Title: When Pigs Fly
Author: Cheryl Cohen (Alias: The Sinker)

Summary: Mulder baby-sits some small relatives, much to his dismay, and everything that could go wrong, does go wrong...

Forward

Well, here's another one hot off the old printer... I hope people will find just a little humor in this one...so... Mulder's got himself into some *hot water* and it looks like Scully's gonna have to *bail* him out again. Poor baby just isn't prepare for *this* situation and he needs all the help he can get. Again..no copyright infringements intended, blah, blah, blah..Thanks to Billy Joel once again...the man is a constant source of inspiration.

Ah shit!" echoed through the office and into the hall as Scully opened the door and stepped through the clutter of books and papers scattered across the floor. What the hell happened here, she puzzled... poltergeists?

Hearing faint, incoherent mutterings emanating from behind Mulder's desk, she cautiously approached the source of the disturbance only to discover her normally cool and collected companion, down on all fours with his head under the desk and what she considered one of his best "assets" staring her in the face. She stood behind him, silently for several minutes, fighting temptation and watching while old magazines, hamburger wrappers, and various other unidentified objects came flying out from beneath the desk like dirt from a burrowing mole. Finally, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she spoke teasingly.

"Love the view, Mulder...don't see any panty lines, so did you forget to do the laundry again?"

Startled by her voice, he raised up suddenly and bumped his head on a drawer.

"Jesus," he winced and rubbed the back of his head as he gazed at her guiltily like a kid who just got caught with his fingers in the pudding.

"I...um...dropped something on the floor and I ...well...uh...kinda lost it."

"What is it? Maybe I can help you find it," she replied helpfully.

"Uh...no, that's ok...I'm sure it's here somewhere," he answered nervously as he ducked back under the desk.

"Mulder, are you ok? I mean this is weird behavior... even for you," she commented with growing concern.

Suddenly, a muffled sound of triumph reached her ears.

"Found it!" he shouted happily as he scooted out backward from beneath the left drawer and stood up.

"Found what?" she inquired persistently.

A piece of dust clung to his hair and dangled over his right ear. She reached up and gently swatted it to the ground, sending him into a fit of sneezing that lasted several minutes. When it was over, he smiled apologetically... "sorry," he said hoarsely as he picked up a napkin, blew his nose and tossed it into the trash can.

"Don't mention it...Now, what was it that you *found* that was *so* important?"

"Close your eyes, Dana," he said mysteriously.

"What?"

"Close you eyes," he insisted... "And don't peek."

She closed her eyes tightly and waited, wondering what the hell he could be up to this time...with him... one could never be quite certain.

His fingers lightly brushed the back of her neck, making her shiver, as a small weight bounced softly between her breasts.

"OK, you can look now."

Slowly opening her eyes, she glanced down to find a delicate crystal heart, well at least, half a heart. It caught the light and prismed it into a myriad of colors and shapes. It was both complicated and simple, yet wonderfully exquisite... ..just like him.

"Do you like it?" he asked hopefully.

"It's beautiful... but where's the other half?"

He reached down and retrieved the missing half from beneath his shirt. It wa a perfectly interlocking match to the one that she wore around her neck.

"I just wanted to give you something to let you know that I'd always be here for you, just like you were for me. Now, since we're outta here in a few minutes, I think we owe ourselves a small celebration to commemorate the destruction of Vestor Labs, don't you?"

"I thought we already celebrated that one," she replied coyly.

He blushed a deep red which is what she'd intended. For some reason she seemed to find a "flustered" Mulder extremely attractive.

"Uh...I was thinking maybe dinner and a movie or something. Of course we could always "improvise" later," he added slyly with one eyebrow raised speculatively.

"Sure, I'm game," she said with a grin. "Where are we going to eat?"

"Where ever your little heart desires," he replied in a bantering lilt.

"Money's no object, so take advantage of me while I'm feeling generous."

"How about a French restaurant?" she asked, testing his sincerity about the 'money's no object' remark.

"Didn't know you liked French food, Dana," he replied in surprise.

She gave him a side glance and crooked the corner of her mouth upward.

"I don't know if I do... I just like hearing all those waiters speak *French*."

Mulder's eyes lit up and sparkled like reflecting sunlight on rippled water as he moved slowly and gracefully in her direction.

"*French* turns you on, huh?" he whispered softly.

"Yes," she murmured seductively.

He moved even closer to her and said in a breathy tone, "Me revoici cherchant ton visage..." Taking her hand tenderly to his lips, he lowered his voice and recited as he kissed each finger, "Et je rea'lise..Que je devrais enchercher une autre...C''e' tait toi." An electric tingle shot through her body as she felt his breath on her neck while her murmured quietly into her ear, "Je sais qu' il n' y a personne...Personne qui puisse me sauver...Tu e' tais la seule."

Oh Lord, she thought, Mulder speaking "French" was just too much of an overload of the senses and she feared she would dissolve into a puddle of jello, right there on the spot.

He lifted her chin and gazed intently into her eyes.

"How was that?" he queried with a mischievous wink.

"*That* was wonderful," she sighed, "what did you say?"

"The dirty dog has warts on his ass?" he chuckled, "I haven't the foggiest idea... I don't speak French. I saw it once in a song."

"But you remembered it so beautifully." she protested.

"Dana, just because I can remember things, it does not necessarily mean that I understand everything that I remember. I could memorize verbatim every word in every medical book that you own but that doesn't make me a doctor, does it? However, give me a good book with the basics, a tape, and a couple weeks, and I'll speak fluent French just for you... OK?

Deal?"

"Deal," she laughed quietly.

"Dana, let's get out of here before I do something even more unprofessional than I already have." He picked up his trench coat and headed for the door when the phone rang.

"Don't answer it," Scully said frowning, "This late in the day, it could only be bad news and I don't want to lose my dinner date."

He stood in the doorway as the phone continued to ring and unable to resist, went back to the desk and picked up the receiver.

"Mulder"

"Carol?" he asked with surprise written all over his face. He didn't get many calls from family, especially not at work.

"Whoa, Carol, slow down and ease up on the accent... I can't understand a word you're saying... .Now, what happened?"

With her interest piqued, Dana also moved to his desk and sat on one corner as he spoke on the phone.

A shadow fell across his face and both eyebrows knitted with concern.

"What hospital did they take him to?... OK, alright... Calm down... I'm not exactly experienced at this type of thing but since you can't find anyone else, tell Catie that I'll watch em'... feelin' better? When are you leaving?... .Tonight... .Give me some time to throw some stuff together... Oh, aunt Carol...do they still have that mangy mut?... ..wonderful," he sighed... ."Tell Catie that I'll try to get there by seven... How long is everyone gonna be there?... Yeah, I know, but I only have the weekend. Send my respect and concern for grandpa MacLeod to Dame Alyse and tell her that I'll visit when I'm no longer needed at Catie's. Bye."

He hung up, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as his disappointment revealed itself in facial expression, then he reached out and carefully fingered the crystal heart that rested against Dana's chest.

"Guess, we'll have to wait for dinner and 'improvisations'," he said longingly. "Grandpa MacLeod had a coronary and everyone's headed for Boston... Catie has no one to watch the kids for the weekend, so I've been elected. Grandpa is a very important man within the clan, so it's important for everyone to be there."

She was intrigued. "If he's so important and everyone has to be there, why are they leaving you behind with the kids?"

He stared at her incredulously as if the reason should be obvious to her, then smiled wistfully and replied, "Because I'm a "Mulder" not a "MacLeod," at least as far as surnames go, so they cut me some slack."

"But isn't "Mulder" a Scottish name too?" she asked in confusion.

He laughed, "Yes and no...actually, "Mulder" is a Dutch name meaning "miller" but ever since the Scots-Dutch Brigade was formed in the 17th century, MacLeods have been inter-marrying with Mulders for the last four centuries, so I guess we can claim just as much Scottish heritage as they can... ...probably accounts for a lot of weird family aberrations... 'limited gene pool'," he snickered.

"OK, but how is Catie related?"

"God, you would ask all the simple questions. She's my cousin's wife...

He's my mom's, brother's kid... All right, let's see if I can get this right...My mom was a MacLeod who married a Mulder. Her brother married my dad's sister, so she's a Mulder---MacLeod. It gets pretty damn complicated even for me...and they're *my* family."

They gathered their things, turned out the lights, and walked through the building en route to the exit.

"How old are these kids, anyway?" she asked curiously.

He thought a moment and replied," Uh... Kaitlin's 8, Duncan's 6, and Flora's 2."

"You sure you can handle it?" she asked doubtfully as they left the building.

"No," he answered truthfully, "I'm not sure of anything but I owe it to Catie to try. I'll go and give it my best shot. Dana, are you gonna be near a phone this weekend?" He figured that he didn't want to be completely alone in this situation and admitted to himself that in spite of his outward display of calm and confidence, he was scared shitless and would have preferred to face an army of scum-sucking sewer mutants than those three demon MacLeod children and that piece of shit that passed for a dog.

"I mean just in case I need some friendly advise, moral support, or someone to send in a rescue team if I don't return in three days. It would be nice to know you'd be close by."

She caught the brief look of panic that flashed in his eyes, temporarily marring his seemingly unflappable calm.

"Do you want me to come with you?" she asked with lips pursed...ready for his reply.

He lowered his eyes and his voice, and suggestively remarked with a lop-sided grin, "every time."

She turned and playfully punched him in the arm.

"No, I don't want to bother you with this if I can help it. Believe me, Dana, you don't want to be where I'm going. Eugene Victor Tooms was a fairy queen compared to this bunch. There's no sense in screwing up your weekend too."

"Come on Mulder, they can't be that bad."

"Oh, you don't think so, huh? There was serious consideration given to changing the family motto above their door from 'Hold Fast' to 'All Hope Abandon, Ye Who Enter Here'... Why do you think she couldn't get anyone else to watch the little trolls? I'll tell ya why...Cause I'm the only one gullible enough to fall for the sob story and stupid enough to say yes."

She nodded her head in sympathy, stood on tip-toes, gently pulled him down to meet her and teasingly nibbled his bottom lip. Brushing her lips by his ear, she then murmured in a humorous lilt, "If you need to call in the calvary, let me know, Ok?... I really don't mind."

He smiled gratefully, got into his car and drove to his apartment where he threw some things into a bag, then reluctantly drove to Arlington.

Sitting in the car across from Catie's house, he tried to give himself a pep talk before venturing into the unknown. OK, Mulder, stand your ground...This is a dictatorship, not a democracy and you're word is law here (He hoped that this line worked better on these kids than it had on him). He got out of the car, made his way up the walk to the large, three-story house and rang the door bell. Waiting patiently, he heard a commotion inside as the door slowly opened, revealing a slender, attractive, woman with long, lustrous auburn hair and cool green eyes.

"Fox, I'm so grateful that you could get here so quickly," she said hurriedly as she hugged his waist and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"No problem, Catie," he lied.

She stared at him appreciatively..."God, If only I weren't married to your cousin," she commented with not quite mock disappointment.

"Alex," she called toward the staircase, "We can go, Fox is here." She took his hand and led him to the living room where she motioned for him to sit down.

"OK," she explained, "I've ordered pizza tonight so you don't have to worry about dinner, there's a stuffed chicken in the fridge for tomorrow...all you have to do is stick it in a pan and shove it in the over at 375 degrees; I left instructions. Flora's diapers are in the hall closet."

"Diapers?" he asked in surprise. "I didn't know she still wore those things." Geez, nobody said anything about diapers... ..What the hell did he know about diapers?

Catie handed him a piece of paper.

"This is the hospital phone numbers and the hotel numbers in case of emergencies."

Alex came down the stairs, suitcases in hand and set them down just long enough to slap Mulder on the back.

"Thanks for watching the monsters. We should be back late Sunday night.

Well, see ya."

'Monsters, he thought, how apropo... He speculated as to whether or not Maurice Sendak had ever met the MacLeod children for their resemblance to the creatures in the book was uncanny. He was just beginning to wonder where the little "angels" were when he heard a door slam and the thunder of little footsteps, followed by the incessant yapping of that unidentifiable life form that resembled a failed genetic experiment, come racing down the stairs. Oh shit, they were going for a frontal assault... this could get messy. Prepare yourself, Mulder and stand your ground...they're only kids... Yeah right, and Moby Dick was a fucking guppy.

First down the stairs was Kaitlin who announced with authority, "Mom lets us stay up late on weekends."

Duncan chimed in, "Yeah, we stay up and watch TV...don't ask Flora cause she don't know anything." Flora stood silently behind Duncan, holding a teddy bear, sucking her thumb, and nodding in agreement.

"*Doesn't* know anything," Mulder corrected. "And I'll be sure to keep that important piece of information in mind should I require input for making any major decisions."

"We're hungry," they all shouted irritably while stomping their feet.

Oh joy, this is going to be such fun... he contemplated suicide but was brought back to reality by that snarling little sewer-rat/dog slobbering on his pant leg and chomping on his ankle. He turned, walked toward the kitchen, dragging the little shit-dog with him and hissed through clenched teeth and under his breath, "Let go of my leg you little mutant mongrel or I swear I'm gonna stuff you in the garbage disposal and throw the switch."

Riley didn't listen to him either, so he reached down and gently pried the little mouth off of his leg, put the dog in the garage and shut the door.

Upon returning to the living room he discovered three belligerent children still waiting for an answer about dinner.

"All right guys, your mom said she ordered pizza before she left so I'm sure it'll be here any minute... "

"We're hungry NOW!" they whined.

"Look, I can't make pizza appear out of thin air." Just as the words left his mouth, the door bell rang and two large pizzas appeared. "On second thought, maybe I can," he grumbled. "I've got one cheese and one cheese, pepperoni, and onion."

Kaitlin looked at them with disgust. "I wanted cheese and pepperoni...I don't like onions."

Duncan complained that he only wanted onions and Flora dumped all the toppings off onto the table and ate the crust.

Mulder rubbed his tired eyes and tried to ignore the throbbing ache that was building up in the back of his head. He pulled the pepperoni off one pizza and threw them on the cheese pizza and gave it to Kaitlin, then the pizza that he took the pepperoni off of, he gave to Duncan. Flora... .he let Flora figure it out for herself. He stared at them with steely eyes and commanded, "Eat."

"I'm thirsty," said Duncan.

"Me too," repeated Kaitlin.

"Firsty," mumbled Flora with a giggle.

Mulder reached into a cabinet, brought out a cup for each kid and placed one with each plate.

"Here's a cup, there's a sink," he told Kaitlin and Duncan, "knock yourselves out."

Flora obviously couldn't reach the sink so he relented and poured some grape juice in a toddler cup, snapped on the lid and placed it in her outstretched hand.

"Why does she get juice and we get water?" they complained loudly.

"Because," he said with particular relish.

"Because why?" they cried.

"Just *because*." He'd waited a lifetime to use that line. The resulting smile on his face was short-lived however, when the previously unruly children before him began to giggle suspiciously.

Turning slowly, he discovered that Flora had somehow removed the spill-proof lid and had poured grape juice over her head with dribbling rivers of purple trailing down her clothes, forming dark puddles on the table and floor. Mulder raised his eyes heavenward, took a deep breath, and mentally counted to 'twenty'... .'ten' just didn't seem sufficient.

He cleaned up the mess except for the stains, removed Flora's soiled clothes and tossed them in the washing machine, adding what seemed like the correct amount of detergent before leaving and closing the laundry room door behind him.

When he got back to the kitchen with Flora, Kaitlin and Duncan were gone.

Don't panic, he told himself, then relaxed as TV noise filtered into the kitchen from the other room. Good, maybe that'll keep em' out of trouble for a little while... he hoped.

"What's that smell?" In sudden realization, he looked down at the curly haired munchkin that had attached herself to two of his fingers.

"Did you do that?" he asked raising an eyebrow. The munchkin returned his gaze with a beaming smile and nodded affirmatively.

"Potty," she giggled.

"No kidding," he gasped, wrinkling his nose. Leading her upstairs, he stopped by the hall closet and yanked a diaper out of the package... Ok, where are those wipe things? If she had em', he sure couldn't find em'.

An unconventional thought briefly crossed his mind... maybe he could just take her outside and hose her down... Nah, he was almost certain Catie wouldn't go for that approach so he fought the temptation and grabbed a wet washcloth instead.

Gently laying her in her crib, he cautiously removed the diaper.

"WHOA!... ... " he jumped back at least a foot and fought his gagging reflex.

"Lord, you're rank," he gasped, eyes watering as he took the washcloth and cleaned her up...Ah yuck,... this is really gross. "Come on, hold still,"

he pleaded as he unsuccessfully tried to get the funky tabs to stick . Finally, he took her into the garage, grabbed a roll of duck tape and gave it a turn around the diaper. "There, that ought to hold it," he said with satisfaction. Hey, ya little carpet crawler, do me a favor... .don't do this again till mommy comes home ... Ok?" She looked at him in puzzlement... "Yeah, I know... It* is* a little too much to ask. Guess I'll have to use the old Vicks under the nose trick...if it works with dead bodies, it should work with you." Flora laughed as Mulder tried to detach Riley from his leg again... ..This was gonna be a long weekend.

"Come on, Riley...get off me, ya little parasite," he grumbled as he gave him a shove and closed the door again. He strolled through the kitchen, balancing Flora on one hip while grabbing a handful of cookies on the way to the living room where world war three appeared to be erupting into a full blown battle with the victorious party in full possession of the remote control.

"It's mine...I had it first," screamed Duncan while stuffing the hardware between his back and the couch.

"Yeah, but you put it down...so it's not yours anymore, pee face," she retorted nastily. She jumped in his lap and reached behind him to retrieve the remote. Duncan cried out loud..."owww... get your knee outta my privates, donkey butt...I'm tellin.' He reached over with his free hand and pulled the hair on her arm resulting in a blood curdling scream that would wake the dead.

Hearing the unearthly cry, Mulder slid Flora to the ground and ran into the living room full throttle expecting to find death, destruction and all out Armageddon.

"What happened?" he yelled, panting.

"Butt wipe, pulled my hair," Kaitlin bawled in great sobs. "And he won't give back the remote."

Duncan stood up and threw the remote on the coffee table and jumped up and down. "I had it first and I'm watching Power Rangers."

"Power Rangers are stupid, ya little dweeb... gimme the remote."

Mulder stood in the middle of the room, head throbbing, eyes aching and wondering how much it would cost two put a contract out on these two... ... hell, he'd even pay extra if they'd include the mut in the garage. Ok, all right... can't have em' killed...maybe a little misdirection might work. He looked from kid to kid, bit his lower lip, and ventured in an upbeat voice, "Hey, how about dessert?"

"Yeah!!!" all three voices chirped in unison.

"What do we get?" asked Kaitlin.

"Yeah, what?" repeated Duncan.

"Cake," squealed Flora, grabbing Mulder's fingers again.

"No, donuts," argued Duncan.

Kaitlin opened her mouth but Mulder cut her off.

"Guests, always decide... I'm the guest, so it's my call. Any comments?"

he asked, giving them all the sternest look that he could manage. No one made a sound. "Good, follow me into the kitchen and I'll see what I can find."

They trailed behind as he walked into the kitchen and were incredibly quiet as he searched the cabinets, the refrigerator, and finally the freezer for the elusive "dessert".

"Bingo!" he shouted as he spied the 3 gallon container of ice cream perched precariously on the middle shelf. He brought it out plopped it on the table and asked the kids for bowls. Nobody knew anything about bowls and he couldn't find any... maybe they were all dirty. He checked the dishwasher and found it loaded with dirty dishes, mainly bowls. Well, damn, he wasn't gonna do them by hand...not for this bunch. He turned the dishwasher on and inquired about spoons. Eureka! Spoons were no problem.

He opened the ice cream container and gave each kid a spoon while each kid gave him a puzzled look which he returned with one raised eyebrow.

"Well, what are ya waiting for? Dig in," he quipped with child-like glee. In a flurry of flying spoons, ice cream disappeared at warp speed and when they were finished, nothing remained save the label on the lid... .Hey, maybe cousin Fox wasn't such a bad guy after all...then again maybe he was, for after they were through, he made them put on pajamas and go to bed. At least that's where he thought they were.

He dragged his ass downstairs, turned on the TV, collapsed on the couch, and drifted mercifully off to sleep. Wait... .something's not right, his subconscious mind warned him. He felt himself floating toward consciousness with an anxious uneasy feeling that had become second nature to his type of work. He opened his eyes slowly to find himself looking down the barrel of his Glock.

"Bang, bang!!!" shouted Duncan with enthusiasm. "Bang! Bang! You're dead," he laughed playfully.

Oh fuck, Mulder's mind seized and his voice choked in his throat as realization of his situation flooded his brain and bodily functions threatened to embarrass him. He regained some composure and spoke very slowly and calmly while trying not to make any sudden moves.

"Duncan... ..."

"Bang! Fox!!" Duncan repeated.

"Duncan... " Mulder said with louder intensity. "Listen to me... "

"But I want to play." he retorted.

"Duncan, point the gun toward the floor...do you hear me? Point it toward the floor... NOW."

Something in Mulder's voice reached him and he reluctantly obeyed as Mulder quickly reached out and grabbed the boy's wrist and then the weapon. He immediately flicked on the safety, dropped the magazine into his hand, and ejected the chambered round...only then did he manage to breathe again. How in the hell did the kid get it off of him without his knowledge? He'd always been a light sleeper, but tonight he'd evidently been dead to the world, almost literally, he shuddered. Jesus, maybe the way to get rid of insomnia was to chase after three kids all night... he'd rather have the insomnia. He looked Duncan in the eye and lectured sternly, "Never, ever, mess with guns. Do you understand ? If you find one, don't pick it up, don't play with it, don't even touch it. Duncan, this is very important...ok?"

"OK, do I have to go back to bed now?"

"Yeah, I think that would be a good idea. Come on, I'll tuck you in."

He hated to admit it but Dana was right...maybe this was just a little bit more than he could handle on his own and he needed back-up in a major way.

It was 11:30...maybe she'd still be up.. he didn't want to bother her but he knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep tonight after the fiasco with Ducan so he picked up the phone and punched in her number. Her phone rang three times and he was getting ready to hang up when a groggy voice answered, "Scully."

He waited a second cause he wasn't certain how to approach the subject, then just blurted out,

"Scully, it's me."

"How did I know that," she replied facetiously. "You ok, Mulder? Your voice sounds a little shaky... what's wrong?"

"Never mind, I shouldn't have woke you up...sorry... .I'll...um...talk to you later."

"NO, wait a minute, don't hang up. You wouldn't have called me, if you didn't think it was important. Now, what's up?"

He sighed dejectedly, "I think I'm in over my head here, Dana... I'm goin'

down fast and there's not a life-jacket in sight." He related the evening's events to her, ending up with narrowly being shot in the head by a six year old and she listened to him quietly, then commented with a soft chuckle, "You think you can hang on until morning?"

"By my fingertips," he replied tiredly.

"You're too easy on them, Mulder. You've got a soft spot for kids, even rotten ones, and they know it and take advantage... .you need someone tough to help you out."

"Dana, you're not that tough...in fact I always thought you were really quite "soft".

"I was speaking in terms of discipline and attitude...not skin texture."

"Oh... . sometimes I get confused... .I'm tired and my mind wanders...

geez, I'm thinking carnal thoughts... . sometimes photographic memory sucks... think I'll go take a cold shower."

"Cool down and try and get some sleep...I'll be over in the morning."

He leaned back on the couch, took a deep breath and expelled it explosively... just talking to her made him feel better. Everything was gonna be all right, now, he told himself with renewed conviction as he stared down at his disassembled Glock. Well, that wouldn't do...with his luck they'd probably figure out how to put the damn thing back together and shoot his nuts off... he grimaced at the thought. After all those idiotic robot thing-a-ma-jigs were more complicated than his Glock.

He reassembled the weapon, held it, felt it's weight and balance in his hand and marveled at how stupid he'd been to even bring it in the house.

What the hell was he thinking? He hadn't been thinking... that was the problem. Children had never entered into the equation before and he just wasn't in the habit of altering his routine or thinking processes to accommodate them so he'd have to make some serious adjustments and attempt to be a little more responsible as far as they were concerned.

With weapon in hand, he got up, walked with bare feet to the front door and stepped outside. God, it was cold, he thought absently as he ran across the street to his car, quietly opened the door and locked the Glock safely inside the glove compartment. Relieved, he started back up the walkway and jumped, sending his keys flying into the grass, as he was suddenly and thoroughly bombarded with water from the automatic sprinkler system.

"Shit," he grumbled, "What else could possibly go wrong?" he muttered as he ran to the door and grasped the knob that wouldn't turn. "You had to ask," he sighed. Standing with his hand still on the doorknob, he leaned forward and banged his head lightly on the door several times for not only was he tired, wet, and cold, ... he was also locked out of the house *and* the car.

OK, Mulder, don't panic... you've spent your life breaking into places...it's a residence for Christ sakes... there's got to be another way in. Slowly and methodically, he tried the locks on the doors and windows without success. Evidently cousin Alex had installed "quality"

locks. "Bastard," he whispered for the umpteenth time as he trained his eyes upward and beheld the open bathroom window on the second floor. If he could climb the tree on the side of the house to the roof, scramble over above the window, he could lower himself through it... no problem.

Save the splinters that he was getting in his feet, climbing the tree was easier than he had thought it would be. It was somehow gratifying to discover that he could still do it. Crossing the high pitched slant of the roof was another story, however, since his ever quality-conscious cousin had also opted for ceramic tiles instead of tar shingles..."Bastard," he whispered yet again under his breath as he stepped carefully over the bathroom window... .almost there. Squatting down, he reached out to grab the overhang when his foot slipped and sent him sliding pell mell down the incline toward the tree at the corner.

"Oh, shiiiit...he yelped as tree limbs snapped beneath him and branches smacked him in the face before he awkwardly impacted the ground with a thud. Sitting up slowly, he was amazed to find that he was still alive and relatively in one piece, except for the throbbing ache in his right ankle and the probable bruises he could almost feel discoloring as he sat there under the wounded tree.

He rose stiffly and limped to the front porch swing where he lowered himself in slow motion to a seated position, pulled his knees up under his chin and accepted defeat with dignity.

He was awakened the next morning by the creaking of the front door and opened his eyes to the inquisitive stare of mischievous green eyes beneath a thick unruly mass of auburn hair.

"Whatcha doin' out here, cousin Fox?" Kaitlin asked curiously. "It's cold."

"Lookin' for rabbit tracks," he replied facetiously, teeth chattering.

"You're turnin' blue like a big Smurf," she giggled. "Does that only happen when you look for 'rabbit tracks ?"

"Only when it's cold... "

"When are you gonna make breakfast? We're hungry," she whined.

"Right now Kaitlin, and whatever you do, don't shut the door... "

He lifted himself from the swing with effort and hobbled inside the house.

Oh God, it was warm and he felt great until the feeling began returning to his body. He removed his torn shirt and replaced it with one of his cousin's that he found lying over a chair.

He forced himself out into the kitchen to meet his destiny and asked the three little piranhas what they wanted. Flora just wanted cereal... bless her...he was beginning to love this kid... he could handle cereal. He'd have some too. He got two bowls from the dishwasher, set them on the table, filled them full of Cheerios, and a dash of sugar, and as he turned to the fridge to get the milk, Duncan placed a bowl of Riley's dry dog food on the table and hid the bowl of Cheerios behind his back. Mulder turned around, poured the milk in the bowls, gave Flora hers and took a spoonful of his. An expression of subdued surprise spread across his face. He may have been brain-dead this morning but he "knew" what Cheerios tasted like and this wasn't them. Ok, if his memory was accurate and he had no doubts that it was, he'd seen this stuff in the garage next to the dog biscuits yesterday. All right you little terds... .he pondered as he crunched loudly. He'd be damned if he'd give them the satisfaction of seeing him spit this shit out so he smiled and commented nonchalantly, "Hey, this stuff's not half bad." In reality he'd eaten worse things in his life, although right now...he couldn't remember when. He made it a point to look Duncan directly in the eye as he advised him, "Tell Riley thanks for sharing his breakfast with me...ya wanna try some?" They all shook their heads no and asked for scrambled eggs and hash browns instead.

They *would* ask for something that required cooking. Oh well, it couldn't be that difficult... .he whipped up the eggs and threw them in a skillet...that was easy enough. Then he heated up some oil in a fry pan, went to the freezer to get the potatoes and turned around just in time to see fire explode from the pan and streak up toward the cabinets. Jesus Christ, Catie would freak if her cabinets got singed so he picked up the pan to put it in the sink. The fire flared again, however, causing him to drop the pan on the floor, melting the vinyl and burning his big toe in the process. Shit, he thought desperately as he picked it up once more and finally dropped it in the sink where the fire blew up and caught the window curtains in a blaze of red heat. That's it... he ran to the laundry room to get the fire extinguisher but when he opened the door, a tidal wave poured over his head and flooded the kitchen in three feet of sudsy water.

Grabbing the fire extinguisher with one hand and Flora, who seemed to appear from nowhere, with the other, he sprayed the blaze and set Flora up on the counter, away from the water. What the hell happened? A pipe must have broken during the night or something... He made his way back to the laundry room to try and find a shut off valve but everything was underwater.

"Duncan," he yelled, "If you have a diving mask or goggles, I need them NOW!"

Duncan waded through, what was for him, waist high water and pointed to a mask hanging on a hook over the dryer. Mulder grabbed it and ducked under the water three times before locating and turning off the valve. He waded back into the kitchen with Duncan in tow as Kaitlin began laughing and splashing him with water. Duncan in turn, splashed her and Mulder gave up and splashed them both as Flora clapped happily from the counter top.

Dana pulled up behind Mulder's car, parked, got out and went to the front door. She rang the doorbell, waited for several minutes and when no one answered, tried the door. Finding it unlocked, she walked inside.

"Mulder!" she yelled. "Mulder... Is anybody here?" She walked cautiously toward the back of the house where she could hear some sort of commotion ensuing, then stopped suddenly at the kitchen doorway stunned by utter disbelief. Not in her wildest imagination could she have dreamed up the scene that unfolded before her eyes.

One small child sat on a countertop with an overturned cereal bowl neatly placed on top of her head while two other children played in about three feet of water that covered the kitchen floor. But that was not what dumbfounded her the most... What left her speechless was the sight of her partner, friend, and intimate companion perched precariously atop the kitchen table in a high kneeling position with an egg turner raised high above his head like a sword. A diving mask dangled loosely around his neck while he shouted in commanding tones, " Northeaster's blowin'...lower the main sail...we're takin' on water and goin' down fast... ..May Day, May Day... Attention all hands, man the lifeboats... Abandon ship!!!!!"

Kaitlin howled with laughter, "but cousin Fox, what about you?"

"Hey, I'm the captain... captain always goes down with the ship.

Arrrrrrg," he gurgled as he slid off the table and into the water with the egg turner being the last visible thing to be seen before disappearing beneath the surface. He popped up again about thirty seconds later and shouted at them, "Come on guys, grab a bowl and start bailing this place out or you're mom gonna have us all keel hauled." As he opened the back door to let the river of water spill out onto the back porch, he noticed Dana standing silently in the doorway with a look of smug amusement written legibly on her face. They all followed his gaze and squealed in unison, "Who's that?"

"The cavalry." He took a quick look around and revised, "I mean ... the coast guard."

Dana stood at the door several minutes just staring. There he stood, knee deep in soapy water, bailing out the kitchen with a Kool-aide pitcher as white foam slid down the side of his face and dripped off the end of his nose. How did she ever get 'involved' with this man? Her life had always been neat, orderly, and predictable and she'd always thought that's what she'd wanted...until she'd met *him*. For over a year she'd done her best to defend him against superiors and colleagues by trying to explain that "Spooky" Mulder wasn't crazy... a bit eccentric perhaps, but not "crazy".

She'd finally come to the conclusion about half-way through their partnership that he was in fact a lunatic in many ways... brilliant--but crazy as a bed bug and she'd also decided at the same time that she *enjoyed* his sometimes bizarre, fractured point of view and wouldn't want him any other way. He was certifiably "nuts" and she loved him, whether it was in spite of this fact or because of it, she wasn't quite certain... but it was a fact. Life with Mulder was never "predictable,"

seldom boring, and always a "challenge." He continually pushed her to the limits of her *own* sanity.

"Dana?" he ventured cautiously.

She started at the sound of her name and returned from her musings to focus on his face and the fiasco at hand.

"We uh... ...had a 'little' accident," he said with exaggerated innocence.

"Little?" she asked wryly. "I 'd hate to see a *big* one."

She rolled up her pant legs, took off her shoes and waded into the melee.

It took all morning to clean up the mess even with the help of a shop-vac and numerous mops and buckets but they managed to be done by lunch. *She* made lunch... .bologna sandwiches.

Kaitlin looked at the sandwiches with loathing and whined, "I don't like bologna...I want ham."

Duncan grumbled, "I want turkey."

Flora just giggled and ate the bologna and left the bread on the table.

Mulder winced and got that 'uh oh' look on his face for he *knew* what the tight lip and raised eyebrow meant and if these kids had any brains at all, they'd shut up and make a hasty retreat... .but hey, he'd forgotten...kids were brain damaged and after what they put him through, he couldn't help but feel they were about to get what they deserved.

Dana glared at the little "darlings" through slitted eyes and replied in her "no nonsense," your ass is mine, voice. "Listen up. I made bologna... you either eat it or not, but I'm telling you right now that I am *NOT* making anything else and as a reminder, you might try and remember that dinner isn't until 6:00... ...so if you get hungry before then... ...tough luck."

Just then a round of barking filtered in through the garage door.

"What's that?" she asked.

Mulder stared apprehensively at the door. "*That* is the MacLeod's answer to Cujo," he replied disdainfully.

"He's hungry too," said Kaitlin.

"Yeah, Fox ate his food," wailed Duncan.

She questioned Mulder with her eyes.

He shrugged his shoulders sheepishly and said with a grin, "it wasn't intentional."

Flora ran over to the garage door... ..

Mulder yelled, "Don't open the d... ...oor."

Too late. The door flew open and Riley barreled out, immediately found Mulder and sank his pointy little teeth into Mulder's swollen ankle.

"Owww," he yelped in pain.

Dana took one look, pried the little dog off his leg, picked it up by the scruff of its neck and held it in front of her face. "Now listen, you little pain in the ass," she hissed, "you bite him one more time and I'm gonna remove all of your teeth... I'm a doctor, I can do it... you got that?" She dropped the dog non to gently to the floor where the petrified pooch left a puddle and ran away with his tail between his leg to hide under a chair in the corner of the room.

She looked at Duncan and ordered, "feed him," and Duncan dutifully complied.

Mulder glanced from the kids to the dog and back again and smiled. Jesus, she was good at this... he was impressed. He was also still in damp clothes. In fact, he hadn't been completely "dry" since before the sprinkler incident.

Dana gathered the children into the hallway and instructed with deliberate authority, "You have three choices. "You can go in the living room and watch TV, go out in the back yard and play, or go to your rooms. If I hear any arguing, bickering, or fighting, *everybody* , without exception will go to their rooms for the rest of the day. Is that understood?"

They all quietly shook their heads yes and headed for the living room.

"That's amazing," he praised her in awe.

She tilted her head slightly to one side and replied with a smirk, "Not really, I've just had more practice at it than you...that's all."

"Ya think so?" he asked doubtfully.

"yeah."

"I think I'm gonna go upstairs, take a nice hot shower and put on some dry clothes," he whispered raggedly while stifling a cough and limping toward the stairs. At the foot of the staircase, he looked up then down at his ankle and commented, "well, maybe not."

She came up from behind, place his arm around her shoulders and supported part of his weight.

"Come on, I'll help you... by the way, how did you do that to your ankle?"

"I'll tell you... after I've had the shower," he smiled as she assisted him up the last step and into the bathroom.

"I'll go get you a towel."

"Thanks," he murmured gratefully. He pulled off his damp clothes, got in the shower and turned on the hot water. "OW...damn it," he cried out in pain as the hot water stung the scratches on his back.

Dana ran back in with the towel upon hearing his cry, slid the shower door open a crack and peeked in.

"Are you ok?... .My God, what happened to your back?"

"I fell," he gasped slightly.

"From what? A moving train?"

"No, the roof... .can we talk about this when I get out? I can't hear you with the water running."

She gently closed the shower door, went into the bedroom and waited patiently. He emerged about ten minutes later, securely wrapped in a fluffy white towel.

"Ok, what were you doing on the roof?"

He lowered his head in embarrassment. "Trying to get into the house. I got locked out."

"Why didn't you get one of the kids to let you in?"

"Hell, Dana, I'm not sure that it wasn't one of them who locked it and it was after midnight... they were probably asleep."

"Is that how you sprained your ankle... falling off the roof?"

"Not exactly, I got most of it falling out of the tree."

"The tree? Wait a minute...you fell off the roof but got hurt falling >from a tree... Mulder, why were you in a tree?"

"Actually, I fell from the roof into the tree and then sort of 'dropped like a rock'"

Kaitlin said she found you asleep on the porch...why didn't you sleep in the car if you couldn't get into the house? At least it would have been warmer."

"I lost the keys in the grass when the sprinkler system sprayed me."

"You were *wet* and sleeping on the porch in the middle of November?

Mulder, you're sick... .in the head. Do you have a death wish or something?"

"All right, how did you burn your toe?"

"trying to make breakfast," he mumbled.

That must have been before the flood in the kitchen?"

"Yeah, I melted the floor and burned up the curtains... .Oh man, Catie's gonna kill me if I don't do it first... ."

She brushed the wet hair back away from his forehead and gently pushed his shoulders down to the bed.

"Lie on you stomach and let me take a look," she said with concern. He languidly rolled over without protest and silently endured her gentle probing, flinching occasionally when she touched a particularly sore spot.

"Well," she said in a professional tone, "You've got some pretty nasty scratches and some are fairly deep but I'd say it's nothing serious. I bet they smart, though."

"That's an understatement," he slurred into the pillow.

"Just stay her and don't move and I'll find some antibiotic cream to put on it."

"I don't know if she has any," he replied.

"She has kids...she has antibiotic cream. They go together, Mulder."

"Oh."

Dana returned about ten minutes later to find him snoring softly. It was just as well...this would've hurt. She spread the cream over the scratches and he twitched and moaned occasionally under her tender ministrations but remained asleep throughout the procedure. She covered his half naked body with a sheet and went downstairs to check on the kids.

They were all sitting indian style around the TV set so totally engrossed that they didn't even hear her enter the room and it didn't take her longer than a couple of minutes to figure out why. She reached over and turned the set off post haste and without preamble which resulted in a volley of unhappy complaints from the young audience seated on the floor.

She pulled herself up to her full 5 foot 2 inches, placed one hand on her hip and tapped one foot impatiently.

"I don't think "Pet Cemetery" is appropriate viewing for young children,"

she commented judiciously.

"Mom lets us watch that kind of stuff all the time," cried Kaitlin.

"Yeah, we saw 'Alien 3' last week...it was cool," remarked Duncan.

"Cool," echoed Flora.

"Well, you're not watching it as long as I'm here," countered Scully.

"Where's Fox?" whined Duncan.

"He's taking a nap... ..and you leave him alone."

"Grown-ups don't take naps," Duncan informed her.

"Who said Fox was 'grown up'?" Scully pointed out.

"You're a lot meaner than he is," Kaitlin observed with a pout.

"No, I'm not... he just hasn't learned how to treat you guys yet. Now why don't you all go out in the back yard and play while it's still nice out?"

Figuring that they weren't going to get anywhere with her, they reluctantly filed out the back door and she went back upstairs.

She seated herself in the chair by the window in his room, enabling her to keep vigilance over both Mulder and the children playing in the yard below.

An hour passed and Mulder awoke temporarily disoriented, his face damp >from the drool on his pillow. Geez, this was one time he was grateful he'd slept alone. Stifling another cough, he snatched a kleenex from the box on the night stand and blew his nose. Great, that's all he needed, on top of everything else... .a cold. He rolled over, pulled off the sheet, and sat momentarily on the edge of the bed before getting up, dropping the towel on the floor, and crossing the room to the dresser.

She watched in silence as he pulled out a fresh set of clothes and began dressing himself. He had what she considered a beautiful body even when it was marred by scratches, scrapes, and bruises... she wished he'd be more careful. His long, lean, form was taught and sleek and held an aura of restrained power like a stalking panther. She found the ripple of muscle beneath flesh fascinating on a technical level and seductively hypnotic on a personal one. As a pathologist, she'd seen hundreds of naked, human bodies but there was a huge difference between the cold shells that she examined and the warm, living being she'd just admired >from her chair by the window. *This* body was one with which she was intimately familiar...every mole, freckle, and scar, each detail committed to memory. *This* body was a conduit for the heart, mind, and soul of a being called Fox Mulder, who had joined with her in a physical and spiritual expression of hope, fear, joy, and love. Sometimes it was just a pleasure to watch him... ..

"You feeling any better?" she finally asked.

Startled, he jumped and turned suddenly. She'd been so quiet that he'd never even noticed her sitting there.

"How long have you been here?" he asked with surprise creeping into his voice.

"Long enough," she replied with a twinkle in her eye. "I like to watch,"

she said laughingly.

"Wish I'd known," he said with a wide grin, "I would've taken my time.

Dana, what time is it? I don't seem to be able to find my watch."

"Four-thiry."

"Christ, I've gotta throw the chicken in a pan and stick it in the oven.

Catie left instructions."

"Do you want me to do it?" she offered.

"No, I can do this... .I *can* do this," he repeated in a litany as if to try and convince himself of the validity of the statement.

She helped him back down the stairs then went out on the back porch to make sure the three little imps hadn't killed each other or turned the back yard into a wasteland.

He went purposely into the kitchen, grabbed Catie's instructions off the refrigerator and made a conscious effort to follow them to the letter.

OK, get a baking dish---he pulled out a glass baking dish and set it on the counter... .no problem. 2. Get stuffed chicken out of fridge and place it in dish... .he walked over to the fridge, extracted the bird, and plopped it in the dish... .done. 3. Turn oven on to 375 degrees... .OK.

4. Place chicken in oven and bake for thirty minutes... ..He removed the middle rack, set the chicken in the oven and closed the door... "I did it," he said with satisfaction as he set the timer for 30 minutes. 5.

Add one half cup of water and continue cooking for fourty-five more minutes... .he could do that.

He wiped his hands on a dish towel and joined Dana on the back porch until the timer called him back inside.

She was watching the children play tag when she heard the explosion and the shattering glass. Running inside, she stopped short... tiny glass fragments covered the floor and chicken parts were stuck to everything, including the ceiling. In the middle of it all sat Fox Mulder, laughing hysterically, with tears streaming down his face... she wasn't sure if he was laughing or crying and at the moment she wasn't sure he knew either.

"I added the water," he choked, trying to catch his breath. " Dinner's served," he gasped in an effort to regain control of his voice as he took one finger and scraped off a glob of stuffing that had stuck to his shirt and flicked it to the floor. Taking a deep breath, he gazed at her, doe eyed.

"I have a half dozen degrees from several reputable universities, the last one being one of the most respected institutions of learning in the world... ...Why can't I even cook a fucking chicken? Dana, if I ever even look like I'm gonna cook anything more complicated than "Cup o Soup"

or "Bagel Bites," just take out my fucking gun and shoot me in the head.

It'd be faster, neater, and a lot less painful."

She stared at him, lips quivering and finally unable to hold back any longer burst out laughing.

"Are you hurt anywhere?'

"Mostly, my pride..."

"You sure you don't have any glass splinters anywhere?"

"I may have some," he said ruefully, "But they're not in any place that I can reach... ..heh, heh, heh,heh... ."

She walked carefully across the kitchen floor, glass crunching beneath her shoes as she grasped the broom and dust pan and began clearing a path from Mulder to the back door.

"Just don't move, Ok?" she ordered, glancing at his bare feet.

He nodded obediently, slumped and pressed his face in his hands. Feeling her light touch on his shoulder, he looked up, took her outstretched hand, and very carefully rose to his feet as she brushed small glass fragments off his butt with the broom. The heavy denim material seemed to have prevented most of it from penetrating, however, she'd have to check later and make sure, she thought, smiling.

Finally making his way to the doorway, he waited until she'd cleared the debri from the floor before he took the wet cloth and began cleaning the remaining chicken goop and goo from the walls, ceiling, cabinets, and every other inconvenient location that got slimed. Dana went to the phone and called for Chinese take-out... .luckily they delivered, for she was afraid to leave him alone to cope with the terrible two (and a half) after this botched up disaster.

The sky began to turn dark and ominous along the western horizon so Dana called the kids inside and instructed them to take their showers before the storm arrived. Mulder sat at the dining room table and rested his head on folded arms as Dana answered the door, paid for the take out and set the containers out on the counter.

"Cousin Fox, cousin Fox," screamed Kaitlin as she ran into the room, water dripping from her towel-wrapped body.

"What now?" he closed his eyes, bit his bottom lip and hung his head down slightly... he really didn't want to know.

"The toilet water is all over the floor," she cried excitedly.

"What is it with this place and plumbing?" he moaned as he and Dana followed her to the bathroom. Sure enough, the floor was flooded and the water that seeped into the hallway squished beneath the carpet under their feet.

Flora met them at the door and tugged on Mulder's shirt-tail until he squatted down to her level. She pointed and whimpered sadly, "Toilet ate Beasley." Mulder, patted her head in a comforting manner as she gazed at him with soulful eyes and a quivering pout. He shot Dana a half-smile and said, "Please tell me there are some rubber gloves around here somewhere."

She looked in the closet, drawers and then under the sink.

"You lucked out, Mulder," she laughed, producing a pair of gloves.

"Oh *finally,* my luck is changing," he responded sarcastically.

He rolled up his sleeves, put on the gloves, then thrust his hand through the water to grab the offending "clog" and pulled... .damn thing won't budge... gotta start working out again, Mulder... .It's getting pretty sad when the day comes that you can't pull a goddamn teddy from the toilet.

Try again... this time with with both hands. He grasped Beasley with both hands, braced himself, and gave one giant yank... Beasley broke free with a loud pop and Mulder fell backward and bumped his head on the towel rack.

The suspected culprit was indeed a small water-logged stuffed bear.

Flora clapped her hands with joy, hugged Mulder's neck and planted a big wet kiss on his cheek.

"Beasley's gonna need a real good bath before you can play with him again, ok?"

"OK," she smiled.

"Oh,... ..Flora, the toilet is *not* a whirlpool spa for vacationing bears... as you can see it was really dangerous for him, so don't let him swim in there any more."

She shook her head no, emphatically and ran down the hall...laughing.

Scully looked at him and winked... "Ya did good, Mulder."

"Yeah, right...Fox Mulder, FBI Special Agent in charge of 'small children'

and 'flushed teddies,'" he sighed tiredly.

"Dinner's here," he yelled at no one in particular, "let's eat."

Amazingly enough, dinner seemed to go by without incident... thank God for small favors, Scully prayed, silently.

The wind was picking up outside as they settled down in the living room to watch a movie. She found "Aladdin" amusing but Mulder was totally in his element and nearly had a hemorrhage when the genie did his "Circus Bit."

They were at the part where the genie turned into a bee when the lightning struck and the electricity went out. Darkness fell upon them within the wink of an eye and the children screamed and huddle close to Mulder and Dana who'd been sitting on the couch. He'd never get them to sleep this way... .not with the storm raging outside and the lack of lights inside.

Maybe a story...

"Has your dad ever told you the story of the family MacLeod?" he asked them.

"No," they said in unison. Hmm, Alex is shirking his duties...

"Well, I guess you're in for a treat then... "

Even though Dana couldn't see his face clearly in the dark, she could almost hear the smile in his voice. He began to speak softly in the rich Scottish brogue that she'd heard his aunt Carol use.

"Aye, ye naer be hearin' the yaern of the clan MacLeod? I'll be tellin' ye now as twas told to me.

Ye hielands an ye lawlands, an whaun hae ye been all once be ruled by Olaf the Black, King of Man and the North Isle, the Isles of Lewes and Glenelg, includin' the Isle of Skye.

Twas a clan of great powr ownin' much property an chattel...befriended by maust, yet envied by many. The many bein' by name...the clan of MacKenzie and McDonald. King Olaf ruled the Hebrides with justice an compassion with his beloved waife Queen Catherine of Skye... ... ...

There in the dark, he painted with his words a tale of family history. A saga of clan intrigue, forbidden passions, and evil deeds...of love and war...courage and cowardice. It was an intricately rich tapestry woven with heroes and legends in a time of wonder when all things were possible.

She felt herself being drawn in and held captive in the world that he created with the lilt of his soft Scottish brogue.

"These be the words of Prince Angus of Lewes... "

"This I beheld--

There spent a cloud of dust along a barren plain an beneath thot cloud or in it, a furious battle raged and men's sword's shocked upon swords and sheilds. Prince Aine"s banner wavered then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. A craven McKenzie hung along the battle's edge and thought: Had I a sword of keener steel...thot blue-blade thot the king's son bears...but this blunt thing...He snapped an flung it from his hand and lowering, crept away an left the field. Then came naer, Prince Aine, wounded, with naer weapon nor sword and saw the brokin' sword hilt burried in the dry-trodden sand...ran an snatched it up an with battle shout, lifted afresh, hued his enemy down an saved a great cause in thot heroic day... .." He finished the story with a flurrish and Dana had discovered that he'd had her rapt attention throughout the whole account and that the children had been sufficiently mesmerized to the extent that they entirely forgot about the storm. Their eyes drooped dreamily, so far as she could see with the light from the flashlight that Mulder had produced >from the end table drawer. He gave her the flashlight, tenderly lifted and cradled Flora in his arms as he carefully climbed the stairs and placed her ever so gently into her crib. The same procedure was repeated with equal care with the two remaining children until Dana and he were alone in the hallway. He looked down at her and smiled wistfully.

"Everyone's safe, everyone's happy... all is right with the world."

She grinned, pulled him down and caressed his lips unhurriedly.

"You could do that all night and I wouldn't complain... but I've got a cold, he sniffled.

"I know... .Like you always said, anything worth having is worth sharing."

"Did I say that?"

"Yes."

"God, am I witty or what?"

"Mostly, ...or what," she stated and knuckled him lightly in the chest.

"Oh, my poor suffering ego," he said, with one corner of his mouth quirked up as the corners of his eyes creased in amusement. "Right now, I'm too damn beat to do anything that would require endurance or stamina," he mumbled quietly as he twisted a strand of her hair with his fingers. He gazed at her with an almost embarrassed shyness. "Could you just... hold me?" he asked almost timidly.

Her eyes shone brightly even in the dimness. "For as long as you want,"

she whispered, slipping her arms around him and holding him close. He returned her embrace possessively and felt warm and complete. Though his body ached and his mind cried out with fatigue, his heart was content and his spirit soared...he was one with her and she with him and together...there was nothing that they could not accomplish.

"So," she asked lightly as she opened the bedroom door, "You gonna baby-sit these three again any time soon?"

"When pigs fly," he muttered... .the next kids I baby-sit will be my own, he said raising an eyebrow and shutting the door behind him.

You may be right

I may be crazy

But it might just be a lunatic

You're looking for

Turn out the lights

Don't try to save me

You may be wrong for all I know

You may be right.

**billy joel*

FINE