
a nice story. But why-"

"Why am I telling you now?" 

She nodded again.

"Because you're about to meet them. They live on the 
island."

"And we're staying with them?"

"Not exactly. But sort of. You'll see. That part's 
still a surprise," he said. "However...since Todd is 
a judge, I'd like it if he was the one to...marry 
us."

Scully nodded and her eyes were soft. She folded and 
unfolded her napkin several times before abandoning 
it and sliding her hand across the table to cover 
his. "I think that's a good idea." 

*****************************************************


An hour and a half later, their rental car pulled up 
in front of a large, modern-looking Victorian house 
at the end of a long winding lane. As soon as they 
got out of the car, a large German Shepherd came 
bounding toward them, barking with its tail wagging. 
A man with sandy brown hair, wearing shorts and 
sandals walked out of the house and headed their way, 
waving.

"Genevieve! Come here, Girl!" The friendly dog ran 
back toward him, then changed her mind and double-
backed toward Mulder and Scully, tail still going a 
mile a minute. 

"Don't worry ? she's friendly, just a little nuts," 
he called to them. When he reached Mulder, he thrust 
his hand out to him, then pulled him into a hug, 
slapping his back enthusiastically. 

"You big loser ? it's about time you got your ass 
back here," he said, laughing congenially. 

"Hey, Todd," Mulder said, smiling and returning the 
friendly slap on his back.

Scully bent and scratched the dog on the head. It 
lapped at her face and then turned a couple of 
circles. 

Mulder turned toward Scully. "Todd, this is my 
fiance, Dana Scully. Scully, Todd Reardon."

Todd offered his hand to Scully and she took it in 
hers firmly. "It's great to finally meet you," he 
said. 

"Likewise," she smiled. 

"And let's not beat around the bush. Everything 
you've heard about me is true ? except for the Fourth 
of July incident back in '78. It wasn't me that 
streaked across the beach during the fireworks, 
regardless of what he told you."

Scully arched two eyebrows at Mulder and grinned.

"I'm guessing you didn't tell her that one yet?" Todd 
slapped Mulder on the arm, jokingly. Then he leaned 
in toward Scully's ear, but spoke in a voice that 
Mulder was clearly supposed to overhear. "Later. I 
promise."

"I look forward to it," she replied, and obviously 
meant it. 

"Congratulations, by the way," said Todd, glancing 
down at the ring on her finger. "We were beginning to 
lose hope for Mulder," he laughed. "Thought sure he 
and his fish tank would be moving in with Liz and me 
when he was eighty and toothless."

Scully laughed out loud. Mulder could tell she liked 
him already. 

 Mulder glanced toward the house. "How is she?"

Todd sighed, but kept his smile. "She's practicing 
again ? just started back this past winter. We have 
good days and bad days, but we're finding our way. 
Today is a good day."

Scully looked at Mulder with a slightly puzzled look.

"She's in the house putting coffee on. Let's go in," 
Todd said, and started toward the front porch.  

Scully paused at the rental car. "Should we bring our 
bags, Mulder?"

He shook his head. "No, leave them there for now."

Another puzzled look, but she followed both men 
toward the house. 

When they entered, the smell of coffee and something 
else ? something baking ? greeted them immediately, 
followed right after by a little girl with a mess of 
long blonde curly hair, glasses, and freckles. 

"They're here! They're here," she yelled, running 
toward them and literally throwing herself into 
Mulder's arms. He caught her mid-run, swung her once 
around, and put her down. 

"What are they feediing you? You're growing like a 
weed, Mally!"  

The little girl squealed and giggled, revealing two 
missing teeth. Then she turned her attention to 
Scully, a wide grin still on her face. "Is this her?" 

"It is," Mulder replied. "Scully, this is-"

"Wait! I can do it myself," exclaimed the girl. 
"We're working on introductions and public speaking 
skills in my class. My teacher, Mr. Nolan, says we're 
building confidence and stage presence. Mom says that 
I'm so confident I'll be running for president before 
I'm out of high school. She's just being facetious, 
although I am wise beyond my years."

Scully smiled and looked up at Mulder. 

The girl faced Scully and offered her hand, which 
Scully took in hers. "Allow me to introduce myself. 
My name is Mallory Jane Reardon and I'm nine years 
old. You can call me Mally, if you want. Most people 
do." Big toothless smile.

Scully bent down to the girl's level. "Pleased to 
meet you, Mally. I'm Dana."

"Do you like chocolate chip cookies, Dana?"

"They're my favorite kind."

Mally's smile grew even wider. "I baked some for 
you."

Just then a woman in a wheelchair rounded the corner. 
She had long chestnut colored hair and soft brown 
eyes. "Mally, your cookies are out," she said, then 
turned toward Mulder. "Hey Stranger."

"Hi, Elizabeth," Mulder said bending to hug her 
tightly. 

She wheeled closer. "You must be the infamous 
Scully."

Scully smiled and extended her hand. "It's a pleasure 
to meet you, Elizabeth. You have a lovely home."

"It's haunted. Didn't Fox mention that? Most of the 
activity seems to be centered in the northeast 
bedroom of the second floor, which is where you'll be 
staying. He thought perhaps you wouldn't mind  
documenting the paranormal activity as you observe 
it. It really shouldn't consume your entire 
honeymoon, though."

Scully's head snapped up to look at Mulder, her smile 
fading into a look of obvious discomfort.

Elizabeth snorted. "Forget it," she laughed. "I can't 
do it, Fox. She looks like she wants to jump out a 
window."

Scully's eyes narrowed in feigned anger and she 
jokingly punched Mulder lightly on the arm. 

"Sorry, Dana. He begged me to." She reached for 
Scully's hand and led her to the kitchen. "Come on ? 
we have coffee and cookies waiting...and lots of 
catching up to do."

*****************************************************


A half hour later, Mulder, Scully, Todd, Liz, and 
Mally were sitting around the table talking and 
enjoying homemade chocolate chip cookies in the 
shapes of United States presidents. Mulder had eaten 
a Ronald Reagan and an Ike Eisenhower and was eyeing 
the FDR that was still on the plate. 

"These are awesome, Mally," said Mulder.

"Thanks. I got the cookie cutters for my birthday. I 
wanted the Famous Female Heroine ones, but they were 
backordered, so I got the presidents."

Scully laughed as she finished the last bite of her 
JFK and reached for the Harry Truman.

"Scully, you're eating all the democrats," Mulder 
teased. 

The back door opened and a pretty teenaged girl came 
in. She stopped when she saw Mulder and smiled a 
little shyly, dropping her backpack on the hardwood 
floor with a thud. "Hey you."

Mulder got up from the table and gave her a big hug. 
"Tatum," he said. "What happened? You're all grown 
up."

"Yeah, tell them that. They still treat me like I'm 
ten," she said, making a sweeping gesture with her 
hand toward her parents sitting at the other end of 
the table. 

Liz looked at Scully. "Sixteen going on twenty-five," 
she said and Scully smiled understandingly. 

"Tatum, this is Dana Scully, Fox's fiance," said Liz.

The girl looked at Scully. "Hi," she said, politely. 
"And don't call him Fox, Mom. He hates that."

Scully smiled a smile Mulder couldn't recall seeing 
before and looked down at the table.  

Mulder sat back down at the table and pulled the 
chair out next to him, offering it to Tate. She 
grabbed a cookie, sat down, and studied it for a 
moment. "Um, Mal? Who's-"

"Grover Cleveland.  Twenty-seventh president of the 
United States. Democratic party," Mallory replied.

Tatum rolled her eyes and took a bite.  She leaned to 
bump shoulders jovially with Mulder. "So, can you 
teach me to drive while you're here?" she asked. 

"Tate," chastised Liz.

"Oh sorry, I forgot. You have other plans. When are 
you getting married?"

"Friday," Mulder replied. "You gonna come?"

"Can I bring a date?"

"Does he deserve you?"

"Nope."

"Then definitely not," Mulder joked. "I'd rather not 
have to hurt anyone on my wedding day."

Tate laughed and Mulder couldn't help wondering how 
it was that she was dating when just yesterday she 
had been six-years-old, teaching him how to bite the 
ends off of Twizzlers and use them as straws. It made 
him miss William and he sincerely hoped there'd never 
come a time when he would have a cat's-in-the-cradle 
moment and wonder where the time went, but he 
suspected it was an inevitability of parenthood. 

*****************************************************


 Soon after, Mulder and Scully left to go get settled 
in with an invitation from Liz to return to the house 
at seven for a fresh New England seafood dinner. 
Mulder could see the anticipation on Scully's face as 
they walked out of the big Victorian house and she 
wondered where in the world they were going to be 
staying. They got back into the rental car and Mulder 
steered it slowly down a narrow, one-lane sand and 
dirt-covered access road on the far side of the 
property. The road twisted and turned for a stretch 
before opening up to reveal the ocean spread like a 
blanket before them.  Mulder heard Scully suck in a 
breath and he smiled, knowing that feeling. He hit 
the buttons to roll both their windows down and the 
salt air permeated the car. 

After following the sandy access road for about half 
a mile, he saw it sitting perched on the bluff, the 
old stone walls looking no different than the last 
time he saw it four years ago and the same as it did 
thirty years before that when he and Samantha had 
packed picnic lunches and snuck away to spend 
afternoons there. He drove down the bluff and parked 
the car. 

"This is it. It looks just the same on the outside. 
The architects did a good job preserving the 
integrity of the building," he said.

"It's a lighthouse, Mulder," Scully said, her 
piercing blue eyes wide in wonder. "We're staying in 
a lighthouse?"

He nodded. Scully unhitched her seatbelt and got out 
of the car, walking slowly toward the old stone 
structure. "My God. It's gorgeous," she whispered. 
"This place has to be over a century old."

"1870. There's a date carved into the foundation. 
This was one of my favorite places when I was a kid. 
Sam and I, all the kids actually, used to sneak away 
and spend entire afternoons here. It was empty, 
abandoned. The house where Todd and Liz live wasn't 
there then. It was just an old empty farmhouse. The 
Reardons bought the property, tore down the farmhouse 
and built the one they live in now not long after 
Tatum was born. The lighthouse was in pretty bad 
disrepair when they bought the place. Todd called me 
last winter and told me they were finally going to 
have it torn down. The renovations were just more 
than they could afford."

"Why didn't they?" she asked.

He looked at her and smiled. "A benefactor stepped up 
and thought it was a worthwhile investment."

She continued to look adorably clueless. 

"I bought the place, Scully. It's ours."

Her mouth dropped open. "Oh my God, Mulder. You're 
serious."

He nodded. "I couldn't let it get torn down. Too many 
memories, Scully."

"When?" she asked.

"February. I wanted it to be a surprise. Renovations 
to convert it into living space have been underway 
since then. I haven't seen the inside yet. Come on, 
let's go in." He placed his hand on the small of her 
back and guided her to the door. 

Mulder inserted the key into the lock and opened the 
heavy red painted door. Immediately inside the door 
was a tiny foyer with a tile floor and a small 
closet. Two steps led from there up into a large, 
open central room that was designed to be a living 
room. It had gleaming hardwood floors and smelled of 
fresh paint. There was a beige colored plush sofa and 
matching love seat sitting facing each other with a 
coffee table in between them and two small end tables 
on either side of the furniture. A huge wood-burning, 
stone fireplace adorned one wall, while a flat screen 
television was built into the opposite one. A large 
fresh floral bouquet in a vase sat on the coffee 
table. 

Circling the center living room was an enormous 
winding staircase leading to the top of the 
lighthouse. It was in the same exact location of the 
original old staircase, but it was completely 
renovated into brand new hardwood with a simple 
black, wrought iron bannister. 

Behind the staircase, lining one side of the 
perimeter of the building, was a small, but cheerful 
eat-in kitchen with a high ceiling and windows lining 
the entire outer wall. New appliances, cupboards and 
granite counter tops had been installed.   Off of the 
kitchen was a door leading to laundry facilities.

Crossing through the living room to the other side of 
the lighthouse, they found a larger bedroom with a 
king-sized bed and a smaller one with a twin bed and 
a crib. A large modern bathroom with separate shower 
and whirlpool bathtub connected the two bedrooms. 

Scully set about wandering from room to room, opening 
closets, cupboards, drawers, and inspecting every 
nook and cranny. When she was finished, she met back 
with Mulder in the living room. He was bent over in 
front of the fireplace, stacking kindling and old 
newspaper to build a fire. When he stood up, she was 
right in front of him. She wrapped both arms around 
his neck and pulled him into a long kiss. He dropped 
the crumpled up newspaper in his hand and circled her 
waist with both arms. 

She pulled back first and he kept his eyes closed, 
leaning his forehead to rest against hers. 

"Does that mean you like it?" he asked.

"I love it. It's perfect. I can't believe you did all 
this, Mulder."

"Well, you can thank Liz for all the decorating. I 
was actually pulling for more of a seventies Legends 
of Rock theme ? ya know, shag carpeting, black 
lights, some Foghat and Van Halen posters, that sort 
of thing. But Liz thought you might like this better. 
I told her that you know the words to all the Journey 
songs, but she still wasn't convinced."

"I like her. I like all of them. I'm so glad you 
brought me here, Mulder."

He nodded. "But don't worry ? they totally get the 
whole honeymoon thing. I think Todd must've told me 
three times how nobody ever comes down to this part 
of the beach and we'd have it all to ourselves. I 
think he suspects I might get lucky."

"Why in the world would he ever think that?" she 
said, smiling and leaning in for another kiss, this 
time slipping her tongue out to trace his bottom lip. 
He moaned and pressed into her harder, reaching both 
hands around to cup her behind and gently squeeze. 
She had the most perfect ass. Deliciously round and 
compact. 

This time she pulled back and his face followed hers, 
pitching forward, searching again for her soft lips, 
shamelessly thinking that the king-sized bed might be 
a little too far away and that the area rug they were 
standing on would do just fine for what he had in 
mind.   

"Mulder, I was thinking-" she whispered.

"No, don't do that, Scully. Definitely don't do 
that," he said as he nuzzled her neck with his eyes 
closed.

She giggled, but placed a firm hand on his chest. He 
reluctantly pulled back and looked at her.

"I was thinking that since we're getting married the 
day after tomorrow, maybe we could wait."

"You mean..like... wait to...have sex?" he asked, 
fully realizing that he had a slightly painful 
expression on his face.

She nodded, eyes wide and honest, giving him much 
more credit for his self-control than she would have 
if she had any idea what he was picturing her doing 
to him right about then. 

He cleared his throat. "Um...okay. If that's what you 
want, Scully." His erection was sitting up and 
begging inside his pants and he wondered how he was 
going to break the news to it. 

"What's the matter, Mulder?" 

"Nothing. It's just that...um, it's been four days 
now since we...did it, and if we're going to wait two 
more, then that makes almost a week."

"And? Jesus, Mulder, you went five years without it."

"I know. But um...I'm just concerned that when we do 
it on our wedding night, things might be a 
little....fast."

She smiled sympathetically and patted his chest. "I'm 
sure you can think of a way to take the edge off."

"You could help," he suggested, hopefully.

"Hmmm, I could, but then what's the point in waiting. 
We might as well just have sex."

"See, Scully, I knew you'd see it my way," he said, 
leaning back down to suck on her neck again, but she 
smiled reproachfully and squirmed away from him. 

"Just take care of it in the shower, like during 
those months after the baby was born."

"Scully!"

"What? I'm not that clueless, Mulder. And it doesn't 
bother me. At all." He was still trying to process 
that when she started for the huge circular 
staircase. "Come on, let's climb to the top," she 
said, kicking off her wedge-heeled sandals and 
starting up in bare feet.

He followed her up all seventy-eight steps to the 
top. She arrived ahead of him and he heard her draw 
in a sharp breath followed by a barely audible "My 
God, Mulder." 

At the top of the lighthouse, but still inside, there 
was a small sitting area with two large cushioned 
chairs and a table. Windows lined the entire 
periphery of the structure and there was a door 
leading out to a small outdoor balcony. Mulder opened 
the door for her and Scully stepped out. The wind 
caught her hair and she gasped, either from the 
sudden gust or from the overwhelming display in front 
of them. Blue stretched out as far as the eye could 
see, the greenish-blue of the ocean water stretching 
out to meet the pale blue of the clear summer sky. 
Below them, angry waves crashed against a stone wall 
in measured repetition. Steps led down from the stone 
wall to the sandy beach below. 

It was exactly like he remembered. The balcony was 
empty, except for a heavy steel telescope, one of the 
only remaining pieces that predated the renovations. 
It had been there thirty years ago when he and 
Samantha used to climb up and it was still there now, 
in surprisingly decent condition despite having been 
exposed to years of salt air. Mulder wrapped his hand 
around the narrower section and tilted it toward him. 
It made a metallic squeaking sound as it came back to 
life. He offered it to Scully. She bent to look 
through the lens and swept the telescope very slowly 
across the horizon. 

"Wow, Mulder, this is amazing. I can see a boat to 
the Northwest, at about ten o'clock. It must be at 
least two miles off shore. I can read the name on the 
side ? the Gretchen Marie. This is unbelievably 
cool." She stepped back from the scope.

"As kids, we used to come up here and spend entire 
afternoons whale watching, fighting for turns with 
the telescope. The stairs were in major disrepair 
back then ? it's amazing nobody ever got hurt."

Mulder pulled the two chairs from inside out onto the 
balcony and they sat down. The chairs were large 
enough for Scully to curl up in, but Mulder stretched 
his long legs out in front of him and propped them on 
the white metal railing.

"So how does this work, Mulder? You bought the 
lighthouse from the Reardons, but they own the land?"

"We own both the lighthouse and the bluff it's 
sitting on, along with the large stone wall and 
stairs leading down to the beach. The beach is 
public, but people rarely come down this far. It's a 
good mile down from the busier areas, and if you look 
off to your right in the distance, you can see the 
dunes. They act as a sort of natural barrier. They're 
not as easy to climb over as they look and most beach 
walkers don't bother. So, while the beach isn't 
technically ours, it effectively is. The Reardons use 
it ? Todd surfs, Tate and Mally too. 

Todd and I have everything worked out on our end; I'm 
in the process of getting the land legally divided. 
As long as the Reardons own the property, we can use 
the access road by their house to get down here. If 
they ever sell, then we'd need to have another road 
put in, but they have no plans to leave. Liz loves it 
here. I can't ever see them moving." 

Mulder pointed off to their left, a ways off from the 
bluff where their lighthouse sat, to a long wooden 
plank deck that stretched from the access road they 
drove in on, all the way down to the beach. "Todd  
built that four years ago so that Liz could get her 
chair down to the water. He totally converted the 
house, put in ramps, built a master bedroom on the 
first floor, the whole nine yards. He worships her. 
He'll never take her away from here."

"What happened to her, Mulder?"

He sighed, his eyes resting on the horizon. "An 
accident. Four years ago. The roads were icy and they 
slid over an embankment. Todd was driving and he 
walked away without a scratch. Elizabeth ended up in 
the chair. He's never forgiven himself. I can see it 
whenever he looks at her."

"It was an accident, nobody's fault" she said, 
sympathetically.

He nodded. "She was seven months pregnant at the time 
? a boy. They lost him."

Scully caught her breath and he saw the pain in her 
face. Her compassion had always been humbling to him. 
Even when they used to work cases together, it was 
always she who could connect with things, feel 
people's pain like it was her own. He knew it wasn't 
anything she learned in medical school. It was just 
her ? as much a part of her as her inexplicable 
compulsion to say 'God Bless you' when he sneezed, 
even if he did it four times in a row. Or her 
penchant for arguing with him about how he shouldn't 
go running in the rain, even though she was a doctor 
and knew that being cold and wet never made anyone 
sick. No, Scully appeared unemotional on the outside, 
but underneath, she felt things. And it made her a 
wonderful doctor and an extraordinary person.       

 She looked at Mulder and shook her head. Her eyes 
were wet with emotion. "The girls-"

"They weren't in the car. Thankfully."

"It's so awful, Mulder. I can't imagine," she said. 
"Four years ago. That was the last time you were 
here?"

"I wanted to come right after it happened, but she 
wouldn't see anyone. I came out that summer, after 
she had been home for a few months. It wasn't good. 
She went through a severe depression. Todd was trying 
to hold everything together, but the girls were 
having a really hard time."

Understanding dawned on Scully's face. "They bonded 
with you - the girls. Didn't they?" 

He nodded. "They're great kids. I never really 
thought about wanting kids before then, you know? 
Tate was twelve at the time and Mally was only five. 
We hung out together for almost a week. But I didn't 
think...they'd really remember. I haven't seen them 
since."

Scully smiled. "I'm not surprised you made an 
impression. But...I think...Tatum might have a little 
crush on you."

Mulder looked at her in confusion. "That's 
ridiculous, Scully. She's sixteen."

Scully smirked. "Uh huh. I remember what it was like 
to be a sixteen-year-old girl, Mulder. Let's just say 
that I might have my work cut out getting her to warm 
up to me."

"Jesus, should I say something to Todd?"

"No, whatever you do, don't do that. She'd be 
mortified. Just be sensitive to it, that's all. 
She'll outgrow it."

Mulder nodded, but the whole thing made him 
uncomfortable and he couldn't believe he might have 
missed the signs.

He chuckled. "What did you think of Mally? Those 
president cookies-"

"Oh my God, Mulder, she's just.." Scully laughed, 
obviously at a loss for appropriate adjectives. "I 
don't think I've met a more precocious child." She 
reached for Mulder's hand. "They're wonderful ? all 
of them. Thank you for bringing me here...for doing 
all of this."

Mulder glanced down at his watch. "It's 4:15. We've 
got time before dinner. Nap?" he suggested.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Would this be 
the kind of nap where I actually get some rest, or 
the kind where the pillows and blankets end up 
scattered all over the room and I can't find my 
clothes?"

"That only happened once, Scully, and I found your 
underwear the next day wedged between the nightstand 
and the box springs."

She got up from her chair and led him by the hand 
inside and they started down the winding staircase. 
"I thought I said I wanted to wait, Mulder."

"That was at 2:45. It's been an hour and a half. So 
we waited, right?"

She giggled. "You know what I meant. Good try, 
though. Just think about how good it'll be on Friday 
night."

"Oh, I am, trust me. But see...it could be good now 
*and* on Friday night. And maybe even tomorrow  once 
or twice too. Why limit the goodness, Scully? Haven't 
you ever heard the saying 'Never put off until 
tomorrow what you can do today?'"

"Mmmm hmmm. And I've also heard 'Good things come to 
those who wait.'"

"Well, whatever loser made that one up never had to 
take a nap six inches from you."

*****************************************************


At a half past eight, they had just finished a dinner 
of broiled scallops and fresh sea bass.. Mulder was 
happily stuffed. He had nearly forgotten what really 
great New England seafood tasted like. When Scully  
stood and started carrying dishes to the kitchen, Liz 
stopped her, informing her that dinner clean-up was 
one of Tatum and Mallory's nonnegotiable chores and 
then proceeded to lead Scully into the family room to 
look through photo albums. He and Todd stayed at the 
table, but Mulder could overhear Liz's high-pitched 
voice as she gushed over the few photos of William 
that Scully had brought with her. 

Todd grabbed two beers from the fridge and handed one 
to Mulder. "She's great."

Mulder nodded. He had no question about the "she" to 
which he referred. "I know."

"No offense, but how the hell did you manage it?" 
Todd laughed.

"That, I don't know." Then he shrugged and sat back 
in his chair, crossing his arms in thought. "We were 
together long before we were really together, ya 
know? She hung in there, even when she had every good 
reason not to. And before I knew it, I couldn't live 
without her. She's my best friend. And...it took us a 
long time to get beyond that to something more. I 
wondered for years if we ever would."

"I don't think I've seen you this happy since...well, 
since before-" Todd said.

Mulder knew exactly what "before" meant. The night 
Samantha disappeared, his life suddenly became 
divided into "before" and "after." Most people in 
Mulder's life only knew the "after." Todd was one of 
those rare people who knew the "before" as well, 
making his comment all that more meaningful. 

*****************************************************


After Mally went to bed and Tate went to her room to 
tie up the phone line for a couple of hours with the 
guy who didn't deserve her, the four adults found 
their way out onto the back deck of the house. Mulder 
noted with satisfaction that Scully seemed relaxed 
and had been smiling much more than usual since they 
had arrived. He patted the spot next to him on the 
wicker love seat and she flopped down, folding her 
legs underneath her and sipping from her beer. She 
shivered from the cool night air and he wrapped his 
arm around her and pulled her in close.  Genevieve, 
the German Shepherd, sat at Scully's feet and she 
scratched the dog behind the ears and stroked her 
back.  

"I think you have a new best friend," said Liz.

"Scully's a dog lover," Mulder said. "I think it 
might only be a matter of time for us."

Scully smiled and continued petting the dog, who had 
rested its head on her knee. "Maybe in a few years, 
when William's a little older," she said. "We always 
had dogs growing up. A kid should have a dog."

"Agreed," said Todd, lifting his beer in approval and 
taking a long pull from it.

"Whatever happened to Scooby?" asked Mulder.

"Had to put him down two years ago. He was almost 
seventeen. We had him even before Tate was born."

Mulder turned to Scully. "You would've loved Scooby."

"Great Dane?" she asked, jokingly.

"No, actually. What the hell was Scooby anyway, 
Todd?"

"Who knows. Some kind of a weird hound mix. Best dog 
ever. He wandered into our apartment back when we 
were at B.U. and never left. He practically raised 
Tatum. I think he thought she was his puppy or 
something. Used to hang out on the beach with us and 
drag her by the diaper whenever she started crawling 
toward the water. Liked to get up on the surf board 
with me and float around. Fucking best dog." Todd 
raised his beer again. "To Scooby." 

"To Scooby," the others chorused and then drank. 

"We got Genevieve about six months after Scooby died. 
She was a nutcase for the first year, but I think 
she's gonna be alright," he said. 

"She's going to be just great," agreed Scully, 
continuing to scratch the dog's head. She took 
another pull from her beer, then smiled at Todd. "So 
when do I get the Fourth of July story?"

Todd snorted. "Oh man," he laughed, shaking his head 
at Mulder. 

"You had to say something, didn't you?" said Mulder. 
"There should be a statute of limitations on   
stories involving shameless inebriation."

"There is," said Todd. "Twenty-five, I think. So I'll 
tell it this time and then we'll lock it in the 
vault. What your wife chooses to do with it is her 
business."

Mulder glanced at Scully and picked up on a nearly 
unnoticeable startling at the usage of the marital 
reference. She looked down to keep from meeting his 
eyes and her cheeks tinged slightly pink in the dim 
light. He smiled to himself, wondering how long it 
would take her to get used to it. 

Todd leaned back in his chair, taking the last long 
swallow of his beer and setting the empty bottle down 
on a table. Then he rubbed his hands together briskly 
and smiled apologetically toward Mulder, who sunk a 
little lower in his seat.

"It all started with a girl."

"Doesn't it always?" Mulder chimed in.

"It was the summer we all turned sixteen-"

"I was already seventeen. I'm a year older."

"Are you telling this or am I?"

Mulder made a "Be my guest" gesture with his hand and 
shut up.

"About a week before the Fourth, we all arrived back 
on the Vineyard. Nobody had seen one another for a 
year, so a lot of partying went on right off the bat. 
There was this place where we used to hang out called 
The Point. It was down by the water and none of us 
could get in because we were all underage, but we 
used to hang around outside, like that was cool or 
something. The drinking age was eighteen then and 
sometimes if we were lucky, some college kids would 
take pity and buy for us. Anyway, on this particular 
night, one of the guys had managed to swipe a bottle 
of vodka from somewhere. We were about three quarters 
of the way through it when a group of older girls 
came walking out of the bar. None of them were 
familiar; they were obviously older, but one in 
particular caught everybody's eye. So Mulder, who had 
a respectable amount of liquid courage in him at that 
point, decided it was a good idea to talk to her."

"It was a good idea...at first," said Mulder.

"Yeah, until a group of older, much larger college-
age guys, who were clearly escorting these girls, 
exited the bar awhile later and he just happened to 
be sitting with this girl in the backseat of her Jeep 
with his arm around her, ass-deep in intimate 
conversation, and sharing a bottle."

"She didn't tell me she had a boyfriend," said 
Mulder.

"They never do," laughed Todd. "Anyway, that was it 
for that night, except that I think this girl's 
boyfriend had it in for Mulder from that night on. A 
week later, we were all at the beach for the Fourth 
of July fireworks.  So of course, she was there ? her 
name was Susan, right?"

Mulder nodded, having accepted that the story was 
going to be told, so he might as well help ensure its 
accuracy.

"Susan was there with the boyfriend. And Mulder gets 
the idea, again after quite a few drinks, that he'd 
like to deliver a message to her in a very special 
way. So he took off his clothes, *all* of them, mind 
you, and we helped him paint ? why the hell did we 
have paint with us again?" Todd asked.

"Weasel had it in the back of his truck. He was 
painting houses that summer," answered Mulder. He 
glanced at Scully who had both feet planted on the 
deck and was leaning forward with her elbows on her 
knees, completely enraptured by the story. Her brows 
were lifted in amusement and a smile played on her 
closed lips.

"Right, that was it. So we took white paint and wrote 
the words "FOR SUSAN" in huge letters across both his 
back AND his torso, with arrows pointing south 
toward...well, you get the picture."

Scully's mouth was hanging open at that point. 
"Please don't tell me he did was I think you're going 
to say he did," she laughed.

Todd nodded emphatically, his smile broad. "He 
streaked all the way across the beach, bare-ass 
naked, actually *slowed down* when he got to where 
Susan and her boyfriend were to make absolutely sure 
she could read the message, then hauled ass up to the 
parking lot where the rest of us were waiting in the 
back of Weasel's truck. We peeled out and spent the 
rest of the fucking summer trying to keep Romeo here 
from getting his ass kicked by the boyfriend."

By this time, Scully was doubled over with her arms 
wrapped around her waist, laughing so hard tears were 
running down her cheeks.  "Oh my God," she gasped. 
"Were you there for it?" she asked Liz, who had been 
listening politely, the look of amusement on her face 
from hearing a story that had been perfected over the 
years, but had never lost its charm. 

Liz's head bobbed. "Oh yeah. I drove the get-away 
vehicle because they were all too plastered. But I 
never asked ? did you ever end up seeing Susan again, 
Fox?"

Mulder shook his head. "I did not. But the next day, 
I found a bag with the clothes that I had left on the 
beach folded in it with a hand-written note that said 
'The fireworks display paled in comparison. Thank 
you.'"

"Good times," said Todd, slapping his knee and 
standing up. "Your boy had a pair on him back in the 
day, I can tell ya that. Another beer?" He reached 
for both Mulder's and Scully's empty bottles.

"I'll take another," said Scully.

"Maybe I should skip it. Wouldn't want to end up on 
the beach with no clothes on, now would I?" Mulder 
said, looking at Scully with a mischievous smile.

Scully raised her brows and looked down almost shyly, 
the corners of her mouth tugging gently upward at the 
suggestive comment. 

"I'll leave that one alone, except to say that it 
sure is nice how quiet that section of beach is right 
below your lighthouse. We almost never see anybody 
around there, do we honey?" 

Liz shook her head and gave Scully an apologetic 
smile. 

A few minutes later, Todd returned with another round 
of beer and lit up a cigarette. 

"Thought you quit," said Mulder. 

"He did," answered Liz. "Over ten years ago, before 
Mally was born. But he still keeps a pack stashed 
away in his office that he thinks I don't know 
about."

Mulder saw Scully eyeballing the pack on the table, 
so it didn't surprise him when, after a few minutes, 
she reached for it. She shook one out, lit it up and 
took a long drag, eyes closed and head tilted back as 
she exhaled into the night breeze.

"When did you quit?" asked Todd.

Scully took another drag. "Well, if you count smoking 
for one year in college and one in med school as 
being a bona fide ex-smoker, then fourteen years ago. 
And normally I have no desire, but once in awhile..."

"Yup," agreed Todd. 

Scully held her hand out to Mulder, the cigarette 
wedged between her middle and forefinger. 

He shook his head. "Not my vice." He thought about 
being a pain in the ass and reminding her that she 
was a doctor, but he was pretty sure it would earn 
him a "shut up, Mulder." And why bother? In the 
course of knowing her for eight years, he had seen 
her smoke a cigarette exactly three times. The 
pattern didn't exactly scream addiction and when it 
came right down to it, her self-control in just about 
every facet of life far surpassed his. Besides, he 
rather enjoyed seeing a random glimpse of the rebel 
side of Scully peek out once in a blue moon.

One of the windows from the second floor opened above 
them and Tate's voice called down, "Dad, can I go 
night surfing with Caitlyn and some people?"

"No," Liz called out.

"Daddy-"

"What your mother said."

"Tatum, first of all, it's already 10:30 and you have 
an 11:00 curfew," said Liz. "Second, the tide is high 
tonight and I'm not comfortable with you surfing at 
night without an adult down there. Not tonight."

The window slammed shut hard above them and Mulder 
was pretty sure he heard colorful words on the other 
side of the glass.

"Honestly, Todd. Could you have backed me up a 
little?"

"I did. She's got your temper," he replied. "Dana, do 
you surf?" 

Scully shook her head. "My brothers do, but I never 
really got into it."

"She can drive a boat like nobody's business, 
though," said Mulder.

"My father was Navy," explained Scully. "I was behind 
the wheel of a boat before I even learned to drive a 
car."  

"Ah, so Mulder marries a Navy brat," said Todd.

Scully smiled and took another long drag from her 
cigarette, his little rebel. 

"Sail?" asked Todd.

"Used to," she replied. "It's been years. We had a 30 
foot Catalina growing up."

"Nice. Well, there's a 19 foot Mariner docked down 
there if you two are feeling adventuresome."

Mulder felt himself turning green just thinking about 
it, so he was relieved when Scully looked over at him 
and huffed out a sympathetic laugh, putting her hand 
over his. 

Todd finished off his cigarette and stood with the 
pack in hand. "Are we back on the wagon, or can I 
offer you another before I put these away?" he asked.

Scully stubbed hers out and held up her hand, palm 
facing Todd. "Done. But thank you," she said.

"We'll smoke one together once every few years, how's 
that sound?" he joked.

"Like a plan," she smiled.  

The four of them spent the next couple of hours 
talking and laughing and telling stories until 
Scully's head was firmly planted on Mulder's shoulder 
and she was doing more yawning than talking. And then 
he drove her back down to their lighthouse and curled 
up in their bed and fell asleep to the smell of the 
salt air and the sounds of the ocean waves crashing 
against the stone wall.



*****************************************************


June 27, 2002



When Mulder got back from his morning run, he found 
their bed empty. 

"Scully?" He yelled.

"Up top," she called down. 

He climbed the circular staircase to find her curled 
up in one of the cushioned chairs, a cup of steaming 
coffee in her hands and a book in her lap. Her hair 
was wet from the shower and fell in soft auburn 
waves. She wore a champagne colored silk robe and, by 
the way her breasts swayed invitingly when she 
shifted in the chair, not much else. The robe was 
tied at the waist and fell just to her knees, 
offering Mulder a delectable view of a set of tones 
calves and creamy white thighs. His blood coursed 
through his veins and he felt a surge of adrenaline 
as a result of his recent workout. It left him with 
an extra measure of anticipatory enthusiasm for 
tomorrow night, and although he respected her desire 
to wait to make love on their wedding night, it 
wasn't going to be easy. It took every ounce of his 
self-control not to reach out and give that sash on 
her robe a firm yank. 

"I woke up early and couldn't fall back asleep. I 
went for a run," he said.

"I know. I saw you on your way back," she said, 
gesturing toward the telescope. "You went pretty 
far."

He shrugged. "About six miles round trip, I think. 
Not far." He pulled his sweaty T shirt off over his 
head. "I'm going to grab a shower. Then breakfast, 
then beach? Get your suit on," he smiled. 



*****************************************************


After an extra long, hot shower, he wandered into the 
kitchen wearing swim trunks and a clean shirt, his 
hair still wet and sticking up at weird angles. He 
found Scully flipping pancakes and humming to a radio 
on the countertop that aptly belted out U2's 
Beautiful Day. She had taken his advice and now wore 
a soft white gauzy bathing suit cover-up and flip 
flops. Her hair had been twisted up off her neck into 
a clip. Long wispy tendrils of disobedient locks fell 
down around her face and she absent-mindedly tucked 
the pieces behind her ears as she moved about the 
kitchen with a relaxed cheerfulness that was 
refreshing on her. 

Mulder walked up behind her, planted a quick kiss on 
the nape of her neck, then saved her the annoyance of 
not being able to reach the plates in the cupboard by 
retrieving two and placing them on the counter. He 
realized that the arrangement of dishware in this 
kitchen would need to be reconfigured to better 
accommodate her smaller stature. Before they lived 
together, Mulder had simply gotten so used to 
comingling with Scully in her four inch heels that he 
never fully appreciated how petite she was without 
them. Since she typically didn't choose to cook in 
her heels (although Mulder had nursed a fantasy or 
two to that effect over the years, but they didn't 
involve her wearing much more than the shoes), they 
simply arranged their kitchen at home so that the 
dishes she used most were reachable to her. 

"Elizabeth stocked this kitchen with literally 
everything, Mulder. Dishware, pots, pans, flatware, 
and tons of food. How did she know what we'd want to 
eat? All the way down to our specific brand of 
coffee."

"I might have given her a list," he replied, filling 
two small glasses with orange juice. 

Scully looked at him and shook her head slowly in 
amazement, giving him that closed mouth smile that 
told him she was particularly impressed with 
something insightful or sensitive that he had done. 
He felt like a dog getting patted on the head. It was 
much better than the look he was used to getting, 
which hovered somewhere around "Are you kidding me?" 

They ate stacks of hot pancakes and ate fresh sliced 
strawberries and talked with their mouths full. Drops 
of Jupiter played on the radio and Scully turned it 
up and said she liked the song. Any time it came on 
the radio after that, it would remind Mulder of 
pancakes and real maple syrup and Scully's freckles. 

*****************************************************

 He finally got her into the water by mid-afternoon. 
She had spent most of the morning stretched out on a 
beach blanket reading her book, covered in a wide-
brimmed straw hat and half a bottle of sunblock. On 
the contrary, Mulder had taken the opportunity to try 
and reacquaint himself with the fine art of surfing 
after borrowing one of the boards that had been 
leaning against the back of the Reardon's deck. Turns 
out, it wasn't like riding a bike. The last time he 
had been on a surf board Michael Jackson was still 
black and Hall & Oates were still cool. Every once in 
awhile, Scully would glance up from her book and 
lower her Jackie O sunglasses to offer an unguarded 
laugh at his attempts at boyish agility, or a thumbs 
up those few times he did manage to stay on the board 
for more than half a minute. At least he was amusing 
somebody.  

By the time the sun was high in the sky and the 
temperature had kicked up to somewhere north of 
eighty degrees, Scully finally tucked her book aside, 
removed her hat, and stood to peel off her cover-up. 
Mulder simply concentrated on breathing as he was 
finally treated to a fine view of the coveted 
turquoise bikini. As tantalizing at it was sitting in 
her dresser drawer, it was far more incredible 
sitting on her body. He noted that her top was held 
in place by one string tied behind the middle of her 
back and another tied behind her neck. For such a 
skeptical person, she was placing a whole lot of 
trust in two tiny little strings. He wondered how 
likely it might be that one of those strings could 
accidentally or not-so-accidentally get snagged on 
something. Before he realized he had been staring 
just a moment too long, she released the clip from 
her hair to let it cascade down her back, then turned 
to him and said "Are you coming in, Mulder?" 

She waded into the surf until it was waist level, 
then bent and dove under, resurfacing a little 
further out, treading water, her hair slicked back 
like a seal. He followed suit, breaking through the 
surface of the water directly behind her and grabbing 
her gently by the waist, pulling her to him. She 
shrieked in surprise and laughed, swimming away from 
him and encouraging his pursuit. They continued their 
game of cat and mouse, playing in the water until 
they were both out of breath. She made him feel like 
he was fifteen again. 

"Can you touch here?" he asked, breathlessly.

She shook her head, then tipped effortlessly onto her 
back. "But I can float."

He joined her and they floated side by side, staring 
up at a cloudless blue sky. Then he righted himself 
with both feet on the sandy bottom and reached for 
her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her 
arms around his neck and allowed him to fully support 
her. 

"I love it here," she said.

"I knew you would. I want to come back every summer 
and bring William."

She nodded and bent to kiss him. He tasted salt on 
her lips when he ran the tip of his tongue over them. 
She retreated from his mouth and leaned back at the 
waist until her head touched the water, holding onto 
his forearms so that her upper body rested on the 
surf. She was so beautiful. Water lapped over her 
flat stomach and pooled in the valley between her 
breasts. He placed his hand under her lower back and 
pulled her up to him, sinking his tongue deeply into 
her mouth. She moaned and tightened the grip of her 
legs around his waist. He daringly allowed his hand 
to slip up her back and toy with the string that held 
the entire world together. 

She pulled back from the kiss, one eyebrow raised, a 
reproachful smile on her face. "Mulderrrr," she 
warned.

He glanced quickly toward the shore and then locked 
his gaze back on hers. "There's nobody around. 
Scully."

"It's broad daylight."

"I just want to see you," he pleaded gently, running 
the very tip of his finger along the line where her 
bikini top rested against her skin and dipped it into 
her cleavage. 

She smiled. "We wouldn't stop there and you know it."

"That's what I'm counting on," he said, as he bent 
his head to tongue her clavicle. 

She threaded her fingers in his hair and tugged 
gently, raising his head. "Another time. At night," 
she promised. 

"All of it?" he asked, knowing full well that she 
understood what he was asking for.

She nodded, holding his gaze with a playful smile on 
her mouth.

He could wait. But he needed to get out of this 
position if he had any hope of preserving his 
dignity. "Let's go for a walk on the beach," he 
suggested, swinging her free and starting to swim. 
"Last one to shore cooks breakfast tomorrow."

She shrieked and splashed after him. "No fair! You 
got a head start!"

"You're a better cook anyway," he called back. 

She reached the shore just two strokes behind him, 
flopping over next to him on the sand, her chest 
heaving. 

"Damn! You're a good swimmer," he laughed. "Thought I 
would've toasted you way back there."

"Two brothers," she panted. "My competitive streak 
runs deep."

He reached for her hand and pulled her to standing 
and they began walking in the direction of the sand 
dunes. They held hands loosely, their arms swinging 
with their movements as they walked barefoot on the 
rippled sand. 

"So tomorrow," he started, "where do you want to do 
it?"

She darted him a look and a teasing smile to 
acknowledge the double entendre. 

He smirked. "The getting married part. The part 
before the other part."

"At first I thought maybe the beach," she said. "But 
now I think not. I think it's most beautiful on the 
bluff outside the lighthouse, overlooking the water. 
What do you think?"

"I think what you think. I'm not going to be looking 
at the surroundings," he said.

Her cheeks colored and she didn't meet his eyes, but 
instead looked out over the water, her still-damp 
hair twisting in the sea salt air. 

"And after?" she asked, with a brow arch and a tiny 
smile. "The part between the getting married part and 
the other part?"

He chuckled. "Um...a bit cliche, but dinner perhaps? 
I made a reservation, but we can cancel it if you 
don't want-"

"No, dinner's good. We should eat."

"We should. Especially since I'm planning on neither 
of us leaving the bedroom until at least Sunday," he 
teased.

"That's ambitious, Mulder," she huffed out a laugh. 
"We aren't twenty anymore."

"Speak for yourself, Scully. When I'm inspired, I 
suspect my stamina can put men half my age to shame." 

"Then I'll have to do my best to be inspirational."

Mulder allowed his eyes to travel the length of her 
barely clothed body before coming to rest on her 
eyes. "Scully, you do that by just breathing."

He felt her hand release suddenly from his grip and 
saw her buckle into the sand before he even heard her 
cry out. A shriek of pain followed by an 
uncharacteristic string of profanity erupted from her 
as she sat in a heap, clutching her foot. 

"Oh my God, what the fuck was that, Mulder?"

He knelt next to her, concern etched on his face. 
"What happened?"

"I don't know. Something bit my foot."

He stood and retraced their steps about twenty feet 
before he spotted it. "You weren't bit, Scully," he 
called out. "You were stung. It's a small jellyfish. 
You must have stepped on it."

He rejoined her, sitting on the sand and pulling her 
leg out so the injured foot rested in his lap. He 
lightly ran his hand over the reddened area and she 
winced in pain. "Jesus," she hissed through gritted 
teeth. "It feels like my foot is on fire." 

"It's starting to swell pretty badly. Um...I'm sorry, 
I don't really know," he started. Then he paused for 
a minute and thought before he spoke. "Should I pee 
on it?"

"What?" she looked at him incredulously, pulling her 
foot from his lap.

"You know...pee on your foot...to lessen the pain. 
It...it was in an episode of Friends," he smiled 
sheepishly. 

"Yes, I know, Mulder," she said, shaking her head. 
"There's no scientific proof to support the theory 
that urine is effective at treating jellyfish stings. 
So no, I'd rather you not pee on my foot if I have a 
choice." She winced again and hugged her leg to her 
chest. "Damn, this hurts like hell."

"Then I don't know...I've never been stung, so I 
really have no idea what to-"

"Vinegar. Um...I think.  I'm trying to remember. I've 
never treated a sting either, but I think you're 
supposed to rinse it in salt water and then use 
vinegar or diluted ammonia to deactivate the toxins."

Mulder nodded, then placed one of her arms around his 
neck and the other underneath her bent knees and 
carried her to the water's edge, carefully depositing 
her onto the sand so the waves of salt water could 
wash over her foot.

"The cool water feels good," she said, closing her 
eyes. 

"Can you walk?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. I think so." He stood and offered her 
both of his hands. She raised herself to a standing 
position and tried to bear weight on the swollen, red 
foot. She managed to take several steps and then 
stopped and he could tell by her expression that she 
was biting back the pain.

Without saying anything, he knelt down with his back 
in front of her, placing both arms behind his body, 
indicating that she should climb onto his back. 

"Mulder, I'm too heavy for you to carry me all the 
way back."

He swiveled his head back to give her his best 
exasperated look. "You can't be serious, Scully. You 
weigh, what? All of a hundred and ten pounds?"

She nodded and he was instantly relieved he hadn't 
guessed any more than that. Nothing pissed a woman 
off more than overestimating her weight. 

She conceded and wrapped both arms around his neck, 
hoisting her thighs into his waiting hands and he 
slowly stood up. She really was pretty light, he 
thought. He had carried her before, in Antarctica, 
and then she had been wearing twenty pounds of 
clothing, was passed out cold, and they had aliens 
getting ready to lunch on them. Comparatively, this 
was a piece of cake. 

"You okay, Scully?"

"Yeah."

"Should you go to the hospital or something?"

"No, as long as there's no allergic reaction, which 
there would have been by now. Then, no, I can treat 
it myself."

"I doubt there's anything like vinegar in the 
lighthouse. I'll take you up to the Reardon's."

A few minutes later he was loading Scully into the 
car and driving her up the access road to the main 
house. Thankfully, Liz was home and answered the 
door, although, Mulder had been told where the 
outside key was in case of emergency anyway. 

Liz took one look at Mulder holding Scully with her 
legs tossed over his forearm and backed her 
wheelchair up so they could come inside. 

"What the hell happened?" she asked.

"Jellyfish sting," Mulder replied. "Do you happen to 
have any-"

"Vinegar," Liz finished. "Cupboard above the stove. 
Set her on the kitchen counter with her foot in the 
sink. Then go into the hall bathroom and get the 
Benadryl from the medicine cabinet." Mulder did as he 
was told, returning a few minutes later to the 
kitchen to find Liz dousing the affected area with 
vinegar. Scully sat on the kitchen counter in her 
bathing suit, arms braced behind her, palms flat on 
the granite countertop. 

"I'm so sorry, Dana. I should have warned you.  Todd 
and Mally saw a couple down on the shore last week 
when they were surfing. It doesn't happen often, but 
when it does, it hurts like a bitch. First sting?"

Scully nodded. "I wasn't even entirely certain what 
to do without looking it up. I've never treated a 
jellyfish sting."

"No allergies to any type of venom that you're aware 
of?" Liz asked.

"No, none," replied Scully.

"Then you'll be fine. It'll be swollen for a day or 
so, sometimes a rash, then that's about it. Benadryl 
for the swelling, Ibuprofen for the pain. But I don't 
know why I'm telling you that; you're the doctor," 
she laughed. 

Scully smiled. "In this particular case, I think you 
are." She took two Benadryl capsules from Mulder's 
palm and downed them with a glass of cold water. 
"Thank you, Liz. I'm sorry, I got sand all over your 
countertop."

Liz smiled and made a dismissive gesture with her 
hand to indicate it was of no concern. She wheeled 
off down the hall and then back again a few minutes 
later with two beach towels and handed one to each of 
them. Scully wrapped hers around her body, underneath 
her arms and tucked it tight. Mulder helped her down 
off the counter and to a chaise lounge on the deck. 
Liz brought out two glasses of iced tea and Mulder 
downed half of his in two long swallows. 

"Where is everybody?" Mulder asked.

"Todd's in court all day, Mally went to a friend's 
house, and from the sound of the bass coming from 
upstairs, I think Tate's in her room listening to 
music. It's only the second week of summer vacation, 
but I swear. She's on the phone until all hours of 
the night, then gets out of bed at noon, listens to 
music in her room all day, then heads down to the 
beach with her friends after dinner, and we don't see 
her again until curfew. And then the cycle starts all 
over again the next day. Jesus, were we like that?"

Mulder laughed and raised his eyebrows at Liz. "I can 
remember covering for Todd on several occasions when 
his grandma called looking for him and he was with 
you down on the beach all night."

"Oh my God, don't even say that." She covered her 
eyes with one hand. "We were older than Tate, though, 
weren't we?"

He shrugged, tilting his head to the side, 
considering. "Seventeen maybe?"

"Oh God. I feel nauseous," she said. 

Scully smiled sympathetically and sipped at her iced 
tea. 

Mulder smiled. "She seems like she has a good head on 
her shoulders." 

Liz nodded, biting her lower lip.  "I just have to 
trust her. Her grades are good, she comes home on 
time, and I don't see any evidence of drugs. But God, 
it's so hard, you know? It seems like she was just 
Mally's age."

Mulder nodded because she was right. It did.

"You guys just wait," said Liz, grinning. "If William 
is anything like his father, you'll have your hands 
full," she said to Scully. 

Scully glanced at Mulder, who was wearing his most 
contrite expression and she huffed out a quiet laugh. 
"I have a feeling you're right."

Just then Tate walked into the room. "Mom, do you 
know where my blue?Holy Shit, what happened?" she 
exclaimed, looking at Scully's red swollen foot 
propped up on the chaise lounge. 

"Tatum. Language," her mother reminded.

"Sorry. What happened to your foot?"

"Jellyfish," said Mulder.

"Man, that sucks. The day before you're getting 
married too. My friend, Jill, got stung last season 
and it stayed swollen and gross looking for, like, 
forever."

"Tate," said Liz.

"Yeah, um...but I'm sure yours won't be that bad," 
the girl backtracked. "It doesn't look nearly as 
swollen as Jill's did. You'll probably hardly notice 
it tomorrow."

Scully offered a weak smile bordering on a grimace. 
Then her eyes widened and she looked at Mulder. 
"Mulder, tomorrow. The shoes I brought to wear. 
There's no way I'll get into them. My foot is too 
swollen."

"Do you want to put it off for a few days?" he asked.

"No! No, I really don't, but..."

"You could always...just go barefoot," he smiled. "I 
mean, why not?"

He could tell by the look on her face that she didn't 
think this was the most brilliant idea he had ever 
come up with. 

"Easy for you to say. You're six feet tall; I'm five 
foot three. Shoes matter."

"Dana, what shoe size do you wear?" asked Liz.

"Seven...that is, when they're not swollen to the 
size of a manhole cover," she replied, lips pursed in 
annoyance at the inconvenience of it all.

"Just a sec," said Liz, as she disappeared down the 
hallway toward the first floor master bedroom.

"She wears a seven and a half," explained Tate. "And 
she has more shoes than a centipede."

Scully closed her eyes and tipped her head back 
against the back of the chair, drumming her fingers 
lazily against the armrest. 

"How does it feel now?" he asked.

"A little better," she said, without opening her eyes 
or picking her head up. "The burning has stopped and 
I think the Benadryl is kicking in. I took two, 
didn't I. Did I take two?"

"Yup."

"Hmmm..maybe should've taken only one. I forgot how 
this stuff knocks me out."

Liz wheeled back into the room with three sets of 
shoes piled onto her lap. "Okaaaay," she called out 
loudly. "Why don't you take a look at?Oh sorry. Is 
she sleeping?"

Scully opened her eyes and rolled her head to follow 
Liz's voice. "Not yet," she smiled. 

"We have three possibilities and please don't be shy 
about saying you don't like any of them. But they're 
all a half size bigger than you wear and they're all 
of the sandal variety, so maybe your foot would have 
room to spread out."

"Oh my God, Liz!" Scully exclaimed, holding the heel 
of an off-white, thong style sandal with a thin strap 
and a high heel in one hand. With her other hand, she 
reached for a different style ? a gold tinted slip on 
sandal with a slightly lower heel and criss cross 
straps with fine beading. A third pair still in Liz's 
lap also caught Scully's eye. It was another thong 
style with the highest heel yet, in a champagne 
color. Scully swung her feet off the lounger with a 
bit more energy and enthusiasm than he would've 
expected from a woman who had been in pain less than 
an hour ago. She began to carefully slip the 
different styles of sandals on her feet, admiring 
them like Marilyn Monroe in a diamond store.

Scully liked shoes. She liked them a lot. They rarely 
shopped together, but on those few occasions when 
they had headed to a mall on a Sunday just to get out 
of the house, Mulder learned that nothing distracted 
Scully more than a pair of Jimmy Choo heels in a 
lighted window display. They would happen to be 
wandering around, Mulder pushing William in his 
stroller, and discussing whether the place with the 
really good ice cream was in the food court on the 
second floor or the first, when he would eventually 
notice that the kid with the long hair and the nose 
ring on his right wasn't Scully. He'd backtrack to 
find her standing in front of a shoe store, her 
finger placed thoughtfully on her lips as she gazed 
inside. "You go ahead to the ice cream place and I'll 
catch up. I just want to pop in here for a sec," 
she'd say in a mesmerized, slightly stoned voice.  
Mulder and William would have managed to share an 
entire double dip cone together before Scully would 
find them, surreptitiously tucking a package into the 
bottom of the stroller before asking what the flavors 
of the day were.

"I can't decide," she said. "I think it's between 
these two." She placed the two with the highest 
heels, one on each foot and compared them. "What do 
you think?" she asked Liz.

"Take them both with you and try them on with the 
dress." she replied.

Scully removed both shoes and admired the off-white 
ones again up close, then turned toward Liz, a 
notable look of shock on her face. "Liz. These are 
Louis Vuitton shoes. I can't possibly-"

"Yes, you can. But I think the Gucci ones might be a 
little sexier, don't you think? You really need to  
compare them to the dress," Liz smiled.

Scully sat there staring at the shoes, held out at 
arm's length, as if they might spontaneously combust. 
"Wow, um...they're both amazing. I don't know what to 
say, except thank you so much."

Liz offered a satisfied nod. "They're my guilty 
pleasure. There isn't much that makes me feel 
beautiful in this," she patted the arm of her 
wheelchair with one hand. "But shoes do."

Scully smiled understandingly and reached to grasp 
Liz's hand for a brief moment.

Tate, who had left the room a few minutes ago, walked 
back in with a box in her hands, small glass bottles 
rattling around inside of it. "Pick a color," she 
said, placing the box on Scully's lap. Inside were at 
least a dozen bottles of nail polish. "If your toes 
are gonna show, they might as well look good," she 
said, smiling at Scully shyly. 

Scully sifted through the box with her hands, holding 
up a pearly silver for examination, then a cranberry 
color. "I'm terrible at doing this," she said. "I 
don't think I went to enough slumber parties. I can't 
french braid hair either."

"Oh that's an easy one," said Tate. "You have to pull 
it tight all the way down. I'll do yours sometime." 
She picked up a bottle of polish in a petal pink 
color and held it up to both sets of shoes, her 
eyebrows arched in question. "I think this one, but 
it's your pick."

Scully smiled. "I like it. Will you do them?" She 
lifted both feet back up onto the chaise lounge and 
Tate positioned herself at the end, gently tapping 
the bottle of polish against her hand to shake it.

"You're next," Tate said to Mulder, giggling. 

"Yeah, but can you french braid my hair too?"

A half hour later, Mulder carried a very sleepy, 
pink-toed Scully wrapped in a beach towel, along with 
two pairs of absurdly expensive shoes to the car. And 
ten minutes after that he was watching her strip out 
of his favorite turquoise bikini and into a pair of 
white cotton panties and an oversized T shirt. 
Dressed like that, with her hair air-dried into 
untamed waves, freckles running wild on her perfect 
complexion, she looked like she should be studying 
for final exams instead of getting ready to marry him 
in twenty-four hours. He tucked her into the king-
sized bed and settled his head onto the pillow next 
to her to watch her nap, thinking about how tomorrow 
was the day that everything and nothing would change.   



*****************************************************


June 28, 2002



Mulder leaned back against the cushion of the chair, 
his head bent forward to watch her. They were on the 
top level of the lighthouse and Scully was kneeling 
in front of his chair between his spread legs, her 
mouth hot and wet, sliding up and down his length 
with vigor and expertise. His mouth hung open and his 
breath was ragged. His buttocks flexed as he gently 
pumped his hips up and down to meet her. Something 
tickled Mulder's nose and he flicked it away with his 
hand. He looked down to see her wrap two fingers 
around the base of his cock, directly underneath her 
mouth. He noticed that her hand was bare; she wasn't 
wearing her diamond. 

"Scully, why aren't you wearing your ring?" he asked, 
but she only looked up at him, shook her head, then 
continued with the task at hand. 

His nose tickled again and he scratched at it. Why 
wasn't she wearing her ring? Had she changed her 
mind? Mulder looked at his watch. 3:40 p.m. They were 
getting married in twenty minutes. Why was she going 
down on him twenty minutes before they were supposed 
to exchange vows and more importantly, why the fuck 
wasn't she wearing her ring? He swiped at his face. 
Whatever was tickling his nose was still there and 
now it was against his cheek too. And it was really 
starting to piss him off and ruin a particularly good 
blow job.  

He woke with a start, lifting his head off the pillow 
and focusing his eyes to find Scully curled up 
completely on his side of the bed, her head resting 
right next to where his was just a second ago. Her 
silky red hair was strewn about. It fell in messy 
tangles and partially covered her face. Well, that 
explained what had been tickling his nose. Mulder 
smiled, then remembered his dream and flopped back 
onto his back, tossing one arm over his eyes and 
groaning. 

Scully stirred next to him, licking her lips and 
absently sweeping at her face with one hand to get 
the hair out of it. "Mmm, Mulder, S'matter?" she 
asked, eyes still closed. 

"Nothing. Just a dream," he sighed.

"Good or bad?" Her voice had that husky morning rasp 
that made him want to steady her hips and pin her 
between his groin and the mattress. Instead, he 
answered her question by guiding her hand down to 
cover his erection. 

She raised one eyebrow and smiled, still not opening 
her eyes. She wrapped her hand around him through his 
boxers. "Good morning to you too."

Mulder groaned again and thrust back against her 
hand, but she pulled it away, allowing it to drift 
slowly up his bare chest and play in the hair there. 
She snuggled closer to him and tucked her face into 
his neck, kissing his throat, then his jaw. She was 
still wearing the white T shirt she had worn for her 
nap yesterday and he could feel the fleshy mounds of 
her breasts pressed tightly against his side. His 
dick twitched inside his shorts and he tried to 
reflect on when the last time was that he had had an 
orgasm. Five days? Maybe six? It had been with her, 
not solo, he was pretty sure. So that would've 
been...

"Scully, when was the last time we did it?"

This time she opened her eyes. She flopped back onto 
her own pillow, her breasts bouncing inside the T 
shirt, which wasn't helping his concentration one 
iota. 

"Last Saturday. William's naptime."

"That explains why I feel like I'm going to explode."

She rolled onto her side and propped herself up on 
her elbow. "Sorry. I guess I was just busy getting 
ready to go and tying up loose ends at work. 
Sometimes it slips my mind when I'm busy."

How do you get too busy to remember to have sex, he 
wondered, but didn't ask. 

"Why didn't you just...you know," she said, not 
meeting his eyes.

"Contrary to my reputation, I don't really... all 
that much anymore. We're together enough that I don't 
need to... much. I mean, just, you know, once in 
awhile..." he admitted, not even half believing that 
he was discussing his masturbation patterns with her.  
Oh the humanity.

"Well, don't hold off on my account. As long as 
there's...um... enough to go around, so to speak, I'm 
fine with it."

"Scully. I don't even know what to say to that."

She huffed out a short laugh. "I just mean that it's 
a perfectly normal behavioral response to a healthy 
physiological need."

"Thanks, Doc. That's helpful."

"It really doesn't bother me," she continued. "I've 
woken up once or twice when you thought I was 
sleeping and felt the bed shaking-"

"Jesus, Scully!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"Well, I wasn't before, but now I am. Look, can we 
not have this discussion?"

He heard her giggle and sigh next to him. And after a 
few minutes of silence, he decided she needed a taste 
of her own medicine and besides, he was curious.

"So Scully, if it's not embarrassing, then you won't 
mind if I ask you whether or not you do it, right?"

Silence. 

"I mean, since it's a normal behavioral yada yada to 
a healthy physiological yada yada...."

More silence. 

"Let me be more specific. Do you ever get yourself 
off when I'm not around? Or for that matter, when I 
am around? And might I remind you that your answers 
could possibly affect several of my top ten 
fantasies."

"I thought we were moving on from this discussion," 
she said quietly, rolling to plant her face into her 
pillow. 

"Nuh uh. Good try. Not until I get an answer. I was 
honest with you."

She spoke slowly and he noticed that the husky voice 
was back, as was his boner. "Well...since we've 
established that it's a normal behavior that most 
healthy human beings engage in from time to time, 
then I would have to say that I am both healthy and 
normal." 

Mulder grinned despite himself. "How often?"

She sighed. "Not often."

"Yeah, but like how often? Once a week, twice a week, 
once a month, less? Give me a mile marker, Scully."

"Mulder."

"Come on. We're getting married. Who the fuck cares 
anymore? We don't have secrets from each other. I 
mean, you've swallowed my-"

"OKAY, OKAY," she interrupted before he could finish 
his painfully intimate statement. "I guess...maybe 
once every few weeks, more or less, depending on 
how....active we've been."

"So...would you say less now than before we were 
together?"

"God, yes! NOT that I used to do it...Jesus, Mulder, 
do you really need to know all this?"

He chuckled and reached for her hand, bringing it to 
his mouth and planting a kiss on her fingers. "Thank 
you. For being honest."

He was quiet for a minute and he could almost feel 
her relax next to him.

"Do you use a vibrator or just your hand?"

"MULDER!" 

That was a better response than the slap he thought 
he might get. Still...totally worth asking the 
question. 

He laughed. "Sorry, Scully. I just...my brain is 
exploding with visuals right now."

He felt the bed shake and he noticed that she was 
giggling next to him. The tension was noticeably 
dissipating.

"See? We can talk about this stuff, right?" he asked, 
still chuckling.

She sighed. Giggled some more. Then stopped. More 
laughing. Another sigh. How old were we again?

"Um, both," she said, quietly.

"Huh?"

"Your question. The answer is both. Although, usually 
hand." Interesting. Where the hell did she keep it? 
There was nothing battery-operated in her lingerie 
drawers.  Embarrassingly, he could pretty much recite 
the entire inventory from memory. 

"I want to watch sometime," suddenly aware that the 
words he was thinking just came out of his mouth. 

"Absolutely not."

"You've never done it in front of anyone before?"

"No!"

"I beg to differ, Scully. I've seen you touch 
yourself during sex before when you've needed a 
little extra stimulation to finish."

She was blushing now, her cheeks a serious crimson. 
"Yeah, but...that's different. It feels...mutual and 
besides, you're distracted then, not lying there 
watching me."

"Scully, it's not that unusual, watching someone 
else, you know. Couples do that sort of thing all the 
time to spice up their sex lives."

She sat up in the bed, spun to face him, and tucked 
her legs up under her Indian style. Her shirt grazed  
the tops of her thighs and in that position, he had a 
straight shot view of her white cotton panties. 
Distractions abounded. Her forehead was furrowed and 
her wide blue eyes darted back and forth.

"Do you think our sex life needs spicing up?" she 
asked, worry etched on her makeup-less face. She was 
so damn cute.

He laughed out loud. "Scully, you're talking to a man 
who waited over five years for you to be ready. We 
could go strictly missionary, in bed with the lights 
out, once a week and I'd be satisfied." He grabbed 
her hand and pulled her back down, half on top of 
him. "Stop worrying," he said, kissing her forehead. 
"I love our sex. I'm merely pointing out that if you 
were ever inclined to allow me to watch 
you...pleasure yourself..., it would be a huge turn-
on. That's all. And if not, then that's fine too. 
I'll just keep it locked in the fantasy vault," he 
said, pointing to his head.

She relaxed against him, her head on his chest. He 
reached with his hand and swept the hair from her 
face and her neck. "Hey. Don't get all quiet on me. 
You're not pissed, are you?" he asked.

"Mmm mmm, no," she sighed, kissing his chest. "Just 
thinking."

"About what?"

She slid her warm hand down under the covers and 
inside the waistband of his boxers to feel him hard 
against her palm. He hissed and lifted his hips. She 
tugged very gently up and down twice. 

"About how you should probably take care of this in 
the shower so you don't disappoint me tonight."

He thrusted against her once more urgently. "Keep 
doing that a few more times and I won't need to."

She removed her hand and kissed him, giggling into 
his mouth. Then she patted him on the chest and got 
out of bed. "Take your shower. I'm going to make that 
breakfast I owe you."

"Scully, I wasn't serious about that. I don't expect- 
hey, how's your foot?" He looked over the side of the 
bed to the floor. 

"Better," she said, looking down. "Quite a bit, I 
think. It doesn't hurt to walk on it."

"It looks like the swelling has gone down a lot. 
Maybe the shoes you brought will fit."

Her eyes went wide for a split second. "Um, I don't 
know. I think they might still be a little tight. 
Better stick with the sandals," she said, sauntering 
off toward the kitchen.

He chuckled to himself and shook his head in 
amusement. Whatever made him even think that she'd 
consider foregoing her chance to wear eight-hundred 
dollar shoes?

A few minutes later he was soaping himself up in the 
shower, thinking perhaps overconfidently that he'd 
hold out and still be able to impress her with his 
stamina later. Then his thoughts drifted back to 
their conversation from minutes before and an image 
of her invaded his brain. She was wearing that black 
lace bra he loved ? she had many, but it was the one 
that pushed her breasts up and together like juicy 
melons and made him want to bury his face in there 
and never come up for air. Tiny matching lace panties 
completed the ensemble. She was lying back on their 
bed, knees apart and slightly bent. Her hair was 
fanned out around her in a halo and her head was 
turned to the side, eyes closed, her crimson lips 
parted. Her chest rose and fell with harsh breaths, 
the tops of her creamy white mounds threatening to 
spill from the cups of her bra. Her hand moved 
underneath the lace scrap of her panties, slowly at 
first, then faster and faster. Up and down 
rhythmically, her fingers moved as her back arched up 
off the bed. It took Mulder exactly half a dozen 
tight strokes before he was spilling over his fist, 
panting her name against the tile wall of the shower.

When he got out of the shower and dressed himself in 
comfortable shorts and a T shirt, he found Scully in 
the kitchen, spooning scrambled eggs onto plates. 
Another with bacon already sat on the table. Slices 
of toast popped up from the toaster and Mulder 
retrieved them, tossing two slices onto Scully's 
plate and two on his. "Butter or jam?" he asked her, 
opening the fridge.

"Jam, please." He sat down next to her at the table 
and she lifted an eyebrow quickly at him and smiled. 
"Feeling better?"

He smiled. "Yes. You have my personal guarantee for a 
night of marathon lovemaking," he teased.

Her cheeks tinted and she glanced down demurely at 
her plate. "I look forward to it," she said quietly, 
her eyes darting to the side to capture his before 
forking a bite of eggs into her mouth.

*****************************************************



They spent the rest of the morning and early 
afternoon relaxing and reading. A call to Maggie 
confirmed their suspicion that William was thoroughly 
enjoying himself and was most likely being spoiled 
rotten. Maggie put the phone up to William's ear and 
Mulder and Scully passed the phone back and forth 
taking turns talking in embarrassingly high voices 
into the receiver. They were rewarded with heavy 
breathing and a couple of squeals. Mulder thought he 
might have picked out "Da da" among the babbling, but 
it could have just as easily have been any number of 
possible consonant/vowel combinations. Hard to say 
really. He missed the little Sprout.  

Before they ended the call, Scully took the phone. 
Although Mulder only heard one side of the 
conversation, he was pretty sure he got the gist of 
it. 

"No, not yet. Today at four o'clock," Scully said 
with a gentle smile on her lips. 

"Thanks, Mom. I know...yes, I know. Do you really 
think so?" she whispered, her eyes turning soft and 
liquid. 

"I love you too. So much." 

"I'll tell him. I will, I promise. I love you too. 
Okay, bye."

She hung up and turned to look at Mulder and he 
handed her a tissue from the box on the end table. He 
questioned her with his eyes. 

"She said..." (sniff) "she said that I have a 
beautiful family and my father would be proud of me." 
Mulder folded her into a tight embrace and rested his 
chin on her silky crown. She sniffled into his T 
shirt. 

"What is it you're supposed to tell me?" he asked. 

She pulled back and looked up at him, smiling. "She 
said to tell you that she knew it would be you all 
along. From the day you kept my necklace for me all 
those years ago. She knew it would be you."

He chuffed out a laugh. "Couldn't she have told us 
that then and saved us a little time?"

She chuckled and brushed her lips lightly against 
his. "We got here when we were supposed to, I think." 
The she turned his arm to look at his watch. 
"Speaking of time, get out."

"Excuse me?" 

"It's two-thirty. I need to shower, get dressed, and 
do my hair and makeup. You need to take your stuff 
and get ready up at Todd and Liz's."

"Really? Isn't that a bit old fashioned?"

She walked into the bedroom and slid the closet door 
open, pulled his hanging suit out and thrust it at 
him. "Go. I'll see you outside on the bluff at four 
o'clock. I'll be the one wearing white," she smiled. 

He quickly stuffed the few things he needed in a 
duffel bag, grabbed his suit and headed for the door, 
then turned back. "Hey Scully, I love you."

Her head popped up from the dresser drawer she was 
sifting through and she rewarded him with one of her 
unguarded, full lipped, stop-him-in-his-tracks 
smiles. "I love you too."



*****************************************************


At a quarter to four, Mulder made his way back down 
to the lighthouse bluff. Tate and Mally rode with him 
in the rental car. Tate sat in the front seat in her 
lavender sundress and sandals and flipped the visor 
down to apply lipstick. Should she be wearing makeup? 
When did girls start to wear makeup? Probably by 
sixteen, he realized. He was glad he had a son and 
didn't have to ponder things like cosmetics and 
virtue.  

"She's cool," Tate said, rubbing her rosy lips 
together in the mirror and making a smacking sound. 
"Dana. She's okay."

Mally bounced around the back seat. "I love her. 
She's a doctor, you know. When I showed her my room, 
she asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up and I 
told her a doctor and she said she was one. And 
that's when she said that girls can be anything they 
want to be."

Tate looked at Mulder. "I think I'm going to be an 
FBI agent," she said. Mulder smiled and stared at the 
road.

Mally kept chatting away. "She's really pretty too. 
At least I think so. I can't believe you used to get 
to work with her every day. That must have been 
really fascinating. She knows so much stuff. She's 
really smart, but you have to be to be a doctor. I 
bet she got really good grades in school. I think I'm 
a lot like her. We're both Pisces, you know. I asked 
her when her birthday was and she said February 23rd 
and mine is March 11th, so that means we're both 
Pisces."

Mulder smiled and nodded in amusement and Tate rolled 
her eyes.

When Mulder and the girls pulled up to the bluff, it 
looked just as it did a couple of hours ago. There 
were no flowers or decorations of any kind, no chairs 
set up or aisles to walk down. There would be no 
harps playing or music at all, no bridesmaids, 
groomsmen, or doves released into the sky. Just two 
people who had been in love for years, exchanging 
promises with their lips that had been hidden in 
their hearts for way too long.

Mulder walked to the edge of the bluff and looked out 
over the endless expanse of blue. The water seemed 
unusually calm, as if it too sensed that something 
was about to shift, lock into place, become whole, be 
as it should. Then he mentally cajoled himself for 
standing there in his suit and shiny shoes, waxing 
poetic on his wedding day. He was a walking cliche. 
He imagined Scully reading his thoughts and 
responding with a teasing look at his sentimentality. 
He was the overthinker in their partnership, the 
feeler, the "let's toss some things against the wall 
and see what sticks" kind of person. She wound him in 
like a kite and set his feet on solid ground. She was 
his satellite, his compass, his true north, 
his...lighthouse, he thought, smiling at the irony. 
Yeah, all that and she was probably one of only two 
things that stood between him living a respectable 
and productive life and standing unshaven on a street 
corner, muttering to himself. The other one had 
inherited his nose and his unfortunate tendency 
toward untidiness.

Mally and Tate walked up next to him and looked at 
him expectantly, like he was going to explain to them 
how this was supposed to go. 

"I want to get married here someday," Mally said.

"You can't, Dummy. The lighthouse belongs to Mulder 
and Dana now." Tate rolled her eyes for at least the 
third time since the car ride. 

Mulder smiled down at her. "You can get married here 
on two non-negotiable conditions, Mal."

"I invite you?" she asked.

"Well, three conditions then. Also that you're not a 
day under twenty-five, and that he walks on water."

She scrunched her forehead. "Well, of course. I need 
to finish medical school first. But I'm sorry, I 
don't think I'm supposed to marry Jesus."

"Well, something close then," he replied, rubbing the 
back of her long hair affectionately.

Todd's car pulled up and he helped Liz out and into 
her chair. She looked beautiful, wearing a sundress 
like her daughters, her long, straight chestnut hair 
falling past her shoulders. She had a small bouquet 
of pink and white flowers in her lap. "They're for 
Dana." She shrugged. 

"They're really nice," Mulder said, bending to kiss 
her cheek.

"And I brought my camera," she said, holding it up. 
"Can I take one of you with the girls?" They spent a 
few minutes snapping photos until his watch said 4:12 
and Mulder was beginning to get nervous. 

Then the door of the lighthouse opened and there she 
was. He looked at her and wanted to smile, but he 
couldn't really remember how to make facial 
expressions other than stand there, unblinking with 
his mouth slightly open. He was vaguely aware of 
Mally's voice behind him in a hushed squeal. "Look! 
There she is!  She's the most beautiful thing I've 
ever seen!" before her mother shushed her. Scully 
descended the two steps from the lighthouse door and 
walked toward all of them. Liz rolled to meet her and 
offered the flowers. Scully accepted the bouquet with 
a smile and then bent and gave her a hug.

Mulder paused to take all of her in. She wore an 
ankle length dress that wasn't quite white and wasn't 
quite not. He would have called it ivory, but he was 
sure there was probably a fancier name for the color. 
The top of the dress was a halter style that bared 
her shoulders, her pale, delicate skin making him 
dizzy in a good way. It was that shoulder thing 
again. She knew they were his favorite and he was 
certain she had done it on purpose. He had a 
hilariously fleeting thought that he hoped she 
remembered to wear sunscreen. The remaining top of 
the dress was fitted, showing off her slender waist 
before the bottom flowed down to her ankles. It 
draped gently against her legs and when the wind 
caught it, it billowed and danced around her. The 
dress was simple and elegant, perhaps a tad more 
daring on top than he would have pegged her for, but 
he certainly wasn't complaining. It was the perfect 
choice for her. He glanced down at her feet. The 
Gucci ones with the higher heel. He could have 
predicted that, he laughed to himself. Her hair was 
down, but she had curled the ends just a little and 
pulled two small strands of hair, one from each side 
back and secured them together with a small silver 
clip. Tiny white delicate flowers were woven into the 
two strands of hair. She took his breath away.

When she reached where he stood, she stopped and 
faced him, regarding him questioningly through long 
lashes.   He continued staring for a moment until he 
realized that she was waiting for some kind of 
reaction from him. He couldn't imagine how she could 
possibly not know how gorgeous she looked. He 
recovered and leaned in to her ear.

"You are heartbreakingly beautiful," he said, and she 
rewarded him with a grateful smile. 

"You look really nice too," she replied. "I'm a 
little nervous."

He nodded, but all he could think of to say was "I 
love you."

She smiled again and squeezed his hand.

"Is everybody ready?" asked Todd and they both 
nodded.

The next twenty minutes or so were a blur to Mulder. 
Words were said, important words about loving and 
cherishing, about honoring and respecting, about joy 
and sorrow and better and worse. Some words struck 
him as absurdly simple, such as "in sickness and in 
health." She had survived cancer; he had been to 
insanity and back at least twice. What else was 
there? "Til death do us part?" Well, they had already 
established that death could not, in fact, keep them 
apart after all. It was a formality; they had been 
living out the promises for years. And in the end, he 
gave her a ring, another one, for he had given her 
his heart a long, long time ago. 

And then Todd said something about husband and wife 
and Mulder swam back to the surface from the depths 
of her blue eyes just in time to realize that he was 
talking about them and he smiled. She was his wife. 
Just like that. It was the simplest thing in the 
world. Given their history together, Mulder almost 
found himself waiting for the catch.

He looked at Todd, because he had been to enough of 
these shindigs to know that there was a kiss coming 
up and he didn't want to miss that part. Todd nodded 
at him and said "You can go ahead," but before he got 
to the "and kiss the bride" part, Mulder was already 
doing it. And he would have gone on with it a little 
bit longer because it was his absolute favorite thing 
to do, in general, and because she tasted like heaven 
on earth. But Scully finally pulled back and cleared 
her throat, signaling that perhaps their display 
might have just teetered on the edge of 
inappropriate. 

Afterward, there were plenty of hugs and pictures and 
laughing and discussions about who was riding with 
whom to dinner.  Mally informed her parents that she 
would be riding with Mulder and Dana and her mother 
gently pulled her aside to discuss the finer points 
of privacy as it pertained to newlyweds and that the 
Reardons would, in fact, be taking their own car. 
Mulder suspected that a similar, yet more tricky 
discussion might also take place later regarding why 
Mally would not be planning any unannounced visits to 
the lighthouse in the next couple of days. 

Dinner was a private outdoor patio at Casa Bella that 
Todd had pulled a few judge strings to get because 
nothing was too good for his buddy's girl. And when 
Mulder saw Scully's eyes brighten at the sight of the 
tiny twinkling white lights adorning the trees on the 
patio and the vases of fresh flowers on the white 
linen tablecloths, he mentally reminded himself to 
thank Todd with a bottle of something top shelf, 
maybe two. 

They shared several appetizers among the table and 
ordered expensive entrees from the menu and laughed 
their way through one of the best meals Mulder had 
ever eaten. He ordered a bottle of the best champagne 
the restaurant carried, plus some kind of legal 
imitation for the girls, and they took turns toasting 
friends and happiness and mostly love. Scully's 
delicate, white shoulder rubbed against Mulder's when 
she laughed and her left hand with two sparkly rings 
rested on his knee under the table. He couldn't stop 
himself from looking at her. He had never seen her 
smile so much. Mally tapped her glass with her spoon 
and giggled expectantly. Scully blushed and Mulder 
tipped her chin up with his finger to capture her 
lips.

Soon after the sun set, they drove back to the 
lighthouse. Mulder asked if she wanted to go for a 
stroll on the beach, but she dipped her head and 
regarded him from under long lashes, then grasped his 
hand and led him into the bedroom. They stood 
awkwardly facing each other and Mulder pulled her 
close so their foreheads touched. He ran his hands 
along her bare shoulders and felt goose bumps form as 
she exhaled. She was jumpy.

"We've done this...lots of times," she said, "but it 
feels different."

"Better," he said and she nodded, meeting his eyes.

"It's just us," he said, "in expensive clothing."

She laughed and he felt her relax some. Her hand 
caressed his gently and she fingered his ring, a 
simple gold band, running her manicured thumb over it 
and smiling. 

"We did it," she said.

"We did."

"You look good in a ring."

"Only for you," he smiled.

"The moms at the park are going to be so 
disappointed," she teased.

"They're already afraid of you," he said and she 
laughed again.

Then his eyes grew darker and he slid both hands to 
cup her face. He started at her temples, placing soft 
kisses along her hairline, at her brows, over 
shadowed eyelids that had fluttered closed. Down her 
perfect roman nose, on the rosy apples of her high 
cheekbones, then on her parted lips, first the top 
one, then the bottom, finally covering her mouth with 
his. She returned his kiss, moving her lips against 
his softly, then a bit more urgently, pulling away to 
nip gently before changing angles and covering all 
the same bases again, this time with her hands 
sifting through his hair. He was aroused, hard and 
eager, and acutely thankful that he had had the good 
sense to take the edge off this morning and hadn't 
stupidly fallen victim to his own overconfidence. All 
men wanted to think they could last all night, 
satisfy a woman multiple times, be the perfect model 
of control and self-discipline. Fox Mulder knew 
better. And he was fully aware that the one thing 
that could summon lust from him, that could shatter 
his self-control in the blink of an eye, was standing 
in front if him with plump berry-red lips and 
dangerous cleavage. 

He broke for air, his gait hovering unsteadily, 
tucking his face into the slope of her neck and 
sliding his mouth up to her earlobe.  "I want to 
undress you myself," he whispered, "but I don't want 
to rush. Let me know when you're ready." He continued 
kissing her throat and the soft spot behind her ear. 

Scully tipped her head to allow him better access. 
Apparently deciding for herself that he was also 
wearing a bit more clothing than she preferred, she 
slid his suit jacket over his shoulders and down his 
arms. She tossed it toward the chair next to the bed 
and it landed with a perfect drape. Then she started 
in on his tie, managing to slide it off in one smooth 
movement, tossing that too onto the chair with 
impeccable accuracy. She's done this before, he 
thought in amusement. Her eagerness was a huge turn-
on and he moaned into her shoulder, suckling her pale 
skin with his tongue and lips, vaguely aware that she 
was going to have a mark there tomorrow and liking 
the idea. 

The shirt was next. Her slender fingers worked the 
buttons, managing three or four before his posture 
became a hindrance and she had to coax his mouth from 
her shoulder and his body to an upright position so 
she could finish the job. Once his shirt had been 
removed and he stood before her bare chested, she 
slowed down, pausing to run her hands over his skin, 
threading her fingers in the sparse hair there, 
skimming over his nipples with her fingernails, 
making him shiver and toss his head back. The hands 
he had circling her tiny waist tightened their grip. 

When he finally looked up, he found her eyes seeking 
his. They were dreamy and soft. Without looking away, 
she reached for his hand and guided it behind her 
neck, helping him pop open two tiny hook and eye 
clasps that held the strips of fabric together. Then 
she dropped her arms to her sides, inviting him to 
take over. Very slowly, he lowered the halter of the 
dress to reveal a strapless white bra underneath. He 
ran his fingers along the very top edges of the cups 
where white rested against white and felt her draw a 
sharp breath. Once again, his hands drifted to the 
back of her dress. He found a zipper on the bodice 
and gently slid it down, being careful not to force 
it. Giving a subtle tug on both sides of the dress, 
he eased it down over her hips and she stepped out of 
it. He placed it carefully on the chair with his 
garments and then turned back to her, drawing her 
tightly against him in a deep kiss. 

He went to work on the bra and, although he 
considered himself fairly skilled at undergarment 
removal and bra clasp manipulation, both front and 
back, this one had him stumped. After a solid few 
minutes of fiddling with it, he pulled back from 
their kiss with a desperate cry of "Sculleee..." He 
didn't want to resort to yanking on things, but he 
was close to it.  She giggled and reached back and in 
a split second the offending garment snapped off her 
and onto the floor and her perfect breasts spilled 
into his waiting hands. He covered them with his 
palms and just stood there for a moment, feeling the 
heat coming off of her. When his hands began moving 
of their own accord, thumbing over her hardened 
nipples, she arched her back and leaning into him, 
her head tilted back. 

He tucked one arm behind her and gently lowered her 
onto the bed, hovering over her. Fumbling with his 
belt for a few seconds, she managed to unclasp it and 
slide if from the belt loops in one fluid motion, 
tossing it across the room to land somewhere on the 
floor with a clink, metal against metal. Her head 
lifted from the pillow as she worked his button and 
zipper and began tugging his pants and boxers down. 
He tried to help with one hand while propping himself 
up on the other and found that the whole thing was 
rather ungraceful and humorous. His foot tangled in 
the leg of his pants and he almost lost his balance 
and fell on top of her. He couldn't help but chuckle 
a little and she responded with a smile and a soft 
laugh, which promoted more laughter from him.

"We do know how to do this," she said in between 
giggles. "I'm sure of it."

After a joint effort, they finally managed to divest 
him of all clothing. He settled himself down next to 
her, his chest leaning over hers while he teased her 
nipples with his tongue and lightly ran the palm of 
his hand over her thighs. She trembled at his touch. 
She still wore a pair of the tiniest white lace 
bikini panties that Mulder had ever seen. It almost 
begged the question of what was the point. He allowed 
his hand to ever-so-briefly skim the front of them, 
feeling her heat and arousal. She jumped a little, 
her hips rotated and her thighs fell open. He bent 
his head and kissed her flat stomach, feeling the 
muscles tighten under his mouth. She reached with one 
hand and ran her fingers through his hair and he went 
lower still, planting an open-mouthed kiss on the 
slight indentation on the front of her panties where 
he knew her opening was. Another jump, this time more 
pronounced and accompanied by a gasp and a clenching 
of her hand in his hair. She smelled so good and he 
nuzzled between her thighs with his nose. 

"Mulder, God," she gasped. 

Just "Mulder" is fine, he thought in amusement, half 
wondering if it was normal that he often carried on 
humorous conversations with himself in his head 
during sex.

He hooked two fingers in the waistband of her panties 
and she lifted her hips so he could ease them down. 
He tossed them off somewhere nonspecific to commune 
with his belt and her strapless bra. Tomorrow morning 
they would do the "this is yours, that's mine" 
routine of post-sex undergarment  sorting. Or maybe 
they wouldn't bother because it was their honeymoon 
and really, who needed clothing? He would propose a 
minimum twenty-four-hour clothing embargo tomorrow. 

He redirected back to the task at hand, kissing, 
licking, and nipping his way around soft skin in the 
dark. His erection rubbed shamelessly against her 
hip, creating maddening friction and she reached to 
circle a thumb and forefinger around him, sliding up 
and down his length and swirling her thumb over his 
tip and around the swollen head. Her sudden touch 
caused him to dip his head heavily against her, his 
mouth open and moaning, the flat of his tongue on the 
slope of her breast. 

He recovered and lowered himself between her parted 
thighs, intending to go down on her, but she lifted 
her head and tugged at the tops of his shoulders. 

"Not this time," she panted, breathlessly. "I don't 
need it. Come here."

He crawled back up her body until he was positioned 
in the valley between her parted thighs and then 
kissed her, parting her lips with his tongue and 
sinking into the wet warmth, his tongue sliding 
against hers. His erection pressed into her folds 
insistently, and he rotated his hips, trying to enter 
without the need of manual guidance, but it wasn't 
working. The angle was just a little off, so the end 
result was that he was getting very slick with her 
wetness, not getting anywhere, and driving himself 
crazy in the process. As if reading his mind, she 
reached her hand down between them, shifted her hips 
slightly, and guided him home. 

At the exact moment of penetration, they both broke 
the kiss, seemingly unable to process both feelings 
at once. He stilled himself inside of her and moaned 
against the slope of her neck, his one hand pressing 
into the mattress next to her head, supporting most 
of his weight.  She turned her face to his, gently 
bit his ear and began pumping her hips against him. 
He started to move.

The thrusting was slow and deep at first, a physical 
metaphor for the emotions they were both feeling at 
the moment. He closed his eyes and lost himself 
completely in the silky, hot wet feel of her walls 
around him, clenching and unclenching as he entered 
and retreated over and over again. Her fingers 
scraped against his buttocks and he buried his face 
in her hair, breathing her in. He felt the fleshy 
mounds of her breasts pressing into him, her nipples 
noticeable hard little pebbles and he was immediately 
overcome by a wave of lust. Lifting his head from her 
neck, he palmed one breast with his free hand and 
guided the peak into his mouth, sucking and laving 
his tongue around in circles. She moaned her approval 
and snaked one of her own hands up to fondle her 
other breast, just about blowing his mind in the 
process. 

Whenever she did anything to herself during sex, it 
drove him crazy. Normally, this would have been the 
point where he started to unravel and drive into her 
with reckless abandon until he crossed the finish 
line and collapsed in a heap. Sometimes she got there 
with him, but much of the time, he guarded against 
the possibility of disappointment by taking care of 
her first. Tonight, however, he had time to spare, 
being once again grateful for his little morning 
diversion in the shower. The result was that he could 
concentrate on her pleasure without having to put as 
much thought into holding himself back. He smugly 
decided that it was about time she reaped the 
benefits of his increased stamina. Then he drew 
himself back up so he was balanced on his legs, 
folded one of her legs so her knee was pressed to her 
chest and began pumping into her harder and deeper. 
She cried out in surprise, her eyes widening at 
first, hands clutching at his forearms.

"Oh God, Mulder, that's so good," she hissed through 
harsh breaths. She lifted her head from the pillow to 
look down to where their bodies met and bit her 
bottom lip, lifting her hips slightly to meet his 
downthrusts. She had never done that before ? watched 
them. He found it to be incredibly hot. So he went 
even faster. Her breasts jiggled with each hard 
thrust and he wished he had a free set of hands so he 
could squeeze them.  Then he realized with slight 
embarrassment that he had voiced that out loud 
because she licked her lips and said, "I'll do it," 
and then slid her palms over her own breasts. Jesus 
Christ. 

She was breathing hard with her mouth open, her 
eyelids at half mast, and a tiny wrinkle on her 
forehead ? all the indications that she might be 
getting close. This position didn't usually do it for 
her without manual stimulation too, but she seemed 
really worked up tonight, so maybe, just maybe. 
Mulder buckled down to the task and pressed on, now 
hooking both hands under her knees and lifting up, 
then gently pressing her thighs outward so she was 
completely opened to him. The angle allowed for even 
deeper penetration and for the first time, he felt 
just the hint of an orgasm chasing him. If he wasn't 
careful, if he allowed himself to get carried away or 
stared too long down at her underneath him, watched 
her running the tip of her tongue over her swollen 
lips and pressing her breasts together in her hands, 
he'd certainly lose it. So instead, as much as he 
hated to do so, he closed his eyes. Visual 
stimulation, especially when it involved watching 
her, was the downfall to his self-control. If he 
understood this, he could work around it. He had 
promised her marathon lovemaking and he had every 
intention of giving it to her. 

He released one of her legs and moved his hand to her 
center, brushing his thumb over her clitoris lightly.  
Her hips jumped and she cried out at the contact. In 
this position, with her thighs turned out, she was 
spread open to him, her glistening layers unfolded 
like a flower, the pink bud of her clitoris unhooded 
and swollen in arousal. He kept a steady thrusting 
rhythm while at the same time flicking his thumb up 
and down over her bud. She was slick against his 
thumb and it made a sound that was incredibly erotic 
to him. She started to rotate her hips and pant 
harder. He smiled to himself, and wondered if he had 
time to back off and tease her a little or if she was 
too close. Her thighs hadn't started to shake yet, so 
he probably had at least a minute before she entered 
point-of-no-return territory.

He slowed both his hand and his thrusting a little, 
then took his thumb away altogether and placed the 
palm of his hand against her pubic bone to steady her 
and slow her impending orgasm.  Her eyes flew open 
and she lifted her hips against his hand in 
frustration. 

"Mulder! Please," she begged.

And so he bent forward to kiss her stomach and tongue 
her nipple. When he felt her calm a little, he sat 
back up and started in again, thrusting into her, 
using two fingers to rub fast circles over her 
clitoris, slow, then faster and faster until her head 
was thrown back against the pillow and her hands 
clutched at the bed sheets. He thought about backing 
off again, but then her thighs starting going and he 
knew he was committed. Besides, based on the sounds 
coming from deep in her throat, he suspected that if 
he teased her any more, he would be taking his life 
in his hands. Her thighs trembled and then began 
clenching and unclenching, signaling the beginning of 
her climax and within seconds he felt the tell-tale 
fluttering deep inside her and all around his cock, 
over and over and over again. He slowed his thrusting 
a little to allow her to ride it out, and when he 
finally felt her relaxing, liquifying under him, he 
bent over her and kissed her mouth, her throat, her 
shoulders. 

"You okay?" he whispered, pecking at the corners of 
her mouth gently. 

Her chest rose and fell rapidly under him. He 
caressed her bare arms with his hands. 

"I think so," she panted. "I will be. Oh my God, 
Mulder."

Starting to catch her breath and come back down from 
the stratosphere, she returned his kisses, tangling 
her tongue with his. Then he felt her pause 
thoughtfully for a moment and clench her vaginal 
muscles around his penis.

She quirked an eyebrow in surprise. "You're still in 
the game."

"Mmmmm hmmmmm, " said moaning against her mouth.

She mouthed a silent "wow," then whispered "I'm 
impressed" into his ear.

Feeling her clench her muscles tight around him 
triggered his desire to move again, but he wasn't 
sure if she was too sensitive, so he rotated his hips 
against hers. 

"Do you need a break?" he asked.

"I don't think so." Her breath was hot against his 
neck and he started half-thrusting again, but very 
slowly, despite have an overwhelming urge to speed up 
and seek his own release.

He pulled his face back slightly until he could lock 
eyes with hers. There was just enough moonlight 
streaming through the window above the bed that he 
could see the whites of her eyes and the sparkle of 
desire glinting from the dark blue of her pupils. He 
began to move more insistently inside her. She 
responded by sliding against him, encouraging him.  
She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He 
wanted to make love to her forever. 

"Can you...again?" he asked, breathlessly. 

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment and she bit 
her bottom lip, as if she was concentrating on every 
single tiny sensation flowing through her body. 
"I.... I'm not sure....Maybe. Oh God it feels good," 
she groaned in that sexy, raspy tone that made him 
want her more than air. He remembered hearing that 
same tone a few times in the Hoover basement when she 
was doing something totally mundane, like opening 
mail or looking through files and he would go 
instantly hard. It had been completely unintentional 
on her part, but the effect was the same. He couldn't 
stand up for a good ten minutes. 

Now she was under him and around him and everything 
to him. He had known for a long time before they were 
ever together, long before he had even kissed her, 
that there would never be another for him. She was 
it. And he had suspected long before he ever 
undressed her that the intimacy would be amazing 
between them. How could it not? But like this? He had 
never imagined anything could be like this.

He pulled back, pulled out completely from her. She 
cried out at the loss of contact and reached for him, 
but he was sliding down her warm body with the flat 
of his tongue. 

"Mulder," she whispered, just the start of a protest.

"Shhhh....it's okay. Let me. I can help you along," 
he said before the tip of his tongue made contact 
with her center and she gasped and lifted her hips to 
him. He had one goal and one goal only in mind and he 
worked with intensity and purpose. She responded to 
him with unabashed enthusiasm, all her self-
consciousness with regard to this particular act 
having been abandoned not long after they became 
intimate. It had taken some convincing from him 
initially to make her appreciate just how much he 
enjoyed doing this for her, but once she warmed to 
the idea, she committed herself fully. At times, her 
boldness in requesting his oral services even 
surprised and amused him. She liked it. A lot. And 
from her physical response, he was pretty certain 
that he wasn't too shabby at it. Turns out, sunflower 
seed addictions were good for something besides 
killing time on long car rides.

He pleasured her for awhile, until her hands were 
clutching at his hair and she was lifting herself to 
press against his moving tongue and he knew that the 
window of opportunity had indeed arrived. Then he 
took his mouth away and quickly moved up her body to 
reposition himself, guiding into her with one swift 
stroke and immediately starting to move. She lifted 
both legs to wrap around him, her hips tilted up and 
forward to meet his hard thrusts, her tiny feet 
pressed into his back. They moved together in perfect 
counterpoint and he felt himself getting desperately 
close. At the same time, he saw that her eyes were 
shut tight, her forehead was furrowed in 
concentration, and he knew she was on the edge, 
plateauing, wanting it so badly. 

"Come on, Scully. Come on," he panted into her ear in 
between deep, fast thrusting. "I love you."

And then he felt the thighs clenching again and every 
single muscle in her body tensed for a few seconds, 
before she cried out loudly and shuddered all around 
him, dragging him with her, always with her. He drove 
into her several more times, erratically, and then 
buried himself deep and stopped moving, opening his 
mouth against her bare shoulder in a silent cry. And 
it kept coming, flowing from him and into her, every 
last bit of him until he was completely empty and 
shaking against her warmth.

He was collapsed on her and he could feel her fingers 
sifting through his damp hair and her soft lips 
kissing his forehead. He slid lazily off to her side, 
but his one leg stayed over hers. He lay his head 
near her breast and she wrapped one arm around him to 
caress his back.

"See, I knew we knew how to do this," she said, 
huffing out a breathy laugh. 

"That was," he started, then fizzled out, his brain 
short-circuiting. And started again, "That was..."

"Yes, it was," she finished. 

"If that was any indication of what the rest of this 
week is going to look like, I should have brought 
multi-vitamins," he said. "That was the best wedding 
night sex in the history of wedding nights."

She snorted. "Once we got the clothes off."

"Clothing is overrated. And speaking of, I would like 
to propose a ban on all clothing for the next twenty-
four to forty-eight hours."

"I don't know. I brought skimpy things and you're not 
going to let me wear them."

"I just thought that it might be?really? You did?"

"Just a couple of little things...new things."

"Like...how skimpy?"

She giggled, stumbling from the bed and toward the 
bathroom, flipped a bright light on, made a 
displeased sound, then flipped it back off. He could 
hear her using the toilet in the dark with the 
bathroom door ajar. "Um, that turquoise bikini you're 
so fond of?" she called out.

"Yeah," he said, following her in and waiting by the 
sink for his turn.

"It could be considered overdressing, comparatively 
speaking."

"Fuck. Scully, I love it when you shop."

More giggling as they made their way back into bed 
and curled back together on what he approximated to 
be about one quarter of the king-sized bed. "You 
still want to go sans clothing?" she asked, tucking 
her hand under his back and rocking gently against 
him.

"How about I be the resident nudist and you do a sort 
of skimpy/au natural combo?"

"Mmmm, deal. Can I sleep first, though, before I 
titillate you with strategically-placed tiny scraps 
of fabric?" They settled, legs intertwined, her head 
tucked under his chin, sharing a pillow. He closed 
his eyes and drifted to the feel of her steady 
breathing.

*****************************************************


He woke in the predawn light to the warmth of her 
next to him. He lifted his head to glance at the 
bedside clock. 5:40.  She was facing him, lying half 
on her back and half on her side, asleep. Her hair 
was messy, unruly tendrils falling over her closed 
eye and cheek, a little smudged eyeliner evidence 
that her usual bedtime routine last night had been 
sacrificed. It was the look of having been on a sex 
bender and he chuckled to himself and leaned to sweep 
the hair from her cheek and plant kisses there. 

He had intended to let her sleep. It was much too 
early to get up. But she stirred at his attention and 
he couldn't help himself, he reached and pulled her 
over on top of him. She kept her eyes closed, but a 
tiny smile formed on her lips and she began to return 
his kisses. His morning erection hardened even more 
and he began to move against her.

She giggled into his mouth as her body began to 
respond to him. "Again?" 

"Mmmmm hmmmmm," he hummed, moving his hands down to 
brace her hips. She sank down on him and they moved 
together in a sleepy rhythm, face to face, bodied 
pressed tightly. When they were done, they fell 
asleep again, still joined together. 

*****************************************************


The next time he awoke, he was alone in the bed. Rain 
streamed down the windows in tiny rivers, the room 
still shadowy even though the clock read 9:17. Their 
first rainy day there. On the day they planned to 
stay in bed all day anyway. How convenient, he 
thought as he made his way, naked, toward the smell 
of freshly brewed coffee. 

Scully stood with her back to him in front of an open 
cupboard wearing his white dress shirt from last 
night. It hung to the middle of her thighs.  

"Good morning," he said, and she spun to face him, an 
unopened box of Raisin Bran in her hands. 

"Morning." She had brushed her hair and the smudges 
were gone from underneath her eyes. But her swollen 
rosy lips gave her away and the shirt collar didn't 
quite hide the evidence of a slight red mark on her 
neck, just above her collar bone. It was her "just 
been fucked" look. He'd seen it before, although not 
nearly enough.  It was one of his favorites, followed 
far behind by her black pantsuit, high heeled "if you 
even think about objectifying me or making a sexist 
comment, I will wreck you" look that he had seen 
leveled at quite a few sorry male agents over the 
years. 

"I see you're not playing by the rules," he said, 
tugging teasingly at the tails of the shirt and then 
slipping both hands underneath to cup her bare ass 
and pull her to him for a kiss. He tasted mint. So 
she had brushed her teeth as well. Her morning-after 
self-consciousness was cute. It must be a honeymoon 
thing. He had the sudden urge to get her as messy as 
possible.

"I don't know," she said, a bit shyly, her legs 
straight and together, hands holding the collar of 
the shirt closed. "Nudity in the kitchen seems a 
little...unsanitary. And a bit too 'nine and a half 
weeks' for my tastes."

"Then let's spend as little time as possible in the 
kitchen," he replied, taking the box of Raisin Bran 
from her hands and bending to run his tongue behind 
her ear. They ate bowls of cereal at the kitchen 
table. She wore his shirt; he wore absolutely 
nothing. It really didn't weird him out all that 
much. There had been times when he had spent entire 
Sundays at Hegel Place without a stitch of clothing 
on, but that was mostly due to him forgetting to do 
the laundry. 

Afterward, he followed her out of the kitchen and 
watched as she unbuttoned and discarded his shirt, 
flinging it over her head on her way to take a 
shower. He thought about following her there, but his 
Scully vibes were telling him that she was feeling 
the need to actually get clean this time. He gave her 
her privacy. 

When she emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes 
later, he was flopped out on the bed reading the 
parts of yesterday's paper he hadn't gotten to. 

"All yours," she said, and something in her voice 
made him look up just in time to see her bending over 
to retrieve one of the unfortunate pieces of clothing 
strewn around the carpet from last night's walk on 
the wild side. What greeted his eager eyes was the 
color of midnight, very lacy, and barely covered her 
ass. She stood and spun around and he noticed that 
her lips were moving, but he had no idea what she was 
saying as he clawed his way back from sensory 
overload. The top, if you could call it that, to 
skimpy item numero uno, had spaghetti straps and lacy 
little cups where her breasts nestled happily, but 
the entire thing was pretty much transparent. Her 
nipples were visible, as well as the darker areolas. 
The mesh-like fabric made them look the color of 
charcoal. A wispy bit covered her belly and led to 
the matching bikinis, which were also, God bless 
them, completely see-through. The only things missing 
were the high heels, the pole and a stack of singles 
in his hand. 

"Huh?" he managed.

"I said that I think I saved you enough hot water, 
but you might want to wait a few minutes just in 
case."

There she goes. That talking thing again. He knew 
that he was supposed to be looking at her face and 
acknowledging, but the synapses were misfiring and 
his gaze was stuck somewhere around her belly button, 
trying to decide if the scenery was better to the 
north or the south. 

She seemed to comprehend his dilemma. "Take your 
time," she smirked and continued retrieving lost 
articles of clothing and tossing them into the 
hamper.

*****************************************************


They spent the next thirty-six hours making love and 
sleeping, taking breaks when needed to eat or shower, 
but even then, sometimes the making love part got 
mixed up in that too. He eventually got to see skimpy 
item number two and its effect on him was much like 
the first. It was navy blue, more silky and less see-
through, but the panties were of the thong variety 
and he spent the better part of a half hour trying to 
convince her of the merits of wearing thong panties 
under her suits because they eliminated the nuisance 
of panty lines. She argued that performing autopsies 
in a thong just seemed all kinds of creepy and 
besides, did he really want her male students musing 
on the absence of panty lines and putting two and two 
together? He conceded her point. Checking out Dana 
Scully's ass had been a vocational past time among 
certain circles at the Hoover back in the day. He 
suspected Quantico wasn't much different. Why 
encourage it? He had hoped that the shiny rings on 
her left hand would be enough to fend off the wolves, 
but you could never be too careful. 

They enjoyed time and privacy together that they 
simply didn't have at home. Besides reading, watching 
TV and walking about in various stages of nudity, 
they did other things they rarely, if ever, got the 
chance to do. She shaved him, sitting bare-ass naked 
on top of the sink, facing him. She had to keep 
reminding him to look up when she got to his neck, 
but it was hard when where he really wanted to fix 
his gaze sat about ten inches below her face.  In a 
quid pro quo exchange, she allowed him to shave her 
legs in the bath. He used the lavender scented 
shaving gel she kept on the side of the tub and was 
extra careful around her ankles and knees, like she 
requested. He made it through the first leg and was 
most of the way through the second thigh before his 
self-control withered and he dropped the razor and 
pulled her into his lap. Water sloshed over the sides 
of the tub and they had to use half a dozen towels to 
soak it up. 

That led to the need to do laundry which inspired him 
to ask her if she had ever done anything naughty in a 
laundry room, which she had not, so they did. Turns 
out that the height of a standard washing machine was 
really not the ideal height for him to bend over and 
use his tongue for any length of time. He ended up 
with a backache and a stiff neck, but she made it up 
to him with an extra long massage and then fed him 
chocolate chip ice cream in bed, sitting naked 
astride him. 

By Sunday afternoon, she rolled from the bed, 
trailing a sheet behind her and headed for the 
kitchen for something to eat, only to return with a 
sullen pout and announce that someone would need to 
get dressed and go scouting for provisions. 
Apparently, there was nothing left to eat, but 
cereal, ice cream, a couple of granola bars and some 
Ritz crackers. Back in the Hegel days, that would 
have constituted a pretty good breakfast and lunch, 
but hey, everyone's standards were different. Mulder 
threw on jeans and a T shirt and took her shopping 
list. 

A couple of hours later, he returned with everything 
on her list, plus a half a dozen things that weren't, 
such as Pop Tarts, barbeque potato chips, and a bag 
of Kit Kat bars. Scully frowned her disapproval, but 
he caught her sneaking Kit Kats while cooking dinner. 
She taught him to make seafood lasagna from scratch 
and after tasting it, he proclaimed her an honorary 
New Englander. Later that night, they found a 
Hitchcock marathon on cable and he had to laugh to 
himself when, halfway through Rear Window, she got up 
and returned with two beers and the bag of barbeque 
chips. Scully had a complicated relationship with 
junk food. She wouldn't buy it on her own and would 
outwardly express her firm disapproval of his eating 
habits when it followed him home from his grocery 
excursions, but if it was there, she would indulge 
now and then. The same rules applied to french fries. 
She wouldn't order them herself, but when he did, she 
pilfered them shamelessly. And he always knew when 
she had her period because junk food around the house 
disappeared at a more accelerated rate than usual. 

Scully dozed off before the end of Dial M For Murder 
and he carried her to their bed without waking her 
and tucked her in and watched her sleep until his 
eyes drifted shut. 

*****************************************************


On Monday morning, Mulder woke to a knock on the 
front door. He threw on a pair of sweatpants and 
opened the door to find nothing but a wicker basket 
on the steps with a bunch of aluminum foil in it. He 
brought the basket inside and unwrapped it. Inside 
were cookies in different shapes. They had names 
under the faces in case he didn't recognize them, and 
many of them he did not. The top layer of cookies 
included Marie Curie, Susan B. Anthony, Nellie Bly, 
Rosa Parks, and Amelia Earhart. There were three 
layers. Mulder took a bite of Amelia. 

Scully stirred and raised her head. "Who was it?"

"Apparently, Mally's female heroine cookie cutters 
came through," he said, bringing the basket over to 
the bed. 

Scully sat up and dug her hand in the basket, came 
back with Elizabeth Blackwell and took a bite, 
chewing with her eyes closed, still sleepy. First 
woman to graduate medical school. How appropriate, 
thought Mulder. 

He finished Amelia and went for another. "Who was 
Sybil Ludington?" he asked.

"Revolutionary war heroine. Teenaged messenger. Sort 
of a female Paul Revere," said Scully. 

God, she was smart. 

*****************************************************


July 4, 2002



It was their last full day. They were heading home on 
a 10:00 a.m. ferry the next day. And it was the 
Fourth of July. The Reardons had invited them to a 
cookout at the house, followed by a bon fire and 
fireworks on the beach. They accepted, thinking it 
would be a nice way to say goodbye and figuring it 
was about time they were social again. They had spent 
the last five days mostly in the lighthouse, mostly 
in bed, save for two takeout runs and a sightseeing 
excursion for half a day after Scully indicated that 
she was "starting to get sore." To be honest, Mulder 
had been thankful himself for the reprieve. He had 
been starting to worry about permanent damage to his 
genitals and his tongue had gone numb.

At 5:30, Mulder and Scully knocked on the Reardon's 
door with a plate of watermelon wedges and a six pack 
of beer. Tate answered.

"Hey. It's the newlyweds. Try and keep your hands off 
each other. Love nauseates me," she said, turning and 
walking back toward the deck. 

Liz peeked from around the corner in the kitchen and 
smiled, apologetically. "Hi. Sorry about that. Guy 
trouble."

"They're all trouble," said Mulder. 

"But cute," said Liz, looking up at Todd as he walked 
into the kitchen, extra long grill tongs in his hand. 
He snapped them teasingly at Liz and she rolled her 
eyes and smiled. 

"You're here. Excellent. Help me change the tank on 
the grill, Pretty Boy," said Todd.  Mulder popped a 
beer and followed him out to the deck.

Mally was sitting at the picnic table husking corn-
on-the-cob. A few minutes later, Scully came out and 
asked if she could help and the little girl nodded 
enthusiastically.

"This is a lot of work for a nine-year-old, you 
know," said Mally. "And Tate won't help because she's 
all 'Oh Dylan's going to the fireworks with Kara, 
sob, sob, sob.' And I'm all like 'Good riddance 
because the guy was a loser.' She won't listen to me, 
but whatever. I've decided that I'm going to stay 
single for as long as possible, you know. I just 
don't want the grief."

Scully nodded with her best sympathetic look and 
started peeling back layers on an ear of corn. She 
glanced over toward Mulder, who stifled a laugh and 
smiled back at her. It occurred to Mulder that if he 
and Scully had a daughter, she would probably be a 
lot like Mally ? precocious beyond her years, scary 
intelligent, a feminist with an attitude, and able to 
talk down an entire college debate team on speed. God 
love the guy who falls for Mally. 

Mulder noticed Tate sitting by herself on the steps 
on the far end of the wooden deck. She was listening 
to headphones and trying to look sullen and generally 
pissed off as she chipped blue nail polish off her 
fingernails.  He wandered over and sat down next to 
her, silently extending a hand toward her Discman and 
flexing his fingers several times quickly to indicate 
he wanted to see what she was listening to. She 
handed it over. Radiohead's Amnesiac. Mulder nodded 
thoughtfully and turned the volume down a little.

"It's okay," he said. "Less cerebral and more 
industrial than Kid A, without enough strong guitar 
to really carry it.  And not even close to the mass 
appeal of OK Computer, but still respectable. At 
least it's not 'N Sync. You'll be okay." 

She smiled, and he wasn't sure if she took his last 
comment as a reflection of her musical tastes or 
whatever it was that had her asserting pubescent 
angst at the moment. 

She clicked off the Walkman and pulled the headphone 
off her ears to hang in a circle around her neck and 
sniffed.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked, kind of hoping she 
might not since he had absolutely no experience in 
diffusing teenage girl melodrama. 

She raised both eyebrows and gave him a look like he 
might have just sprouted a second head. "Why would I 
do that? You're one of them."

Okay, now there was an 'us' and a 'them.' Mulder was 
pretty sure he understood why he was considered a 
'them.' What he didn't know was how to convince her 
that, for the most part, being a forty-year-old 
'them' was a lot different than being a sixteen-year-
old 'them.' He remembered what it was like to be in 
the sixteen-year-old camp and he couldn't blame her 
for wanting to haul ass in the other direction. 

"It gets better," he offered. "Guys grow up and most 
of them, although not all, eventually figure out how 
to respect females. As a gender, we can be a little 
slow on the uptake."

She snorted. "That's the understatement of the year. 
Guys my age are assholes."

He thought about calling her on the language, but 
figured it wouldn't do much for establishing rapport, 
so he skipped it.  Besides, she was mostly correct. 

"Have you talked to your mom?"

She huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes. "I don't 
want to talk to my mom about guys. She overreacts."

Mulder nodded and pursed his lips in consideration. 
"You could talk to Scully... I mean Dana. She knows a 
lot about guys." He hoped his smile looked 
convincing. 

She scrunched up her face dubiously. It was the same 
look he got from Scully when there was absolutely no 
scientific proof for his argument, which was ninety-
nine percent of the time.

"Really?"

"Sure, oh yeah. Tons about men." He bobbed his head.

Tate shrugged and turned to give Scully a sidelong 
glance, as if sizing her up. Then she turned back 
around and sniffed again. 

"She's really lucky. I just want somebody to look at 
me the way you look at her. Is that too much to ask?"

"No, it definitely isn't," he said. And because he 
couldn't think of any additional words of wisdom to 
offer her, he gently slapped her knee and said, 
"Wanna play frisbee? Unless it would be considering 
consorting with the enemy."

She smiled. "I think I can make an exception. But 
only because I can kick your butt." 

He got up and fetched a yellow frisbee that sat in 
the grass under a kick ball and a slobbery dog toy 
and headed into the back yard with Tatum following 
close behind in bare feet. He couldn't help smiling 
at the thought of Scully attempting to explain the 
mystery of sixteen-year-old boys. She had once teased 
him about offering dating advice. What goes around, 
comes around, Scully.   

*****************************************************


Dinner was grilled chicken, corn-on-the-cob, potato 
salad, baked beans and watermelon. They ate frosted 
cupcakes with flag designs that Mally had made for 
dessert. Mulder downed one in about four bites and 
felt like his stomach might burst, but it was so good 
that he ate another. He suggested to Mally that if 
the doctor route didn't pan out, she could most 
certainly enjoy a career as a baker. Genevieve, the 
German Shepherd, sharked around the table waiting for 
bits of food to fall and praying that some stupid 
human might inadvertently get up and leave a plate of 
grilled chicken unattended. 

After the dinner dishes were cleared, Liz and Mally 
went about gathering blankets and sparklers for the 
beach while Mulder and Todd packed a portable cooler 
with ice and beer. When Mulder looked for Scully, he 
was surprised to find her sitting one step lower than 
Tate on the end of the deck. Tate was french braiding 
her hair, a wide-toothed comb in her lap and a brown 
elastic ponytail holder gripped between her teeth. 
With her hair up off her neck, Scully's gold cross 
caught the sunlight and sparkled against her skin. 
She had slipped her wedge flip flops off on the grass 
in front of her and she sat with her knees bent, 
holding her legs to her chest, khaki shorts bunched 
up on her thighs. From behind and dressed like that 
with her hair braided, she looked like just another 
friend of Tate's. Mulder thought that might be a 
compliment, but he wasn't sure, so he'd keep the 
observation to himself. A few minutes later, they 
wandered over to him. Scully was barefoot, her flip 
flops dangling casually from her fingertips. Without 
shoes on, she was positively tiny. Tatum was taller 
than her by a good five or six inches, another 
observation Mulder would keep to himself.

"We're going to go walk on the beach," said Scully. 
"I'll see you down there."

He nodded and bent to kiss her on the lips. He caught 
a roll of the eyes from Tate, but the corners of her 
lips tugged slightly upward.  

*****************************************************


They dug a pit in the sand and built a bonfire on the 
beach from a hodge podge of sticks, brush, and 
driftwood. They sat in a ring around the fire, spread 
out on blankets, Liz in a fold-up beach chair with 
rainbow colored nylon straps, her wheelchair sitting 
vacant nearby. Tate was sprawled out by herself on 
one huge blanket, lying on her back with her 
headphones on, eyes closed, foot bobbing to a random 
bass that Mulder could hear from across the fire pit.  
Mulder and Scully occupied another blanket, stretched 
out and sipping beers, mesmerized by the flickering 
flames. Todd and Mally wandered the beach nearby in 
search of the perfect sticks to skewer marshmallows 
on.

The dog repeatedly chased a battered and slobbery 
tennis ball that she retrieved and brought back for 
Scully to throw again.  After about two hundred 
rounds of this, Genevieve collapsed, panting, onto 
their blanket next to Scully, then rolled over for a 
tummy rub, which Scully enthusiastically bestowed 
upon her. It was official ? he had married the Dog 
Whisperer. 

Liz watched the interaction, smiling. "Todd's going 
to have to put Genevieve in the car before the 
fireworks start or she'll try and crawl up her own 
ass, she's so scared of them." Mulder thought that 
might be interesting to observe. 

He smiled at Scully and reached to gently run his 
hand over the bumps in her braided red hair. She gave 
him a sidelong look and shrugged, scrunching her bare 
toes and inching her feet underneath his thighs to 
keep them warm. 

Mally came running over and handed two sticks to 
Mulder and Scully. "For after the fireworks, "she 
proclaimed. "They're going to start any minute now."

"Mal, please tell Daddy to put Gen away for the 
fireworks," said Liz.

"Genevieve, c'mon Girl! C'mon!" Mally called, 
clapping her hands. The dog darted off after her.  

If Mulder remembered correctly, the display was 
launched from the pier in Aquinnah and would be able 
to be seen over the water from where they sat. It was 
quiet, except for the sound of the tide as it swept 
onto the shore and the crackling and popping of the 
fire. Scully shivered despite the warmth and Mulder 
handed her the sweatshirt she had brought, a 
heathered purple, oversized one that said Martha's 
Vineyard that she had picked out on their sight 
seeing excursion. She pulled it on over her head, 
being careful not to mess up her braid. Mulder 
stretched his legs out on either side of her and she 
leaned back into him as the first lights opened up 
the dark sky in flashes of green, blue and silver. 
Mally screeched in delight as the colors kept coming 
in steady bursts, completely lighting up the sky, 
followed by the loud boom seconds after. Mulder 
wrapped both arms around Scully and held her close, 
leaning forward to place his head alongside hers, 
their cheeks touching. He couldn't recall the last 
time he had bothered seeing fireworks on the Fourth 
of July.  It was romantic in a cliche, sappy love 
song sort of way that he had adamantly resisted in 
the past, but which suddenly didn't seem so 
unsettling to him. He wouldn't be standing outside 
her window playing Peter Gabriel on his boom box 
anytime soon, but for some reason, beach blanket 
pyrotechnics was making him gooier than he'd felt 
since he last slow danced in a high school gymnasium. 
As if reading his mind, Scully leaned her face back 
over her shoulder and kissed the edge of his mouth, 
startling him with her girlishness. He smiled and 
leaned in again, connecting with her in a full-on 
kiss. He wasn't aware if anyone else noticed and he 
didn't really care. Her hair smelled smoky like the 
bon fire; her breath was sweet like beer, and he sort 
of wanted to try and feel her up to see if his hand 
got swatted away. Something about a barefoot girl in 
a sweatshirt and khaki shorts that smelled like beer.

The marshmallow roast commenced after the fireworks. 
Mulder tried to show Scully the fine art of toasting 
the lump of sugar evenly on all sides by patiently 
rotating the stick slowly and not too close to the 
open flame. Care must be taken not to keep the stick 
still for too long or the marshmallow would become 
comfortable and arrogant and ooze right off. Like her 
son though, Scully was not much for delayed 
gratification. With few exceptions, her impatience 
led her to dip her stick too close so that her 
marshmallow caught on fire. Then she would blow it 
out and sit and stare at him with pouty lips until he 
swapped with her and gave her his perfectly toasted 
masterpiece in exchange for her carcinogen on a 
stick. 

By the time the Reardon clan said goodnight and 
headed for home, the fire had dwindled into glowing 
embers. Scully sat with her legs criss crossed, 
Mulder's head in her lap, his body stretched out on 
the blanket and his hands folded across his chest. 
She sifted her soft fingers through his hair and 
massaged his scalp. It was therapy like no other and 
he drifted to the symphony of waves lapping the 
shore. 

"This was the best vacation I've ever had," he said.

"Me too. But the last one I went on I had to 
microwave a demonic doll in Maine. This week sort of 
redeemed New England for me."

"Are you ready to go home?"

"I am. I miss him," she said, wistfully, and Mulder 
didn't need to ask who the 'he' was because he missed 
him too. 

"I hope your mother survived in one piece."

"My mother is tough as nails. She raised four kids 
nearly by herself because my father was rarely home 
for more than a few days at a time. And I think they 
would have had more, but Charlie did them in."

"Hmmm, curious..."

"What?"

"Oh, just the whole Catholics and birth control 
thing," he said, smiling. "You don't think they-"

"Nothing official, I'm sure. It was the 1960s. The 
Vatican treated the pill as the catalyst for the 
potential downfall of humanity. But there is such a 
thing as the rhythm method and as many faithful 
Catholic families will attest to, it can be quite 
effective if practiced with discipline."

"So what did you and Tate talk about?" he asked, 
casually.

"Should I bother asking why you're segueing from a 
discussion of birth control to my private 
conversation with Tatum?" 

"I don't know, Scully, should you?"

"We had a nice talk."

"That's it? That's all you're going to tell me?"

"I can't violate the sacred female trust. You're one 
of 'them,'" she narrowed her eyes, suspiciously, but 
was clearly suppressing a smile.

"I seem to get that a lot."

Scully huffed out a little laugh. "Don't worry, if 
there was something to be concerned about or that I 
thought her parents should be made aware of, you know 
I'd do the right thing, Mulder."

"So then...she's not..."

"Nope."

"How do you know?" 

"Because I asked her."

"You just came right out and asked if she was 
sleeping with this Dylan kid?"

"Yes, I did. Or anyone, for that matter. I had to 
know whether I needed to be Doctor Scully and have a 
frank discussion about safety and making responsible 
choices, or be Dana and commiserate over how guys are 
immature boneheads." Then she took his hand in hers. 
"Not all guys," she said.

"Thank you, I think. I still feel like a 'them.'"

"Not to her. She was just upset before. She doesn't 
think of you that way. In fact, I'm fairly sure she 
thinks you hung the moon."

"What makes you say that?"

"Oh I don't know. Could be the monologue about what 
honest eyes you have, how intelligent you are, what a 
great sense of humor you have, and that you can sink 
a three-pointer from center court."  Scully rolled 
her eyes and feigned sticking her finger down her 
throat. 

"I am a charmer. It comes naturally really. It's a 
curse in a way." He faked a contemplative look.

"You forgot humble. And you have an incredibly hot 
ass."

"Takes one to know one, Scully," he said, leaning in 
to kiss her hard on the mouth while sneaking one hand 
down to gently squeeze the bottom of her thigh. It 
was the closest he could get to her ass because she 
was sitting on it. "And if I'm not mistaken, you 
promised me a little something on the beach about a 
week ago. And we're leaving tomorrow. I'd better 
collect, don't you think?" The words came out in 
stagnated mumbles against her mouth as he continued 
pecking at her lips.

She quirked her brow, but didn't retreat from him. 
"You haven't gotten enough yet?" she smiled.

"With you, it's never enough. Wanna go for a swim?"

"I'd bother reminding you that we don't have our 
swimsuits on, but it seems like a waste of breath," 
she said, running the tip of her talented tongue over 
his bottom lip. 

He nodded slyly and inched his hand up underneath her 
sweatshirt to trace the underside of her breast 
through her satiny bra. "Seems like a shame to put 
something on just to take it off."

She pulled back and he thought about staging a 
protest, but he saw a certain look in her eye that 
stopped him in his tracks. It was the same look he'd 
seen three nights ago when she had found him  
watching TV on the sofa and straddled him, knees on 
either side of the cushion, yanking the crotch of her 
panties aside and sinking down on him until he was 
pressed against her cervix. And the same look he had 
seen the morning after that when he had woken up and 
looked down to see her lips wrapped tightly around 
his morning hard on. 

She looked around in the dark cautiously and he knew 
she was weighing the possibility of encountering 
anyone else on their secluded area of beachfront 
after midnight. He was just about to point out the 
sand dunes to their east once again when she raised 
herself up to a kneeling position and tugged both her 
sweatshirt and fitted T shirt over her head in one 
swift movement. The khaki shorts were next as she 
plucked the button open and eased the zipper down 
slowly, them shimmied them over her hips. They fell 
to a heap around her ankles and she toed them aside 
and then stood in front of him in her white satin bra 
and pink panties. There was a good chance he was 
salivating.

"Keep going, G-Woman," he said, reaching to run his 
hand over one toned calf.

He saw her shoulders rise and fall as she breathed 
deeply. Then she reached one hand behind her back and 
when it came forward again, the bra slid off with it, 
down her arms and onto the blanket. She brought two 
hands up to cup her own breasts, covering them in a 
brief second of modesty before releasing them to slip 
two thumbs beneath the waistband of her panties. She 
eased the tiny scrap of fabric down, bending to pull 
them off over both feet, then gathered the bra and 
shorts and tucked the whole lot of it carefully 
underneath her sweatshirt. He had to hand it to her ? 
even her striptease was tidy. She headed down to the 
water, leaving him in a pile of his own liquified 
self. 

It might have taken him thirty seconds, but it was 
really probably more like ten before he was in his 
birthday suit and wading out to join her. The water 
was a bit cold and he had a brief Seinfeld moment 
when he wondered what possible effect the water 
temperature would have on his ability to impress, but 
he'd take his chances.

She stopped where the water reached her shoulders and 
waited for him. When he got close enough, she pushed 
off the ocean floor with her feet and drifted to him, 
wrapping her arms around his neck and both legs 
around his waist. She was soft and slippery against 
him and he looked down to see her breasts bobbing 
enticingly on the surface of the water, her nipples 
puckered and tight from both the chill and her 
arousal. She sunk her tongue into his mouth deep, 
nearly sweeping his throat, her lips pressed to his 
almost forcefully. He groaned at her boldness and 
kneaded the globes of her perfect ass with his hands, 
then lifted and lowered her down onto his hard length 
until she bottomed out completely. She grabbed 
handfuls of his wet hair, pitched her head forward 
into the valley of his neck and rocked feverishly 
against him. 



*****************************************************


July 5, 2002



They pulled into their driveway a little after four 
o'clock to find Scully's mom's car there. She had 
called to inform them that there was no need to pick 
William up; she would take him home and wait for them 
there. Scully jumped out of the car leaving the door 
open the second he put the vehicle in park and was up 
the front steps and into the house before he could 
pull the keys from the ignition. He followed her in, 
leaving the luggage in the car. 

When he got inside, Scully was sitting on the floor 
holding William tightly to her chest and pressing the 
back of his little head into her shoulder, her nose 
buried in his neck. "He smells so good," she said, 
her breath hitching. 

Maggie stayed long enough to give them the entire 
run-down on the week, mostly focusing on all the new 
pseudo-words that had made repeated appearances in 
William's vocabulary, along with her assessments of 
all their possible meanings. She found the recurrence 
of "joo" to be the most perplexing and thought that 
it most likely referred to apple juice, which she had 
admittedly given Will more of than Scully usually 
allowed. She didn't think that, heaven forbid, it 
could possibly be in reference to her neighbor, Mrs. 
Rosenthal because she had only discussed her 
ethnicity once with Tara in front of William. Mulder 
smiled politely.  "Joo" had been a staple in the 
vocab since April and it meant "shoes," but he didn't 
feel it necessary to trivialize his mother-in-law's 
efforts at translating toddler speak, so he didn't 
bother mentioning it. 

They spent the rest of the afternoon stretched out on 
the living room floor together watching their son 
impressively sort plastic Fisher Price cups by size 
and color. 

"He wasn't doing that when we left, was he Scully?"

She shook her head, contemplatively. "He was just 
filling them with his Cheerios and then dumping 
them."

"When do babies usually stack and sort?"

"Um, I think about eighteen months or so."

Mulder nodded his head slowly. "We're too late for 
Fall semester, but if we get his application in soon, 
he might have a shot at Oxford's January admission." 

*****************************************************


July, 2002



The rest of July was one big, unending lump of 
writing mixed with well intentioned, yet not always 
successful attempts at child safety. When he didn't 
have William cordoned off by a gate in the playroom 
so he could belt out a few nonsensical paragraphs, he 
was following him as he teetered like a drunken frat 
boy up the stairs, arms hovering inches from his 
Oshkosh overalls in case he decided to do a backwards 
header onto the hardwoods below. Short of covering 
the entire house with bubble wrap, which actually 
didn't sound half bad, there was no way to keep the 
child out of harm's way. Three or four decent-sized 
black and blue spots was doing good; any more than 
that and Mulder hesitated taking him for his well-
baby visits, fearing that some well-intentioned 
health care professional would summon Child 
Protective Services. He knew it was a normal stage of 
development, had been assured by Dr. Scully, but 
every time William toddled into a piece of furniture 
or a door frame and screamed for ten minutes, he felt 
like a shitty parent. 

Thankfully, William could be kept pretty content 
wreaking havoc on the playroom, so Mulder set his 
laptop up on a card table in the corner and got quite 
a bit done, even with the challenge of having to tune 
out Blues Clues and The Wiggles.  With a few 
exceptions, he also managed to get the child dressed 
sometime before Scully got home around 6:00 p.m. 

And in the evenings, he wrote some more. Scully took 
over kitchen clean-up, baby bathing and tucking in, 
and really just about everything in between, 
including laundry and most cooking. She didn't 
complain, but she was tired and it showed. Once 
again, she suggested a nanny and once again, he 
insisted he could handle it, that he and William had 
a system going. She pursed her lips and continued 
emptying the dishes that had sat clean and ready in 
the dishwasher from the morning and then scrubbed the 
grilled cheese skillet from their lunch. Mulder wrote 
and drank Diet Coke. Scully picked up little socks 
and stuffed animals that littered the stairs and 
hallway and went to bed early. 

*****************************************************


August, 2002



By the second week of August, Scully called a meeting 
one morning over breakfast. 

"Mulder, I get that you don't want to hire a nanny. 
And even though we disagree, I am willing to concede 
that by some miracle, you're managing. William seems 
happy and aside from eating too much macaroni and 
cheese out of a box, he is flourishing."

She stopped talking for a full three minutes while 
she forked sliced honeydew melon into her mouth and 
chased it with strong coffee. He could sense the big 
"but" coming, sneaking up to kiss his ass.

"However, the house is another story."

There it was. 

"Things aren't getting done and I'm trying to pick up 
the slack as much as possible because I know you're 
working up to a deadline, but there's only so much I 
can do while teaching four classes. I don't mind the 
cooking and some laundry, but..."

She downed more coffee and refilled her mug for the 
third time, a lot of java even for Scully. He 
wondered if she'd be amused if he got up and brought 
her the whole carafe with a straw. Probably not. 

"This house has four bathrooms, Mulder. Four. Unless 
I want to spend every second of my weekends cleaning 
bathrooms, mopping floors, and vacuuming, things 
aren't going to get done. And I'm not suggesting that 
it's your responsibility either. Taking care of 
William while I'm gone is your job. Writing is your 
job. But the rest we need to figure out."

He nodded and retrieved the plastic keys William had 
tossed onto the floor tiles and reached to give them 
back to him, then caught Scully's raised eyebrows. He 
supposed that the kitchen floor was one of those 
places she didn't think was getting adequately 
cleaned, so he gave Will an apologetic look, then got 
up and tossed the toy into the dishwasher and dumped 
a handful of raisins on his tray as a peace offering. 
He totally sympathized with her position, although it 
was still about the cleanest place he'd ever lived by 
far. Still, he was aware that she had standards and 
was presently about one scummy shower stall away from 
saying, "What the fuck, Mulder?" 

"I'm open to ideas, Scully."

"I think we should hire someone to come in and clean 
on a weekly basis." 

And that's how they merged paths with a middle-aged 
woman named Rosalie who came on Tuesdays and Fridays 
and called him Mr. Fox. He thought about setting her 
straight, but it was hard to correct someone who 
reminded you of your Aunt Louise and who washed and 
folded your boxer shorts. She referred to Scully as 
simply "your wife" with the occasional "Dr. Scully" 
thrown in just to reinforce who wore the pants in the 
family. He didn't think she had any idea that he had 
a vocation, that he was actually writing a book all 
those hours he spent clicking away at the card table 
in the playroom. He didn't bother explaining because 
then she might want to read it. He didn't want to 
have to tell Scully that the cleaning lady quit 
because she thought he was a freak. He figured that 
would come in its own time, but why rush things?

*****************************************************


October 14, 2002



The day after he turned forty-one, he Fed Exed his 
completed manuscript to Random House, dropped William 
off at his mother-in-law's for the afternoon, and 
went home and slept for four hours. When Scully got 
home at 5:45 carting a sushi platter, he was still in 
bed and the baby was still at Maggie's.  Scully 
disrobed and slid under the comforter and on top of 
him before he was fully conscious. 

His eyes fluttered open to see her silky red crown 
against his bare chest, her manicured fingernails 
tracing shapes there. 

"This is a really nice way to wake up," he murmured, 
skating his palms up her naked hips and torso. 

"Is it done?"

"Mmm hmmm. First draft."

"I miss you," she said, shimmying her body up his far 
enough to kiss him gently on the mouth. Her hands 
were cupping his face, her thumb stroking his stubbly 
cheek. He hadn't shaved in about forty-eight hours. 

"I'm here."

"I know. You know what I mean."

And he did. The last few weeks had been tough. He had 
worked nearly around the clock, landing in bed around 
3:00 a.m. each night, only to get back up at 6:30 
with William. They hadn't made love in over a week 
and a half and the time before that had been a fast, 
middle of the night encounter when he had come to bed 
completely wired and wound tighter than a drum. He 
had coaxed her awake just enough not to feel guilty, 
then had rolled onto her for a full five minutes of 
thrusting before emptying into her with a pent-up 
groan and an apology. He knew she didn't finish, 
hadn't even gotten close and he had a fleeting 
thought about making it right before he fell fast 
asleep. Not one of his more stellar performances.

"I'm sorry, Scully. I know it's been a long few 
months. Probably not the best way to start off a 
marriage."

"S'okay." Her hair tickled his chin and her lips were 
as soft as satin against his own. "I'll let you make 
it up to me."  

"I don't want to rush, though. What time is it? I 
told your mom to bring him back at ?"

"I called her. She's keeping him overnight. You're 
picking him up after breakfast tomorrow," she smiled.

He arched two eyebrows in surprised pleasure. "That 
gives us, what, a good twelve hours? I could probably 
make it up to you at least two or three times." 

She giggled. "We have to sleep too, and eat. I 
brought home sushi."

"You know one thing about being a stay-at-home Dad? 
It makes you really good at multi-tasking. I've been 
known to balance a very wiggly toddler on one knee 
while writing a soon-to-be award winning, mostly non-
fiction book about two sexy FBI agents' exploits into 
the paranormal."

"Hmmm, intriguing. How sexy were they, these agents?"

"Him? A little awkward at times, one might even argue 
he had some social inadequacies. But he could turn on 
the charm when he wanted to. But her?" He made a 
hissing sound and shook one hand like he had just 
touched a hot stove. "She was world class. Sizzling 
hot. Left men weak in the knees and begging for 
mercy. But she was madly in love with her brilliant 
partner and only had eyes for him."

She pinched his side playfully and rolled her eyes. 
"What happened to them? Were they doomed to a life of 
desperate longing and unfulfilled romance?"

"You might think, but alas, no. They eventually got 
it together. In fact, he swept her off her feet and ?
"

"He did?" she eyed him skeptically. 

"He did. Over an evening of critically-acclaimed 
comedy entertainment and mouth-watering 
refreshments."

"You mean Caddyshack and popcorn."

"Who's telling this story?"

"Sorry. Is that when he swept her off her feet?"

"It is. For the second time, really. Or was that the 
third time?"

"It was the fourth, actually," she said.

"Well, technically, if you want to get picky, they 
probably belonged to each other much earlier than 
that, but regardless, yes she was swept off her 
feet."

Scully sighed and teased his nipple with her tongue. 
His breath caught. "Well, she was off her feet, 
that's for sure."

"And he made mad, passionate love to her," he 
growled, twisting his hand through her silky hair.

"He definitely did that." Her hand snaked between 
them to palm his erection. "Then what?" she breathed.

His breath was getting labored and he pressed himself 
into her hand. "They lived happily ever after. And he 
spent his nights satisfying her, bringing her to 
rapturous pinnacles of pleasure."

"Show me," she whispered, raising herself up before 
taking him fully inside her. 

And he did.       

*****************************************************


December 24, 2002



"The black sweater or the dark green?" Mulder stood 
in his charcoal pants and socks in front of the open 
dresser drawer. 

Scully walked out of the bathroom wearing black dress 
slacks and a bra, holding a mascara wand between the 
tips of her fingers like a lit cigarette. "The hunter 
one. It's more festive."

"What time is everybody getting here?"

"My mother, Bill, Tara and the boys? Five. Charlie 
and Michelle? Who knows. Their flight gets in at four 
fifteen and they're renting a car."

"And who are their offspring again?"

She tossed him an impatient look. "Timothy and 
Andrew."

"And Bill and Tara have Matt and-"

"Connor. He's the littlest, besides William. And then 
she's pregnant again. Five months, I think."

"Good grief. You're telling me there'll be five 
little boys under the age of eight in this house 
tonight?"

"Seven," she sighed, returning to the bathroom to 
finish her makeup. "Timmy's only seven. And speaking 
of little boys, can you please check on Will? I 
thought I heard something."

"He's only been asleep an hour, Scully. He's usually 
good for at least two in the afternoon."

"I know, but...just go look. Please. He hasn't been 
sleeping well. He has more teeth coming in."

"He naps just fine. I'm here with him every day and 
he sleeps two hours. But if you say so, Doc."

"And if he's awake, can you please put those 
corduroys with the red sweater on him that I left out 
on the changing table?"

"You mean the reindeer sweater with the sparkly pom 
pom nose on it? Way to humiliate the kid, Scully."

"My mother gave it to him. I can't not have him wear 
it for Christmas. Besides, you took him to the 
grocery store in a Yoda mask last week. I think he's 
beyond humiliation."

"He loves that mask. I made him leave the light saber 
at home, though. The last time we brought it, he 
smashed all the boxes of Honey Nut Cheerios."

"He's not even supposed to have that. It says ages 
three and up, Mulder."

"I supervise him carefully with it."

"Yes, I can see that."

Mulder finished buttoning a white shirt, then tugged 
the green sweater on over it and crossed the hall to 
the nursery. He turned the doorknob carefully and 
peered inside at the crib. No movement whatsoever. He 
eased the door closed, then went downstairs to the 
kitchen and opened the oven door to check on the 
turkey. 

He did a mental calculation to determine how many 
place settings before gathering together everything 
necessary to set the dining room table. Seven adults, 
four kids in regular chairs, and one in a high chair. 
Their table sat eight, ten if they were tight. It was 
going to be a cozy evening. As he contemplated the 
strategic placement of Scullys, spouses, and 
children, and how far away from him he could get Bill 
without it appearing obvious, his Scully breezed into 
the kitchen, heels clicking on the ceramic tile. She 
was wearing her silvery grey blouse, unbuttoned just 
far enough to distract him, but not far enough to be 
inappropriate for a family dinner. He had a pair of 
diamond and onyx earrings in a wrapped box under the 
tree for her that would go great with that blouse, 
but he'd still make her wait until tomorrow.

"You look great," he said, appreciatively.

She smiled back and self-consciously tucked her hair 
behind her ears. "Did I remember to put the sweet 
potatoes in the oven?" she asked.

"Yes. You did. Relax, Scully."

She nodded and chewed on her bottom lip. "I haven't 
seen Charlie in four years. And Bill has never met 
William. Nobody has seen our house."

He touched her elbow comfortingly. "At least we're 
married now, so we'll be spared the 'living in mortal 
sin' lecture and if I'm really lucky, Bill will only 
mention that I knocked up his little sister once or 
twice."

She huffed out a laugh and wrapped her arms around 
his waist, leaning her head against him. 

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" he 
asked, kissing the top of her hair. 

"You can cancel the whole thing and take me to bed," 
she pouted, tilting her head up for a quick kiss.

"Mmmm, unbelievably tempting. But that's a lot of 
turkey for the three of us to eat."

The door bell rang and she stepped back and smoothed 
her hands down her blouse and black pants. 

"Let's get it on, Honey," he said, grinning and 
starting for the door. 

Scully opened it and he heard her before he saw her. 
Tara, in a red pea coat hurrying up the porch steps 
with a poinsettia in her hands and making a high 
pitched sound that Mulder could only classify as 
squealing. "Merry Christmas!  Look at this place, 
it's absolutely huge. And beautiful! Ohhhhh Dana, 
it's so good to see you!"

She gave Scully a hug while trying to balance the 
plant with one hand. It started slipping and Bill 
jogged up the stairs to the front door and took it 
out of his wife's hands. Tara pulled back eventually 
and headed toward Mulder next like a Golden Retriever 
who had been shut up in the house all day. He took a 
step back. 

Bill gave his sister a stiff hug and then loped 
inside with two large shopping bags full of wrapped 
gifts and the poinsettia. 

"Mulder. Merry Christmas." It almost sounded genuine. 
He had obviously been rehearsing it. Mulder offered 
his hand and he shook it firmly like any respectable 
military man would do. 

Maggie and the kids came next, the boys toeing off 
their shoes immediately at their father's 
instruction. The eldest approached Mulder with his 
hands in his pockets.

"I'm Matt Scully," he said nervously.

"I know," replied Mulder with a smile. "I'm Fox 
Mulder. You can just call me Mulder like everybody 
else."

"Can I use your bathroom?" the boy asked, shifting 
from foot to foot. 

Mulder pointed him down the hall.

"Merry Christmas, Fox." Maggie offered him her cheek 
and two pies. "Where's my baby?" she asked Scully.

"Still napping, but it's been two hours. I think we 
should wake him, don't you?" Scully looked at Mulder 
and he knew that the 'we' meant him, so he headed 
upstairs to dress his son in a ridiculous sweater.    

When he got back downstairs holding a drowsy, 
slightly cranky William, Maggie, Bill, and Tara with 
Connor hanging off her like velcro descended upon 
them. William grabbed fistfuls of his father's 
sweater like it was a life preserver and buried his 
face in his shoulder. Mulder didn't blame him. He 
sort of wanted to hide too. 

"Oh my Goodness, look how much he's grown. Do you 
remember your cousin, William?"  Tara asked Connor. 
He stared at Mulder with his thumb plugged solidly in 
his mouth. 

"He doesn't say much," Bill said, smiling 
uncomfortably. "The doctor says it's perfectly 
normal."

Mulder nodded politely and shifted William to his 
other hip. Then he knelt down and smiled at Connor,  
silently mouthing the word "Hi." The child remained 
quiet, thumb still inserted, but he offered the 
smallest of smiles back. The strong silent type. 

"William's not allergic to anything, is he?" asked 
Tara. "Because we brought a plant, but I didn't think 
to check-"

Mulder shook his head. "No. No allergies. He might 
eat it, though. He does that with most everything. 
But don't worry, if it's really bad news, he'll just 
puke it up. No harm done." 

His sister-in-law looked at him with a slightly open 
mouth, as if he had just informed her that William 
could levitate. Mulder really wanted to be on his 
best behavior, he really did, but the Scullys just 
made it too easy not to be. 

*****************************************************


The second wave of in-laws arrived soon after with 
just as much fanfare. Charlie was different than 
Mulder expected, although he wasn't sure exactly what 
he had expected. A younger version of Bill, perhaps. 
In reality, he looked very little like his older 
brother and acted even less like him. Instead of the 
shock of red hair his siblings had, Charlie's was a 
soft blonde color and he was a good four inches 
shorter than Bill and stockier. But he had those same 
Scully baby blues. He exuded a warmth and casualness 
that appealed to Mulder and his smile lit the room up 
brighter than the Christmas tree. He strode through 
the front door with confidence and gusto and 
descended upon Scully with a hug that lifted both of 
her tiny feet off the ground. 

"You're skinny as a rail, Squirt. Go eat a freaking 
cheeseburger or something."

"That's what I keep telling her, but she eats all 
this macrobiotic crap," said Mulder stepping with an 
outstretched hand. 

"You're Mulder," the youngest Scully said, grabbing 
Mulder's hand and pulling him into a full-on, 
backslapping man hug. No, this one wasn't what Mulder 
expected at all. 

A pretty woman with shoulder length brown hair was 
struggling with a bag full of gifts through an open 
car door. Two young school-aged boys fidgeted at her 
side in matching Dodgers caps. 

"Just leave it there, Babe. I'll get everything 
later," Charlie called out. "Just come on up. Timmy 
and Drew, come and see your Aunt Dana and Uncle 
Mulder."

Uncle Mulder. Okay then. It kind of sounded like some 
condescending children's TV show host. Captain 
Kangaroo, Mister Rogers, and Uncle Mulder. 

The pretty woman climbed the porch steps and Mulder 
saw that she was even more attractive up close. She 
had soft brown eyes, a kind smile, and a smooth 
complexion of olive skin. Mediterranean maybe. She 
was shorter than Charlie, but a couple of inches 
taller than Scully and just a little plump.

This time Scully stepped forward first. "Hi, 
Michelle. It's been much too long."

"Look at you. You get more beautiful every time I see 
you. It's so good to be here," she said, hugging 
Scully and doing that little side-to-side sway that 
women do when they embrace.

"This is my" (split second hesitation) "husband, Fox 
Mulder." There ya go, Scully. Admittedly it's hard to 
rewire eight years of "partner" out of the 
vocabulary, but she was coming along.

Michelle extended a gloved hand. "Wow. I can't 
believe it's you."

Mulder quirked a questioning brow at Scully and she 
returned an equal look of confusion. "Um, in the 
flesh?" he replied, hesitantly.

She laughed. "I've heard about your work for years. 
My brother, Max, is a professor at UCLA. Psychology 
with a focus on abnormal, behavioral, and 
psychopathology. He's obsessed with the paranormal. I 
think he's seen you speak about six different times 
on panels over the years. When I told him you married 
Charlie's sister, he just about tried to zip himself 
into my luggage as a stow-away."

Mulder laughed. "I'm flattered.  I hope the uh...real 
thing isn't a disappointment."

Michelle smiled politely. "Dana mentioned that your 
new book just came out. I wondered if I might get an 
autographed copy to take back as a Christmas gift for 
him?"

"Absolutely. You can get ten. My office is stacked 
with boxes full. It won't be available for mass 
distribution until March." 

"Mulder's a weird name," said one of the pint-sized 
Dodgers fans looking up at him. 

"Andrew," his mother chastised.

Mulder gave her an "it's fine" smile and knelt to the 
boy's level. "It is. But my first name is Fox. What 
would you do?"

The kid thought for a minute. "Mulder's cool."

"Dodgers fan, huh?"

Both kids nodded. 

"They looking good this year?" asked Mulder.

This time Timmy, the older one, jumped in. "Awesome. 
Rumor is they're getting Daryle Ward from the 
Astros."

"You don't say," said Mulder. "Who they gonna trade?"

Timmy shrugged. "Dunno yet. Better not be Green, 
though."

"It won't be, don't worry. You don't hit forty-two 
home runs and get traded the following season, no 
matter how good the other picks are." Mulder ruffled 
his hair. "Dan Evans knows what he's doing with his 
team."

Both kids nodded and stared up at him like he was 
God. "Well, this is a Yankees house," Mulder said, 
trying to feign seriousness, "but since those aren't 
Red Sox hats, you're welcome to wear them. Go on in 
and find your cousins." The boys scrambled into the 
house.

Scully looked at Mulder with that contented smile of 
admiration he got when she was particularly impressed 
with him. If all he had to do was spout baseball 
stats and season predictions to gain brownie points, 
this was going to be a no-brainer. He wondered if 
Brother Bill had a favorite baseball team.

*****************************************************


An hour later, the turkey was out of the oven and 
Mulder was working on transferring it to a carving 
platter without having to completely change his 
clothes afterward. Scully walked back into the 
kitchen from points unknown and took a green salad 
that could have fed a hundred starving rabbits from 
the fridge and began dressing it.

"Who's got the Sprout?" asked Mulder.

"Bill."

Mulder gave her his best constipated look.

She smiled back. "He seems to like Bill."

"Give him time."

"Be nice," she warned.

Maggie and Michelle walked into the kitchen and began 
doing things that needed to be done without asking, 
such as slicing bread and making gravy. How did women 
just know this stuff? Mulder was always more than 
eager to help, but secretly hoped that when he 
offered, he'd be given something simple like filling 
water glasses. 

"Tara's rounding up the troops and supervising hand-
washing in the upstairs bathroom," said Maggie. 
"Where's the stuffing, Dana?"

"In a separate casserole dish in the oven."

"You don't cook it in the bird?"

"It's not sanitary to do it that way, Mom."

"We did it that way for years," Maggie said, her 
voice trailing off in a sing-song tone of mild 
disapproval. 

"You thawed meat on the kitchen counter and used the 
same cutting board for everything too."

"And you all turned out just fine." 

Scully pursed her lips and shook the bottle of salad 
dressing harder than necessary. Mulder placed his 
hand on her lower back and rubbed two reassuring 
circles of solidarity. 

Charlie strode in with a beer in his hand. "What can 
I do?"

"What do you know about wine?" asked Scully, not 
bothering to look up.

"I like it," he replied.

"Can you grab a white and a red from the wine rack 
and open them?" She gestured toward the wall rack 
near the pantry with salad tongs. "There's a bottle 
opener in the drawer above the lazy susan." 

"Look at my seeester, all domesticated," he teased. 
"You never did this shit growing up."

"I cooked. Sometimes."

"Grilled cheese and overcooked spaghetti don't 
count."

"It was really good grilled cheese."

"Missy was the cook," he said and a heavy silence 
blanketed the air. Maggie sniffed and continued 
slicing the bread. Mulder saw Michelle toss Charlie a 
sympathetic look. He rummaged through the drawer for 
the bottle opener unsuccessfully. His wife crossed 
the kitchen and reached into the drawer, retrieved it 
for him, then squeezed his bent elbow affectionately. 

Scully spoke first, which sort of surprised him, 
given her penchant for uncomfortable silences. 
"Remember those apple crunch muffins she used to 
make?" A wistful smile played on her lips. 

Charlie's face brightened. "For the love of God, they 
were incredible. She put those little chunks of fresh 
apple in them-"

"And cinnamon-" continued Scully.

"The perfect amount of cinnamon. I loved when she 
made those. I used to sneak them up to my room," said 
Charlie.

"You were the one? I thought it was Bill. I always 
got like one and then they were gone." 

"Geez. They were better than Mom's." Then he looked 
at Maggie and shrugged apologetically. 

"They were better," she agreed, smiling, and everyone 
laughed as tension evaporated like fog clearing.

Bill walked in holding the Sprout. "What's so funny?"

But the moment was gone, so nobody said anything. 
William wriggled from Bill's arms and was released 
onto the tile floor like a wind-up toy. He ran to 
Scully and thrust his pudgy little red sweater arms 
insistently in the air. "UP," he demanded. She placed 
two hands under his armpits and lifted him onto her 
hip.  

"You want me to take him?" Mulder offered.

She shook her head and pressed her mouth and nose 
against his wispy hair. "You can call everyone to the 
table, though."

*****************************************************


Dinner conversation was actually less awkward than 
Mulder would have imagined, but then again, the 
holiday dinner conversations he'd grown up with had 
consisted of quiet shuffling of food and clinking of 
silverware amidst uncomfortable throat clearing and 
annoyed sighs. Virtually any talking whatsoever was 
preferable to that. And he quickly discovered that 
the Scullys knew how to talk. Topics included Charlie 
and Michelle's ongoing home renovations, Bill's 
opinion of liberal California politics and how it 
related to his rising property taxes, what type of 
computer Maggie should invest in if she wanted it 
primarily for e-mail, and whether or not Mulder and 
Scully had given any thought to whether William would 
attend public or private school. They hadn't 
actually. And he could honestly say that Scully's 
public school education matched his expensive private 
one brain cell for brain cell, so he was pretty okay 
with whatever she wanted. But he politely tuned out 
while everyone voiced their opinions and Scully 
squeezed his knee under the table, warning him for 
the third time in as many hours to be on his best 
behavior. He was really trying because experience had 
taught him that the big rewards from Scully, more 
specifically the ones that involved nudity, were 
worth any amount of ass kissing.

"So Dana, Mom tells us that you've been teaching a 
full load of classes. And Mulder, you've been, what, 
home then, with William? That's...progressive," said 
Bill.

"Mulder wrote a book, Bill," said Scully smugly, 
taking an extra large sip of her red wine. "In fact, 
we just received a shipment of the first edition last 
week. And he has a contract for the next two with 
Random House."

Bill nodded slowly, seemingly a little surprised. 
"I'd love to read it."

"Um that might not be-" Mulder began.

"You should," interrupted Scully, stepping on his 
foot. "It's brilliant."

"It's amazing. I can't wait to read it," said 
Michelle, covering her mouth with her napkin politely 
as she swallowed her food. "I'm not surprised that 
you got published. Your work is truly 
groundbreaking,"

Yup, he liked this one. 

"It's always been a dream of mine," she continued. 
"Getting published."

"What do you write?" asked Mulder with sincere 
interest.

"Historical fiction mostly. But it's hard to find the 
time with the boys."

"Do you have anything completed?"

She placed her hand in front of her, palm down and 
made a see-saw motion with it. "Sort of. Getting 
there."

"Well, that's not really my genre, but I can give you 
the name of someone to send your manuscript to. I 
can't promise anything, but I can probably at least 
get it read for you."

"Seriously? That would be great."

Bill looked at Maggie. "Mom, you're quiet."

"It's just nice having my whole family together like 
this. It's been too long." Maggie's face had a gentle 
strength etched on it and Mulder saw Scully in 
another thirty years. 

Scully looked down at her plate and pushed the last 
bit of her turkey around with her fork. She smiled, 
but he saw loss reflected in her eyes. 

William broke the silence by squealing loudly and 
then shoveling more sweet potatoes into his mouth 
with his goop-covered, orange fingers. 

Chuckling went around the table. "He's a good eater," 
said Tara. "Connor's going through a picky phase." In 
affirmation, Connor pushed his mostly full plate away 
with a wrinkled nose and stuffed his two-year-old 
thumb into his mouth. 

"Who does William get his appetite from?" Tara asked 
with a jovial smile.

Scully looked at Mulder, then smiled and placed her 
hand on his arm affectionately.

"I guess I can take credit for that," Mulder replied, 
sheepishly.

As if in response, William patted his now empty tray 
loudly with his messy hands and belted out a liturgy 
in toddler speak. Scully put a spoonful of peas and 
more turkey, cut into tiny pieces, on his tray and 
William went back to shoveling. 

"Slow down, William," said Scully. "Eat slowly." She 
picked up his sippy cup full of milk and handed it to 
him. 

"You were very picky at that age," said Maggie toward 
Scully. 

"What about me, Mom?" asked Charlie.

"You ate everything."

"He still does," laughed Michelle.

"Too much of everything," nodded Charlie, patting his 
gently rounded stomach. "I need to take a lesson from 
Michelle. She's at the gym every day."

"Not that it does much good. Drew is almost five and 
I'm still trying to lose the last fifteen pounds from 
the pregnancy," she said, placing her napkin on the 
table and her silverware at three o'clock, as if the 
food had suddenly become less appetizing. 

"You're beautiful," Charlie said, leaning over and 
kissing her cheek. "Besides," he continued, "who says 
we've totally closed the book on trying for number 
three? In fact, we could get started right now, if 
you want. Come on, Honey, let's go." He started to 
stand and tugged on his wife's hand, jokingly.

"Charlie," Michelle warned, blushing.

Tara looked clueless while Bill suppressed the barest 
hint of amusement.

"What?" Charlie smiled. "I'm just saying. This is an 
awfully big house. I'm sure nobody would notice if we 
just disappeared for a little while. It won't take 
long, will it Honey?"

"Charlie." This time it was Maggie who spoke, 
reproachfully, but she too was biting back a smile. 

 "Ma likes lots of grandchildren, don't you, Ma?" he 
asked.

Maggie smiled at William, whose high chair sat 
between her and Scully. She helped him scoop some 
peas onto his spoon and get it most of the way to his 
eager mouth before he gave up and dropped the 
utensil, grabbing handfuls and rooting against his 
hand. "I have been blessed with five beautiful 
grandsons."

"Yeah, but admit it, Mom. You'd like a 
granddaughter."

Maggie smiled. "A granddaughter would be nice, but 
I'm happy with whatever the Lord gives me."

"Well, I'm game, but it sounds like my partner in 
crime here is throwing in the towel." He smiled at 
Michelle. "Looks like we're passing the torch. Maybe 
Bill and Tara can help you out."

"I'm working on it now," Tara said with wide, telling 
eyes and a broad smile.

Maggie's head popped up and turned quickly toward her 
daughter-in-law. "You mean you found out-"

Tara nodded, her hand swirling protectively on her 
pregnant stomach. "It's a girl. We were going to wait 
until tomorrow to surprise everyone, but this seems 
like a good time."

Maggie got up and hugged Tara, then Bill. Plenty of 
laughs and congratulatory comments circulated. Scully 
got up from her seat to go around the table and 
embrace her sister-in-law. 

Charlie slapped Bill on the back jovially. "Good job, 
Bro. I was beginning to think the Scully boys only 
shot Y chromosomes."

"CHARLIE!" Maggie, Michelle, and Scully all chorused 
at once. 

"Sorry!" he laughed loudly and Mulder couldn't help 
but shake his head and join him. He liked Charlie and 
Michelle. This was by far the most entertaining and 
fucked up holiday dinner conversation he'd had in 
years, thanks to his colorful brother-in-law. Scully 
had tried to prepare him, but he could see now that 
he hadn't fully appreciated what she meant by 
"outspoken." He found himself wishing they didn't 
live on opposite coasts because he could actually see 
himself hanging out with this guy. He might've even 
fit in with the Gunmen. Then again, that was probably 
stretching it. Byers was really the only one out of 
the three that was fit for human consumption and that 
was getting sketchier by the year. 

"Hey, you've still got Mulder and Dana, Ma. They look 
like they might be good for another," said Charlie.

"OH, are you two planning on having more?" asked 
Tara, clapping her hands in delight at the thought. 
Procreation truly excited this woman, Mulder could 
tell.

Scully's cheeks tinged pink and she cleared her 
throat. "Who would like pie?"

Mulder placed his hand over hers. "I can start 
cutting," he offered. Then he leaned in to her ear 
and whispered, "Meet me in the kitchen in five."

*****************************************************


Mulder cut generous slices of apple and cherry pie 
and put them on small plates with dessert forks 
teetering off them. He scattered the plates across 
the center island in the kitchen and went to the 
fridge in search of whipped cream. All they seemed to 
have was Redi Whip in a can and he was wondering why 
they even had that since he couldn't recall having 
eaten any of it. At least it wasn't the light stuff. 
Hot chocolate, he realized. Scully made hot chocolate 
with whipped cream and watched chick flicks on nights 
when he was writing. He squirted a dollop onto his 
index finger and sampled it. Not bad.

He squirted a second dollop onto his finger just as 
Scully walked into the kitchen. 

"How's the pie coming ?" He shoved one sticky white 
finger into her mouth. She looked surprised at first, 
then swirled her tongue around, lapping the cream off 
his digit like a kitten. "-along?" she finished. 

He grasped her hand and half-pulled, half-dragged her 
into the walk-in pantry. There were two wall switches 
for overhead lights. He flipped one on. 

"Mulder," she smiled inquisitively. "What are we 
doing in here?"

He fixated his eyes on her bottom lip where a tiny 
smudge of white cream sat waiting to be rescued. "I'm 
not sure. But I think this." He bent forward and 
kissed her, running his tongue over the errant cream 
and she giggled into his mouth. 

He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her 
flush against him. "I just needed you," he said, 
planting kisses at the corners of her mouth, on her 
chin, behind her ear.  "You want more whipped cream?" 
he murmured into her neck.

"Mmmm hmmm," she hummed, her hands gently kneading 
his back and shoulders.

He squirted his finger and held it out to her. She 
quirked one brow before snaking her tongue out and 
sucking his entire finger in, cleaning it completely. 
He was pretty sure he'd need a few minutes before he 
could walk back out into that dining room.  

She took the can from him and dispensed a peaked 
swirl onto her own finger and offered it to him. He 
took it and they went back and forth like this a few 
more times, exchanging mouthfuls. 

"Your family's crazy," he smiled. 

"I warned you."

"I love them, they're great."

"Even Bill?"

He shrugged, noncommittally. "Eh. He's growing on me. 
He has some repression issues and he thinks that 
establishing his authority in every social situation 
will reinforce his manhood, but beyond that...if he'd 
stop giving me the rabid 'you're doing my sister' 
look, I think we'd have something to build on."

"What do you think of Charlie?"

Mulder smiled. "I think.....that if he took me out 
drinking that I'd probably wake up in a dumpster in 
Columbia Heights. And it would be totally worth it."

Scully chuckled and nodded, knowingly. 

"It's a good thing he doesn't live closer because I 
have a feeling he'd coax me into exhibiting unseemly 
behavior for a forty-one-year-old man. Charlie is the 
id to my super ego."

She sighed and pecked at his lips with tender, close-
mouthed kisses. "Tara's having a girl."

"Mmmm hmmm," he said. "And?"

"And nothing. It'll just be nice to have a little 
girl in the family. That's all."

Was it? Was that all? He had wondered on more than 
one occasion if she wanted another child, but he 
didn't ask because the chances were pretty good that 
they couldn't have more even if they wanted to. 
William had been a miracle. There was unlikely to be 
another. She didn't need to be reminded of this. The 
topic had come up a year and a half ago, right after 
William was born and she had evaded the question. 
Since then they had been having unprotected sex, a 
lot of it, and nothing had happened, so he assumed 
that pretty much answered the question. He rubbed the 
small of her back reassuringly and kissed her again. 

Suddenly, a voice entered the kitchen. "Dana, we need 
five apple slices, three cherry, and Connor just 
wants a piece of cheese, if you have it." It was 
Charlie. "Dana? Mulder?" 

Scully stood frozen in place pressed against him, her 
hand over her mouth, eyes wide. Mulder smiled and 
suppressed a chuckle. Scully's eyes were drawn upward 
to the light that was on. She took her hand from her 
mouth and silently mouthed "Shit" and Mulder couldn't 
help but snicker. She swatted his arm and held her 
finger to her lips urgently. 

The pantry door flew open and Charlie stood there, 
blankly for a minute, trying to assess the situation. 
Then a grin took over his whole face. 

"Excellent!" he exclaimed. "The pantry. That's a new 
one, even for me. But I gotta tell ya, the whipped 
cream? Not very original."

"Charlie-" Scully started, her cheeks flaming red.

He started closing the door. "Don't worry, Sis. I got 
you covered." He looked at Mulder. "Carry on, Mate."

They heard the rattle of forks and plates and then 
Charlie's loud, booming voice as he carted plates 
full of dessert back into the dining room. "Who's got 
apple?"

Scully covered her face with her hands and buried it 
in Mulder's chest. "I haven't seen my brother in four 
years and he catches me making out in the closet."

Mulder snorted. "Look on the bright side. At least it 
wasn't Bill who opened the door. And there really 
wasn't all that much making out going on. But I'm 
thinking, if we've already been assumed guilty, we 
might as well enjoy the crime," he said, sliding his 
hands down to her bottom and kissing her again. 

"Mulder. There are people waiting for pie. Come on." 
She took his hand and opened the pantry door. He went 
to step out behind her, then thought better.

"Uh Scully. You go ahead and I'll catch up. I 
um...might need a minute."

She glanced down quickly and then arched her brows. 
"Right."

A few minutes later, he grabbed the remaining two 
plates of pie off the counter and strode confidently 
into the dining room. 

Charlie grinned from ear to ear at him and cocked his 
head. "Say Mulder. You wouldn't happen to have any 
whipped cream, would you? For the pie?"

"Uh, no Charlie. I think we might be out of that. 
Sorry."

Scully cut a large bite of her cherry pie with the 
edge of her fork and shoveled it into her mouth. Her 
cheeks were the color of the pie filling. 

"OHH, whipped cream," said Maggie. "I love whipped 
cream. Your father used to enjoy eating it on 
absolutely everything."

Scully's eyes grew wide and she nearly choked on the 
piece of pie in her mouth, scrambling for her glass 
of water. Mulder patted and rubbed her back.

Charlie, whose grin had now escalated into full-blown 
silent laughter, leaned over and whispered something 
in Michelle's ear. She glanced over at Mulder and 
Scully and then cleared her throat and smiled down at 
her plate. 

Even Bill, who wasn't entirely sure what was going 
on, but had picked up on some kind of subtext, let 
out a quiet snicker. 

"What?" Tara asked, visually surveying the faces 
around the table with her sweet, wide innocent smile. 

William, who had apple filling in various stages of 
mush on his tray and on his clothes, screeched 
"Piiiiiiiieeeeeeee," at the top of his lungs and then 
shoved some in his hair, for good measure. 

Everyone laughed out loud, especially Scully who 
seemed eternally grateful for the distraction. Mulder 
squeezed her knee under the table and she smiled back 
at him. She lifted her water glass again and her 
rings clinked quietly against the crystal, the 
diamond catching the glow of the candlelight with the 
movement of her strong, slim fingers. Her eyes were a 
bright cobalt blue in the soft light and Mulder 
thought that he could possibly sit and look at her 
forever. He was vaguely aware of the dull roar of 
voices and laughter that filled the room, but he 
tuned it out for a few precious seconds as he paused 
to take a mental snapshot of the moment. 

He had a family and a home and a life that he never 
in a million years thought he'd have, never thought 
he deserved and probably still didn't. Funny how it 
all worked out. He had known bizarre, dangerous, 
impossible, and macabre. He had seen the 
extraordinary, the shocking, and the unimaginable. 
But in the end, it was the simple, the normal and the 
familiar that changed his life. 

It was love.



Author's Note: More to come! This is not the end of 
the Terra Firma series. There will be more, so if you 
enjoyed this, please check back. Look for the latin 
titles. Smart is sexy!  Thank you so much for 
reading.  If you wish to send feedback, I love 
receiving it and I try to respond to each message. 
malibusunset88@gmail.com.