Title: The Family G-Man
Authors: Neoxphile and FelineFemme
Feedback: Feedback: neoxphile@aol.com, be8opcat1013@yahoo.com
Rating: mostly R with NC-17 moments
Spoilers: Seasons 1-9
Category: Alternate Reality, Snark, Family Fic, plus a dollop Angst
for the beginning (and despite what chapter one leads you to believe,
this is *not* a character death story)

Disclaimer: So yeah, we're going to be borrowing CC's characters, and
the idea behind "The Family Man," which put a twist on "It's a Wonderful Life" 
which blatantly copied "A Christmas Carol." We hope the print doesn't get
blurry from being a copy of a copy of...

Website: with pictures! http://www.mulderscreek.com/familygman.html

Summary: What if he could go back and change things, save the son one
lost and give the other the family she wanted? Could it keep them
safe? 

In this final season Mulder and Scully complete their family and start their 
new career, leaving Doggett and Reyes in charge of the X-Files office. 
Before things go full circle, Mulder discovers something important that was 
kept from him in his old life.

~*~*~
Season Ten - chapters 117-127
~*~*~

Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen
"Jose Chung's The Truth Is Out There"

The Krycek Home
June 4th, 2002 

It's another peaceful morning in the neighborhood, with Alex Krycek
still fast asleep in bed, and likewise for the Krycek daughters. As
for Melissa, her son woke her up with his crying, so here she is,
maintaining the peace by bottle-feeding Ryan. It isn't long before
another person joins the awake crowd, however.

"Mommy, what's wrong with her?" Emily asks with a frown, looking like
a misplaced princess in her pink nightgown and loosely-braided blonde
hair.

"What do you mean?" Melissa turns her attention away from feeding
Ryan. "You mean Addy?"

Emily nods. "I wanted to play with her, but when I went to her room,
she woke up crying."

Now Melissa frowns, and she stands up. "Emily, can you be a good
sister and feed Ryan? I'm going to check on Addy." She waits until
her eldest daughter is seated before handing over the baby and the
bottle, then heads to the guest room, which has now become Addy's
room.

"Addy?" she says, automatically softening her voice before entering
the room.

These past few days has been a learning experience for all of them,
most of all for the newest Krycek addition, she's sure. The girl had
to be introduced to emotions other than fear and anger, which caused
unintended amusement for her older sister. Her eating and bathroom
habits were more like that of a wild animal's, and she was even more
restless than Ryan when it came to sleep, probably due to being woken
at odd hours by the unpredictable and irrational smoking man.

Already, Melissa's on her knees and lifting the blanket from the side
of the bed, knowing that the girl will be hiding underneath. And like
the aforementioned wild animal, Addy's blue eyes are wide with fear,
but those same eyes snap shut before she curls into a ball and covers
herself with her thin arms.

And again, Melissa Krycek feels her heart break. Like the wild, stray
animals she used to meet on her sojourning, Addy continues to fear,
rather than welcome, human contact. She knows, from her husband,
sister, and brother-in-law, that the little girl has had a harsh life
up until now. Still, her daughter has to learn what normal human
interaction is, and she pulls the tightly-curled child out from under
the bed.

Sighing, she wraps her arms around her, then sits heavily on the bed,
the girl still in her arms. "Oof," she grunts, then shakes her head
as the little blonde girl shudders. "It's okay," she says in a low
voice, her arms still wrapped around her daughter, rocking her
gently.

'shhhhh, it's okay," she continues to croon, stroking Addy's hair.
"Nobody's gonna hurt you, Baby, we love you. Mommy loves you, Daddy
loves you, Emily loves you, Ryan loves you."

As she continues to rock her younger daughter, Melissa looks up at
the ceiling. 'Dear God,' she thinks, 'if you're out there, thank you
for giving Addy back to us. But I hope you help her become a normal
little girl, full of love and life, not fear and sadness. Please,
just... just please.' As she bends her head, she's unaware that tears
are falling down her face, until she feels her nose clogging and she
sniffles. Then she wipes away her tears hastily, still rocking her
tense child.

She doesn't see her elder daughter peeking in from the side of the
doorway, Emily's face wearing a mixture of sadness and jealousy, nor
can she see her husband, watching Emily from his doorway with a
weary, understanding expression.

~*~*~

Mulder-Scully Home
Later That Morning

Addy is taking up so much of her sister's energy, that for once
Scully is glad that Missy doesn't have a "real" job; though Missy
argues with anyone who disparages her livelihood. Since moving back
east years earlier, Missy has been making decent money selling new
age crystals to people who should know better on eBay and through her
own online store as well, but it's not as though that takes her out
of the house and away from her small children. This is part of the
reason Scully doesn't balk when Missy makes a surprising request.

"Dana, she's having enough trouble coping. We need to put that off
for a while," Missy had stated flatly when Scully had brought up the
idea of introducing Addy to hers and Mulder's children the morning
after they'd given the girl to her and Krycek. "Just a couple of
weeks, okay? I'll make sure that Mom and Emily don't say anything
either."

In a surprising fit of sibling diplomacy, Scully agreed to keep Addy
a secret from her own children, at first. Promptly at the two week
mark, Scully calls to ask if it's okay to let the cat out of the
proverbial bag, and Missy agrees, though she's not sure that she'll
be introducing the girl to the rest of the family any time in the
immediate future.

Which is why the five oldest of Mulder and Scully's children have
been gathered to talk about something "important." Each child is
nervously exchanging looks, making it clear that someone should be in
trouble, but isn't yet. Scully sighs and decides to ignore that,
figuring they'll find out what was broken later.

"Daddy and I have something important to talk to you about. It has to
do with Aunt Missy and Uncle Alex," Scully tells them, and their
postures immediately relax. This makes her doubly suspicious of her
offspring.

"What?" April asks immediately.

It was easier when Emily entered their lives, Scully finds herself
thinking. Brandon had been the only child in the entire Scully family
over the age of three at the time, so the rest had been able to
accept "this is your new cousin" without any explanations necessary.
When she'd called him earlier in the morning, Charlie had said
Brandon hadn't much of a reaction because he rarely saw his aunts
anyway...

Mulder squeezes her hand. "When Mommy and I were in New Mexico two
weeks ago, we found a bad man. He was someone who we've wanted to put
in jail for a long time."

"Is he in jail now?" Sammy wants to know.

"No. He died," Mulder tells him. "But before he died, we found
something out. It's hard to explain, but Emily and Ryan have a
sister. You have a new cousin, we mean. Her name is Addy."

"How old is she?"
"Where is she?"
"Is she okay?"

Mulder holds up his hand to stem the stream of questions before David
and Jared add their own. The twins pout. "Addy is two. She'll turn
three in August the same week as Christopher. Before the man died, we
took Addy from him, and she's at your Aunt Missy's house. We brought
her there before we came home that night."

'she's been there for two weeks?" Sammy looks surprised. "How come we
only know now?"

"Because she's not okay, Sammy," Scully tells him softly. 

'she's not?" Sammy suddenly looks very upset, and for some reason
this reminds Scully of the day she'd told them Mulder had died. "Not
okay how?"

His parents sigh. "The man who had her treated her very badly. He
hurt her some, and worse, made her afraid of people."

"Why is making her afraid worse?" Page asks.

"Well, Sweetie, her hurts have healed up, but it's going to take a
long time before she's not scared of people," Mulder explains.

"Of us too?" David asks.

'she's pretty scared of Emily right now, Buddy," Mulder tells him.
"We don't think she ever got to see other kids when the bad man had
her."

"We're not going to see her for a while, huh?" April asks, and Scully
notices that there are a couple of tears on her daughter's cheeks.

"No, not yet. Aunt Missy thinks it will be overwhelming to meet the
rest of the family before she's more comfortable around people. Daddy
and I think she's probably right. So far she's seen Grandma once, but
we're not going to see her for a while yet, and your uncles and other
cousins won't either," Scully tells her.

"But we'll love her, Mommy," Jared promises earnestly.

"I know you will, Baby." Scully gathers him into her arms and kisses
his cheek. "We just need to give her some more time."

"Mommy?" Sammy says, and she looks up. "I think the kitties broke a
glass."

"Did they?"

"Yeah." But he doesn't look her in the eyes.

Mystery solved.

~*~*~

The Next Day

"I'm sure it will get better soon, Missy," Scully says as she wraps
up her conversation with her sister. "Love you."

Page has been sitting nearby, drawing a picture of the beach.
Suddenly, she looks up at her mother. "Mom, is Addy the little girl?"

"What?" Scully asks, confused by the question.

Page tries again. "The bad dreams April had. Is Addy the little girl
in April's dreams? The one who was being hurt?"

"Your cousin was abused, Page. It's going to take a while before she
understands that she's okay now," Scully repeats what she and Mulder
already told the kids.

"I know. But is she the girl April dreamed about?" Page persists.

"I think so," Scully admits reluctantly.

"How could April dream about her, when no one even knew that we had a
girl cousin besides Emily?"

"We don't know," Scully tells her. "But sometimes, your sister knows
things." Scully cringes internally, wondering if she's somehow
setting April up to be considered different by her siblings. Missy
has already expressed similar fears, wondering if Ryan will one day
taunted his sisters for having been the only one carried by their
mother.

"How come Sammy and I don't know things like that?" Page asks. "Or
David and Jared?"

Scully shrugs. "There are a lot of times when your grandma and Aunt
Missy seem to just know things too. I don't know why I don't, and why
Uncle Charlie and Uncle Bill don't either. I guess it's like how not
all of you have the same hair colors as Daddy or I do - not everyone
inherits the same things."

"'fore he died, Bumpa said he thought that someday Christopher and I
will have brown hair like Daddy."

"You might," Scully acknowledges. "Or it could stay blonde like your
other grandfather's. We'll have to wait until you're in high school
and see then."

"It's okay if it stays blonde," Page tells her in a way that suggests
that she hopes it does. "And it's okay that April gets to know things
we don't."

"Yup. Both those things are fine." Scully feels a wave of relief.
Maybe April's special-ness won't be an issue at all.

She thinks Page is through with the subject, but the girl looks up at
her. "I wish we'd listened to April's dreams sooner."

"Me too."

~*~*~

The Home of Edna Pierce
June 10th, 2002

Although there hadn't been any mourners at the house since the day
before, there was evidence of them in the Pierce home. A lent
casserole dish sat in the dish drainer, and it sparkled cleanly.
Scully found it easier to look at it than at Mrs. Pierce's face.

Reyes, however, is looking at the woman. Mrs. Pierce has her gray
hair drawn back into a loose bun, and her shoulders sag in her floral
dress. The woman is trying to keep up a brave face, but you can see
how defeated she is. "You said you saw black dogs before both
deaths?" Reyes asks gently.

"Yes, though they were such big beasts that it's hard to believe that
they were dogs."

"When did you see them?" Doggett asks a little less carefully.

Mrs. Pierce raises her hand and dabs at her eyes with a mostly
concealed tissue. "The first time I saw one was two days before
Seymour's death." Seymour Pierce, her husband of fifty years, had
died ten days earlier. "I'd gotten up in the middle of the night to
get myself something for a sour stomach, and saw it through the
kitchen window. I can't tell you why I did it, but I threw open the
back door and rushed outside, yelling at it to get.

"It turned its great shaggy head in my direction, and then it stared
at me with two eyes that glowed red. It was live coals right inside
its head." Mrs. Pierce shakes her head. "That's when I knew that it
was evil."

Scully still can't look her in the eyes, but she asks, "How did you
know it was evil?"

"My grandmother told me that there were dogs like this in England and
Wales when she was a girl. I never thought I was the suspicious type,
but when Seymour died..." Mrs. Pierce takes a shivery breath. "Then I
found myself thinking about black dogs. I laughed at myself, telling
myself that I'd grown to be quite the superstitious old woman to
think a stray dog could cause my husband to have a massive heart
attack. But when Billy...when Billy..."

Billy Pierce had been thirty-eight years old when he'd died three
days ago, but he'd never grown up. Sweet and gentle, Billy had been a
happy person who seemed to love life despite his intellectual
limitations. The Pierces had known that their son would live with
them his whole life, and had long since made peace with the idea.

"The car just seemed to come out of nowhere," the elderly woman says
in a quavering voice. "He liked to get the mail, so we let him. There
didn't seem to be any harm in it. And now...Now he's gone."

"I'm sorry for you loss."

"That's not why I wanted to talk to you," she tells them,
straightening in her seat. "I saw one again, the night before last. I
need to know who is going to die next, me or my daughter Christine.
She's Billy's older sister."

A sort of hopeless horror squeezes Scully's heart. She gets to her
feet and mutters "excuse me" before walking out the door.

Outside, she leans against the car and takes several deep breaths. It
isn't fair. Even if there isn't a death omen stalking the Pierce
family, how can it be fair for a woman to lose her husband and son
within days of each other and then worry about herself and her only
surviving child?

Neither Doggett nor Reyes remark on her defection when they finish
talking to Edna Pierce.

~*~*~

Mulder-Scully Home
5:30 p.m.

"Christopher, what's this one?" Mulder asks, holding a flash card up.
A six inch high letter is printed on the front.

The little boy studies the card for a moment before grinning at his
father. "J!"

"Good job!" Mulder flips to the next one. "And this one?"

"C!" Christopher tilts his head. "C for Christopher?"

"That's right. Boy, are you smart." Mulder grins, and shifts his gaze
to the unlocking front door.

The second he sees the look on Scully's face, Mulder pats Christopher
on the shoulder. "Why don't you go play with David and Jared?"

"OK, Daddy," The towheaded toddler says before racing up to the
twins' bedroom.

"Flash cards, Mulder?" Scully asks as she drops her bag onto the hall
table. "Don't you think he's a little young for the ABCs?"

'since he's already memorized eighty percent of them, apparently
not."

"Eighty? How long have you been drilling him?"

"Ten minutes a day for the past four days. He's so smart, Scully,"
Mulder says with a trace of pride. "If only he'd talk a little more
about what he's thinking about."

"I'm sure he will, eventually. Look at how much sooner he began
speaking than April," Scully says, but he notices how tired she
looks.

"Long day?"

"Yes." She sits on the couch and folds her hands across her growing
belly. "Mulder...we need to talk."

'sure, what about?" Mulder asks, looking around the living room to
see if there are any kids that need to be shooed off. The room is
deserted.

"That silly show that Wayne Federman pitched to us," Scully says and
he gives her his full attention. "I think we should do it."

"You what?" Mulder squeaks, shocked. 

It hasn't crossed his mind that she'd be interested in doing a TV
show, especially since she's never brought it up again after agreeing
to think about it. He's been convinced that her agreement was just a
way of humoring him.

"I want to do that TV show," Scully repeats.

"You want to leave the FBI?"

"Yes, Mulder. I don't think there's anything left to accomplish
there, do you? You said that yourself a few days ago."

"Well, I didn't say that exactly, but I agree that nothing that still
needs to be accomplished necessarily needs us doing the
accomplishing."

'so let's do this," Scully says eagerly.

Mulder gives her a long look. "Did something bad happen at work
today, Scully?"

Her happy expression wilts. "We've been investigating a series of
banshee sightings. Nothing's come of most of them, but someone heard
about what we've been doing and sent an elderly woman to us. She
hasn't seen any banshees, but big black dogs-"

He looks up. 'someone's been seeing black dogs in DC?"

"No. Virginia. Mulder, she saw the dog before her husband died last
week. And before her son died this week. And she saw it again. Now
she's worried about whether it's coming for her this time, or her
daughter."

"That's awful."

"I don't want to keep doing this," Scully tells him, and her eyes are
wet. "These things need to be looked into still, but...they don't
need to be investigated by us. I think we've put in our time and
given enough."

"It'd be good for the kids if we're here more often," Mulder says. 

"Yeah. Let it be someone else's turn to save the world for a while."

"Okay."

"Really?" 

"Really."

Eagerness begins to bubble up in Mulder, but reality steps in to
temper his emotions. "What if we leave the FBI and the show never
happens? Or if it's canceled after a season?"

"We have other skills, Mulder. I don't think we'd spend a lot of time
moping around the house in our pajamas while looking in the want
ads."

"All right. Let's do this."

~*~*~

The Next Day

When Wayne Federman arrives the next afternoon, the house is
practically empty. Michelle has taken every one of the kids with her,
except for William. He plays at his parents' feet as his parents talk
to Mr. Hollywood.

Wayne is so keyed up that he practically vibrates. "Cute little guy
here, he looks just like you," he says, giving Scully a quick glance.
Mulder wonders how often he's used kids in the past to get on their
parents' good sides. 'so, I think I know why you asked me to come
over today."

"Do you?" Mulder asks, keeping his voice even because he can't wait
to hear his theory.

"You're waiting for me to give you the hard sell," Wayne tells him.
"I'm willing to do that, if that's what it will take to get you to
sign the contract. Which speech do you want to hear - 'it's better
for your kids if you travel less' or 'you've done so much for the
public, don't you deserve a less dangerous job now?'?"

Scully stares at him. "You're joking, right? Tell me you haven't
committed two speeches to memory."

Wayne sighs. "People think working in the movie and TV industry is
thrilling. Sometimes you need to memorize persuasive speeches as part
of the job. But hey, you won't have to worry about memorizing
anything, Jose Chung's The Truth is Out There isn't scripted. So,
which speech?"

"Wayne, it's awfully nice of you to give us a choice like this, but
we don't think we'll need to hear either," Mulder says, trying not to
laugh at the idea of prepared monologues to convince them.

"Are you sure?" He looks disappointed. "I should have known that you
wouldn't even hear me out."

Wayne starts to stand, but Scully holds up her hand to stop him. "You
don't need to give us your spiel because we've already made up our
minds. We want to do it."

"What?" The look he gives her is dumbfounded. "You're serious?"

"No Wayne, we just called you over to screw with you," Mulder says
cheerfully. "Of course we're serious. If we weren't interested we
would have ignored your messages for a few weeks, and hoped that
you'd soon give up on the idea."

"A lot of people take that approach.," Wayne mutters before
brightening. "I've got the contracts in the car, so just wait here-"

Mulder smiles to himself as he watches the other man practically trip
over his own feet in his rush to get outside. He reappears, out of
breath, less than two minutes later. "Here. Just so you know, Nick
Sagan backed out because his publisher has him on the hook for a new
book. We've replaced him with Aldous Reed."

"Aldous Reed?" Scully asks.

"You've heard of the book series Debunked! haven't you? He writes
them."

"I think I saw one of those books in..." Mulder almost says Morris'
study, but bites his tongue. "Barnes and Noble."

"He's a real intense guy. You should find him interesting to debate,"
Wayne enthuses, but he fails to look Mulder in the eye.

Mulder shrugs. Debate shows are supposed to have sparks, and from
Wayne's demeanor, it seems likely that this one will too.

~*~*~

Signing their new contracts takes them into the dinner hour, so
Scully unaccustomedly orders a few pizzas for dinner right before the
kids get home. Wayne is invited to eat with them too.
	
Sammy is the one who finally asks why his parents' "friend" is eating
with them. "How come you're still here?"

'sammy, that's rude," Mulder scolds as he helps William get his
special toddler dinner into himself instead of on himself.

"Well, Sport," Wayne tells the little boy, "I'm here because your
folks are getting a new job. They're going to be on a TV show."

Mulder cringes, wondering how the kids will react to this news. 

Page tilts her head to one side before asking, "Instead of being FBI
people, or and being 'em?"

"Mostly instead," Mulder admits. "Mister Skinner might ask us to help
out Uncle John and Aunt Monica when they need it, though."

This has the girl turning to Wayne. "Where's the TV show going to be?
Like, when there's a camera to make it?"

"Right here in DC," Wayne says, looking like he's more than a little
nervous to be included in the interrogation by a seven-year-old.

'so Mom and Dad won't have to go away a lot any more?"

"Not too often," Wayne agrees, before smiling. "Why, were you
planning a party you'll have to cancel now?"

None of the kids seems to understand the joke, but Sammy and April
are beginning to look as excited as their older sister.

"I can't wait to see you on TV!" Sammy says, bouncing in his seat.
"Tommy and Jack are gonna be so jealous."

Out of the corner of his eye, Mulder notices that Michelle hasn't
touched her current slice of pizza since Wayne blurted out the news.
"Michelle, Dana and I want you to know that the lack of frequent
travel doesn't affect our need for your services." He hopes that
reassures the younger woman. "We wouldn't spring a change of
employment status on you."

"Oh, good," she mumbles, and starts to eat again.

The kids take the news better than Mulder expected, but he wonders
how much of that has to do with Page and Sammy already being excluded
from their school-year cases, and April's knowledge that she'll be
the next one told that they're too old to miss much school. He shrugs
it off. Whatever the reason, the change promises to be smoother than
he's hoped.

At least with the kids. The hard part might still be ahead.

~*~*~

The Hoover Building
June 14th, 2002
8 a.m.

When Mulder and Scully arrive in Skinner's office, he gives the
couple a long-suffering look. Before they even take seats in front of
his desk, he says, "I think I have an idea about what you want."

'sir-" Scully starts to say, but he cuts her off, and looks at Mulder
instead.

"I know that you're anxious to get back in the office, and I don't
blame you for being frustrated by all the delays, but if you think I
have any influence with the Deputy Director, I'm sorry to say that
you over-estimate me. I can ask him to move up your meeting, but I
honestly don't think that he'll see you any sooner than Kersh had
planned to."

"I'm not coming back," Mulder tells him.

Skinner blinks. "You're not?"

"No. I've accomplished almost everything I've set out to here at the
FBI."

"Actually..." Scully reaches for Mulder's hand. "We both have."

"What are you trying to say, Agent Scully?" Skinner demands to know.

She takes an envelope out of her bag and hands it to him. "I'm
tendering my resignation."

"You're leaving, just like that?" Skinner looks incredulous at first,
but his look softens. "I guess it's not just like that, is it."

"No, it's not," Scully agrees, and it's obvious that everyone in the
room is thinking about everything that has happened over the past
three years. "It's just...time."

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed to lose you both, but I
won't fight you," Skinner says with a sigh. "If the new Deputy
Director is agreeable, would you at least consider retaining
consultant status?"

"Of course, Sir," Mulder says immediately, having expected the offer.


"I guess you don't need to call me 'Sir' any more." 

"Maybe not, but I don't think I can call you Walter." 

'so, what are you going to be doing instead?" Skinner asks.

"Oh, we'll be keeping a hand in the industry, after a fashion..,"
Mulder says before beginning to explain the new career he and Scully
are embarking on.

~*~*~

Basement Office
8:25 a.m.

The first thing Reyes sees when she returns to the office with a
folder is Mulder sitting at a desk, holding his nameplate. She gives
him a welcoming look. "Does this mean you're back?" she asks, then
notices that Scully is in the room too.

"No. I just came to collect the junk cluttering up your office," he
says. "I thought I'd put this on my desk at home."

"You're not coming back?" Reyes turns and sees that over her shoulder
Doggett is staring at Mulder. His face is creased with concern. "Your
health hasn't headed downhill again, has it?"

"He's fine," Scully says quickly. "We both are. But we're both
leaving."

"Why?" Reyes plaintively demands to know. "Everything that was a
danger is gone, so why are you running away?"

"We've not running from something," Scully corrects her. "We're
running to something. An opportunity has come up, and we've decided
to accept it."

"Besides, we're getting too old for this stuff." Mulder smirks at
Doggett, knowing that the other man is a handful of years older than
he is. "We'll leave this to you kids."

'so, this is it? You're out the door?" Doggett asks Scully.

"I've given my two weeks notice," she replies. "But that doesn't mean
we have to be strangers, you know. We value both of you as friends,
beyond mere colleagues, and our not coming into the office any more
isn't going to change that."

"Nope, it just means that you're in charge of The X-Files," Mulder
agrees. "We know we're leaving it in the best of hands."

"You'll be seeing us anyway." Scully's lips quirk. "Unless you've
sworn off TV."

"TV?"

Mulder is delighted by their expressions as his wife explains their
new job yet again. He's tiring of the dissemination of news, having
already explained to his mother and Scully's family. At least he's
consoled by the fact that, as Sammy said about his friends, the
Gunmen will "be so jealous" when they explain the situation yet again
later on.

~*~*~

After the couple has left, Doggett and Reyes stare at each other. 

"This is ours now," Doggett says, making a sweeping gesture.

She nods. "We'd better not screw it up."

"Of course not, Mon. We already do a good job. We'll just have
to...keep doing that." Doggett concludes, feeling a little lost.

"I never thought that they'd leave," Reyes confesses.

"Me neither. I pictured Mulder still here when he's as old and gray
as that Arthur Dale fellow he's told us about."

A quiet falls after that, and they return to the task of staring at
each other.

~*~*~

Doggett's Home
That Evening

"...so, that's it," Doggett tells the kids that night.

"We can still play with Page an' April an' them, right?" Hannah asks.

Reyes nods, smiling. "Of course. They're just leaving the office, not
us."

"Oh, okay." The little girl nods back.

"Wow, I thought they'd never leave," Luke comments, and Gibson nods,
unconsciously echoing his elders. "But they're still gonna be
checking out weird stuff, so I guess it's kinda the same thing."

"Let's hope that Wayne Federman guy isn't totally in charge, or it
could turn out like that movie," Gibson adds.

Reyes and Doggett look at each other and then they both grimace.
They'd seen the movie on a lark, but they'd all had to eat lots of
junk food and play mind-numbing videogames to take the bad taste from
their brains. Even Hannah was yelling at the TV screen, and Doggett
had a mind to put some bullet holes into the rented DVD so no one
else had to watch it.

"Uh, yeah," Doggett agrees. "From what Scully said, though, he's just
pretty much bringing everyone together and filming stuff, so if
there's any bias, it's gonna come from Mulder, Scully and whoever
they're debating, not Federman."

"Thank God," Luke sighs, "but that better be on their contract."

"Mulder wouldn't sign anything dubious," Reyes says.

Doggett gives her a look. "He might, but Scully wouldn't," he
corrects her. "Besides, if Federman pulled that kinda crap he did
with the movie for the new TV show, neither Mulder nor Scully would
let him live for long."

"What do you mean?" Hannah wonders.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," Reyes interjects swiftly, picking up the
little girl, giving Doggett a look. "Now, what do you say we attempt
that chicken masala recipe, hm?"

"Cool!" the girl beams. "If you guys wanna eat, you hafta help, too."

The Doggett boys look at each other, then at her. "Where'd you hear
that from?" Doggett asks, with a brief glance at Reyes.

"Page," Hannah replies simply. "'Cause otherwise, Sammy an' them
would just pig out and not leave nothin' behind."

Doggett starts to correct her grammar, but there's so much amiss that
he gives up, shaking his head at Gibson's smirk. "'Course we'll help
out, honey," he says, "won't we?" And he grabs his eldest child by
the scruff of his t-shirt.

"Uh, yeah," Luke says, shrugging his father's hold off and trying to
look as nonchalant and cooperative as possible while glaring at his
father at the same time.

Reyes laughs. "The more, the merrier." She smiles, leading the
willing and unwilling chefs into the kitchen.

~*~*~

July 1st, 2002
7 a.m.

The recording studio does not meet Mulder's expectations. If he'd
given it much thought, he would have assumed that the parking lot
would be full of people bustling back and forth, most of them lowly
errand boys or girls, and that it would be difficult to find a place
to park their car. The reality is that the lot is mostly empty, and
he and Scully are able to park near the front of the building. And a
more nondescript building would be difficult for him to imagine.

Apparently he is not the only one to have this opinion, because
Scully nudges him, and says "this looks like the type of building
you'd find a bomb shelter in the basement of."

Before he can open his mouth to answer her, a person bursts out of
the front door, and makes a beeline for them. "There you are. Come
with me." They try to keep pace with the nervous little man, and
eventually he looks over his shoulder at them. "I'm Larry. I'm
bringing you to makeup."

Mulder gives him a puzzled smile. "Are we late? I thought that we
were supposed to start taping at nine."

Larry shakes his head. "You're not late. It's just they get nervous
about makeup the first time. And you arrived early, actually, so it
will make things easier."

"We're just talking about standard make up, right?" Scully asks,
looking slightly apprehensive herself. "We never actually did discuss
with Wayne what sort of outfits that the show wants us to wear. I'm
hoping it's nothing too outlandish."

Larry actually slows down his stride a little bit, and looks pleased.
"I wouldn't be worried about that. Mr. Federman and the show's
producers were very specific about creating an image that would
commandeer respect. You don't have to worry about being asked to wear
a Star Trek uniform, and the other side won't be wearing lab coats or
anything."

"Good to know," Mulder says, taking Scully's elbow.

~*~*~

As soon as they get inside with Larry, the two of them are separated.
Mulder is shown where the men are being prepped for the show, and
Scully is taken off in an entirely different direction.

Mulder watches her go, and mutters to himself, 'so much for my
imaginations of a his n' hers dressing room. He says goodbye to
several small fantasies as he is directed to a makeup chair.

No sooner have his buttocks met the vinyl seat, does a smiling
middle-aged woman with teased blond hair approaches him. "Oh my gosh.
Your hair is wonderful. Anyone ever told you that?" she asks,
speaking more quickly than most people Mulder has ever met.

"My wife's partial to it."

"That pretty little redhead who's pregnant, right? You guys already
got any kids?"

'several."

"That's so nice to hear. Most these days just want two, mostly a boy
and a girl, but you know I grew up with twelve brothers and sisters,
and I miss seeing big families like that."

"Twelve?!"

'so not that many for you two, hmmm?"

"No. We're keeping it to a single digit, but just barely."

'still, that's not bad. I have eight myself." Bette smiles. "Have you
ever heard of Jim Bob Duggar? He's running for state in Arkansas. He
and his wife Michelle are expecting baby number fourteen this
November. Now that's a respectably sized family."

Mulder looks up at the woman, fascinated. He's never actually met
someone who approved of having a large family before. There were
those who are careful not to judge, but quiet disapproval is far more
common. "What did you say your name is?"

"Bette."

"Well, Bette, it is really nice to meet you."

~*~*~

Over on the other side of the hallway, Scully is having a different
sort of conversation.

"Okay, hold your arms out," A brunette, who had introduced herself as
Trish, tells Scully as she approaches her with a cloth measuring
tape. "Wow, how far along did you say you are?"

"I didn't," Scully says, trying not to feel impatient. "But I'm just
past five months."

Trish's eyes widened in surprise. "Going to be a big baby, I guess
then."

"No," Scully says, shaking her head. "Two probably slightly smaller
than average ones."

"Right!" Trish says before turning back to the wardrobe rack. She
pulls out an emerald green, short-sleeve silk blouse and holds it to
Scully. "I think this one would do, what you think?"

"It's lovely," Scully says, and she's relieved that Larry did not
seem to be just telling them what they wanted to hear.

'so, let's try this on, and I think will pair this with a black
skirt-" Trish's eyes have begun to wander back over the clothing on
the rack. "Maybe...that one!"

'sounds good," Scully says as she strips off the shirt she came into
the building with. She has never been fond of undressing in front of
people that she's not intimate with, but she knew before she and
Mulder signed their contracts that getting dressed with an audience
was going to be a part of the deal.

'so," Trish looks her up and down with a speculative eye. "I don't
suppose you've ever had twins before, so you'd know how big you're
gonna get..."

"Actually, my husband and I have twins boys who are almost four."

"Cool. You don't have any maternity clothes from way back then, do
you? It would just be helpful for ordering wardrobe stuff."

"I'll see what I can find." Scully promises.

"Great," Trish says, looking at her again. "Looks like I was right
about that blouse and skirt huh?"

Scully finally looks at herself in the mirror. She does look good.

~*~*~

::Aldous Reed looks exactly like you'd expect a man with that name to
look::, Mulder decides as they are introduced to the opposition. Reed
is probably in his early fifties, but he's never lost the air of
hipster pretension so common to folks less than half his age. From
his pointed Vandyke to his small framed glasses, it's clear that he's
cultivated an image that he's proud of.

Perhaps Mulder's negative opinion of the man also stems from the
withering look he gives them as they join him. "I see that the true
believers have finally joined us," Reed remarks to Doctor Mary
Greene.

Greene immediately shoots them an apologetic look.

"Is it true that you wasted our tax dollars for years whilst tilting
at windmills?" Reed asks.

Neither Mulder nor Scully dignify the question with a response.
Instead they begin a polite conversation with Greene while ignoring
Reed's bellows at the hapless gopher in charge of providing them with
coffee.

~*~*~

Mulder and Scully's Home
Two Weeks Later
7:57 p.m.

The brand new big screen TV is surrounded by a crush of small bodies,
as all the kids insist they want to sit on the floor to watch the big
show. Missy has decided to keep Ryan and Addy home, but Krycek has
brought Emily over. She, Page, April, and Hannah beat the boys to the
floor space directly in front of the TV, but Sammy and the twins are
taking it well since someone had brought out every bean bag chair
from the playroom and they've only been told to stop smacking people
with them once.

Doggett and Reyes are sitting on the floor as well despite there
being folding chairs in the offering; Krycek is the only one besides
Michelle to actually deign to sit on one. Luke and Gibson are sitting
with Byers, Langly, Frohike, and to everyone's surprise, Mrs. Scully
who keeps up a cheerful conversation with the hackers and the
teenagers. Mrs. Mulder doesn't seem to want to talk to the other
guests, so she is unusually attentive to her two youngest grandsons,
both of whom are sitting on her lap. Skinner and Kimberly aren't even
sitting, though they occasionally move towards chairs before being
distracted by conversations in the room.

"Who still needs popcorn?" Mulder asks, balancing a tray in his
hands. Several of the kids say that they're "good" but some of the
adults reach for the bowls.

Teliko and Piper hang around the humans with a hopeful air, until
they stalk off in disgust when they realize that despite there being
more than twenty people in the house, no one is going to fill their
food dishes.

Bottles of soda and plastic cups make the rounds before Page loudly
shushes the rest of the under-ten crowd in front of the TV. The older
folks hush up too when the show's logo appears on the screen with a
ringing noise. A woman's voice whispers "Jose Chung's The Truth is
Out There" before the scene changes to reveal the quartet of
panelists and their host.

Looking calmer than anyone has ever believed possible, Wayne Federman
introduces the show. "I'd like to welcome you to the first episode of
Jose Chung's The Truth Is Out There. Jose Chung is no longer with us,
but he is the pioneer of the non-fiction science fiction genre, and
we've created this television show to honor the spirit of his work."

"Wow, he must have taken his Ritalin before the show," Skinner
mutters, and most of the adults smile. "Did you know he was going to
be the host?"

Both Mulder and Scully shake their heads, hard.

"I'd like to introduce our panel," Wayne says on screen. "Our experts
in the paranormal, Fox Mulder and his lovely wife and former partner
at the FBI, doctor Dana Scully." He then points at the other two,
"And our professional skeptics, writer Aldous Reed and doctor Mary
Greene."

The four thank him for his introductions, and he then goes on.
"Tonight our topic of discussion is ghosts. Aldous Reed has
volunteered to discuss the issue first."

Shooting Mulder and Scully a nasty look, he flatly states. "Anyone
who believes in ghosts is a moron who shouldn't be allowed to live on
their own."

Greene looks alarmed, and quickly says, "That's a rather dismissive
attitude, Aldous. There are probably good reasons that so many people
have reported seeing ghosts-"

"Because we have seen them," Mulder states, and on-screen Scully
cringes.

'sure. In the house," Sammy says before refocusing on the screen.

Reed leans forward. "And were you drinking at the time, Fox?"

"Of course not," Mulder snaps. He looks as if he's about to say
something insulting, but the expression on Scully's face reigns him
in.

In the living room, however, Luke gets outraged on his behalf. "What
a tool."

"Luke," Doggett says warningly.

"Dad, he's right," Gibson pipes up. "That guy is a tool."

"Boys," Reyes attempts to back her boyfriend up, but it's clear that
she's trying not to smile.

"Daddy, what's it mean when someone's a tool?" David asks, and half
the adults groan.

"Oh, great," Doggett mutters. "You're teaching insults to
preschoolers."

"I'll explain later," Mulder tells his little boy, hoping that he'll
forget the question.

"Then perhaps you have some sort of mental illness?" Reed asks
acidly.

On screen Mulder turns an amusing color, but it's his wife who
responses to the writer. "New research suggests that inflexibility of
thought can also be a sign of mental illness." Reed blinks,
apparently shocked. "What I'd like to know is how you explain cases
like the one my former partner John and I took a couple of years ago.

"We were called in because a boy who had disappeared ten years
earlier had shown up at a playground, and looked like he did before
he'd been kidnapped. Hundreds of people saw this boy, and we were
even able to do some medical tests on him, before his body was
discovered in the woods. How do you explain hundreds of people having
identical hallucinations at different times? This couldn't be a case
of mass hysteria, mind you, because people who were strangers to each
other saw him at various times over the course of several days."

Reed sputters something in reply, and Greene admits that the case is
unusual. But then Reed makes another snotty comment and they continue
to argue until the closing credits are shown at the end of the hour.

"You guys sure won that one," Langly says before catching the trash
bag that Frohike tosses him.

"No doubt," Byers agrees. "This was great, we'll definitely be
watching you every week," he says as the trio departs after throwing
away all the trash. Skinner and Kimberly are out the door seconds
later.

"Yeah, what kind of idiot thinks that there aren't any such thing as
ghosts?" Luke asks.

"Uh, you?" Gibson reminds him. "Don't you remember the camp-in?"

"Ha. I obviously was convinced that night, okay?" Luke smirks at him
over the bean bag chairs he's gathered in his arms.

"Bed time!" Scully announces, and most of her children groan. Still
on her mother-in-law's lap, the two youngest of the Mulder children
are already asleep. Since the twins are nearly asleep on their feet
as well despite their protests, Maggie and Michelle gather them up
and follow Scully up the stairs.

Krycek and Doggett look at each other. "Yeah, we'd better be going
soon too." Hannah and Emily both pout when the adults hasten the
process by helping Luke and Gibson haul the bean bag chairs back into
the other room.

~*~*~

Eventually Mulder and his mother are the only people in the room
besides the sleeping toddlers. "Hey, Mom, let me take them," he says,
reaching for his smallest sons.

"Not quite yet," Teena disagrees. "You know, I think your Dad and
your uncle Saul would both be very proud of you, Fox."

"Uncle Saul would be too?" Mulder asks, surprised. "I never even got
to meet him."

Teena shakes her head. "Yes you did, you just don't remember it."

"Really?"

"You know that your father and I lived here in DC up until I was
expecting your sister, don't you?"

"Well, I know we moved when I was really little, but did we live
anywhere near this neighborhood?"

"Not exactly. They tore it down decades ago but your preschool was
just down the street from here. I didn't tell your father since I
knew there was bad blood between them, but we used to stop by here
once in a while and see your uncle. He asked me to bring you by, and
I didn't have the heart not to."

"Wow."

"He thought you hung the moon, Fox. I just wish your father hadn't
found out when you were almost four, because that put the end to the
visits. It hardly came as a surprise to me that Saul left you this
house, considering you were the only one of his nieces and nephews to
spend any time here," Teena concludes.

"I always wondered why he did that. Thanks for clearing that up for
me, Mom." Mulder bends and kisses her cheek.

"I probably should have told you sooner, but I didn't think of it
until tonight," she says, and passes him Christopher. "Why don't we
bring these two upstairs now?"

'sure." 

~*~*~

Later on, after everyone including Scully is in bed, Mulder goes back
down stairs and stands in the dark. He looks around, but none of the
ghosts seems interested in making a nocturnal appearance. Sighing, he
whispers, "Uncle Saul, if you're still here, I'm sorry I forgot about
you. And I hope Mom's right about you being proud of me too."

He thinks he catches sight of something out of the corner of his eye,
but when he turns to look, nothing is there.

~*~*~

Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen
"The Salvatore File"


August 10, 2002

"You've gotta help me," the pasty-faced man tells the agents. "I
think somebody's gonna kill me."

Doggett merely raises his eyebrows at his partner, who gives him a
wide-eyed look. "Who'd do somethin' like that?" he asks.

The man looks around, then hisses, "Is it safe?"

The FBI agent gives him a level look. "You're in a basement office
with two fully armed agents. What's going on?"

Reyes says, "According to the lobby, this is Fitch Roberts, a toy
company head."

"And founder," Roberts adds quickly.

She gives him a look, then holds up a small, generic memo paper with
scribbles on both sides. "Who tried to sue the CIA for using his
factory as a front to pay for weapons. He lost, and he brought his
case to a local congressman in Florida, who recently died in a freak
accident."

"It wasn't an accident!" Roberts says, exasperated. "You gotta
believe me!"

It seems he's said this before, Doggett notes. 'so who was the
congressman?"

Reyes turns to him. "You might recognize him. Former '70s pop star
turned politician State Senator Phil Salvatore." She nods at
Doggett's expression. "Yeah, him."

Roberts pulls out a manila envelope from his jacket. "Here,
everything I got is in here."

"I thought all the nuts rolled to California," Doggett mutters under
his breath, opening the large envelope. There are a lot of accounting
documents he could probably unload on Agent Harrison, copies of
letters he sent to Salvatore and letters sent back, notes from the
trial, and others that look like the ramblings of a madman. Thanks,
Mulder, he thinks.

"Okay, Mr. Roberts," he says, "we'll take a look at this, but there's
something I wanna know." The pasty man looks at him eagerly. "Who
else died?"

Roberts blinks. "Nobody, just Mr. Salvatore."

"No attempts on your life, no threats," Doggett looks back at the
papers, but he already knows there's nothing written, "nobody at your
company in cahoots or killed?"

"N-no," Roberts says, "why?"

"What you're suggesting is a conspiracy involving a government agency
using a seemingly benign company as a front for weapons armament and
drug smuggling," he says seriously, "pretty heavy charges. And you're
suggesting this same agency killed off a political figure, a somewhat
prominent one at that, to silence you. According to your paperwork,
you were allowed to go to trial, although the charges were dismissed
at the end."

"It's because of them!" Roberts points his finger in the air.

"Uh-huh," Doggett comments, nonplussed. "You also appealed to a local
politician, who seemed genuinely concerned about your plight, but you
also raised the issue to the local media, who covered the story
briefly." He holds up a taped-together article. "Why weren't any
reporters killed?"

"They were bought off!" Roberts is shaking, not with fear, but anger.
"They caved in to the wiles of the CIA!"

"Okay," Doggett says, "but like I said, you haven't been threatened
personally. So far, you've been telling this story to everyone, but
nobody's even sent you a death threat. I don't see a connection
between Salvatore's death and your story."

The pale man looks stricken, then turns to Reyes, who shrugs a
little. "He's right," Reyes says gently. "According to the reports,
Salvatore's death was ruled accidental, caused by his head hitting a
pole while water-skiing."

"They're wrong!" Roberts practically bawls, running out the door.
"I'll show you!"

The door slams, and Reyes looks at Doggett. "I think you could've
handled it a little better," she says.

"Look at this," he says, holding out a stack of handwritten notes.
"Mulder makes more sense than this. Not by much, but he does."

Reyes takes the notes from him and frowns a little while reading it.
"I could do a check on this," she says, "it's not every day we get to
investigate a pop star's death."

"Former pop star," Doggett corrects her, "and are you serious?"

She smiles, tapping a pile of folders in the "out" box. "These all
washed out, maybe this one could be an X-File," she says.

He rolls his eyes, but she's right. At least, it'll give him
something to do to justify hanging out with Reyes.

~*~*~

A couple hours later, Doggett and Reyes are at the Mulder-Scully
home, making their case to former agent Dana Scully. "We've even got
your tickets, Dana," Reyes adds hopefully.

"You want me to do what?" Scully raises her eyebrows. "Look, I'm
retired from the FBI, I'm pregnant with twins, and I really don't
want to leave the kids," she ticks off her reasons on her fingers.

Reyes smiles and puts her hands over Scully's. "Yeah, but how often
would you get to autopsy a politician and pop star, huh?" she says,
her dark eyes bright.

Scully looks at Doggett, who shrugs. "We got a court order and
everything," he says, "but if you can't make it, we could always
bring in someone else." Reyes elbows him sharply. "Ow, what?" he
asks, looking like his recalcitrant son at the moment while Reyes
shakes her head.

"We could," she says smoothly, "but I'm afraid someone might leak
this to the press. I trust you more than anyone else currently in
forensics."

"Because I'm the only one you know from forensics," Scully snorts.
"Monica, nice try, but I don't think so."

"What's up?" Mulder asks, coming into the living room with
Christopher and April, who are both wanting to watch a certain
cartoon for the ten thousandth time. "Let me guess, we're on
babysitting duty."

"Not quite," Scully gives the FBI pair a look, "they want me to
autopsy Phil Salvatore."

Mulder looks surprised. "The former '70s pop star?"

"And former politician." Scully nods. "Mulder, do we have to hang the
word 'retired' on our door?"

He grins. "Actually, that sounds pretty cool. Like getting to autopsy
JFK, if I remember the conspiracy theory about Salvatore," making his
wife roll her eyes.

"Oh no, not you, too," Doggett groans. "It figures."

"Hey, it's good to keep your fingers on the pulse," Mulder shrugs and
grins, then nods at his son pulling at his pant leg. "Okay, okay,
hold your horses. Let's see, which one is it?" he teases.

"Daddyyyyy," Christopher whines and April fidgets impatiently.

'sorry." He grins, then pulls out the videotape. 'so, when's your
flight?" he asks, looking at Doggett and Reyes, but not his wife.

"In the morning," Reyes says. "Dana? Are you in?"

Scully looks at her husband, who is being surrounded by more of their
brood, and looking slightly surprised. Then she smiles at the nanny,
who is walking in with the twins. "Michelle, keep an eye on things
here," she says, "I'm going with John and Monica to Florida for a
case."

"Cool." Mulder grins, "make sure to bring sunscreen."

'shut up, Mulder," she makes a face, "you're helping me pack."

"Aye-aye," he salutes her smartly, then raises his eyebrows at
Doggett and Reyes before following his wife.

Doggett looks at the children before looking at Reyes. "Do you think
it's a good idea we leave the kids by themselves?" he asks her.

She shrugs. "What's the worst that could happen?"

He sighs, leading her out of there. "Please don't ask questions like
that," he says, "you'll never like the answer."

~*~*~

Uncle Fitch's Fun Factory
Jacksonville, Florida

The FBI agents have their sunglasses and sunscreen on, Doggett in a
suit and tie, Reyes in a dark red blouse and black slacks. They walk
into the factory, earning curious looks as they flash their badges to
the security guard and get a map. "Can I get a copy of all your
employees' names and addresses?" Reyes asks the human resources
manager.

The guy, grinning at her with a bad sunburn, says, 'sure thing."

Doggett rolls his eyes while the guy opens a file and prints out the
information. "Thanks," he says, taking it from Mr. Sunburn.

"Uh, yeah," the guy says, looking at Reyes. 'say, if you're free
after..."

"I'm on duty," Reyes says crisply, smiling, "and I'm taken."

"Oh, sorry," the sunburnt man finally subsides.

As they walk down the hallway, Doggett groans. "I hope the other
people here are more professional," he sighs.

Reyes smiles at him, more heartfelt this time. "I'm sure they are,"
she says, and makes a right turn through a hallway marked
'Accounting.' "John?"

"Yeah?" he says, his sharp blue eyes more aware of the various names
on the doors than his partner.

"Ever get the feeling like we're being watched?" she says lightly.

"Once in a while," he replies, just as lightly as they walk into a
brightly-lit room. They get the accounting ledgers from a dour-faced
man, aware of the similarly pasty-faced workers in there. "Maybe
they're friendlier on the floor," he comments as they head that way.

"It's too bad Roberts isn't here," Reyes says, "but then, I wonder
what his employees think of him."

"They think he's a nutcase," a man says.

They spin around, their eyebrows raised at a hefty man in a blue
jumpsuit and grey t-shirt. "Who are you?" Doggett asks.

"Floor manager, who're you?" the man responds, his arms crossed.

Doggett pulls out his badge. "FBI, John Doggett."

The man looks at the badge, then at the agent. His eyes flicker over
to Reyes, who also has her badge out. "Nice. Looks like we got all
types here."

"What do you mean?" Reyes asks, putting her badge away.

The floor manager shrugs. "Crazy guy's our boss, undercover cops
working as plant workers, and now FBI. I'm surprised we got as many
regular folks as we do."

"You have undercover here?" Doggett raises his eyebrows again,
looking skeptical.

'sid Holstein," the guy says, putting out a hand. "Yeah. Roberts
thinks the CIA's up to something here, but the cops think it's the
local mafia."

"And what do you think, Mr. Holstein?" Reyes asks him.

Holstein shrugs. "Damned if I know," he says, "we do pretty good, but
that's only because we're busting our humps for a paycheck. Let them
think what they want, I run a clean operation." He leads them into
the factory, giving them hard hats.

There are workers everywhere, some inspecting the large machines'
output, others with small tools working on fine details. "We do damn
good work and we do it fairly," he says, a note of pride in his
voice.

Doggett looks up at the sign on the wall displaying how many days
gone without injuries. "Eight months," he remarks, "nice."

The floor manager raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, like I said, we do damn
good work."

Reyes hands over the list of names. In a low voice, she says, "Can
you note which ones are here?"

Holstein gives her an understanding look, then walks outside. 'some
of them are my best workers," he says, taking out a red pen and
underlining a few names. "You'd be surprised."

Knowing that a lot of the undercovers in the FBI have varied
backgrounds, Reyes isn't surprised. "Thanks." She smiles warmly.

~*~*~

Meanwhile, Fitch Roberts, owner and founder of Uncle Fitch's Fun
Factory, is running for his life in a darkened warehouse not too far
from his factory. "Please," he begs, tripping as he goes around a
corner, "don't!"

Two men are chasing him, but not very urgently. In fact, the way they
go after him is less like professionals after a kill and more like
cats playing with a mouse before they destroy it. "Take the side,"
one man in a suit and tie says to another similarly dressed. The
second man nods, then covers the side, pointing his gun at the
hapless Roberts who comes out with an almost comical surprised
expression. The first man is suddenly at Roberts' side when he tries
to run. "Don't," he tells the sweating prey. "It makes more of a
mess."

Roberts looks from one sunglassed man to the other. "No, no!" the
pasty-faced man gasps. "You can't do this!" he says, holding his
hands up. "I'm innocent!"

The first man snorts a little. "You're funny," he says, and shoots
Roberts point blank in the head, followed by the second man shooting
him in the torso. Then he pulls out a cell phone and dials out while
Roberts bleeds out. "Yeah, we need cleanup," he says, and hangs up.
He jerks his head at the second man, and they leave as unnoticed as
they came.

~*~*~

Back at the motel, the two agents are on the bed, doing their
investigating horizontally. "Oh, my God," Reyes sighs, running a hand
through her long dark hair, "this is too much." She wipes the sweat
off her face and looks at her partner, who is similarly drenched.

"I can't believe it," Doggett groans between his laptop and his half
of the employees list, "Mr. Sunburn is an undercover, too." He
finally gives in, unbuttoning the first three buttons and pulls off
his long-sleeved shirt, revealing the sweat-stained wife-beater
underneath.

"I can," Reyes says, smiling in her tank top and shorts. The A/C
conked out half an hour ago, and in spite of opening the windows and
fanning themselves with papers, they're still sweating like crazy.
Pulling her hair up, she grabs an elastic band and ties it up in a
loose bun. "They have all sorts of people doing undercover."

"Yeah, well, I think he wanted to go undercover with you, if you know
what I mean," he grumbles.

She laughs and throws her arms around him. "Baby, you know you're the
only one I wanna be with," she says in a high-pitched voice, rocking
him in her arms.

Doggett chuckles. "Okay, okay," he says, but doesn't make her let go,
even though he's hotter than ever. "What say you we finish this
list," he waves the papers, "and then we do something crazy?"

Reyes raises her eyebrows. "Crazy? Like what?"

"Eating ice cream in a freezer," he says, "I've been dreaming about
that for the last ten minutes."

She laughs. "You're on," She smiles, and after they finish their
respective lists, they go out and get some mostly-cold soda from the
machine down the hall.

Doggett's cell phone rings as they head back to their room, and he
raises his eyebrows at the number, then answers, "Doggett." He
listens, and says, 'sure, we'll be right there." When he hangs up, he
answers Reyes' unspoken question. "They found Roberts shot in a
warehouse near his factory. Looks like a professional hit," he sighs,
picking up the pace.

Reyes takes a large gulp of her Coke before opening the motel door.
"You wanna call Scully, or should I?"

"You do it." Doggett nods his thanks before walking to the bed and
grabbing his shirt, tie and jacket. "I gotta get dressed."

"Why?" Reyes says. "I like that look." She smiles and raises an
eyebrow suggestively.

He rolls his eyes before heading to the bathroom. He's gotta at least
wipe the sweat off before he puts on his work clothes.

~*~*~

'sorry, Dana," Reyes says as they walk about the crime scene, "we've
got another body for you." Doggett is on the side, talking to some of
the local police while a couple of forensic techs are snapping photos
of the dead man, who's lying on his side in a very uncomfortable
position. Well, it would be uncomfortable if the man were still
alive.

"Are you kidding?" Scully asks on the other line, looking at the open
body on the autopsy table in front of her. She's thankful that
there's no one attending, especially the original coroner who signed
off on the first autopsy, because the rather-ripe corpse is starting
to get to her rather-sensitive nose. The only good thing about this
place is that it's nicely air-conditioned, as opposed to the rest of
the state, it seems.

"Wish I were," the dark-haired woman sighs, lifting her sunglasses
and putting them on the top of her head, "it's Fitch Roberts, the guy
we started this case for." She wipes the sweat from her forehead, her
mouth thinning a little as she looks down at the dead man.

"Wow," Scully says dryly, "how low-profile do you think this will
stay?" So far, there's nothing that jumps out at her, since the head
trauma is consistent with a water-skiing accident, or any sort of
high-velocity impact, really.

"Fairly low, actually," Reyes answers, "conspiracy theories aside,
Roberts wasn't high-profile. In fact, this body might've stayed
undiscovered longer, except that a delivery company trucker drove to
the wrong warehouse by mistake."

"Huh," Scully makes a monosyllabic comment, now looking at the former
Salvatore with a more settled stomach. The skin discoloration's
consistent with natural decay exacerbated by time spent in the water,
but it could mask any sort of bruising. She picks up a prophylactic
glove and pokes the left arm, noting the strange rubberiness of a
formerly-bloated corpse.

Too bad there's no sign of any foul play, that would really make
Mulder's day, she thinks flippantly, or make Roberts' death
worthwhile. "What does the local PD have to say about Roberts'
death?"

"They're saying it was a mob hit, but John's getting more details,"
Reyes replies. "I think they're also trying to get more information
out of their undercovers, because nothing like this was supposed to
happen on their watch."

"Or ours," Scully notes, her large eyes narrowing as she tilts her
head to examine Salvatore's right shoulder. There's something about
it that bugs her. 'sorry to cut this short, but I'm going to need
both hands to turn Salvatore over," she tells Reyes, "I'm checking
something out."

"Okay," Reyes says, 'see you."

Scully hangs up, then pulls on a pair of gloves before turning the
body over. Grunting, she does the best she can without breaking
anything, and sighs with relief when the job is done. Then she grabs
a camera and starts taking photos, then gets the original autopsy
report and compares the photos with the body she sees before her.

Turning the recorder back on, she says, "According to the photos from
the original report, there are no bruises or dislocation of the right
shoulder." Then she squints hard at the photo in the report, then
looks at the body again. "But neither is there a mole on the right
shoulder on the body detailed in the report, and there is a mole on
the body of Phil Salvatore before me. This coroner will consult with
Mrs. Salvatore and confirm if this is her husband's body, and will
also take x-rays of the body lying here. This coroner will also do a
DNA test to reconfirm the identity of this corpse." She flips the
body again, this time with more effort so as not to disturb the
joints, and takes more photos.

~*~*~

'so, what's up?" Reyes asks when Doggett walks towards her.

Doggett's lips thin, never a good sign. "None of the undercovers got
wind of this," he says, "no one even knew he was in town."

"Not even Holstein?" Reyes raises her eyebrows. "How is that
possible?"

He shakes his head. "He said it wasn't unusual for Roberts to be gone
days, even weeks at a time. Even the vice president, a Ralph Ramirez,
is out of town, but at a business convention in New York."

"Great," Reyes makes a face. 'so, aside from the mob theory, is there
anyone else who'd want to kill him?"

"The CIA?" Doggett intones sarcastically.

She sighs. "John, seriously. This man is dead, and it's obviously not
a suicide. Remember, we follow the leads, no matter how far-fetched
they might be."

Doggett shakes his head. "Far-fetched is right," he mutters, as the
forensic techs load the body and evidence into a van. Then his cell
phone rings. "Doggett."

"John," Scully says in a low voice, "contact Mrs. Salvatore."

"What's this about?" he frowns.

"The body I have here," Scully says, her voice still low, "may or may
not be Phil Salvatore. Ask the widow if he had a mole on his right
shoulder and a, I think it used to be pink, birthmark on his left
shin. I'm going to do a DNA test, just in case."

Doggett nods, 'sure thing." When he hangs up, he says, "Mon, join the
corpse crew," he says, "this is getting weird."

"You think?" Reyes smiles, but joins the forensic team in their van.

Then Doggett sighs before getting into the rented car.

~*~*~

Trump International Hotel

A well-dressed Hispanic man strays away from the rest of his business
group, relieved to be out of the morning panel. His stomach's been
growling at him for the last half hour, and of course, the first
panel doesn't have a buffet, those cheapskates. He walks towards the
elevator at a brisk pace, figuring he's got time to get coffee and a
bite to eat before the next panel.

A pair of hands grab him from the side, and he yelps when he finds
himself in a dimly-lit hallway. He blinks quickly, and finds himself
facing two men in matching shades and suits. "God, you scared me," he
says, straightening his tie. "I told you I'd talk to you tonight."

"We don't need to, Ralph Ramirez," one of the men says, and shoots
him a couple of times.

He slides down the wall, unaware he's leaving a very messy stain. His
eyes are wide, looking for cameras, guards, anyone, but it's just him
and the spooks. "Why?" he breathes.

They say nothing, but take his briefcase and cell phone. One of them
takes his wallet, peruses it, then puts it back into his pocket, then
steps back and shoots him in the head. They put their weapons back,
carrying off his possessions as if it were their own, and walk away,
unseen and unnoticed.

~*~*~

Doggett keeps the sunglasses on when he steps out of the car. This
place is damn ostentatious for a house, and having lived in the South
and New York, that's saying a lot. He takes a deep breath, unaware
that his eyes are narrowed suspiciously behind his shades, and hits
the doorbell.

"Yes?" a Hispanic woman in a maid's outfit answers the door, her
accent thick with that one word.

"Is Mrs. Salvatore in?" he asks.

She nods. "What is your name?" she says, her eyes wide.

He opens his badge. "Agent John Doggett, I'm here to talk about her
late husband."

If that woman's eyes could get any bigger than they are now, he's not
sure he wants to see it. The maid nods quickly, then turns and fairly
runs inside. He walks in after her, guessing she probably thinks he's
with INS or something. Looking around, it doesn't seem like a man
lived here at all, with all the flowers, fancy vases, and even
fancier paintings and furniture. The floor's a white marble, and the
air condition's a welcome change to the temperature he's been
experiencing ever since he stepped off the plane.

"Yes?" a woman's voice startles him.

Doggett turns to see a thin woman, her dyed-black hair pulled up in a
bun, wearing tasteful business clothes. This looks a like a woman
who's stepped into the political realm, all right, he thinks, having
seen more than his fair share of the type.

"Agent John Doggett," he re-introduces himself, flashing his badge
briefly, "I'm working on a case that may be related to your late
husband, Mrs. Salvatore."

'senator Salvatore," she corrects him, her large dark eyes barely
flickering at the badge or the title. "What about?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," he says, using a standard line, "but I
was wonderin', did your husband have a mole on his right shoulder?"

Apparently, she hasn't gone in for Botox or plastic surgery, since
her eyebrows go up and her forehead wrinkles. "Um, yes, I believe
so," she says.

"And a birthmark on his right shin?" he presses.

She shakes her head. "It was his left shin," she says. "What's this
about?" she asks, more sharply.

His lips thin, writing the answers in a notebook he keeps purely for
show. "It looks like your late husband was definitely involved," he
says vaguely, "thank you very much, ma'am." Then he nods briefly
before leaving, making a mental note to himself to look up the
current State Senator Salvatore's background and current dealings.

When he gets in the car, he makes another call. "Hey, guys," he says,
"I want you to do me a favor."

As usual, there's a pause before there's an answer. "No habla
Ingles," the masked voice says, 'se habla Espanol."

"Very funny," Doggett makes a face, "don't worry, you'll get paid."

"Now you're talking," Frohike says, his vocabulary unmistakable, even
if he's running his voice through a mixer. "Let me guess, cell trace,
background checks, the works?"

"How'd you know?" Doggett frowns, heading towards the forensic lab
where Scully and Reyes are.

"A mutual friend gave us a heads-up on your case," Langly's nasally
voice jumps in. "Don't worry, nobody can tap this call. At least from
our end."

"Great," Doggett says dryly. "I need you to look up a few names, like
the late and the current State Senator Salvatores."

"We're already in progress on the first," Byers' clipped voice chimes
in, "you say the current as well?"

"Yeah," Doggett says, taking the freeway exit, "and there's also a
whole list I'd like you boys to go through. Think you're up to it?"

"Please, you're talking to the masters here," Frohike brags, "we're
looking forward to the paycheck."

"Thanks," Doggett says before hanging up. Then he hits speed dial.

"Reyes," she answers, and there's some crazy loud music in the
background.

"Mon, tell Scully's that's the right body," he says, raising his
voice, "what's going on?"

Instead of answering, Reyes says, "John, she says thanks, she's
almost done with the second body."

"What?" Doggett frowns, because even Scully can't work that fast.

"We'll tell you more when we see you," she yells as if she's in a
dance club, "but could you swing by the motel and get the files? It
could be unsafe leaving them there."

His eyes narrow. He's got the files right with him, she even saw him
tucking it into his jacket pocket. Something's definitely up. "Don't
worry," he says, "I put them inside the room safe."

"Oh, good," she says, sounding relieved. 'see you soon."

He hangs up, wondering what the hell's going on. 

~*~*~

Getting to the forensic lab as fast as he could without breaking the
speed limit was no mean feat, but he managed it, thank you very much.
"What the hell's going on?" Doggett hollers, once he gets past a
disgruntled forensic team and through the doors. It's also strange
that they're playing some uncensored rap music on a stereo set to
nearly level eleven.

Neither woman goes to turn off the stereo, or turn it down to a more
bearable level, but Reyes locks the door behind him. "You've still
got them, right?" she whispers in his ear while Scully is murmuring
into a recorder in between pulling out various organs like a magician
doing a gruesome trick.

His eyes widen, catching on, and he nods. He jerks his head at the
covered windows. "What's she find?"

"First autopsy report's been tampered with," the dark-haired woman
replies, 'she's waiting on the DNA tests." She turns away to look at
the redhead and sighs. Turning back to him, she says in his ear,
"It's also very likely that the body was tampered with as well,
having been dumped in the water after he was dead."

He stares at her. "After?" he says, and she nods. "What the hell's
going on?"

She smiles, but there's no warmth in it. "You're repeating yourself,"
she murmurs.

And now Doggett regrets bringing Scully in on this, since now she's
not only a private citizen, but a pregnant woman as well. Mulder
would kill him if anything happened to her, if he didn't beat him to
it. "Make sure you're with her at all times," he says.

'she's got a registered weapon," Reyes tells him, "but I will."

He nods, then pulls out the folders and his cell phone. He punches in
a few numbers, then he starts texting as fast as he can, going name
by name on the list given to them. When he catches Reyes's curious
gaze, he answers, "The boys are on it, too," and she nods, taking the
second paper and starts texting as well.

He continues to laboriously type away, his face a grim mask, and
hopes Agent Harrison can write this part of his phone bill off,
because it's going to be a monster. When he runs out of space, he
hits send, then continues on.

And so they continue their work in silence, while Scully works on
Roberts' body, while rap music is pounding away inside the autopsy
room and a disgruntled coroner is pounding outside the door.

~*~*~

A couple of hours later, Doggett and Reyes are escorting Scully back
to the airport. "You're crazy, you know that?" Doggett murmurs as
they drop her off.

Scully shakes her head. "Fortunately, there are some people at
Quantico I can trust," she says, "it's you two I'm worried about."

He makes a face. "As soon as I know you're back at home safe and
sound, that's when I can rest easy," he says, putting her luggage on
a coin-operated cart.

"Mulder's picking me up at the airport, so everything should be good
there, and your kids are with ours," she says, "just a reminder, if
you can't keep everything on your person, keep it safe."

Reyes and Doggett nod, and the tall woman gives the shorter woman a
hug. 'see you, Dana," she says and smiles.

Scully smiles back. "I thought I'd miss this sort of thing, but now I
know I really don't," she says, and pushes her luggage cart into the
terminal.

The two agents watch the small woman until she disappears from sight,
then a security officer tells them, "Hey, if you're not dropping off,
move along." They do what he says, and hopes that the two bodies,
well-cushioned and hidden inside Scully and Reyes' long suitcases,
will make it to Quantico, but more than that, they hope that Scully
makes it home safely.

And now they're in a new rental car, having inspected it thoroughly
for bugs, and wondering if their new room is going to be ransacked as
well. After they'd snuck the bodies out of the lab, Scully took them
to a gadget store and bought a few items, and they'd come back to two
thoroughly-ransacked rooms.

She didn't seem as surprised as they were, and proceeded to debug as
much as she could, from their clothes to their personal appliances,
and thanks to Doggett's lock-picking skills, they'd disposed of the
bugs in the two rooms above theirs.

"I can't do electronics," she'd shrugged on their way back to their
messy rooms, "but take them back to that store and I'm sure they can
help you out."

"Did you learn that from Mulder?" Reyes had asked.

She'd made a face. "That, and plenty of experience," she'd sighed.
'something I'm afraid you'll learn for yourselves the longer you stay
with the X-Files."

And then they'd packed the bodies away in the two women's luggage.
"Remind me not to piss either of you off," Doggett had said, meaning
it.

The women had laughed, but Scully had said, "Whatever you do, trust
each other, because that's the only thing you can do from here."

~*~*~

But they can't rest easy yet, because they've got to check Robert's
home for any clues, if it hadn't been ransacked as well. So here they
are, in a dingy part of town, flashlights out and guns at the ready.
Doggett picks the lock, while Reyes keeps an eye out, but it doesn't
seem like this is the kind of neighborhood that would call the cops.
"Clear," he finally says, flipping on a light switch, but putting a
finger to his lips. She nods, and they carry their equipment inside.

Turns out, Fitch Roberts has his own anti-bugging equipment, and the
place, while messy, has a kind of order, with everything in piles,
newspapers, clothes, books, even Chinese takeout cartons. Looking
around, Doggett has a feeling this might be what Mulder's place would
look like if he didn't have a family and a house, and turns on the
equipment, doing a thorough sweep of the living room and taking
pictures before they touch anything.

Reyes does the same for the man's bedroom, which looks more like a
storage area for books and magazines, along with some oddly-designed
toys. She takes out on that looks like a stretchy plastic doll.
"Check this out," she says, and pulls at the elastic man's arm.

Doggett rolls his eyes. "Figures," he says, "it's clean."

She nods at the bedroom. "There, too. Play time." She smiles.

He snorts, taking the toy out of her hands. "Later. Let's see if he
left anything useful."

"Like that?" she points to a corkboard covered in newspaper
clippings. "I took quite a few shots, but basically, it's all about
Salvatore's death, plus any CIA activity mentioned in Florida, which
isn't much, and some printouts of online conspiracy stories dealing
with the CIA."

"Fine," he sighs. "Let's see it." He walks inside, and sure enough,
there it was, joined by its twins on the other walls. "Unbelievable,"
he says, his eyes narrowed as they skim through the various
headlines. "This guy makes the Gunmen look normal."

"Maybe that's why he got killed," Reyes comments, and he spins
around. She shrugs, then goes back to squinting at some article
printouts. "It's a theory."

"If that's the case, why'd they let him walk for so long?" he asks.
"Roberts must've done something or pissed someone off more than
usual. I wanna know what that is."

Reyes stops her perusal of the articles. "Maybe it's us."

"Us?" Doggett snorts. "Monica, much as I'd like to think we work for
a higher power, working the basement office isn't that scary,
especially if we're dealing with some mobsters."

"Who said anything about the mob?" Reyes presses her point. "Granted,
we may be in a rather esoteric location," and he snorts again, "but
we're still part of the FBI. And there are still some people who may
be nervous about what we represent. After all," she says, pulling off
a few articles from the board, "they killed off a politician. If they
can kill someone with a somewhat high-profile like that, as well as a
conspiracy nut, who's to say they won't stop at popping off a couple
of feds?"

"You're serious, aren't you?" he asks, and she nods. "All right.
Operating under that crazy assumption," and now she snorts, "it seems
like we're gonna have to do bug sweeps every time we enter a room."
He takes down quite a few articles himself, and stuffs them into a
"Times" magazine.

"You search me and I'll search you." She smiles suggestively.

"Don't give me ideas." He grins, then pulls her out of the bedroom,
"or I'll personally knock off every damn book and magazine off that
bed and put it to good use."

She laughs as he drags her out of there. "I hope you're taking us to
the hotel," she says, "where we've got a bed for just that purpose."

"What do you think?" he asks, making her laugh again, and kisses her.
'shhhh, you'll wake the neighbors," he mock-scolds her before kissing
her again.

She gives him a look, 'some of them are loud enough to wake the dead,
but you're sweet."

They turn off the lights, then look up and down the street before
checking the car for bugs. Reassured the car's clean, they steal
kisses in the car on the drive to the hotel.

~*~*~

"Home sweet home," Doggett remarks, as they open the hotel door, both
of them unconsciously holding their breaths as he does so.

They step into the room, but find it's as pristine as they left it.
They look at each other, and without another word, they both sweep
their room for bugs. Doggett and Reyes find nothing except perhaps
the occasional stain covered by furniture, but that's it. Then they
breathe a sigh of relief, sitting heavily on the bed.

"How do they do it?" Reyes wonders, flopping backwards, staring up at
the ceiling. "James Bond never had to do room sweeps every time, he
just had to sleep with the chick of the day or fight off the bad guy.
Easy."

Doggett laughs, brushing her dark hair off her face. "You notice that
the bad guys sometimes had some crazy secret weapon to try and kill
him," he says, then smirks, "and sometimes, the chick of the day was
the bad guy."

She makes a face. "Yeah, well, he also had stunt doubles and we
don't, which is totally unfair."

He nods, leaning over her. "Good thing we don't need stunt doubles
for this," he says in a low voice, then kisses her.

She wraps her arms around his neck, smiling. "Mm, nice," she
comments. "I could get used to this part of the James Bond life."

He chuckles, unbuttoning her top. "James Bond would wet his pants if
he had to deal with a family," he says, pulling a bra strap down, "or
have a breakdown with our job."

She laughs, pulling off his tie before working on his shirt. "He
would, wouldn't he?" Reyes smiles, then tugs at his belt. "You need
your pants off, mister."

He raises his eyebrows, then does as she says. "Better?" he asks,
sitting in his boxers.

She's already topless, and the desire in her eyes coupled with a
wicked grin, makes him think he's the luckiest son of a gun in the
world. "Hm, maybe," she says, and yanks off his underwear. "Okay,
much better," and she laughs.

"Hey!" he complains. "I'm totally naked, while you're only
half-naked!" Then he gets to work on her pants, but ends up tickling
her.

She doubles over in laughter, making his job harder. "Oh, John," she
gasps, wiping the tears from her eyes, "oh, you're too much!"

"Just you wait," he growls, pushing her knees down and unzipping her
pants. "God, Monica," he moans, seeing her thong, "you're amazing."

She smiles, removing the barely-there underwear with a finger. "Of
course," she says, wrapping her legs around him and pulling him down
for a kiss. Soon, their hands are all over each other, kissing each
other hungrily, and Doggett's mouth is on her left nipple and his
hands on her ass when his cell phone rings. "Unh, turn it off," Reyes
sighs, her eyes closed and her fingers digging into his back.

He glances at the phone, removing his mouth from her breast. "If it's
important, they'll leave a message," he mumbles, then clamps onto her
right breast, his hands moving to her crotch. The phone stops
ringing, and they sigh, then smile at each other. 'see?" he says, and
fingers her.

"Ooh!" she gasps, then sticks her tongue out. "If you need to make a
point, you'll need a bigger pointer than that." And she raises an
eyebrow, daring him.

He grins, and answers her challenge by pulling out a condom and
slipping it on. "Big enough?" he grunts, thrusting into her.

Her dark eyes fly open, her mouth hanging open for a moment. "Ah,
unh, oh, John," she finally gasps, "oh, yeah." And her hips buck
upwards, letting him in deeper.

It's not only his ego that gets bigger, and she smiles, tilting her
head back as they continue to connect. He grabs her shoulders,
pumping harder and deeper, making her moan and writhe beneath him.
"Damn," he growls, knocking the phone off the bed when it rings
again. "Don't these people have a life?"

"Not as big as yours," Reyes moans, and they continue with their
business.

Then his phone rings again, and they both groan, but not out of
sexual release, but from sexual frustration.

Doggett groans, answering the phone. "This better be good," he growls
after seeing the number.

The digitally-altered voice says, "Don't worry, it's great."

Doggett sighs, giving Reyes and her gorgeous body a longing look
before pulling his boxers back on with his free hand. "What's up,
guys?"

~*~*~

"You're not gonna believe this," Langly's nasally voice practically
cuts through the digital masking. "But your Mr. Ralph Ramirez is on
CIA payroll."

"What?" Doggett's blue eyes fly open. "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack," Frohike interjects. "Of course, he's not the
only one."

"Quit stringin' me along and just tell me," Doggett growls, zipping
up his pants.

"Approximately twenty employees in various positions are being paid
quite handsomely by said organization," Byers' precise diction comes
on. "Approximately, because there are a few we're triple-checking on
for other sources of income."

"Oh, goody," he sighs. 'so, mind sending us the names and what
they're getting paid for?"

"That's easy," Langly says, "the names are in your e-mail and they're
getting paid to kill Castro."

Doggett nearly drops his phone. "You're kidding," he finally says
when he finds his voice.

"Nope," Frohike smirks. "You think Central Intelligence stopped their
death plots in the '60s? Typical naivety."

'shut up," he grumbles. "It just sounds like, well..."

"One of our crazy stories, yeah, yeah," Langly mutters. "But this is
an X-File, so deal with it. Happy reading."

Doggett blinks when they hang up, then sighs when Reyes steps out of
the bathroom, fully dressed. "Dammit," he sighs, "didn't 007 get more
sex time?"

Reyes chuckles and pats his back. "Poor baby," she says, "hey, the
sooner we wrap this up, the sooner we get back to business." She
smiles, then pulls out her laptop. 'so, what'd the boys say?"

He gives her a look. "He says Ramirez and about twenty other factory
workers are getting paid to kill Castro."

She looks at him, surprised. "You're kidding, right?" she says, a
smile on her face.

He shakes his head, pulling out his own laptop. "I wish," he says,
heartfelt. "This thing is getting crazier by the minute."

She nods, then types in her password. "And to think you nearly turned
this case down."

"Ha, ha," he mutters. "I'm just wondering how they got from 'CIA
payroll' to 'kill Castro'."

"What, that's not the first thing that comes to mind when you hear
'CIA payroll'?" she quips, and he groans.

And for the rest of the night, they're hard at work on the bed, but
just not the way they planned.

~*~*~

Ralph Ramirez Residence
 8:54 a.m.

"This is ridiculous," Mrs. Selina Ramirez, a short, busty woman tells
the FBI agents when they present their badges and a subpoena. "Come
in, but you won't find anything."

"Thank you," Doggett says, stepping inside and tucking his badge into
his jacket. He pulls his sunglasses off, but his eyes are still
narrowed. He looks at Reyes, who's talking with Mrs. Ramirez in a low
voice, then walks into a room that appears to be an office.

He looks around, seeing how much better this guy's place looks than,
say, Fitch Roberts. Then again, it seems Ramirez took the business
part of his job seriously, while Roberts was the more creative, or
crazy, head. 'stranger partnerships have happened," he mutters, going
through Ramirez' desk. He opens desk drawer after desk drawer,
nothing really jumping out at him, until he comes across one drawer
that's locked. "Bingo," he mutters, and whips out his lock-pick
tools. He opens it to find a gun lying on top of quite a few folders.
"Jackpot."

And he pulls on a pair of prophylactic gloves, going through page
after page. It's almost too easy, he thinks, and then he jumps to his
feet, shoving the papers back into their files and shoving them into
his jacket. "Mrs. Ramirez," he says, pausing when he can't find her
in the foyer. Then he finds his partner with the suspect's wife in
the kitchen, "Mrs. Ramirez, when was the last time you talked to your
husband?"

The short woman blinks, taking the coffee cup from her lips.
"Yesterday," she says. "It was between panels, so he couldn't talk
long."

"You sure that was your husband?" he asks.

She stares at him. "What are you saying?" she asks, her face
controlled.

Reyes looks from the woman to her partner, putting down her coffee
cup. "Agent?" she asks, also curious.

"I'm saying that you should call your husband," Doggett says, feeling
his gut tighten with a terrible suspicion. "Please."

Mrs. Ramirez stares at him, and looks at Reyes, who nods at her. Then
she takes the cordless phone off the hook and dials. She waits,
unaware that she's tapping the counter with her right hand. "Honey,
oh," she sighs, and then waits. "Ralph, this is Selina. Please call
as soon as you can. Love you." She hangs up, forcing a smile on her
face. "He's probably at a panel," she says.

"Mrs. Ramirez, do you know anything about your husband's work?" he
asks.

"I know that he was the real head of Uncle Fitch's Factory," she
says, with a note of pride. "Fitch, he invented all those toys, but
Ralph's the one who made it successful. He was even talking about
buying out Fitch before he flew out."

"He did?" Doggett says, and Reyes's eyebrows go up, also surprised.
'so Roberts knew about this?"

She nods. "He and Ralph were still going over the details, but it
looked like things were okay." She pauses. "Well, before Fitch," and
she shakes her head, waving her hand.

"Yeah." Reyes nods. Then she pulls out her cell phone. "I've got a
couple of friends in New York," she says as she dials, "they can
check on that conference. What was the hotel again?" she asks.

Mrs. Ramirez tells her, "Trump International Hotel."

Reyes nods again, then turns away. Doggett looks at the woman, but
doesn't know what to say. After all, it's just his gut feeling. That,
and the gun lying in the locked drawer. Usually, men don't keep guns
in a difficult-to-reach part of their desk if they feel the need to
have one in their office, from his experience, at least. A part of
him reasons that Ramirez probably wanted to keep it safe from his
son, and he asks, "Do you have a safe, maybe in the bedroom?"

She shakes her head. "I think he has one at the factory."

He sighs. Dammit, there goes that theory. "And you wouldn't happen to
know the combination, would you?" he asks, but not hopeful. She
shakes her head again. Great. Then again, the gun might not be his,
and he could be jumping to conclusions. He texts the Gunmen, asking
them to check the serial number.

"Reyes, I'm going back to the factory," he says, and she nods. He
doesn't know what to say to Mrs. Ramirez, so he merely nods his head
before leaving, and hopes that the guy's office there hasn't been
flipped yet.

~*~*~

The Salvatore Mansion
The Same Time

"Look, I did what you asked," Senator Salvatore says, looking more
vulnerable in her robe and nightgown. To say this was a surprise
visit is an understatement, judging by the lack of makeup and decent
wardrobe on her person. "The FBI agents know nothing."

The two men, both in shades and suits, look at each other. "We know,"
one man says. "We came to say thanks." Then he pulls out his gun and
shoots her in heart and stomach.

As she staggers backwards, she gasps, "No, wait, I can help." Her
eyes are wide and her arms are outstretched, a far cry from the
strong and polished politician she appeared to Doggett the day
before.

The second man simply shoots her in the head for her troubles.
"Thanks," he says, and they turn, putting their weapons away, and
walk out, leaving behind the unconscious maid and disabled security
system. They drive off in her car, unnoticed by anyone in that ritzy
neighborhood because everyone has a black limo there.

~*~*~

A couple of hours later, the safe in Ralph Ramirez' office has been
broken open, and Doggett's poring through the contents. Of course, he
went through the rest of the office while the locksmith was working
on the safe, so he's got lots of pictures, but nothing really
incriminating. With his luck, he'd have to get someone in tech to get
to Ramirez' accounts to confirm legally what the Gunmen gave him
through, well, less than legal means.

So far, it looks like an accounting of the twenty employees that the
Gunmen gave him, but nothing on Ramirez himself. Dammit. Then his
cell rings, and he answers, "Doggett."

"John, they found him," Reyes says tersely.

Doggett's guessing by the wailing in the background that it's not
good news. "He's dead, isn't he," he says, rather than asks.

"Yeah," she says, "and according to the forensics, there's no way he
could have made that call to his wife. They didn't find his cell
phone, by the way."

"Figures," he mutters. "Well, Ramirez has a lot of dirt on his
employees, especially the flagged ones," he tells her. "Hey, Mon?"

"Yeah?"

Doggett sighs, hating to ask. "Ever get the feeling like you're being
played?" he asks.

"What?"

She sounds more curious than annoyed. "I found all sorts of stuff in
Ramirez' home office, including a gun," he tells her, "and now I've
got all sorts of dirt from the safe here, but nothing on Ramirez.
Hell, nothing on Fitch, either, but I'm guessing that Ramirez didn't
think Roberts was worth bothering with, financially speaking."

"Considering that he sunk most of his finances in a lawsuit against
the CIA, plus his traveling and research expenses, he probably didn't
have that much," Reyes remarks. Then her voice fades as she says,
"Mrs. Ramirez, do you want to lie down? Here, let me get you some
water." Then the sound is muffled, and after a minute or two, she
comes back. 'sorry, I had to give her a sedative. Judging by the
well-stocked medicine cabinet, I'm guessing this isn't the first time
he gave her grief."

"But it might be the last," Doggett says. "I hope."

"I hope so, too," Reyes says. "Because people are getting killed left
and right. Oh, and Scully's okay."

"Well, there's some good news," he sighs. "Remind me to put her on
the budget."

"Oh, I won't let you forget," she chuckles, the first bright sound
he's heard since feeling everything's gone to hell in a hand basket.
"Hey, John?"

"Yeah?"

"You mind if I forward our findings to the Gunmen? I want to make
sure nobody erases everything."

He senses, rather than hears, the caution and pessimism in her warm
voice. She thinks we're next, he thinks, but it's not surprising,
since that's what he thinks, too. 'sure," he says, and his phone
beeps. 'sorry, I got another call."

"Take care," she says, "I'm going to stay with Mrs. Ramirez until the
cops come in."

"You take care, too," he says, then switches to the new caller.
"Doggett."

"This is Detective Danny Garcia," a slightly nasally voice says, and
it takes only a second for him to place the name to the cop he talked
to yesterday at Roberts' crime scene. "You can turn on any channel,
but just to let you know, Mrs. Salvatore's dead."

"What?" Doggett dislodges the papers on the desk. Fortunately,
Ramirez has a TV in his office, and he turns it on. And the local
news station is showing the very same mansion he stepped into
yesterday, with a shot of a body being carried out, the high
heeled-covered feet sticking out of the sheet like a gruesome parody
of the Wizard of Oz witch. "Not suicide?" he says.

"Hell, no," Garcia says. "The nice big sheet is covering another
plastic sheet, which is hiding three shots, two to the chest and one
to the head."

"Mind sending that body to Quantico?" Doggett asks.

"Uh, sure," Garcia says, and Doggett watches the hefty detective wave
and yell at the ambulance crew on TV, and then Garcia says, mildly
breathless, "Agent, you there?"

"Yeah," Doggett says, "I see you're in there, too."

"Ha, ha," the detective says. 'so, I take it this is a federal case
now?"

"The way things are looking, yeah," Doggett says, "but it looks like
this is still a very local operation." Then what Reyes said earlier,
about people dropping left and right, is coming back to haunt him
sooner than he wants. "Any ideas who'd do something like this?"

'she wasn't in office long enough to make that kind of enemies," the
detective tells him, "but I can find out."

"Thanks," Doggett says, then hangs up. He flips through the channels,
but finds they're all just repeating themselves with the breaking
story. "If it bleeds, it leads," he murmurs the old saw about the
news. Then he turns off the news, calling another news source.

~*~*~

"What do you mean?" Doggett asks.

"There was nothing in Mrs. Salvatore's file that indicated she'd get
killed next, there's no connection whatsoever," Byers says through
the digital voice filter.

Doggett groans. "Well, look again," he says, "there's gotta be
something you guys missed."

"Hey, are you dissing our work?" Frohike jumps in.

"I'm just sayin', double-check," Doggett attempts to placate him.
"Ramirez and Mrs. Salvatore turning up dead is kinda unexpected, you
know?"

"We're on it, we're on it," Langly can be heard in the background,
"I'm not sure what Mrs. Salvatore had to do with all of this, there's
nothing so far that says she had CIA ties, other than that her
husband got killed by them."

"Jury's still out on that," Doggett sighs. "Besides, the missus
could've been a mob hit."

"Yeah, and we'll find Jimmy Hoffa working in McDonald's," Frohike
grumbles. "You do the fibbie stuff, we'll stick to our stuff."

"Fine by me," Doggett says, "thanks, guys."

"Yeah, yeah," Frohike says, "make sure you stay alive long enough to
pay us."

"That's not-" Byers starts to complain about his comrade's
less-than-polite contract demand but apparently, Frohike cut the
connection.

Doggett snorts. He doesn't intend on dying any time soon. Besides,
the selfish part that thinks between his legs says he hasn't gotten
nearly enough bed time with Reyes to justify death yet.

~*~*~

Doggett is going down the list of undercovers, both for the local
police and for the CIA, against those who have clocked in for the
day. So far, everyone's checked in, at least according to their
timecards.

Then he turns to a long-haired, bespectacled girl in the Human
Resources office. 'say, you wouldn't happen to know where," he
pauses, looking up Mr. Sunburn's real name, "Jason Pettig would be,
would you?"

The girl, whose nameplate declares her as Janice Hope, rolls her
eyes. "He comes in, he goes out, of course never bothers to clock in
his lunch or break times," she sighs. "Just because this is a toy
factory, everyone thinks they can play around."

Then Doggett takes another look at the timecards, pretty much all of
which have been punched in. "Anyone other than Fitch Roberts and
Ralph Ramirez not on timecards?"

She shakes her head. "They're the, I mean, they were the heads, so
they went on salary. The rest of us are hourly."

Doggett's eyes scan the timecards, which, according to his mental
math, add up to the total employees. "Wow. I'm surprised that
managers aren't on salary, too."

The long-haired girl gives him a thin smile. "There's no union here,
which raises red flags for the cops. Probably why we get raided every
so often, but one thing about us, we're all legal."

Citizen-wise, at least, Doggett thinks cynically, but as for true
full-time workers, this place is a mess. 'so there's no guarantee
that any of these people are actually working?" he says
incredulously.

She nods. "The first day you and the other agent came in, of course
we were on our best behavior." She rolls her eyes again. "Any
surprise visits like today, well," and she shrugs. "No wonder our
company's going down the toilet."

He raises his eyebrows. "Janice, out of all the timecards here, how
many employees are actually on the job?"

"Look around and count for yourself," she waves at the door, 'see you
in a few minutes."

And to his dismay, it takes about that long to actually find less
than ten percent of the staff actually working, and it was still
morning. Jeez, this is worse than a state job, he thinks, heading
back to the Human Resources office. "Ha, ha," he says.

No wonder Ramirez and the others are working for the CIA, if the
regular job sucked that much. Not even Holstein was around, since he
was also listed as on CIA payroll, surprise, surprise. He's surprised
the factory's still running, since it's practically a front, period.
'so who's running the place now that Roberts and Ramirez are gone?"

She shrugs. "No idea," she says. "But we've all got at least one or
two other jobs, so it's no big."

Good night, he groans inwardly, as he says outwardly, "Good to know.
Thanks." She gives him an ironic smile, and he leaves, then calls the
Gunmen. "Guys, the payroll folks are gone."

"That's not the only thing," Frohike says, his voice masked. "The
links we had to the CIA are nonexistent now. Langly's trying other
backdoors, but those bastards are erasing everything. Don't worry,
we've got backup," he says quickly, "but since it's not linked to
anything concrete, we might as well be linked to Santa Claus and the
Tooth Fairy."

"Great," Doggett sighs, "if they're cleaning up, that means they're
done. And with no definite suspects, we might as well be chasing down
Santa and the Tooth Fairy."

"But you've got evidence," Byers says, "the bodies and the files,
correct?"

Doggett sighs. "The files only point to the twenty employees being
bought out, but no specifics on the source," he says, "and I'm sure
if you trace the accounts, it could point to anything between the
cops, the mafia, and everyone in between."

"He's right on that," Langly's voice is heard in the background.
"It's like they're all dummy accounts. Dammit, we've been screwed!"

"And they're getting away with it," Doggett says dully. "Without any
real suspects or probable cause, it's like these people magically got
killed." He sighs, hating this.

He thought once he left the force to join the FBI, he'd get more
information, more hard evidence to nail the bad guys, but it's the
same game, just with bigger stakes. Instead of scared neighbors,
blasé passersby and self-interested pushers and pimps, it's scared
families, blasé company workers, and self-interested government
agencies. And now he knows how Mulder and Scully felt like, whenever
they came to a dead end because of higher-ups within and without
their own agency. "This sucks."

"Yeah, sorry, man," Frohike says before hanging up.

~*~*~

"Please, tell me Scully found something good," Doggett says when he
sees Reyes at the Ramirez home.

She shakes her head. "There's definite evidence that they were shot
and killed by two people, judging by the direction of the wounds, but
aside from that, the killers were very careful to leave no trace
behind. There were no surveillance cameras to record their images,
there's no telling whether it was a man or woman who did it, no
bullets left behind to narrow down the caliber, although Scully's
leaning towards a high caliber hand gun, and no clue as to where
they're from."

"It's like we're chasing ghosts," Doggett grumbles, "or as Frohike
put it, Santa and the Tooth Fairy."

"Even ghosts have a history." Reyes smiles, but it's a pessimistic
one, "and I'm sure even Santa and the Tooth Fairy would've left more
evidence behind."

"Probably," Doggett mutters. "And the guys gave me more bad news:
their links and online information disappeared."

"What?" Reyes' eyebrows nearly reach the top of her head. "You're
kidding, right?"

He shakes his head. "They copied the info, of course, but without
actual links tying them to the CIA, they might as well be writing a
tabloid story."

"Dammit!" Reyes explodes. "We won't let them get away with this!"

He gives her a look, sympathetic, but weary. "If we don't have any
specific names or real people tied down, they will get away with
this." As her eyes narrow and her arms cross, he goes on, "Look,
we're gonna hold on to the bodies, okay? And the files, what we've
got. It ain't much, but it's something, and when one of them slips
up, which I'm sure they will sooner or later, we're gonna nail those
bastards." Then he looks up at the ceiling. "In the meantime, we're
gonna have to tell Mrs. Ramirez the bad news."

Reyes leans heavily against the kitchen counter. "Fine," she says,
"but this sucks."

"Big time," he agrees, then takes her elbow and leads her upstairs to
talk with the widow.

~*~*~

Less than a week later, Uncle Fitch's Fun Factory is closed down,
what little of its assets have been liquidated, and its workers
scattered, most of whom left the same day Doggett broke open Ramirez'
safe. The bodies are still in Quantico's morgue, and the retrieved
files, along with copies of the information the Lone Gunmen gathered,
are in a secure location.

In spite of all this, Doggett and Reyes have more questions and not
enough answers. Did Roberts somehow get too close to the truth, or
scare one more person he shouldn't have? Why was the new Senator
Salvatore killed, did she know too much, or did she have another
connection? And why did they take Ramirez out, was he too much of a
loose end? And why was the factory riddled with so many
double-agents? And who exactly killed Roberts, both Salvatores, and
Ramirez, anyways?

"Well, you wanted a case," Reyes says diplomatically, sipping her rum
and Coke.

"Yeah, next time I'll specify that I also wanted to take down some
bad guys," Doggett grumbles before swallowing a large gulp of Jack
Daniels, his fourth for the night. "Preferably with my boot up their
asses."

She laughs. 'since when do you wear boots, John?"

He pouts over his drink. 'since those CIA pricks practically got away
with murder, that's what," he says. "I don't care if they want to
kill Castro or cure cancer, they can kiss my ass."

"Good to know," she shakes her head, then takes another sip of her
drink. "Make sure to wear Dr. Scholl's so you don't develop weird
foot problems. And I'm sure it wasn't the entire CIA behind this,
just a small, clandestine part of it. The president probably doesn't
even know about it."

"The president don't know a lot of things," he retorts. "Mon, I do
believe you're sloshed, if you're thinking so pragmactac...
pragmeg... straight," he finishes, trying to ignore his tongue
tripping.

She laughs at him, slapping him on the shoulder. "I think you, are,
too," she giggles, "but you've had more to drink than I did."

He makes a face. "I don't like drinks with umbrellas," he growls.

"But they're so cute," she says, and sticks the tiny pink umbrella
behind her ear.

Doggett snorts, pulling it out. "And you're silly," he says, a fond,
if drunk, grin on his face.

She leans over and kisses him. 'so are you," she says, "but I still
love you."

"Love ya, too," he murmurs, then pulls her in for a longer kiss.

The kiss doesn't stop there, and they kiss again, and again, their
hands going lower and lower, until she pulls away. "John, I don't
think they'll let us make out at the bar," she says breathlessly.
 
The bartender nods wearily. "This goes on your tab," he mumbles as
they stagger towards the elevator.

They make it to their room, stumbling more than a few times, before
landing face-first on the bed. Reyes is too wiped and drunk to really
do anything other than snore, and Doggett has enough presence of mind
to set the alarm so they can catch their red-eye flight out of the
bright hellhole known as Florida. The last words he mumbles before
sleep takes him is, 'stupid CIA."

~*~*~

Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen
"Overdue"


Mulder and Scully's Home
August 17th, 2002

Since no one knows for sure which date is Addy's actual birth date,
Missy and Krycek decide to celebrate her birthday as the seventeenth
of August based on Scully's recall that the girl seemed to be a few
days younger than Christopher when Fowley showed up with her shortly
after her birth. This is also the date that they decide to introduce
Addy to most of her cousins, during a party in honor of Addy and
Christopher's third birthdays.

"We're all going to sit very quietly when Aunt Missy gets here."
Scully reminds her children after the living room has been decorated.

Scully looks up at the balloons and resists the urge to sigh.
Although she doesn't really mind providing the locale when it comes
to joint birthday parties, she wishes that her sister and
brother-in-law might eventually volunteer to do some of the
decorating. She doesn't intend to hold her breath, however. Her
gentle suggestion recently that Ryan be weaned off his bottle was met
with hostility, so she doesn't think that any other "you should"
suggestions will go any better.

"Because Addy is scared of people," David announces to show that he,
at least, has been paying some attention to their mother.

"That's right," Scully agrees. "We're not going to run around
shouting, because that might overwhelm her."

'she's gonna be normal someday, though, right Mommy?" Sammy asks.

Scully has to force herself not to frown. According to Krycek, Addy's
therapy sessions have not been going as well as could be hoped.
Though Addy is generally docile, and tries to please adults, she
melts down during a third of her meetings with her therapist. It had
also been firmly suggested that Addy not start preschool with
Christopher in September.

"It's going to take her a while to learn to trust people, Sammy,"
Scully says at last. Her son looks satisfied by this bit of
misdirection.

The kids practically wriggle in anticipation when there's a knock on
the door, but Mulder shoots them a warning look and they settle back
down. When he opens the door he finds Missy, Emily, and Ryan waiting
for him. "Hey, come on in."

"Alex will be up in a second," Missy says with a strained smile.
Neither Scully nor Mulder ask her how getting Addy into the car for
the visit went. Before doing anything else, she deposits Ryan in
William's playpen, and the two babies babble happily to each other,
unaware that they're being kept out of the way.

A few seconds later Krycek walks through the door with Addy in his
arms. The little girl isn't crying, but she hides her face against
her father's shoulder. "Addy, these are some of your cousins." Krycek
tells her softly as he puts her on her feet.

"Hi, Addy," David says gravely as his cousin stares at him and his
siblings.

"Addy, say hi," Missy encourages.

Instead of saying anything, the little girl gives the other kids a
brief wave before staring at her feet.

"Well, I guess that's something," Missy says and sighs. "Is Mom here
yet?"

"No. She called to say that she's running a little late," Mulder
tells her.

"Missy, do you mind coming up stairs with me? I have their presents
up in our room." Scully looks down at her large belly. "I think I
could use some help fetching and carrying. The guys can keep things
calm down here. Right, Dear?" she asks, turning to look at her
husband.

"Of course, Darling," Mulder retorts in as sickly sweet a tone. "Alex
and I will keep everything on the level."

Missy gives an unladylike snort of disbelief as she follows her
sister up stairs.

*

The kids are calm and seemed mindful of their young cousin's
nervousness, until Maggie Scully arrives. Then disaster strikes.
Before anyone can quite react two streaks of fur catapult themselves
out the front door, past a confused Maggie. "What?"

"The kitties!" Sammy shouts, before launching himself out the front
door as well.

Within mere seconds the majority of the children have followed
Sammy's lead. "Hey wait a minute!" Krycek cries after them, but it's
useless. Not even one of them turns around. So he runs outside too,
hoping to keep everyone, feline or child, away from the road.

Mulder and Maggie exchange a bewildered look, as if asking each other
if that really happened. "Fox, they're not outdoor cats are they? I
mean, you always keep them in, don't you?"

"Unfortunately." Mulder turns and grab something off a shelf. "Cat
treats. Maybe we can lure them back with these."

Maggie takes one of the cans of treats from Mulder's hand, and the
two of them go outside to help look for the escapees.

In the confusion, nobody notices that not everyone went outside to
look for the cats.

~*~*~

"What's going on down here?" Scully demands to know as she and Missy
return to the living room with a stack of gifts. At first there's no
one there to answer, but then the front door is flung open, and two
grim men gripping flailing felines make their way inside, followed by
of virtual parade of children.

"Mommy!" Jared exclaims when he sees his mother. "Grandma let the
kitties out."

His oldest sister gives him a baleful look. 'she didn't do it on
purpose. They just ran out when they saw the door open."

Maggie doesn't say anything, but she shoots Page a grateful look.

"Has anyone seen Addy?" Missy asks, looking worried. 'she went
outside without telling anyone last week..."

A quick headcount reveals that two members of the family are missing.

Mulder and Krycek exchange a look. They know they're in for now. "I
guess we better split up and look for them," Mulder suggests.

"Not you kids," Maggie says firmly to her grandchildren. "You sit
here with me, and let everyone else look."

~*~*~

It's a big house, Scully reminds herself. Odds are they did not in
fact go outside, no matter what Missy thinks. Even so, she decides
that she'll look for them on her way to the back door, and hopefully
they'll be found before anyone needs to go outside. She stops when
she realizes that she can hear someone talking in the kitchen. Trying
not to make any noise, she follows the voice.

"Don't be sad, Cousin Addy. It's our birthday time. We're gonna get
stuff."

When Scully looks around the corner, she sees Christopher on his
hands and knees, with his head poked into the pantry. She can just
barely make out her niece's form stuffed under the bottom shelf.

"We get presents!" Christopher adds.

"Yeah?" a small voice asks, sounding curious.

Christopher backs up and sits down, and to Scully's surprise, Addy
scoots forward until she's sitting in front of the pantry instead of
in it. Her son's blond head is just inches from his equally blonde
cousin's. "Yup, cause we're three now."

"We are?"

"This many." He holds up three fingers to show her.

Addy stares at him, then holds up three fingers of her own.

"Just like that!" Christopher enthuses.

His cousin gives him a wobbly smile.

"And cake," Christopher says, climbing to his feet. "We haft to
share, but it's really for us."

"What's cake?"

His blue eyes widen in surprise. "It's yummy! Come on, you'll like
it." He holds out a small hand, and to Scully's shock, Addy takes it.

"Hey," Scully says softly, not wanting to scare Addy.

"Can we open presents soon?" Christopher asks as soon as he notices
her.

"Definitely."

To her amazement, Addy lets Christopher lead her back to the other
room without pulling away.

*

'so, you got two," Missy comments to her sister a few minutes later.
Both of the cousins are enthusiastically opening gifts.

"Two what?"

Two quiet, introspective kids who are kind to others," Missy
explains. "April and Christopher are just like you and Charlie were
as kids."

"You think so?"

"Absolutely. Every family needs a few."

"What about only children?"

"Only children tend to turn out neurotic. Just like my darling Alex."

"Hey!"

Missy smirks at her husband. "Just checking to see if you were
listening."

"Well, I was."

Pitching his voice low, Mulder says, "let it go. If you don't, they
might remember we screwed up."

Krycek nods almost imperceptibly. "Who wants cake?"

The loud replies drown out any further banter between the adults.

~*~*~

September 15th, 2002

By the time Saturday rolls around just after the second week of
September, Mulder wants to spend the day in bed. They've been taping
episodes of Jose Chung's The Truth is Out There on a fairly brutal
schedule, trying to get as many episodes in the can as possible
before Scully leaves for her maternity leave. The fact that twins
often arrive early, even under better circumstances than the end of
Scully's pregnancy with David and Jared, has everyone keyed up. Or,
it has Wayne frantic and he's gotten everyone on the set keyed up. So
after three weeks like that, Mulder is exhausted.

But a household with three adults, seven children, and a pair of cats
goes through a lot of food, so Mulder finds himself preparing bring
everyone, except Michelle who is off for the day, to the grocery
store. Everyone else is dressed and putting on shoes when Mulder
finds himself being met in the hallway by his wife.

"Here, Mulder." Scully hands him a sheaf of paper.

"What's this?"

"The grocery lists. I've written everything we need by where they are
in the store."

"I take it that you're not coming with us, then?" Mulder asks, trying
not to allow his annoyance to show. It wasn't that he minded bringing
the kids himself, he just wished that he'd known sooner that she
wasn't going to be coming to help marshal the troops.

"I need to do laundry. Nothing I have that's clean keeps me from
looking like I swallowed a Buick."

Considering that the Webelos song has popped into his mind more than
once this week, he doesn't even attempt to lie to her and say that
it's not true. "Okay, but you take it easy after that. We'll be home
in a couple of hours."

"Love you." He leans down so she can kiss him, knowing that he
tippy-toe days aren't going to return for a few more weeks.

"Love you too, Scully."

"Everyone out of the house!" Mulder orders before grabbing the double
stroller from David and Jared's baby days out of the hall closet.

Without needing to be asked, Sammy hefts William up, and Page leads
Christopher towards the car. It only takes Mulder five minutes to get
all seven kids and the double stroller into the van, so he drives off
feeling moderately proud of himself.

~*~*~

Less than twenty minutes later, Mulder is in the parking lot of the
mammoth supermarket that serves the area. He pulls the stroller out
of the van and gives the older kids instructions as he settles the
two youngest, despite Christopher's loud protests that he's a big
boy, into their seats.

"Mom wrote three lists for us. One for Page and David, one for Sammy
and Jared, and one for April and I. We're each going to take a
carriage and get everything on our lists. Then we're going to meet at
the front of the store when we're done. While I check the lists to
make sure we didn't forget anything, you can each pick out a candy
bar. Do not go wasting time looking for candy before then, because
anyone with candy in their cart when I check the lists isn't getting
any. Got it?"

"Got it!"

Mulder hands lists over to his two oldest children, and finds himself
grateful that they are both reading above their grade levels. Still,
he asks, "Is there anything on your list that you can't read?"

Both children study the lists before shaking their heads.

"I can't read any of it!" Jared complains, peering down at the list
in Sammy's hand.

David gives his twin a surprised look. "Duh. That's why you and me
can't be shopping buddies."

"Oh." Jared looks sheepish.

"All right, move 'em out," Mulder declares, taking the handles of the
stroller. "Everything on your list should be in the same part of the
store, so I had better not see you running around acting like
monkeys."

"Does anyone got bananas on their list?" Sammy asks.

Before Mulder can answer to say that he does, they're accosted by a
woman leaving the store. The entire procession grinds to a halt when
she blocks the door. "You're Fox Mulder, from that Jose Chung show!"

"I prefer just Mulder, but yes." Mulder gives her an uneasy look,
wondering if she'll be the first person to demand an autograph.

"And these are your kids?"

"That's what my wife tells me," he deadpans.

"Huh. I figured that they were just a back-story."

"A back-story?" Mulder asks, puzzled.

"You know, an invented history to make the characters on a show seem
more interesting."

"Oh. Nope, they're really ours."

"How about that! My girlfriends are going to be so surprised. And a
little disappointed that you're really taken, but..."

"Have a nice day now," Mulder tells her before hurrying the kids out
around her.


"Daddy, we're a back story?" April asks after watching her siblings
head off in opposite directions. She's barely tall enough to see over
the stroller, but she pushes it gamely while Mulder navigates a
shopping cart.

"No way. You guys are definitely the important part of mine and
Mommy's life."

She doesn't say anything, but her smile is beaming.

"It looks like we need size four Huggies for William. Could you grab
them for me?" he asks while reach for a large package of newborn size
diapers himself, figuring that it's probably a good idea to stock up
before the girls are born.

"Yeah!"

~*~*~

GMC Dealership
September 24th, 2002

"I think it's coming up, Mulder," Byers says, looking anxiously out
the window.

Mulder notices that there's a sign twelve feet high that says "GMC"
and bites back the urge to ask "Gee, you think?"

It's Scully's fault that Byers has been drafted into Mulder's
van-buying expedition. Doggett offered to help, and she rejected the
idea based on the fact that he likes NASCAR. And she didn't even give
a reason when she flat-out rejected Frohike and Langly's offer of
assistance.

This had lead to a tiny argument between the couple. "You know I'm
capable of picking out a vehicle on my own." Mulder had insisted once
they'd left the gunmen in another room.

She'd just given him a hard stare.

"I know what you're thinking, but I can so be practical," he found
himself whining.

"Yes, you're capable of it, but in practice? I want someone with you
who'll be worried about the same sort of things that I am. That's why
I want Byers to go with you."

"If you're so worried about what I'll come home with, why don't you
come with me?"

She tilted her head. "Is this when I'm supposed to whine about being
eight months pregnant with your twins, and how that doesn't make me
anxious to spend a few hours at a car dealership? And how if you
really loved me, you'd do this one little thing for me?"

"I guess so."

"Can we just say that I did, and that you gave in?"

For a change, that had him rolling his eyes.


"Are you sure you don't mind doing this?" Mulder asks Byers as he
pulls into the dealership parking lot. "I could drop you off at the
mall and come back for you, if you want."

"I told Dana I'd help you," Byers insists.

"Okay, don't say I didn't offer to spare you the boredom."

They're barely gotten out of the mini-van when a man wearing a suit
and a bright smile approaches them. "Hi, I'm Steve. What can I help
you with?"

"I called earlier and was told that you have some of the 2003 GMC
Savnna passenger vans in stock," Mulder tells him.

'sure, our 2003 stock just arrived a few days ago. How many
passengers are you talking about? There are a few choices based on
how many you need to seat."

"Twelve," Byers tells the salesman.

"Right. Is this a work vehicle, or a personal one?"

"Personal," Mulder informs him. "I hope all the seats have anchors
for car seats and booster seats."

"Lots of kids, huh?" 

'soon to be nine." Mulder smiles faintly.

"Wow." The salesman looks impressed. "I hope you don't mind me
asking, but what adoption agency are you using?"

"Adoption agency?"

"Well, you know. I have this cousin, and he and his significant other
haven't had much luck finding an agency that's open-minded."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but none of my kids are adopted, so I can't
really help you."

"Oh."

"His wife is about to have twins. She asked me to come along so he
doesn't come home with something stupid," Byers says quickly, and
Mulder can't figure out why he thinks it's relevant to the
conversation.

At least not until the salesman turns red. "Oh, your wife."

Byers shrugs, and Mulder decides to let the salesman stew. ::Maybe
thinking he's insulted us will make him give me a better deal.::
Mulder thinks to himself.

'she and I are hoping to use the minivan as a trade-in," Mulder tells
the man at last.

"Yeah, let me see what I can get for it for you," The salesman
mumbles before walking quickly to the minivan to look it over.

Mulder turns to Byers. "I get the feeling this is happened to you
before."

"I think I strike some men as too fastidious to be straight," Byers
says without any ire.

'so...do they usually think you're with Frohike or Langly?"

Byers just shakes his head.

In the end the salesman's error works in their favor, because he's so
embarrassed that he rushes them through a normally lengthy process,
and Mulder walks away with a good deal to boot.

~*~*~

September 28th, 2002

A rainy weekend in September finds Reyes preparing to chaperone a
trip to the museum. While she waits for Hannah to find her raincoat,
she takes the time to glare at the girl's father.

"John, tell me again why I'm taking three little girls to the Museum
on my day off."

"I told you, we owe Scully for looking after the kids when we were in
Florida. She suggested this because we'd only have two extra kids to
look after, and she's not up to wandering a museum herself." He
doesn't mention that Mulder said silly or not, he doesn't ever want
his wife there again while pregnant.

'she looked after your kids," Reyes points out. "I don't have any
kids."

"Come on, Mon. It's a doll exhibit." 

"Have you seen any dolls around my apartment?"

"No, but you used to like dolls, didn't you?" Doggett asks. "Most
girls do."

She stares at him.

"I'll have to think of something to pay you back?" He sounds
uncertain.

"Yes, yes you will."

"Oh crap," Doggett mutters. "If you really don't want to go, I'll
take them."

"No, I'll do it. I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with
as pay back."

Doggett gulps.

 ~*~*~

Tamblyn Museum of Natural History
Afternoon

Though she moaned about the museum trip, Reyes does find some of the
exhibit interesting. Their guide, a cheerful woman in her early
thirties, keeps up a lively stream of facts about the dolls on
display.

"As I said earlier, there have been dolls for almost as long as there
have been little girls." She smiles at all eight little girls and
their chaperons. 'sadly, a lot of our historical knowledge of the
history of dolls comes from dolls found in the tombs of children."

One girl whispers a hasty question to her mother, and from the aghast
look on the child's face, Reyes believes that the question was
probably "what are tombs?"

"In Egypt, dolls were made of wood, clay, ivory or even wax. As long
ago as two thousand, six hundred years ago, dolls were already being
made with movable limbs and dressed in clothes. I bet a lot of you
like to dress your dolls up, too."

The guide's question makes all the girls grin at her.

"How many of you have dolls that are babies?" she asks, and every
girl raises her hand. A few of the adults do too, and only one of
them looks embarrassed to admit that she still has dolls of her own.

"It might surprise you, but the sort of dolls that people bought,
rather than made, were almost all meant to look like adults until a
French manufacturer created a doll called 'bebe' in the 1850s."

The guide shows them several antique dolls, including one that had
been on the Titanic. It had been one of the few belongings anyone had
been allowed to take with them the night the ship sank.

"This is a nice museum," Page remarks later to April and Hannah. "I'm
glad I was born in this museum instead of some other one."

"People aren't born in museums," another child, probably an older
sister of one of the doll fanciers rejoining her family, who has
overheard tells her. "People are born in hospitals."

"Most people, but not me," Page tells the snotty girl. "I was born
here."

"That's ridiculous," the older girl snaps. "You can't possibly have
been born in this museum."

Reyes is still trying to decide if she should intervene in the
argument, but she hears another adult speak up instead.

'sweetheart, did you just have a birthday?" the guide asks Page,
looking interested.

"Yup. I'm eight," Page replies.

"And your mother, she has red hair like your sister, here?" the guide
asks, making April hide behind her sister.

"Uh huh."

The guide smiles at Reyes. "I guess you're babysitting, because this
one-" she points at Hannah, "-is the only one who looks like you."

"Um, yeah." Reyes is a bit nonplused by idea that Hannah looks enough
like her to be mistaken for her own. Doggett mentioned that Barbra's
undyed hair color is close to hers and Hannah's, however.

"We were talking about your birth just a few days ago," the guide
addresses Page again. "You're the only person who has ever been born
in this museum."

The bratty child looks shocked, and so does her mother.

Looking at Reyes again, the chatty woman asks, "What have her parents
been up to since she was born?"

"Well, they worked at the FBI for quite a while, and now are on a TV
show. Other than that, they've added to their family, and most of
Page's brothers and her sister were born in the hospital."

"Most of?"

"Me and April have five brothers," Page explains to the instantly
wide-eyed woman. "One's between us, and four are littler than April."

"And Mommy's going to have twin girls soon," April adds. 'so it'll be
more fair."

"That's not why," Page tells her sister. "They just wanted another
baby."

"No suh, Mommy knew that two girls and five boys wasn't fair," April
insists.

"I've just got two older brothers," Hannah tells no one in
particular.

"Come on, girls. It's time for lunch," Reyes tells them before
steering the young trio towards the museum's cafe.

' http://ctdollartists.com/history.htm 

~*~*~

October 19th, 2002

"Fine."

Mulder looks over at his wife who is angrily hanging up their phone.
"What's up, Scully?"

"Doctor Hart is a jerk," Scully growls.

"Ah," Mulder says carefully. His wife's mood went decidedly south the
night before when they went to bed on her due date. "In what way, in
particular?"

"He says that I was very sure that the date you and I 'had relations'
and as a doctor I should know that the actual fertilization can take
place a few days later, so I probably shouldn't expect the twins too
much before the 25th of this month, despite already being past the
due date he gave me," Scully says irritably.

Mulder already made the mistake of pointing this out to her the night
before, so he doesn't mention that he still thinks it's reasonable
now. "Yeah."

"And he says that given that, he won't consider inducing labor until
the third. The third, Mulder! That's more than two weeks from now!"

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart," he murmurs. 

She sighs. "I know that I'm being grumpy, but I'm just ready for this
to be over with."

"It doesn't sound like a picnic, having two squirmy babies in you."

"No, Mulder, it's not that. Well, not just that. I'm just ready for
them to be here. Aren't you?"

'sure. We've redecorated the nursery, moved William to his new room,
bought everything we need. I'd say that we're ready."

Moving William went easier than they expected. They'd been prepared
to put him in with Christopher if he'd been afraid of being alone
farther from Mom and Dad, but he seems to like the new room well
enough. For the time being only David and Jared insist that they need
someone else in the room to sleep.

Scully smiles at him. "That wasn't the ready I was thinking about,
but I guess we're prepared too."

"I know what you mean," Mulder tells her after a minute. "I can't
wait to meet them, either."

When she looks up at him, he sees a little bit of fear in her eyes.
"It's going to be okay, isn't it? We haven't had a girl since..." She
trails off.

"Losing Angel was terrible, but it's not going to happen again just
because we're having girls," Mulder tells her. "They're going to both
be fine." Most of the time they cope with their loss without a lot of
trouble, but there have been more reasons to think about that baby
than Mulder could ever have predicted.

"Do you promise?" she asks.

"Yeah," Mulder says just after silently praying that he's telling the
truth. "Do you want a massage before the kids get home?"

"Okay." She looks more cheerful. "But can I have another one in about
two months?"

"Only if you plan to return the favor in two months," he tells her
with a grin. "We'll have to go shopping before then."

"Deal."

~*~*~

Mulder-Scully Home
October 31st, 2002

By the time that Halloween roles around, it seems to Mulder that
Scully has accepted that none of the home remedies they've tried has
jump started her labor. Occasionally he hears her mutter something
about "the third" to herself, which he takes as his cue to find a way
to distract her.

One of those times is Halloween night. "Hey Scully, is my cape on
straight?"

"Hmm?" She looks up at him. "Oh, sure. Your makeup looks good too.
What time did you say that you're going to meet Krycek?"

"Five." He looks at his watch and discovers that it's almost four
thirty. "Are you sure you want me to go?"

"The kids have been looking forward to this haunted corn maze thing
for weeks. You have to take them."

"But what if-"

She reaches up and cups his chin with her hand. "The third is still
three days away, Mulder. Seventy-two long hours from now. Go on.
You're going to be late."

"All right, if you're sure." He stoops to kiss her. They're soon
interrupted by a witch, a daisy, Fonzie, two pirates, and a panda
bear. Only the panda holds out his arms to be picked up.

Before they leave, Sammy gives his mother a pleading look, "Mom, why
can't Will come too?"

"He's too little, Sammy. He won't even understand what's going on."

"But-"

"When you all come home with Daddy, William's going to go trick or
treating with you. He'll like being able to say 'trick or treat' more
than going to a scary maze."

"He's not going to be lonely?"

"With me and Michelle to keep him company?" Scully asks. "Don't feel
guilty, Sammy. Just go have fun."

"Okay!"

~*~*~

Krycek and Emily are standing by their car when Mulder parks the van.
After releasing Christopher and watching the rest of the kids pour
out of the vehicle, he walks over to his brother-in-law.

"You're late," Krycek announces.

"I'm aware," Mulder retorts. "You only had the one kid to get into
the car. I had six. One of them had a hard time leaving."

"Likely excuse."

"No, I'm serious. You've actually adverted a crisis by not bringing
Ryan with you."

"Why would I bring Ryan? He's a year and a half old."

"Ask Sammy. I don't know why got so upset that we didn't bring
William." Mulder shrugs. "I almost had to drag him out the door by
the leather jacket the gunmen gave him for his birthday."

"Your friends are strange, strange men."

"At least none of my friends have ever been on America's Most
Wanted."

"Yet."

"Dad!" Mulder looks down when Page tugs on his coat. "Do Emily, Sammy
and I have to stay with you?"

"What's wrong, we're not cool enough for you?"

"Nobody's parents are cool," Page tells him in a tone that suggests
that he really ought to know that.

"Gee, thanks."

"Well?"

"What do you think, Alex?"

"I think that if they promise to stay together, they don't need to
stay with us."

"All right," Mulder consents.

The three kids cheer and run up to the line for people who already
have their tickets.

"Oh crap!" Mulder hisses under his breath.

"What?"

"I forgot to charge my cell phone."

"Guess you better charge it when you get home."

"Yeah..."

"Daddy, they're gonna get way ahead of us!" David complains, and this
gets Mulder and Krycek moving towards the entrance.

~*~*~

David turns out to be correct, because they don't see the older kids
when they enter the maze. Thick walls of corn stalks make up the
walls to block their sight, and it's already gloomy inside the maze
despite being daylight still. He's glad that they're taking the kids
trick or treating afterwards, because they were warned that the maze
is designed to scare an older crowd after dark.

"I don't see much corn," Jared says as he looks down the first long
corridor of the maze.

"Yeah, it's not yellow," April agrees.

Mulder looks down at them, and realizes that they haven't quite
grasped the concept of a corn maze. "Here, look." He puts his hands
on the wall. "These are corn stalks. Corn grows on these. That's what
a corn maze is made of."

"Yeah, and if you look up high, you can see some ears of corn."
Krycek points out.

"Oh!" Four pairs of eyes widen when they finally understand what's
going on.

"And there's a pumpkin," April tells her brothers as she points. The
pumpkin has been carved into a snarling face. "Actually, it's a jack
o lantern 'cause it's carved. Right?"

"Right."

"And there's a ghost!" Krycek yells, and the kids whip around. "Oh
no, you missed it."

"There was no ghost," Jared scoffs, then shrieks when someone in a
ghost costume taps him on the shoulder before darting off.

Ten minutes and a few more mild scares into the maze, Mulder and
Krycek disagree about where to turn next.

"We should go left," Krycek insists.

"No, right makes more sense."

"Then you go right, and I'll go left," Krycek tells him. "Who wants
to come with Uncle Alex to prove your dad wrong?"

"We do!" David and Jared cry. When he notices his father, Jared
shrugs. "He was right about the ghost, Daddy."

"Go on." Mulder smiles.

"We're gonna beat them," April declares.

"Yeah, we will. But we're not going to rub it in, right?"

Christopher and April giggle, but they nod their agreement.

~*~*~

"Mulder?" 

Looking around, Mulder tries to pinpoint where the voice is coming
from. He's pretty sure that it's Krycek calling him, but Krycek isn't
within sight.

"Mulder!"

"What?" Mulder calls back.

"Where are you?"

"By the pumpkins."

For a moment he doesn't hear anything, but then he hears Krycek's
shoes. Krycek soon appears with the twins on his heels. He looks
worried.

"What?"

'scully called me, after figuring out that your phone is dead. She's
in labor."

"Oh my God, we need to find the kids so I can go home-"

Krycek shakes his head. "What you need to do is to trade keys with
me, take my car and Christopher to your house, and bring your wife to
the hospital."

"What about the other kids?"

"There's no reason the rest of them can't finish the maze."

"What about trick or treating?" April asks, looking worried.

"When I get you home, Michelle said that she's going to take you.
Your daddy is going to give her a nice bonus for that," Krycek says,
turning to smirk at Mulder as he does.

"And it will be worth every penny."

"You're sure you don't mind trading cars and rounding everyone up?"

"I mind. I'll also have something to hold over you, though, so it
works out."

"Thanks. I think."

Mulder tells April and the twins to behave before picking up
Christopher and rushing over to one of the actors to request an
emergency exit. The Mummy agrees to guide him out, and he's soon on
the way home.

~*~*~

When Mulder gets home, he sees that Scully doesn't look nearly as
well as when he left her. Sweat has broken out on her forehead, and
she looks like she's in a lot of pain.

"Oh, thank God you're home," Scully gasps, doubling over. "These
strong contractions hit me out of nowhere."

"We'd better get going, then," Mulder mutters, and he's surprised
when she shakes her head.

"I don't think we're going to have enough time to drive to the
hospital. I had Michelle call for an ambulance as soon as she saw you
pull into the driveway."

"You think time's that short?" He gives her a shocked look.

"I've done this a few times before, so I think I know."

"Damn."

Flashing lights flood the front windows, and Mulder helps Scully out
the door. Michelle follows them with William in her arms. "I'll bring
the kids out just as soon as Alex gets here. I'll check their candy
too."

"Thanks, Michelle," Mulder says before couching down to address
Christopher. "Be a good boy for Michelle."

"No!" Christopher surprises everyone by shrieking. He darts towards
the ambulance, surprising the paramedics who are helping Scully into
the back. "Mommy! Mommy, don't leave me!"

Mulder catches up to him within seconds. "Christopher, you have to
stay here."

"I wanna go, I wanna go!" Tears roll down his chubby cheeks.

One of the paramedics looks down at the wailing three-year-old before
picking him up under the arm pits. "Listen. You need to sit with your
daddy, the Count, and not touch anything. Understand?"

Mulder doesn't understand the "Count" crack at first, until he
notices that he and Christopher are still wearing their costumes.
::too late to do anything about that now.:: He thinks to himself with
a repressed sigh.

"Uh huh," Christopher tells the paramedic quickly. "I'll be good."

The paramedic looks at Mulder next. "Well, go on and get in, Dracula.
I'll hand him to you."

"I'm sorry about this," Mulder says quickly. 

"This isn't the first kid we've had refuse to be left behind. You can
call someone to meet you at the hospital to take him when we get
there."

Once inside the rig, Christopher is subdued and sits silently on
Mulder's lap. He's still crying a little, and Mulder wonders what
prompted his hysterics in the first place.

At least until Scully says, "It's okay, Christopher. It's not like
that movie. I'm going to be fine, Baby."

"Movie?" The paramedic in the back asks before Mulder gets the chance
to.

"We watched a stupid movie yesterday where someone who d-i-e-d was
taken away in an ambulance."

"That explains a lot. No wonder the little guy freaked out when he
saw us putting you in here."

"I know," Scully agrees before another contraction hits her.

The paramedic gives her a look that Mulder finds hard to read. "Have
all your contractions been this bad?"

"Yes," Scully says through gritted teeth. "It's like I just skipped
to the bad ones."

The paramedic doesn't say anything, but Mulder can see that he looks
worried.

~*~*~

Trick or treating has started in earnest, and the streets are clogged
with traffic that has both slowed to watch for children, and to let
kids out to spare them from walking. Mulder fumes about the laziness
of the latter as they make their way at a crawl despite the siren and
flashers.

They're still about a mile from the hospital when the paramedic who
has just finished examining Scully tells his partner to pull over.

"What's going on?" Mulder worries as they pull to the side of the
road.

Christopher, who has bent over to see past his father looks up at him
with an astonished look on his small face. "Daddy, there's a little
head!"

"We're not going to make it to the hospital before the first one is
born," the paramedic announces calmly as he opens the back door so he
can get out and get into a better position to deliver the baby.

Christopher scoots off the bench to get a better view.

"Christopher, come here," Mulder demands, but Scully objects.

"Let him watch, Mulder. Otherwise he might think women always have
another head down there."

"Good point." Mulder and Christopher go to stand out of the way but
close enough to see what's going on.

After a few more contractions the paramedic catches a small slimy
baby in both hands. One who is quick to announce her fury at the
situation. "It's a girl."

"A loud one," Christopher pronounces.

After looking the baby and Scully over the paramedics bundle the
little girl up and place her in Scully's arms. "It seems like we
might be able to make it to the hospital before you deliver the
second twin."

"Then let's go," Scully decides instantly, and they swing the back
door close and head back onto the road.

~*~*~

Though he pouts, a nurse looks after Christopher while Mulder and
Scully head to the delivery room. He declares that it's not fair that
he doesn't get to see the other baby come out, but no one pays
attention to his demands this time.

In the delivery room Mulder finds his attention torn between trying
to listen to what the doctors are saying about "twin A" and the
progression of Scully's labor with their other baby.

Within twenty minutes of arriving at the hospital, Mulder and
Scully's last child has arrived. "It's another girl!" The doctor
announces.

'since they're identical twins, she'd have to be," Mulder replies,
and the doctor takes the comment in good humor.

"Both babies look great. Apgars are both 9s," he tells the couple a
few minutes later.

"That's wonderful." Scully holds out her arms for their new
daughters, and nurses place one in each of her arms.

"They're beautiful," Mulder tells her, bending down to kiss her
forehead. "God, they're so beautiful."

'so, Mom," The doctor says, "I hear that your track record isn't too
good. Nine kids, and twin A here is the fourth one who didn't make it
to the hospital?"

"I've had a few impatient kids," Scully tells him with a tired smile.

"I guess so." He laughs. "You and both girls look good, but as you
know, we're going to be admitting you all now."

'standard procedure," Mulder acknowledges.

"Do you have names picked out?"

'sure. Being several days overdue gave us time to hash out the
details," Scully says. "Baby A, little Miss Impatient, is Brianna.
Baby B is Zoe."

"Lovely names," the doctor says before looking towards the door where
an orderly is waiting. "Looks like your ride is here."

As Scully and the babies are transported to their room, Mulder
follows behind. He's silently thanking the universe for allowing
their healthy new daughters to arrive safely. ::Thank you for not
making me a liar when I promised her everything would be okay.::

~*~*~

Once Scully and their new additions are tucked into their new room,
Mulder wanders out to make the phone calls to the family. He finds
himself surprised by the first number he dials. "Hi, Mom, it's Fox.
Dana just had the babies, but you're not going to believe what
happened..."

Mulder listens to his mother's well-wishing for a moment before
telling her that he loves her and hanging up so he can call Maggie
next. By the time he gets around to calling Missy his kids have
already been driven home by their uncle, and are currently out trick
or treating with Michelle.

Last of all, Mulder goes to retrieve his son from the nurse. "I hope
he wasn't too much trouble."

"No, he's a doll." The nurse beams. "He's been telling me what all
the equipment at the nurse's station is called. You don't meet too
many three-year-olds who watch e.r. but he asked me if Doug and Carol
work here."

"e.r.?" Mulder looks at his little boy. "Have you and Mommy been
watching TV before preschool?"

Christopher nods enthusiastically. "Lots."

"Oh boy, and she said for years that TV was bad for kids." Mulder
laughs to himself. "Come on, Kiddo, let's go meet the sister you
didn't see born."

"The other baby is here?" Christopher looks surprised.

'she sure is."

~*~*~

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty
Samantha"


Scully's Hospital Room
November 1st, 2002

"This never gets old, does it?" Mulder asks his wife as he looks up
from the newborn in his arms. He's perched on her bed, trying not to
crowd Scully and the other baby. Since Mulder had already brought the
kids to see her earlier in the day, it's now just the four of them.

"What doesn't?" Scully sounds curious.

"The wonder that we feel when we hold a brand new baby. It's holding
a world full of possibilities."

"That's pretty deep for someone who said he only got three hours
sleep," Scully says, but there's only a gentle barb in her voice.

"I did only get three hours sleep. William missed you last night.
It's true about them being filled with possibility, though," Mulder
insists. "Zoe here might someday find a cure for cancer, and maybe
Brianna will be the country's first dictator-"

"They're less than a day old, and you've already decided which one is
the evil twin?" Scully doesn't sound quite as amused.

"Of course not. It's just that a baby is filled with infinite
possibility, both good things and bad. That's what's so scary about
parenting, we can't forget that without guidance they have a capacity
just as great for terrible things as beautiful ones."

"True."

"And with nine, we have a lot of destiny to be shaping," Mulder
concludes. "A lot more than most people."

"I hate to sound conceited, but I think you and I are a lot more
capable than most people, Mulder."

"I know, but even we have limits." He's quiet a moment, and then
fishes in his pocket for something with the hand that isn't cradling
Zoe's head. "Here."

"What is it?" Scully asks as she reaches for the card he's holding
out to her.

"An appointment card from my doctor's office. We're 100% sure that
we're not having any more kids, right?"

"We're sure," Scully says firmly. 

"Then I guess you'll be getting that 40th birthday present I promised
you early," Mulder tells her. "I thought...I thought I should have it
done sooner than later."

Scully looks amused. "You're worried that one of us might change our
minds?"

"Or that we might accidentally on purpose slip up with birth
control." When she smirks at him, he gives her his best innocent
look. "The subconscious can be a pretty powerful thing."

Scully nods, then reads the card. "Three weeks from today, huh?"

"Yup. Remind me to make sure there are frozen peas in the house
then."

~*~*~

Baker Elementary School
November 1st, 2002

The last thing Mulder expects is to be going to a parent-teacher
conference during the first semester of school, but Page's teacher
had sent home a note yesterday requesting that he or Scully come for
a chat as soon as possible. Since Scully isn't home yet the task
falls to him. Page assured him that she'd been good, and the note
offered no clues as to the subject of the meeting, so Mulder decided
not to worry about it until he got there. At least Page didn't see a
baby born and explain the process to two classmates like her little
brother did.

Of course, he's now pacing the conference room, waiting for the
teacher to show up. ::You'd think if you schedule a meeting that
drags a parent down here, you could at least show up on time. I'm
just glad I'm not working today.:: Mulder distracts himself by
looking at the pictures on the wall. He thinks that some of the kids
show a good deal of promise as artists.

Eventually the door creaks open, and he turns his head in time to see
a short brunette woman enter the room. Her expression is friendly, so
he suspects that Page was being sincere about her good behavior. "You
must be mister Mulder," she says politely. "I'm Ms. Smith."

"Nice to meet you." He extends his hand. "Your note didn't say what
you wanted to talk to me about. I hope that Page has behaved well in
your class."

'she's a doll." Ms Smith smiles warmly, but her the corners of her
eyes crease with concern. "I'm a little concerned about her, though.
Has Page ever been tested for learning disabilities?"

Mulder feels himself bristling. His daughter is perfect, so how could
this woman imply otherwise? Then his more rational side takes over.
"No, why?"

"I asked the children to do a short piece of writing for me
yesterday, and I was a little concerned by what Page wrote."

::Oh crap. I hope it's nothing about Aliens.:: Ms Smith passed him a
piece of paper with large childish handwriting.

My name is Page Mulder. I'm eight years old. I like to read books
alot. I'm the oldest of 9 kids. Or 9 real soon, anyway. I like to
listen to the storys my daddy tells because they're funy and scaree.
Sometimes we went with them on cases, but not anymore 'cause they're
on TV instead now. I want to be an FBI agant like Mommy and Daddy
were when I grow up. My brother Sammy dose too.

Mulder reads it twice and hands it back to her. "Is it the spelling?
I didn't spell any better when I was her age-"

"No, he spelling is pretty typical of a child just starting second
grade. I was more concerned about the backwards number. Writing
numbers or letters incorrectly is a sign that a child might have
dyslexia. I know it's only one number and that all kids learning to
write do it occasionally, but I couldn't find anything in her
records."

"But her number wasn't backwards," Mulder protests. 

"Well yes, but she wrote nines instead of sixes-"

'she meant to write nines."

'she's barely eight years old, how could she be the oldest of nine
children?" She blushes as soon as the words are out of her mouth.

"Page is the oldest of nine children. She has a seven-year-old
brother who is also a student in this school, a five and a half year
old sister, four-year-old twin brothers, a three-year-old brother, an
eighteen-month-old brother, and newborn twin sisters born yesterday
who haven't come home from the hospital yet." Mulder could tell that
the woman was mentally adding it all up. "I'm sorry if our family
size defies your sense of credibility-"

"I'm...It's just...sorry." When she finishes sputtering, she looks
like she wants to put her head on the conference table.

"If there's nothing else now that we've cleared that up, I need to
get home. My nanny has to be somewhere at five."

Ms Smith looks thrilled that he's leaving. "Um, of course. I'm sorry
for the misunderstanding."

Mulder nods curtly. "Perhaps if something like this comes up with
another student, instead of jumping to conclusions you could ask the
child their siblings names and see how many names the list."

"Good advice," she mumbles as he gets up to leave.

~*~*~

As Mulder is walking towards the school's exit, a door to another
classroom swings part way open. A small boy, around four years old,
bolts out into the hallway. He notices Mulder just before he bumps
into him, and skitters to a stop with a grin. "Hi!"

"Hi yourself." Mulder smiles back, because the kid is cute. Not as
cute as his own brood, but almost. The boy has black curls and green
eyes, and looks like the type of child you'd see modeling clothing in
a JC Penney ad.

After a few seconds, a man appears in the doorway, and Mulder gets
the feeling that he's seen the guy before. The look the man gives him
is friendly enough, but it's clear that he doesn't recognize Mulder.

"Louie!" the man calls.

::Louie?:: Mulder stares at the boy as he races back to his father.
::It can't be.:: But it would explain why the father looks vaguely
familiar.

'sorry." The man gives Mulder an apologetic look. "He didn't find the
discussion I was having with his brother's teacher too interesting
and escaped. Hope he didn't bother you."

"No, no, not at all," Mulder mutters, feeling dazed.

"Oh, good." The man takes the boy and leads him back into the
classroom.

Shaking his head, Mulder wanders down the hallway. ::I guess I
finally got my question about learning to glamour answered.::

~*~*~

November 3rd, 2002

Scully turns around to look at the twins approximately seventeen
times on the drive home from the hospital. On the sixteenth time,
Mulder looks at her and grins, "They're fine."

"But they're quiet," she says sheepishly. 'shouldn't at least one of
them be fussing?"

Mulder shrugs without taking his hands off the steering wheel. "It's
the calm before the storm, Scully. Mark my words."

She gives him a slightly tense smile and he stops teasing her. The
rest of the drive home is uneventful.

"It's okay, I've got them," Mulder tells his wife as she appears at
his side when he reaches into the van to take out their new
daughters.

"Are you sure?"

"They barely weighed six pounds each, Scully. I think I can handle
it."

"Of course," she says, and he gets the sense that she didn't really
want to carry in either of the babies. Instead, she was just trying
to be her usual involved self.

With everyone from Page down to Christopher at their various schools,
the house is atypically quiet when they open the front door. The
distant sound of a radio probably on in Michelle's room is the only
indication that anyone is home at all until they hear the slap of
William's hard baby shoes on the wood floor.

The small redheaded toddler wobbles into view, with Michelle just a
step behind him. William's face breaks into a huge grin when he sees
his mother. "Mommy!"

"Hey, Buddy!" Mulder says, but his youngest son only has eyes for
Scully. At first.

William's unsteady gait slows to a halt when he notices the baby
seats hanging from his father's hands. He looks from one tiny girl to
the other, seemingly confused. "Baby? Baby?" After a couple seconds
his puzzlement seems to overwhelm him completely, and he loses track
of his balance, sitting heavily on his diapered behind.

"Now I wish he'd been awake when I brought the kids to see you at the
hospital," Mulder says to Scully. Then he sets the baby seats on the
floor, and sits on the floor himself. Drawing William onto his lap,
he says, "Will, these are your baby sisters."

From the safety of his father's lap, William examines little
creatures in front of them. One small hand tentatively reaches out to
pat the baby seats. Looking up at his father and mother, William
says, "Nice."

"I'll take that as a good sign," Scully murmurs. Standing next to
her, Michelle nods.

Mulder takes William's hand and helps him point. "This baby is your
sister Brianna." Next they point to the other baby. "And this baby is
your sister Zoe. They are twins like David and Jared are."

"Oh..."

William jumps when Zoe opens her mouth, and lets out a bleating cry.
Mulder hugs him reassuringly. "They do that a lot, William. Don't
worry, you'll get used to it."

Scully sighs. "Mulder, you want to carry them upstairs for me? If I
don't get them fed soon, I think we will have lot more crying to get
used to in a hurry."

"You've got it," he says, standing and passing William to Michelle.

~*~*~

Later That Day

Mulder is annoyed that his wife was only gets a couple hours of rest
before members of her family show up, but he does his best not to
show it. Mostly, he achieves this by staying out of the room.
 
"Look at how precious they are," Missy coos at her new nieces. She
doesn't have the soft look on her face any more when she looks up at
her sister. "Dana, I need to talk to you about Christopher."

"What about him?"

"I talked to Addy's therapist about their birthday party, and he was
really interested in what happened."

"Was he?"

"Yeah. He suggested that I talk to you about borrowing Christopher."

"You want to borrow your nephew?" Scully shoots her sister a confused
look.

"We were thinking, that if it's okay with you and Fox, that a couple
days a week I could come and get Christopher and take him to my house
for a few hours before dropping him off at preschool." Missy doesn't
look at Scully as she explains, "He thought that Christopher might be
the one who'll break her out of her shell."

"That's a lot of responsibility to put on a three-year-old," Scully
protests.

"I wasn't thinking that we'd tell him why he'd be coming over my
house, Day. If he even asks why, we can tell him it's so he doesn't
need to worry about being super quiet while the babies are sleeping
during the morning."

Scully looks skeptical. "You seem to be under the impression this
house has ever been kept quiet for any napping babies past Page."

"Then the modified truth. Addy needs someone to play with, and he's
the same age as her."

"If Mulder doesn't mind, I don't see why not," Scully says at last.
"You can explain it to him."

"You want me to explain?"

"Of course. This is your idea, after all."

"Uh, okay."

"Mulder?" Scully calls, and Missy instantly looks alarmed.

"You meant right now?"

"No time like the present," Scully says evenly.

"Yes?" Mulder asks as he steps into the room.

Scully gestures for her sister to speak.

"Um... can Alex and I borrow Christopher a couple of mornings a
week?"

"Do you promise to return him in the same condition he was in before
you borrowed him?" Mulder asks.

Missy stares at him, obviously at a loss for words.

This makes Mulder laugh. "What exactly is it that you want him for?"

"As kind of a play therapy for Addy."

'sure. No problem."

"Really?" Missy looks surprised that he agreed so easily.

"It doesn't sound like you're going to be doing psych experiments on
him, so I don't see why not."

"Thanks, Fox."

He wrinkles his nose. "Thank me by not calling me Fox."

Missy watches as he walks out of the room, before turning back to her
sister. "He didn't really mean that, did he?"

"Oh yes he did. He hates being called Fox."

"And why hasn't he ever said-"

"Mom. He's never been able to bring himself to ask her not to call
him Fox, so he figures that if he can't ask her not to, he can't ask
any of you not to. So, trying not to be rude to Mom, he grins and
bears it from everyone."

"That's so sweet, Dana."

"I know. He can be surprising that way."

"Trying to remember now might be a lost cause for the rest of us, but
I can try to teach Ryan and Addy to say 'Uncle Mulder' instead."

"I think he would really like that."

~*~*~

Mid-November 2002

Zoe and Brianna are home from the hospital for two weeks before the
household reasonably recovers from the addition of two newborns.
Since they're bigger than David and Jared were at birth, they sleep
better, but as it is, it's still that long before Mulder or Scully
find themselves getting a total of four hours of sleep a night.

It's this lack of sleep, and the fact that unlike Scully Mulder has
returned to work, that has Mulder less than pleased to hear somebody
knocking on the door early one Saturday morning.

Yawning, Mulder looks his visitor, an unfamiliar blond man, up and
down. He's got the chiseled features that grace the front of
celebrity rags at the grocery checkout counter. At first Mulder finds
himself wondering if this is a friend of Wayne's. "Can I help you?"
Mulder asks as he smothers another yawn.

"Um..." The man sticks his hand out. "I'm Scott Hill. Are you Fox
Mulder?"

"Yup. That's me," Mulder tells him, wondering if he can say something
to make the man leave so he can go back to bed.

"I don't know how to tell you this, but..." The man swallows hard,
and his obvious nervousness robs him of his movie star quality. "...I
think you might be my wife's brother."

Mulder blinks. 'samantha?"

All at once the tension drains from the man's shoulders. "That's
right."

"My sister is dead," Mulder tells him flatly. "I don't appreciate the
joke."

Scott's hands flutter up in defense. "I'm not joking! She told me
that you probably wouldn't take this well. She didn't even want me to
come here and bother you, but I had to."

"Why?" Mulder asks irritably. "Look, I don't want to be rude, but my
wife just had twin girls a couple of weeks ago and neither of us are
sleeping much. I'd like to get in a nap before they wake up too."

'so you're a father." Scott's expression is an odd mixture of hope
and wariness. "Are the twins your first?"

"No. They're numbers eight and nine," Mulder says, though he's not
quite sure why he's sharing that information with the man. "My older
kids are between the ages of eight and one."

"Are any of them four years old?" Scott asks softly, to Mulder's
bewilderment.

"David and Jared, our older set of twins, are four," Mulder says
nervously, suddenly wondering if the man might be dangerous.

Scott nods. "Our youngest, Andrew, is four. He's sick. That's why
I've come to talk to you, even though your sister didn't want me to."

"Oh." Mulder has a feeling that the other man is telling the truth.
Or at least believes himself to be telling the truth.

"Yeah...the doctor says that he needs a bone marrow transplant."
Scott's eyes are filled with pain. 'samantha and I have three girls
too, twelve, nine, and seven, but none of us are a match for Drew."

Mulder feels bleak when he realizes where the conversation is going.
The woman, whoever she is, can't be his sister. If she's not, then he
wouldn't be a match either. He suspects that the imposter is the
woman he met long ago in another when, back when he was desperately
trying to find a cure for Scully's cancer. She had seemed sincere at
that point, but he'd long since concluded that she'd just been an
actress playing a part.

"We'd hoped that her father could prove to be a match, but he died
unexpectedly this spring – just after we learned he wasn't a match
either," Scott adds, and Mulder's eyes widen in surprise. "The last
time we saw him in person, he told your sister that you were still
living, unlike she'd been led to believe most of her life."

'she thought I was dead?" Mulder finds himself saying. 'she's the one
who disappeared."

"When she was eight," Scott agrees. 'she'd been told that she was the
only member of the family to survive a home fire, but her birth
father got in touch with her last year."

Mulder shakes his head. "There was no accident. She just disappeared
one night, never to be seen again."

"All I know is what my father-in-law told me," Scott says. "The only
person I know who disappeared was the little girl he was raising up
until his death. We assume social services took her."

::He's talking about Addy!:: Mulder thinks in a rush. "Well, if she
thinks there was an accident, she was lied to."

"I guess it doesn't really matter," Scott says to Mulder's
frustration. "All that matters to me is that my little boy is going
to die if we don't find a match for him. He's in the hospital again,
and I'm not sure how much he can endure."

The horror of watching Emily's decline in the past and this still too
fresh memory of losing the baby before William both keep Mulder from
blurting out that it isn't possible for him to be a potential match
for little Andrew. Even though Mulder believes this to be true with
all his heart, he can't stand the thought of adding more pain to this
man's life.

Scott digs into his wallet, and pulls out a white business card. He
pushes it into Mulder's hand. "I know this is a lot to drop on you.
And you need time to think about it. But if you find it within your
heart to have a DNA test done to see if you're a match for Andrew,
please call me anytime, day or night."

Before Mulder can even say anything, Scott ducks his head and quickly
turns to walk back to his car.

~*~*~

"Who was that?" Scully asks as she joins him at the doorway. They
both watch as Scott gets in his car and drives away.

"He claims to be my sister's husband," Mulder says tonelessly.

Scully stares at him. "I thought you concluded that she was dead. You
told me about meeting a psychic who led you to her final resting
place. Didn't you say you saw her ghost?"

It's painful for him to think back to when he claimed to have met
Harold Piller because it was during the only rocky time in their
marriage. There hadn't been an investigation into Amber Lynn
LaPierre's disappearance this time around, nor had he ever really met
with the grieving father who had once shown him to the location of
Samantha's diary. But he had to give Scully some sort of explanation
for no longer looking for his sister, so he'd given her a modified
version of the truth once they'd decided to save their relationship –
while they were pushing each other apart a psychic approached him and
proved that Samantha had died as a teenager. Thankfully Piller has
never shown up to poke holes in his story.

"There were hospital records that matched Samantha's description, a
retired nurse claims she disappeared from the hospital before the
smoking man came for her, and a diary that seemed to be hers...I
don't see how it couldn't have been her I saw that night. Walk-ins
are hard to believe in, but those little spirits seemed very real
that night."

"I believe you," she says in a surprisingly heartfelt tone.

"You do?"

"After your abduction, I saw something in our house," she says
slowly. "Let's just say I've reconsidered my position on ghosts."

"I never thought I'd live to hear you say that," Mulder says,
thoroughly awed. "What happened to change your mind?"

Scully waves her hands impatiently. "My new found belief in ghosts is
far a field of what's going on right now. Let's go back to talking
about our visitor. What did he want? Does he want you to meet up with
this woman who claims to be your sister?"

"No. He wants a DNA test."

"To what purpose?"

"He claims that their youngest kid needs a bone marrow transplant,
and that no one in their family is a match."

She looks skeptical. "Do you think this sick kid exists?" 

"Maybe. I'd certainly want to see him before I let anyone draw any
blood. Scully, you are going to tell me why you've decided you
believe in ghosts, aren't you?"

She gives him a cryptic smile. "One of the child ghosts introduced me
to your uncle Saul."

"You're kidding!"

"Nope."

When she doesn't furnish any more details, he begins to get
impatient. "You aren't going to tell me how that happened, are you."

Scully stands on her toes to kiss his cheek. "It's more fun to let
you think about it for a while."

~*~*~

Seconds after they step back inside, there's a wail from the newly
redecorated nursery. Scully turns towards the stairs, but Mulder
stops her by taking her arm. "You look exhausted still. Let me get
her."

"What if she's hungry?"

"I can heat up one of those bottles of breast milk with the best of
them. Go on, go back to bed before I rethink the offer."

When he enters the nursery, Mulder finds himself amazed that Zoe is
sleeping peacefully through her sister's unhappy squalling. David and
Jared had constantly woken each other up as babies, but the girls
don't seem to do that much. At least not yet.

"Daddy's got you," Mulder says softly as he picks up the angry
infant. "No need to shout, I'm right here."

She doesn't seem at all mollified at first, but her noise shuts off
as soon as she latches onto the rubber nipple of the bottle. Mulder
looks down at her, admiring the thatch of light brown hair that she
shares with her sister. ::Funny how both sets of twins, and only
them, inherited brown hair.:: He eyes the other crib, wondering when
the girl's sister will wake up with her demand to be feed too.

As Mulder rocks Brianna, he finds himself thinking about how his own
sister's mystery was solved in his other lifetime. Back then it had
seemed like an airtight case, but had it been? Without Scully to know
about his brain illness and to urge him towards a cure, he'd been
slowly succumbing to it. Had he really been convinced that the dead
girl who'd met him with open arms had really been his sister, or had
he been so worn down by his illness and the length of the search that
he'd accepted what had seemed like facts without thinking critically
about their veracity?

~*~*~

10 p.m.

An hour after everyone else has gone to bed, even Scully, Mulder
finds himself putting on his jacket instead of his pajamas. He's not
sure he even wants to go to the hospital, but he's already driving
there.

The doors to the hospital open with a gentle whooshing sound when he
steps in front of them. Harsh lights make him blink owlishly, and a
nurse at the admitting desk looks up with a small amount of interest
when he walks up to her.

"Can I help you?" she asks in a tone just this side of boredom.

"I know that visiting hours are over, but I just found out that my
nephew is in the hospital. Is there any way I could just look into
his room? I promise I won't wake him or anything."

"Didn't your wife just have twins?" The nurse asks, surprising him.
When he glances at her name tag, he notices that it says "Nurse
Elliot," which brings up a faint memory of Scully mentioning a nice
nurse by that name.

"Yup, that's us."

"I thought so! You look a little different without the Dracula
makeup. I bet the babies are making it hard to get anything done,"
the nurse adds, to his confusion.

"Pretty much," Mulder admits.

She straightens up in her seat. "Considering your special
circumstances, I think that we can let the whole visiting hours issue
slide - if you keep your promise not to wake the boy."

"Of course."

"What's his name?"

"Andrew Hill? His parents call him Drew. He's four."

She looks up Andrew's information in her computer. "Room 417. I'll
page an orderly to walk you up there." She looks at him over her
glasses. "Then you won't have to worry about keeping your promise."

'sure."

And orderly appears a couple of minutes later, and Nurse Elliot
explains in hushed words. The orderly nods to Mulder, and he's quick
to follow the other man.

The orderly looks over his shoulder at Mulder. "Elliot must like you
for some reason."

"My wife kind of caused a stir a couple of weeks ago. We had twins,
and only one of them waited until we got here to be born."

"Oh, that was you! How is everyone?" The orderly asks as they step
into an elevator.

"My wife and both girls are doing great."

The ride in the elevator takes only seconds, and the orderly steps in
front of Mulder. "We'll stop talking now. The nurses will kill us if
we wake up the peds floor."

"Right," Mulder whispers.

They stop in front of room 417, and the orderly holds a finger to his
lips before gently opening the door. Mulder looks in, and is
immediately disheartened to see that the room is dimly lit by a night
light that could have come out of David and Jared's room. How can
someone still scared of the dark be so ill?

Even in the relatively dim light, Mulder and see that the child
sleeping in the bed is not healthy. His dark blond hair is pasted to
his forehead with sweat, and it immediately summons up a mental
picture of Emily in her last hours. Drew doesn't look quite as sick
as Emily had been then, but he's decidedly not well.

After a moment of tossing and turning, the little boy opens his eyes
and looks at Mulder. His eyes look just like Samantha's. Mulder steps
out into the hallway as soon as the boy's eyes close.

Once they've walked back to the elevator, Mulder glances at the
orderly. "Do you know who I'd speak to about finding out if I'm a
bone marrow match for my nephew?"

~*~*~

Mulder-Scully Home
1am

Scully rolls over with a yawn when she hears the bedroom door open.
"Mulder, why are you dressed?"

"I went to the hospital," Mulder tells her while he sits on the bed
and starts to pull off his shoes. "One of the nurses let me peek in
on Scott's son."

"You went to see the little boy? Why?"

"I've been thinking about this situation all day. It's all well and
good to insist that I discovered what happened to my sister, but what
if I'm wrong? I was so sick when I thought I saw Samantha's ghost..."

"Now you're doubting yourself."

"Of course I am. What if I continue to insist that this woman
couldn't possibly be my sister, and it turns out that no only that I
was wrong about that, I'm the one who could save that little boy? I
don't know if I could live with the guilt. So I'm arranging to have
the necessary testing done to determine if I'm a bone marrow match
for the boy," Mulder explains.

"Are you going to go and see this woman, to let her know what you've
decided?"

Mulder shakes his head. "They said I didn't have to. If it turns out
that I'm a match, I'll speak to her then. I don't think I can stand
to see her look hopeful if it turns out that I can't help her son."

Scully scoots across the bed and wraps her arms around him. "I think
you're doing the right thing, Mulder."

"Me too."

~*~*~

Mercy Medical
November 21st, 2002

The day has finally arrived when Mulder is making his sacrifice for
family planning. The doctor speaks to him briefly, administers a
shot, and is called away by a nurse. Doctor Penman promises to be
back "before the shot wears off" which just makes Mulder gulp.

"You okay, Mulder?"

"I'm fine. I don't have to watch, right?" Mulder whispers.

Scully squeezes his hand. "Of course you don't have to."

"You know, I can't feel them at all," Mulder admits while they wait
for the doctor to return to Mulder's room. "That shot he gave me is
something else."

"Good."

The door open and Penman strides in, surprisingly spy for a
white-haired gentleman. "How are the baby girls, Dana?" he asks as he
goes to sit near Mulder's waist.

"They're both great."

"You are both sure that you don't want more, right?" Penman asks,
sounding amused. "I'm supposed to ask before I cut anything, no
matter how many kids a couple has."

"We're sure," Mulder tells him, turning his gaze from the scalpel.
::Not that it isn't sad that we're never having any more.::

"Okay, then. I'm going to start. You shouldn't feel the incision, but
yell if you do and I'll give you more Novocain."

"Do you have to do that very often?" Mulder asks in a shaky voice.

"Almost never."

::I can handle this. I've been shot, dammit!:: Mulder thinks, trying
to calm himself. ::I've been tortured by aliens. Twice!::

Several minutes later Penman says, "Okay, just two more stitches to
close things up, and we're done."

"You're done?" Mulder asks, surprised.

Penman puts aside a needle and thread. "All done."

"Wow."

"When you get home, I want you in bed with an icepack for a few
hours, got it?"

"I'll make sure he follows your orders," Scully tells him.

"Good. I'd tell you not to have sex, but with three-week-old twins at
home, we know that's not going to be happening," Penman chuckles
knowingly. "And we already discussed using condoms until you can
provide us two sperm-free semen samples."

"It could take up to three months, right?"

"It could, but it probably won't be that long." Penman glances at
Scully. "How old are your youngest boys?"

"Three and one and a half, why?" she asks, confused.

"This isn't an order, Fox, but a recommendation: get Dana to buy you
a cup."

It takes Mulder a second to figure out what he means. "I haven't worn
one since I played sports."

"You're going to be sore for up to two weeks. Do you think you can
keep your little sons from crawling on your lap with their hard
little feet for that long?"

Mulder looks up at his wife, "He has a point."

Scully smiles. "Once he's in bed I'll go out to the sporting goods
store."

"And buy him some Tylenol for the pain too, Dear."

"I will."

Penman pats Mulder's shoulder. "You can get dressed, Fox. Just see
the receptionist out front before you go."

"Thanks, Doc."

"No problem. Take care now." 

'so, that's it," Mulder says as soon as they're alone in the room.

"Looks like," Scully agrees. 

~*~*~

Federal Correctional Institution, Cumberland
Cumberland, Maryland
A Week Later

A typically monotonous day is broken up for Brad Follmer when he's
unexpectedly informed that he has a visitor. A faint hope involving
Marita and conjugal visits accompanies him as a guard walks him to
the visitor's lounge. Alas, his dreams dry up before he's even
seated.

"What do you want?" Follmer asks sullenly as soon as he sees that his
visitor is Mulder.

"To talk to you."

"About? I doubt you want to discuss this week's sports or my past
sexual exploits with your friend Monica." Follmer manages to look
both snide and bored, which impresses Mulder on some level.

"I was thinking about a bribe," Mulder tells him.

"A bribe?" Follmer looks incredulous. "I know what you must have
asked yourself: 'what do you get for a man who has nothing?' So what
did you come up with, and more importantly what do you think I have
that's worth bribing me for?"

"A man like you is going without a lot of things that might make the
duration of your sentence more bearable. You could get a radio, a
fan, a small TV, nicer sneakers, even some hair care products. I have
the cash with me to get those things into your hands."

"In exchange for what?" Follmer waves his hand around. "In case you
haven't noticed, I'm no longer master of my domain. It's not like I
have any power to get things done on the outside these days."

"I don't expect for you to do anything other than have a
conversation," Mulder says, putting a sizable stack of ten dollar
bills on the table. "Two thousand dollars would buy you a lot of
perks at the commissary."

"To think I'd ever sell myself so cheap," Follmer says with a rueful
look. "What do you want to know? And more importantly, why me?"

"As the most senior member of what's left of the tattered consortium,
I think you might be the only man left standing who knows what I want
to hear."

"One of those seniority things people say are such a privilege. Do go
on."

"That and your reputation for being historically knowledgeable about
the organization," he says, thinking of what Krycek has said about
him. Mulder leans forward slightly. "Tell me about the girl who was
experimented on in my sister's name."

"Ah. You must mean one of the Samanthas," Follmer tells him, and
Mulder feels his heart skip a beat.

"One of?"

"Don't be coy, Mulder. You tried to save one of the Samanthas on a
bridge several years ago. And I know you know all about the bees and
corn. You rescued your lovely wife and regretfully dead ex from the
clutches of the beasties after you and Scully poked your noses where
they shouldn't have been."

It's on the tip of Mulder's tongue to mention the boys and girls that
he and had once seen tending to those very crops. "What does corn
have to do with my sister?"

"One of the very first things the consortium did after taking their
hostages was to attempt to clone some of them. Your sister and the
son of one of the British members were cloned to provide an unpaid
workforce for the program."

"You're trying to tell me that clones of my sister were used as
slaves??" Mulder tries hard to look like he can hardly believe
Follmer's words.

The other man seems to buy his reaction. "Exactly. They looked like
your sister since we'd taken her DNA to make our mute little worker
bees. I know you met some of the clones in the Kurt series, so you
know that we were able to grow them to the desired age whenever we
felt like it. Since they weren't really children, we didn't have to
worry about the mundane details like teaching them, and since they
were mute they couldn't exactly tell anyone if they thought they were
being mistreated. They were ideal, in a way."

"What do they have to do with the girl I'm talking about?" Mulder
asks impatiently. 'she spoke to people."

"It took them quite a while to perfect the clones. Early on they left
them too intact, with the ability to speak and to think
independently. Later on we rectified that, of course, but the girl
you mean was the earliest, a regrettably imperfect model."

"Regrettable? What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that unlike their later toys, this one was fairly human. Just
enough alien DNA in her to grow her up to age eight in a year. The
old man had a soft spot for your sister, so he insisted that she be
released as soon as we procured the necessary DNA. The rest of the
consortium insisted that it wasn't possible because the visitors
would know that one of the hostages was missing. Not to be stymied,
he put the cloning project into high gear, and they soon had an exact
duplicate of your sister in their possession." Brad gives him a
sickly smile. "Or maybe I should say 'our possession' given I was
brought into the project by my father before the ink on my high
school diploma was dry."

Mulder tries not to show his amazement at Follmer's revelation about
his early involvement. It really shouldn't surprise him – if the
Smoking Man had raised him, Mulder thinks that he himself would have
been recruited very young as well, which is just one more reason to
be thankful he'd grown up as Bill Mulder's child instead. "Why didn't
he bring my sister home, then?"

"Your father. Bill was backing out of the project as far and as fast
as he could by then, and the old man refused to give him the
satisfaction of being the only person to get his loved one back. So,
instead he arranged for the girl to be fostered by another family.
They all pretended that the clone you're speaking of was really your
sister. I think the old man pretended the hardest, because they way
he talked about her made people occasionally doubt that he recalled
that she wasn't the real Samantha Mulder."

Mulder nods slowly. "I guess giving my sister away makes sense in
context of what I knew about the despicable bastard. But how did the
clone end up dead?"

"That girl is the reason the subsequent clones were made to be mute
and limited in their ability to function independently. Since she was
an almost exact duplicate of the girl he'd given away, it was hard
for people, even him, to think of her as clone. He rarely saw your
real sister even from a distance, and this girl was readily at hand,
so he made a pet out of her clone. Eventually he even brought her to
live with his wife and son, which turned out to be a fatal mistake."

"Fatal to the girl, you mean," Mulder grumbles.

'sadly. It seemed to some that he was taking too many liberties with
the girl, so there was a plan to take her back regularly to
experiment on. The girl endured it for a few months, but considering
that she thought of herself as a person, it eventually because
unbearable to her and she ran away. As a punishment the Smoking Man
was sent to retrieve her from the hospital she ended up in."

"But the walk-ins took her first."

"Walk-ins?" Follmer looks surprised, but not, as it turns out, by
Mulder's choice of descriptors. "What fairytales have you been
telling yourself? He took her from the hospital, and she begged him
to kill her rather than make her go through any more
experimentation."

"Did he?" Mulder asks tonelessly.

"I already told you that he had taken a shine to the girl. In the
final instance of him not being able to deny her anything, he did as
she asked. A single bullet to the heart stopped her suffering, and he
appeared back at the consortium covered in blood and carrying her
body. The girl was cremated that night, and an immediate plan to
alter all further clones was immediately instituted."

"But I saw her," Mulder blurts out, making Follmer look up at him.
"Evidence of her, I mean. Three years ago a psychic brought me to
where the smoking man's family had lived, and I found her diary. I
also talked to a nurse who had treated the girl before he came to the
hospital to take her. She said the girl simply disappeared."

"You spoke to nurse Ray?" Follmer asks casually. 

Mulder's mouth instantly tastes of ashes.

"Did you really think that no one thought to wonder what would happen
if you ever made your way to April Base? They paid off a nurse
connected to the clone on the off chance that you ever were able to
access the hospital records from the girl's final night. From the
look on your face, whatever tale she spun for you must have been
convincing."

'she was paid off?" Mulder asks, barely able to get the words out. A
cold fear fills his belly when he thinks about the holes that the
woman could put in his story, given that this time he never actually
spoke to her any more than he had Harold Piller.

"Until the day she died," Follmer tells him. 

'she's dead?" Mulder asks, hating himself for the relief he feels
knowing that.

'sorry. You're more than a year too late to interrogate her about
what she hid from you with her lies about walk-ins," Brad says
without a trace of pity in his voice. "I'm curious as to why you've
come to ask about the dead girl now. Am I to surmise that you've
discovered the carefully hidden authentic Samantha, then? That must
be it, am I right?"

Mulder spreads his hands. "How could you be wrong?"

"They could have dreamed up worse fates for her, you know."

"I know." Mulder slides the stack of money towards Follmer. "I
suspect that nice guard is going to keep this safe for you, but I bet
he'll let you count it first."

The guard nods from his corner.

Follmer smirks at Mulder. "Do I need to count it? You're not the
cheating type."

~*~*~

Later

As Mulder gets into Scully's car, his gaze happens on the letter
still sitting unfolded on the passenger seat. He's already read it
three times, even though he committed the contents to memory the
first time.

He, Fox Mulder, is a bone marrow match for Andrew Benjamin Hill.

That fact alone is proof that the woman who gave birth to Andrew is
his long-lost sister, but he'd still wanted to hear it from someone
else's mouth that the girl he'd been mourning since seeing her ghost
in a year 2000 was yet another clone. It makes him wonder if he would
have ever have realized that his sense of closure over his sister's
disappearance had been counterfeit, or if he'd of gone to his grave
without knowing the truth.

::Speaking to Follmer was worth the two grand, easily.:: Mulder
thinks as he puts the car back into drive.

Scully has promised that they'll arrange to have Samantha come over
tomorrow, and he feels sick to his stomach thinking about that. What
will it be like to see her again, at long last?

~*~*~

Mulder-Scully Home
The Following Day

Zoe fusses as Maggie bundles her into her bunting bag. Scully tries
to soothe the baby by talking to her even as she gets Brianna dressed
to go out too.

"You're sure that it's really her?" Maggie asks, now swaying slightly
to calm her granddaughter.

"The DNA test says that it is," Scully replies. "Thanks for taking
them for us."

"No problem. But where's William?"

"He's right here," Michelle announces as she walks into the room with
William on her hip. He's already wearing his tiny royal blue coat and
winter boots. "Mrs. Scully, are you sure you want me to bring the
boys to your house after I pick them up from preschool? I could take
them to a movie or something instead and pick the babies up later."

"If you don't mind sticking around my place while they watch a DVD, I
don't mind at all."

'sure." Michelle looks over at Scully. 'should I tell Mister Mulder
good luck? I'm not sure what to say in this sort of situation."

"You mean you're not experienced with talking to people about meeting
their long lost sisters?" Maggie asks the nanny with a grin.

Michelle blushes.

"I don't think anyone needs to say anything," Scully decides. "But
thank you for the thought."

Mulder walks into the room just in time to take Brianna out of
Scully's arms. "Thanks, Maggie."

She doesn't say anything, but kisses him on the cheek. "I think we're
all ready to go. Would you grab the diaper bags, Dear?"

He does, smiling at his mother-in-law's inventive way to avoid
awkward conversation.

~*~*~

Half an Hour Later

When there's the sound of an engine in the driveway, Mulder insists
on being the one to go and greet his guest. Scully kisses him on the
check and heads for the kitchen. He watches as the car door open and
his guest steps out. After a second's hesitation, she heads up the
walk towards where he waits.

'samantha?" Mulder's voice is barely a whisper as he opens the screen
door for the woman on the other side. He's not sure why, but it
shocks him that this woman looks so like the ones he met over the
years. ::Of course she does. They were cloned from her, after all.::

She gives him a tentative smile. "You've grown up on me, Fox."

Mulder steps back so she can enter the house. 'so have you. You don't
look like the tree climber I remember."

"I guess not."

"Please, have a seat," Mulder tells her gesturing towards the arm
chairs.

"Thanks."

There's a moment of mildly uncomfortable silence as they look at each
other, but Mulder thinks of something to say. "How is Drew doing?"

Samantha shrugs. "As well as can be expected. He's in isolation for
now because they need to destroy his immune system before he receives
your bone marrow...Scott and I can't thank you enough for doing
this."

"That's what family is for," Mulder says firmly.

"But still, not everyone would do that for a sister they haven't seen
in decades. When I didn't match Drew, and Scott and the girls didn't
either...we almost lost hope."

'scott mentioned that you have girls too, but I don't know their
names."

"Adrianna, my oldest, just turned thirteen. Ariel is ten, and Alyssa is eight.
We waited a few years and decided to give having a boy one last shot,
and we got Andrew," Samantha says with a smile. "When you told Scott
that you have nine kids, were you-"

Mulder shakes his head. "I wasn't joking. Dana and I really do have
nine."

"Wow. I'm going to have a lot of names and ages to remember."

"Unless you've changed a lot since you were a kid, that won't be too
much of a challenge for you. I should probably tell you first that I
named my oldest son after you. He's seven now," Mulder says quietly.

Samantha looks up, surprised. 'samantha isn't an easy name for a
boy."

Mulder forces himself not to smile as he recalls saying the same
thing to Scully when she suggested making Sammy his sister's
namesake. He can tell that his sister is teasing him, but he pretends
that he thinks she's serious. 'samuel," Mulder explains. "We named
him Samuel Taylor Mulder."

"Wow," Samantha says again. "I never thought I'd have someone named
after me."

"Promise me not to return the favor," Mulder insists, making her
laugh. "I still haven't forgiven Mom and Dad for sticking me with
Fox."

"If, in the very unlikely event that we have another baby, I promise
not to name him Fox."

"I'll hold you to that. Anyway, Sammy has one older sister, Page, who
is eight..." Mulder says, then tells her the names and ages of the
rest. "...April considers that half to be very important, so I try
not to forget it."

'she sounds serious." 

"As far as my kids go, yes. Christopher is serious for a
three-year-old too, but he has his moments."

"Oh?"

"After throwing a tantrum, he became the only one of my kids to see a
baby born."

"Now that sounds like a story..."

Mulder obliges, and tells her the tale of Brianna's quick entry into
the world. This has them both laughing. Eventually he becomes more
somber.

"What really happened to you?" Mulder asks, trying to be more patient
with Samantha than he had the last lifetime he talked to her.

Samantha spreads her hands. "There are things I still don't
remember."

"That's okay. Just tell me what you do remember."

"You and I were playing a game-"

"- Stratego."

"That's the one. When some men broke into the house. One of them did
something to you, I think they drugged you. You collapsed, and I
thought they killed you when I screamed your name and you didn't
answer."

::Did they drug me? Is that why I remember not being able to move?
Did the drug cause hallucinations?::

"When they got me outside, they insisted that there was a fire, and
that you were already dead, so that's why they didn't rescue you too.
I didn't want to believe them, but they said you fell down because of
the smoke..." Samantha shakes her head. "I shouldn't have believed
them."

"It's not your fault," Mulder insists. "Kids are expected to believe
adults, so how could you be at fault for doing what you were supposed
to?"

"I was kept with some other kids for about a year, and then I was
given to a new family, the Foresters."

"Were they okay?"

"They loved me, Fox. I missed you, Mom and Dad, but they loved me
too, so it was hard not to love them back."

"Can I meet them?" Mulder asks impulsively. Mostly he wants assurance
that the people who raised his sister weren't evil.

Samantha shakes her head. "I wish you could, but they passed away not
long after Adrianna was born. Ruth had lung cancer, and Gary seemed
to lose the will to live without her."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

'so Ruth and Gary raised you. How did you find out that you were lied
to about my death?"

"Last year an old man who claimed to be our father told me that I'd
been lied to. I know that he wasn't really our father, but I think I
remembered him visiting the house. We didn't like him."

"I know who you're talking about," Mulder tells her.

"He made me promise not to bother you because you were happy.
According to him it would be too big a shock for you if you found out
that I was alive, since you'd been told I was dead too." She gives
him an apologetic look. "I wasn't even sure that I believed him,
about you being alive, until I was watching TV a couple of months
ago. And there you were, alive and well."

"I knew something good would come from doing that show." Mulder
smiles.

"Did you really used to be an FBI agent?"

"Dana and I both were, for years and years."

"I think I can picture that," Samantha tells him. Then she looks like
she has something difficult to say. "Is Mom..."

"Mom would probably love to see you. I only wish Dad have lived long
enough to, but he died last year."

"You really think she'd want to see me?" Samantha's voice is small.

"More than anything. She'd love to see you and meet the rest of her
grandkids."

"Okay. Would you mind telling her about me, first?"

"Not at all. I do have one last question for you, though."

"What's that?"

"When are my kids going to meet their aunt Samantha and their 'new
girl cousins'?" Mulder asks. "Page and April will be thrilled to
death to find out that there are three more girls in the family, even
if two of your girls are older."

"Pretty soon, Fox," Samantha promises.

"Good. If it's okay with you, I'd like to arrange that before I
donate the marrow, before there are any holes drilled into me. My
kids are good at sensing weakness," he deadpans.

'sure, let's do that."

"Mulder?" He turns and sees Scully holding a tray of mugs. "Would you
two like coffee?"

"I would."

"Nice to meet you, Dana," Samantha says, standing. "Though I feel
like I know you a little already from the TV show."

"At least it's been good for something," Scully says, unknowingly
echoing Mulder.

~*~*~

Mulder spends the rest of their first meeting torn between being
grateful that their silly TV show made Samantha aware that he was
alive, and regretting not having met with her in a diner years
earlier because he'd concluded back then, due to not yet understand
who she was, that they'd had nothing to offer each other. In the end
he decides that meeting now needs to be good enough to satisfy him
considering how many other could-have-beens he's been able to repair.

After Samantha leaves, Mulder walks across the room and gives the
phone a contemplative look. He studies it for a minute, stalling for
time before picking it up and dialing a number that he knows by
heart.

He sits as the phone begins to ring. It only takes a moment before a
distant voice greets him more warmly than it might have in the past.
"Mom, are you sitting down? I have something to tell you."

~*~*~

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty One
"Late Nights with Dead Ringer"


December 17, 2002

It's a cramped studio, but it's been a second home to the lone
smoking resident within for almost thirty years. The musical intro
fades out, and the red light blinks on when the DJ hits the mic
button. "You've been listening to 'Dark Night of the Soul' by Loreena
McKennitt," a warm, friendly voice says. "That wraps up the
metaphysical mysteries, at least for tonight. Thanks to my guests,
Rabbi Levi Markowitz, Father Leroy Schiaparelli, Dr. Morgan
Eisenhower, and psychic Melissa Morton, and of course, each and every
one of you listeners. This is Ted Ringer, of Late Nights with Dead
Ringer, with you every night because strange things happen every
day."

After hitting the mic button off and hitting a couple of buttons to
switch the station to satellite programming and cutting the web
streaming feed, the DJ leans back and sighs, looking content. 'so,
did any of you drive in, or should I call for cabs?" he asks his male
guests. The lone woman, Miss Morton, was a call-in guest, and only
came on in the first half hour of the two-hour program.

The doctor shakes his hand before leaving, "I drove," he says, and
the rabbi does the same. The priest, however, pulls out a cell phone,
"Don't worry, I'll call for a cab."

The DJ nods at him and smiles. "Okay, I'll just take care of some
things for tomorrow's show, then." Then he turns his attention to his
laptop, checks his e-mail and, after forwarding some of the more
interesting entries to his program director, deletes a good deal
before carefully perusing others. By the time he finishes with his
official e-mails, the priest waves him goodbye, and the DJ waves
back. Then he confirms that the guests for the next show are coming
in, double-checks on any special arrangement (there is none, for
once), and skims through the show prep, most of which is familiar to
him after years of doing this kind of show. He highlights the various
points he'll need to cover, plus new information, and copies it onto
a new document. Then he saves everything, and, owing to his mild
paranoia about technology, saves everything again before turning it
off. He puts the laptop into a half-full briefcase, which looks worse
for the wear than he does, but just barely.

The DJ grunts as he pushes his chair away from the soundboard, and
when he stands, he's a lot bigger and taller than most of his
listening audience would think, but his shoulders are bowed and his
head hangs low, as if shouldering an invisible burden. The large man,
clad in the old school uniform of suit and tie, grabs his now-empty
coffee mug and half-empty cigarette carton, along with his briefcase
carrying his laptop and large-print notes, and walks out of the
studio.

Once he steps out of the radio station, he's no longer Ted Ringer,
host of the paranormal and supernatural call-in show, but just Ted
O'Neill, age 65, married five times and divorced just as many times,
father to five girls and two boys, all of whom live with his
ex-wives. Just a regular guy, really.

~*~*~

The Mulder-Scully home
December 25, 2002

After holding Brianna and Zoe for two hours, she's given twin duty to
her husband, who is currently sitting on the couch with said twins
and William. "Merry Christmas!" Scully warmly hugs the next arrival.
Or rather, set of arrivals, since Mattie is holding a squirming cat.
"Merry Christmas, Bill, Tara," she says, hugging each in turn. "Food
in the kitchen, presents under the tree."

"I think we'd know the drill by now," her older brother retorts,
amused, as his son races inside with the hapless cat. "Let me guess,
Santa's up in the chimney and monsters are under the bed to keep the
kids company."

"Don't mind him," Tara shakes her head, "I think the long flights
have messed with his brain as well as his sleep."

Scully chuckles as she closes the door behind them. "Those, I don't
miss," she says, ushering them into the crowded house. "Bill, Tara,
these are my friends John and Monica, and their children Hannah,
Luke, and Gibson - David, no, that's not for eating," she groans,
snatching the plastic candy cane out of the boy's mouth and putting
it back on the tree. She taps a white-haired woman on the shoulder,
and the woman spins around. "This is my mother-in-law, Mrs. Mulder,"
and her brother and sister-in-law shake the proffered hand. "And you
should know these two," she waves at Melissa and Krycek, who are
sharing a lazy-boy while Melissa holds Ryan. "Missy, is Addy with
Christopher?"

Her red-haired sister nods, sending warning looks at both her brother
and husband as both men start to glare at each other. "Dana, can you
check on Emily? I think she and Page went upstairs to fix their
dresses for the hundredth time." She rolls her eyes.

Scully laughs. "Like you never had a girly phase," she says, and her
older sister wrinkles her nose. "I'll check on them after I check on
Addy and Christopher." Melissa shoots her a relieved look before
standing up to put a wedge between Krycek and Bill Jr.'s glaring
contest.

The shorter red-haired woman makes her way to the kitchen, but finds
herself deftly plucking Teliko out of Jared's clutches and putting
him into Hannah's, steering Sammy and April away from shaking the
presents again, and taking Doggett's and Reyes' cups before actually
making it into the kitchen. "Hi," she says, finding her mother
teaching her son and Missy's until recently estranged daughter how to
decorate the Christmas cake.

All three look up, and two smile at her while one merely stares. "Hi,
Mommy," Christopher says. "Look, we made a star!"

Scully puts the cups on the counter before inspecting the children's
handiwork. "Wow, it's beautiful," she says, smiling.

"Of course it is," Mrs. Scully beams, her face, hands and clothes
decorated with previous cooking efforts. "My grandchildren made it,
after all." And she hugs both blond children, and to Scully's
surprise, they both hug her back with equal affection.

Still marveling at the magic of her mother, Scully manages to
remember some other important information. "Bill and his family just
joined us," the red-haired daughter informs her brunette mother, "and
they brought a cat."

"Kitty?" Addy says, looking interested.

Scully nods, remembering the first time her sister's daughter met
Teliko and Piper - after the pair was captured - and was utterly
enchanted. 'so far, Mattie's holding on to it, but I doubt a cat will
stay put for long," she remarks and smiles.

After a beat, the little girl smiles back. "Good," Addy says,
"kitties gotta play."

"That they do," Scully agrees.

"Which reminds me, we haven't made the Christmas cookies," Mrs.
Scully says. "We can make cats." She glances at Addy, who smiles
back, 'stars, trees, bells, all sorts of things!"

"Cool!" Christopher crows, and the little blonde girl nods her head.
"Mommy, you wanna make some?" he asks.

Scully shakes her head, refilling her friends' cups with coffee. "I
made them when I was your age," she says, "now it's your turn. Have
fun!" She raises the mugs before she leaves, and they wave back.

She's a little disappointed that Charlie and his family couldn't make
it over, but they're spending it with his in-laws who live closer,
which is understandable. It's not like she needs to fill this house
to the brim, although the conversations, laughter, and even mild
grudges from everyone within are more than enough to fill it with
life.

After giving Doggett and Reyes their coffee cups and waving at Luke
and Gibson on their way to play basketball outside, she gives Melissa
a thumbs up before heading upstairs to check on their girls. Of
course, if she'd stayed downstairs, she would've been the one to
answer the door instead of her husband.

~*~*~

"I'll get it," Mulder says when there's a knock at the door. He limps
over, his hip still bothering him from the marrow donation, smiling
because he figures the Lone Gunmen have given up on their week-long
stalking of some radio show host. "Merry Christmas," he says as he
opens the door. Then his eyes widen when he sees who's actually
standing there. "Wow, it's a Christmas miracle," he says,
half-joking.

Even though he's seen them all before, the sight never fails to move
him. His sister, once thought to be dead another lifetime ago, is
standing before him, along with her movie star-looking husband and
their four kids. 'shh, don't tell her we're here," Samantha says. "I
want to surprise her."

"Oh, you'll do that, all right," Mulder chuckles, as Scott gives him
a sheepish look and the kids are still in the polite stage of
acquaintance. "Come on in before you freeze."

They do that, and are surprised to find the house rather full. "How
many people are you related to?" Scott asks his wife in a low voice,
before setting Drew down to remove his jacket.

She gives him a look. "I'm guessing these are Fox's friends and
in-laws," she says, seeing a woman with red hair like her
sister-in-law's.

"That they are." Mulder nods, and once they've removed their sweaters
and jackets, he puts a finger to his lips as he leads the family
through the living room. His mother has her back to them as she
listens to April, and he taps his mother's shoulder. "Mom, there's
someone here to see you."

"Oh?" she says, turning around. Then her eyes widen, and she puts a
hand to her chest. 'samantha?"

The short woman with long, wavy brown hair nods. "Um, Merry
Christmas," she says awkwardly.

And to her and her brother's surprise, Mrs. Mulder wraps her arms
around Samantha, tears rushing to her eyes. "Fox told me you were
alive, but I didn't," she chokes out, "I didn't know what to
believe."

And her daughter's similarly affected, if the tears in her eyes are
any indication. "I'm here," Samantha says with tears in her eyes,
"I'm really here."

When they drop their arms, Mrs. Mulder pulls out a handkerchief from
her purse and dabs at her eyes. "Oh my." She smiles, embarrassed by
her tears, "this is a lovely surprise." And she hands her
handkerchief to her daughter, who smiles a little before wiping her
own eyes dry.

Samantha steps to the side so her mother can see her family. "Mom,
this is my husband Scott Hill," she says, and holds her breath as her
mother does a quick appraisal of her husband before shaking his hand,
"and these are my children, Adrianna, Ariel, Alyssa, and Andrew."

"Hi, Grandma," Drew says from his father's shoulders. 'sorry I
couldn't see you before, but I'm healthy now!"

Mrs. Mulder smiles, "Yes, I see."

"Why don't you guys take the dining table?" Mulder says, steering
them in that direction. "I'm sure you have plenty to catch up on."

His mother nods, and they're already talking as they take their
seats. Mulder smiles a little, then limps back to the couch where his
little ones are. "You takin' anything for your hip?" Doggett asks,
relinquishing the spot for the babies' father.

Mulder shrugs a little. 'some aspirin, but nothing much," he grunts,
easing gently onto the couch. Then he turns William's head towards
the scene at the dining table. 'see that? That's your grandma with
your long-lost auntie and her family. That's what's called
'surreal'."

Doggett snorts. "You and your family drama," he says, "do you ever
have a normal Christmas?"

Mulder gives his friend an innocent look, which the other man's not
buying. "This is normal," he says, then looks around. "Hey, where'd
Monica go?"

Doggett smirks. 'she went upstairs to tell your wife. You think she
wants to miss out on this?"

Mulder blinks. "What would she do, scream 'Oh my God, Samantha, this
is such a total surprise!'?" he says in a high-pitched voice,
flapping his hands around like a bad imitation of a girl.

"You're a sick man," Doggett shakes his head, but chuckles anyways,
ruining the effect. "No, I think it's more like-"

"Adrianna!" a young girlish voice suddenly screams. "Oh my God,
Ariel, Alyssa, you're all here!" Mulder's head whips around so fast
to follow the source, he almost hurts his neck. His daughter Page,
however, only has eyes for her older cousins, and she's practically a
blonde blur as she races to the dining table.

The eldest, Adrianna, turns and graces her with a smile. "Hi, Page.
Who's your friend?"

Page turns and almost seems surprised that she's holding on to her
cousin's hand. "This is my cousin Emily," she says, and Emily,
suddenly shy, merely nods.

And now Mulder sees why the girls have been upstairs so long. They've
been trying to imitate Samantha's daughters, who are all rather
stylish, if such a thing can be attributed to pre-teens. Scully and
Reyes have made their way down, and they share looks after seeing all
the girls. This is gonna be fun, he thinks.

"Cousin?" Ariel looks at her.

Page nods. 'she's one of Auntie Missy and Uncle Alex's kids," and she
points to the couple on the lazy-boy, who wave. "That's their baby,
Ryan. Emily's younger sister Addy's in the kitchen with my brother
Christopher and Grandma Maggie."

"Welcome to the extended family," Mrs. Mulder says wryly. Then she
looks at her new son-in-law, who's still processing all of this. "Let
me guess, your family gatherings don't usually get this big."

He shakes his head. "No, ma'am. After my parents passed away, it's
been just my older sister. This year, she's in the Bahamas with her
new boyfriend." He smiles a little as the girls talk shop, er,
shopping, leaving his son with a disgusted look on his face. "Looks
like Drew needs to find someone to talk with, too."

"Talking's boring," the little boy grumbles, making a face when his
mother ruffles his hair affectionately.

Then Mattie comes to the table. "Hey, have you guys seen my cat?" he
asks.

They all look at him blankly, until they hear a girl crowing,
"Kitty!" And then they hear crashes and muffled yelps.

"Never mind, I found him," the dark-haired boy says, running into the
kitchen.

~*~*~

December 29, 2003

Doggett's stretching his arms out, having had quite the extended
weekend. He yawns, then cracks his neck before sitting down behind
the desk. Spending the holidays with Mulder's and Scully's families
almost makes him want to spend it with his family - that is, until he
remembers his older brother and the reason why it's "almost" want to
rather than "definitely."

He looks at the pile in the "in" box and squints, wondering how it
got to be so low. His memory, however fuzzy his brain might be from
the mini-vacation and the extra time spent with the lovely Monica
Reyes, serves him well enough to tally off the various cases they'd
had and solved (or outright debunked). A brief glance at the headings
of the 401s is enough to tell him that these are pretty small fry,
too.

"Oh well, as long as the world ain't endin', I'm happy," he mumbles,
wondering when his partner, in and out of the office, will show up.
Nonetheless, he starts to give the case on the top of the scrawny
pile his full attention, that is, until he hears footsteps approach,
and his head perks up.

"Hey, partner." Reyes smiles as she walks in, waving a form. "Guess
what we got."

He gives it a look, then gives her a look. "Doesn't appear to be a
late Christmas present," he notes wryly.

She shakes her head, still smiling, and hands it over. "We're going
to be guests on the Dead Ringer show," she says while he reads.
"Isn't it great?"

He looks up, puzzled. 'says here it's some kinda radio show. I
thought radio just played music."

Reyes tilts her head. "Not on the a.m. side," she says, "that's where
the talk radio kings rule. What, don't you listen to Rush Limbaugh?"

"He's still on the radio?" Doggett says, surprised. "Naw, I just
listen to country music."

"Which is probably why we don't listen to the radio on stakeout," she
murmurs, and he sighs. "Anyways. Ted Ringer, that's the host of the
show," and he nods, "he invited us to be on his show one night."

He starts to nod again, then his eyes fly open and he looks at the
form again. "Wait, so this guy thinks we're gonna be free in
February?" he frowns. "Who does he think we are?"

"The second coming of Mulder and Scully." She grins. "Come on, it'll
be fun." Then she looks at the slim pickings in the "in" box. "Not
like we're going to be busy anytime soon," she remarks.

"Not so loud," he groans, "I'd like to keep earning my paycheck while
I can, thanks."

Reyes nods, smiling again as she sits beside him, turning on the
computer. "In the meantime, what are we doing the day for New
Year's?"

Doggett blinks. "Um, good question."

"Work on that problem first," she suggests, "I gotta call Mulder."

"Why?" he asks, curious.

She smiles far too brightly. "To gonna gloat, of course! It's like
being on the Howard Stern Show, except for paranormal and conspiracy
stuff!"

He sighs and rolls eyes. It was gonna be a long week, and it had
barely started.

~*~*~

'so, why are we gonna be on that show and not Mulder and Scully?"
Doggett wonders as they go shopping for party supplies.

Reyes shrugs a little. "Mulder said something about their contract
with Federman, some exclusive blah-blah-blah, and he pouted."

Doggett gives her a look. "How could you tell he pouted over the
phone?"

"Because there was a long, jealous pause," she says, straightforward.

"How could you tell it was a jea - never mind," he says, figuring it
was a woman thing. "Uh, no, Monica," he says, pushing her hand away
from the really tacky 2003 sunglasses and party hats. "I'd like to
keep as many pictures after ringing in the New Year."

She pouts. "Hey, who says you can't have a little fun with silly
accessories?"

Doggett sighs heavily, steering her away from the aisle. "We've got
enough food and snacks for a couple of troops, I'd say that's enough
for a party."

Reyes gives him a teasing smile. "John, was there some kind of
childhood trauma that prevents you from wearing party hats?"

"No," he grumbles.

"Then party hats it is!" she declares gleefully, running back to the
aisle and grabbing as many silly things as she can hold, as well as
the aforementioned party hats. "This will go on my card, don't
worry!"

"Oh, I'm already worried," he shakes his head, following behind her.
"You're not even on a sugar high and you're as giddy as a kid."

"La la la, I don't hear you," She singsongs, heading, no, practically
skipping, to the checkout counter.

Unseen, he rolls his eyes, then pushes the shopping cart down the
direction she was headed. She's a grown woman, he thinks, she can
wear her own party hats if she wants to. He knows she's going to take
a million pictures, but he's determined not to wear anything
ridiculous, or at least delete any pictures showing him in anything
ridiculous.

Of course, when they get home, the boys are happy with all the food
they brought back for the new year's party, while Hannah's the only
one who shares Reyes' enthusiasm for the cheesy hats and glasses,
among other things.

After dinner, they played ball with the kids, but that only got the
kids revved up while Reyes and Doggett drag themselves to bed. It's
not that they're sick, it's just that even though they're back to
regular work hours, the fact that the kids are on
holiday-slash-vacation mode gets Doggett and Reyes into the same,
semi-lethargic mode when they're home. What that translates to is, at
least during this winter break, the kids stay up late and wake up
early, while the adults go to bed early (well, sometime around
midnight) and drag themselves out of bed in time for work, but
barely.

The tall brunette locks the bedroom door, but it's mostly out of
habit rather than planning to get some, since she's fairly wiped out.
"I swear, we could power half this country from our kids' and
Scully's kids' energy," Reyes yawns as she stretches before getting
into bed, clad in a t-shirt and shorts.

Doggett's already in bed, wearing a t-shirt and sweats, and he's got
the radio on. "What are we listening to?" she asks before snuggling
next to him, since they decided to forgo their usual news-viewing.

"That Ted Ringer show," he says, "if I'm lucky, I'll fall asleep
before he says anything stupid."

She chuckles. "You mean, anything you don't believe in?" she teases.

He sighs. "Mon, you're staying with the kids if you don't behave," he
grumbles.

"Can't make me," she sticks her tongue out, "I'm your partner, and
there's no way I'm missing out on that interview."

'speaking of which, the topic tonight is haunted houses," he says,
turning the volume down slightly since it's a commercial break, "the
guy's talking to ghost busters and psychics. I don't know where he
gets these people from."

"I think a lot of them contact him rather than the other way around,"
she says, propping herself on an elbow. "It's not very often that
people like us are invited."

"People like us?" he asks.

She nods. "People in the government," she says. "Once in a while,
he's got some retired military guy who used to work at Groom Lake,"
and Doggett snorts, which she ignores, "or some physicist who worked
on some top secret aircraft. But I don't know if they're invited or
they invite themselves."

Doggett shakes his head. "Either way, this is a pretty weird setup,"
he comments, then turns up the radio when it declares that the show
is back on. "What're you doing?" he asks when she pulls out her
laptop.

"Looking them up," she says, "Ted Ringer has links to his guests on
his home page."

"Nice," Doggett notes, then a thought hits him. "Wait, if he links
his guests, people can look us up. And that'll mean more weirdoes
e-mailing us," he comes to his gloomy conclusion.

Reyes chuckles. "More cases for us, you mean," she says, typing in
her password at the prompt.

~*~*~

During a commercial break, Doggett turns to Reyes, who is surfing the
net beside him. A small smile on his lips, he says, "Too bad we're
going to be the only boring guests on his show."

"What are you talking about?" she retorts, pulling her eyes away from
her laptop. "You've seen a dead man come to life, been raised from
the dead yourself, encountered BEK, met a boy who brought nightmares
to life, foiled a terrorist plot, witnessed a miracle, investigated a
conspiracy-slash-mafia hit without getting killed, and you're on the
X-Files when you don't believe half the things you investigate. I'd
say that's pretty non-boring."

"Wait, what do you mean, I was raised from the dead?" Doggett
wonders. "Are you talking about that Lukesh case?"

Reyes sighs. "Yes, I do. It makes more sense if your consciousness
was aware of both planes like myself, however."

"I won't even try to explain that one," he groans. "Anyways, we went
through them together, for the most part."

She nods. "Besides, my New Orleans story outdoes the haunted house
guy's story."

"You haven't even heard that guy's story," Doggett says, "how would
you know?"

She gives him a look. "Have you ever asked Mulder or Scully about
their New Orleans vacation?"

He shakes his head. "I'm guessing you were involved somehow?"

She nods. "Like I said, whatever he's got, mine's ten times better."

"I could say that about a lot of things about you," Doggett murmurs,
and she snorts.

The rest of the program, much as Doggett is loathe to admit it, is
rather normal, in spite of the topic, hell, in spite of the show.
Thanks to his older brother Joey, he's heard his fair share of boring
talk shows, and this sounds like most of them. The host chats up the
guests on certain subjects, then lets the audience in on the
questioning after a while, or at least gets some feedback, with
commercials and brief musical interludes.

And while the haunted house stories were entertaining, the one Reyes
told him during one of the commercial breaks had him in stitches.
"Maybe you shouldn't share that one," he says, wiping his eyes. "I
know it was your first time working with Mulder and Scully, but
honestly, braniac chickens taking over the factory?" And it sends him
into another fit of laughter.

She makes a face. "When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous,"
Reyes mutters. "You had to be there."

"Apparently," Doggett agrees when he catches his breath. "Then again,
to this audience, it might make sense."

"You don't give them enough credit," she disagrees. "Granted, there
are a few truly insane ones in the bunch, but that's statistically
true for any social group. The rest are a mix, ranging from the
mildly curious to the true believers who do their homework on any or
all given topics." She smirks at his surprise. 'sometimes I find the
forum discussions on case-related topics informative."

He shakes his head. "You're resourceful, that's for sure," he says,
smiling a little when she beams. Before he can add anything
regrettable to that compliment, however, the program resumes.

Ted Ringer is adept at handling even the more unruly callers, which
is a skill not found very often in either old-school or novice DJs.
Then again, the man's got years of experience, according to the
website, and the fact that he runs his own board as well as handling
all sorts of topics and people with ease is quite a feat, at least
according to Reyes.

"And you know this how?" Doggett asks during another break.

"Me and a broadcast major ran a radio show for a semester." She
grins. "It was our cheap knockoff version of Delilah's program, um,
she plays love songs and dispenses love advice," she explains quickly
to his confused face. "Anyways, it was more of a sociological project
for me, and more of a personal challenge for him," she chuckles. "It
does require some physical and mental coordination to run a
soundboard and answer broken-heart questions while trying to deal
with some of those issues yourself, so after a while, I was the one
answering questions while he ran the board and played the sad songs."

"Hoo boy," he comments.

'some of the male callers said other things, but yeah," Reyes agrees.
"What surprises me is that Ted Ringer's work hasn't followed him home
yet."

He looks at her blankly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, working on the X-Files takes a certain kind of willpower and
dedication," she says, "and sooner or later, it becomes a very large
part of your life, if it doesn't consume it entirely. I'm sure if
Scully was never assigned to the X-Files, Mulder would still be
toiling away diligently to this day, his life dedicated to the work."

Doggett thinks so, too, but out of curiosity, he prompts her, "Why do
you say that?"

"Because he and I are alike that way," she replies. "But when I saw
him with Scully, and later when Gibson became a part of my life, I
realized that I wanted my relationships to be more permanent rather
than a sidenote to my work." And she puts a hand on his arm to
emphasize her point.

Doggett puts his hand on hers, half-smiling. "Guess I owe those three
a lot, then." She nods. "But I've got a feeling that after, what,
twenty-plus years of doing this kind of a show, his work has followed
him home. Guess we'll find out when we meet him, huh?" They're both
distracted when the program, and the callers' varied questions, pour
in to pursue that point.

And when the program ends, he turns off the radio. "All things
considering, that didn't sound too bad," Doggett grudgingly admits.
"He sounds like a fair person, even if more than a few of those
callers were off their rockers."

"John," Reyes sighs. "Remember that he'll be as fair to us, okay?"

"Okay," he says, then yawns. "Oh man, I can hardly wait for Thursday
and our early vacation," he mumbles, his blue eyes closing.

"Mm, you're not the only one," Reyes says, kissing his cheek before
starting to shut down her laptop. "Goodnight, John."

"Night, Mon," he murmurs, his breathing already slowing down.

~*~*~

The Lone Gunmen Headquarters 
December 31, 2002
11:50 p.m.

The Lone Gunmen, Mulder's family, Doggett's family, and assorted
acquaintances, are gathered to ring in the New Year as festively as
possible. This means, for the most part, an abundance of food, music,
and people, as well as the requisite sparklers and party hats.

"You know, for a secret hideout, this is getting to be pretty
not-so-secret," Jimmy Bond says.

The Lone Gunmen look at their blonde linebacker-like friend, then at
each other. "You know, the goof has a point," Langly says as several
children run by with cupcake-smeared faces. "Then again, who knew
we'd know this many people?"

Frohike shakes his head, then smiles at Scully and Reyes sharing a
toast and laughing. "Oh, but how glad I am that we do," he says.

The balding man's compatriots shake their heads when they see who
he's looking at. "I believe both ladies are taken," Byers reminds him
gently, steering him away.

"Yeah, yeah," Frohike says, "for now."

The other three roll their eyes above his head, including Jimmy.
"Hey, Mulder." Jimmy grins and waves.

Mulder grins, but can't wave because both his arms are occupied by
adorable little baby girls. "Hey, Jimmy, guys." He nods at the other
three, "where are you off to?"

"Fireworks," Langly says quickly, "before this guy," he jerks his
head at Frohike, "can start any that'll get him killed."

Mulder raises his eyebrows, but says nothing as Byers and Langly haul
Frohike away, with a goofily-grinning Jimmy following behind. He just
thinks it's a hoot that it was the Gunmen's idea to host it here,
considering how they used to pride themselves on their privacy.

Perhaps their near-death experience and losing Yves for a second time
is loosening them up, he thinks, and makes his way past Luke and
Gibson making bets over to his lovely wife. "I am surrounded by
beauty," he deadpans, "I can tell this is going to be a very good
year."

Scully snorts, with William in her arms, while Reyes smiles behind
her 2003 glasses and gaudy party hat. "How much have you had to
drink?" his wife asks as he kisses the top of her head.

"Nothing, actually," he says, "Brianna and Zoe are making sure their
daddy stays out of trouble, while the rest of our offspring are
making merry, as they should." Then he spies his sons with cupcake
faces and grins. "Definitely making their mark on what's left of the
old year, I say."

"You are such a silly." Scully smiles. "Monica, if I stop making
sense from now on, you know why."

Mulder nods wisely. "Yes, standing beside such a handsome man would
make most women lose their mind," he says, and his beloved wife
whacks him with her free hand. "Ow, what?" he says in a normal voice,
pretending to ignore Reyes' boisterous laughter.

"Hey, what's up?" Doggett asks, wrapping an arm around Reyes'
shoulders.

She smiles and leans against him. "Mulder was just saying that
standing beside such a handsome man would make most women lose their
minds," she parrots his tone.

Doggett raises an eyebrow, and Mulder merely nods. "I beg to differ,"
the new X-File division head says.

Mulder tilts his head, then gives the other man a once-over. "Well, I
must admit you are a fine specimen in that tight t-shirt and jeans,
John," he says seriously, "and with those washboard abs and nicely
toned arms, you probably work out more than I do. Hell, if I weren't
straight or married, I'd probably kiss you into the new year."

Doggett simply rolls his eyes while their significant others laugh.
"Mulder, do I have to tie you up and put you in the corner to make
you behave?" he says in a long-suffering tone.

Mulder bats his eyes rapidly. "Ooh, I always knew you were kinky," he
says, and winks.

The other man groans, but before he can form an appropriate retort,
the music's cut off and Jimmy yells into a bullhorn, "Okay,
everybody! One minute to New Year's! Come on outside, we're gonna
shoot off the fireworks!"

Obediently, but in a merry way, everyone does so, spilling out of the
warehouse and into the road. The Gunmen have cordoned off their area,
which holds a good number of most-likely illegal aerials, and the
crowd point their flashlights in their direction.

"Hey, hey, that's enough light," Frohike protests. "Okay, Byers, give
us a countdown."

The neat Gunman, who is still in a suit and tie in spite of his
friends' best efforts, lifts his arm, which reveals a watch with a
glow-in-the-dark face. "Thirty seconds," he declares.

"Anyone got a light?" Langly asks, and Reyes hands her lighter over
while Frohike pulls his own out. "Thanks, Man."

"Ten seconds," Byers says.

Jimmy asks, "What?"

The bearded man takes the bullhorn from his less-brilliant friend.
"Nine!" he shouts through the bullhorn.

As he continues to count down, everyone joins in, well, those who are
old enough to count, that is. "Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three!
Two! One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

And Langly and Frohike whoop while shooting off their rows of
fireworks, lighting up the Takoma Park, Maryland sky, giving their
friends (and some surprised airline pilots) an unforgettable night
show. Mulder and Scully kiss, and so do Doggett and Reyes, while Luke
pays Gibson, Page and April and Hannah dance around with sparklers,
and Sammy, David, Jared and Christopher have a food fight. Byers and
Jimmy think of their respective mystery women and sigh, then wish
each other a happy new year before going inside to get the fire
extinguishers, just in case.

~*~*~

February 2, 2003
9:42 a.m.

The Doggett children are lined up in front of their father in a
manner that reminds Reyes of a similar scene in "The Sound of Music",
but she's got a feeling Doggett probably wouldn't know or appreciate
the reference. "Remember, three square meals, no snacks in bed, TV's
off before midnight, and curfew at 10," Doggett rattles off the list,
standing military straight.

"Dad, come on, we've done this a thousand times before," Luke groans.
"You and Monica have fun on the conspiracy show."

"Yeah, we're taping this one." Gibson grins, and only Reyes grins
back.

"Thanks," Reyes hugs him, then hugs Luke and Hannah. 'see you
Sunday."

"Will you get to have new clothes like Uncle Fox and Auntie Dana?"
Hannah asks.

"Um, no, Sweetie, it's for radio, not TV, so we could come in a
t-shirt and jeans if we wanted." Reyes smiles.

"Which we won't," Doggett gives her a look.

"We won't," Reyes agrees belatedly, heading out the door. 'see ya!"

"Yeah, you don't wanna be late for your plane," Luke prompts them.

Gibson nods. "Or for the extra time going through security," he adds.

Doggett looks at him, then at his other children, who are looking up
at him innocently. Hmph. Fine. "Bye," he says as he heads out the
door, "don't burn the house down."

"Dad!" Gibson groans, then pulls out a dollar bill. "Oh, Man!"

"Told ya." Luke smirks, shoving it into his jeans with one hand and
waving at their departing parents with the other. When the door
closes, the angelic faces drop, with all of them smirking at each
other.

"TV!" Hannah flies to the couch, where the remote control is sitting.
In seconds, a kiddie show is on, full of annoying music and bright
colors.

"I think I hear the potato chips calling my name." Luke grins,
heading for the kitchen.

"I think this is gonna be a crazy weekend," Gibson shakes his head,
but grabs a video game controller. "Bet you I can beat you at 3 out
of 5 games on Halo, and I get my dollar back."

"Dream on," Luke says from the kitchen, "three cans of Coke say you
can't."

"You're on," the shorter brother shoots back, and they're busy
yelling at each other and the video game in minutes.

~*~*~

'so, John," Reyes says when they're waiting to board, "what was that
all about?"

"What?" he asks innocently.

She gives him a look. "The whole riot act before we left the house.
Like they said, they've done it before. What brought on the whole
1950s dad thing?"

He gives her a look right back. "Normally, I'd agree with you, but,"
he pauses, "dads have a kind of radar."

"Daddy radar?" Reyes raises her eyebrows. "Like mommy eyes in the
back of the head?"

After a beat, he answers. 'something like that. I just got a feeling
that my kids will be up to no good this weekend," he finishes grimly.

'so, if they do something incredibly stupid and we're not there, you
can say that at least you told them so?" Reyes tilts her head.

He smiles a small smile. 'something like that," he says again.

She puts a hand on his shoulder and massages it briefly. "Then relax.
We won't be in front of the firing squad until ten tonight." She
smiles.

"Way to take the worry off." Doggett rolls his eyes. "Distract me
from one problem with another."

"Is it really a problem?" Reyes asks. "You could've said no to the
interview if you didn't feel comfortable."

He shrugs. "I guess it's just part of my background as a cop to
distrust the media, legit or not."

"Uh-huh," she says. "You better let me handle the tough questions,
then."

"Why?" he asks, surprised.

She laughs. "Because if you give Ted Ringer the same look you gave me
when saying 'the media', he might think you're out to get him," she
answers. "That, or you looked like you swallowed a pint of
unsweetened lemon juice."

'sorry," he says, a little surprised, but smiles anyways. "Okay, I'll
try not to look at him too much, then."

Reyes smiles and puts her arms around his shoulders. "I think when we
get back, we should get you into a media relations class. In the
meantime, we're going to do a bit of role-playing before we meet Mr.
Ringer, okay?"

"Okay," he sighs. It was going to be a long flight, Doggett thinks,
even though it's only a couple of hours long.

~*~*~

Dallas, Texas
10:13 PM

Doggett and Reyes find themselves in front of a small two-story
building with the correct media name emblazoned on the marquee. They
look at each other, since it's one of the smallest structures they've
seen in Texas, then walk inside. Inside, it's air-conditioned,
well-lit with eggshell-colored walls, mottled blue carpet and a big
man sitting behind the secretary's desk. Doggett gives the man a
quick appraisal before asking, "Ted Ringer?"

The slightly-heavyset man smiles, his eyes crinkling as he does so.
"Thanks for coming in, Agents Doggett and Reyes," he says, standing,
and they see he's a little taller than Doggett. Like Doggett, he's
wearing a suit and tie, and shakes the man's hand, then Reyes'. "I
can't begin to say how pleased I am that you're here. Follow me, the
studio's upstairs."

They take an elevator upstairs, then follow him to a small studio.
Once inside, he motions them to sit down, then pulls a couple of
forms from his briefcase. "Okay, according to this, Agent Reyes,
you've had some experience with radio, and you haven't." He nods at
Doggett, who nods back.

"Okay, some ground rules," he says, smiling a little. "If you're even
slightly familiar with this show, you know we don't tolerate
discrimination of any kind. We also don't tolerate foul language, but
that's got a little something to do with the FCC and heavy fines as
well. However, we do our best to embrace all sorts of ideas and
information, and to present them as truthfully as we can to our
listeners. I realize that you may not be able to disclose the entire
nature of your cases with our audience, but I'd like you to do your
best. If you've got any questions, feel free to ask them now, and we
may cover them on-air as well."

"Okay," Doggett says, "how much of this stuff do you actually
believe?"

Ted Ringer laughs. "Boy, you shoot straight from the hip, don't you?"
he chuckles. "Good. Well, over the years, I believe more and more.
Granted, I like my guests to provide as much proof as they can for
our listeners, but some more than others aren't able to. Working on
the X-Files, I'm sure there have been cases you haven't quite sewn
up, haven't you?"

"We try our best," Reyes interjects smoothly, smiling as she does so.

"Agent Reyes," he turns to her, "you've got quite an interesting
resume. This must be your dream job, considering your interests."

She nods. "And I bet this is yours," she says, looking around.
"What's it like, to go from working with a board operator to running
everything yourself?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Actually, I was a board operator and
engineer before I became a DJ," he answers. "It's made the transition
much easier, as opposed to a lot of my colleagues, who are still
dependent on a producer or board op to run things. But I won't bore
you with the details."

"Trust me, it'll be a learning experience for the both of us." Reyes
smiles, nudging Doggett. "We've got some time before the show, tell
us what it was like before everything went to computers."

"I'm both oddly complimented and obscurely insulted by that remark."
Ted Ringer grins. "But since we all know I'm older than dirt," and he
winks at Doggett, "fine. Back in those days, I grew my own tobacco in
the backyard for my cigarettes, did backbreaking labor for the evil
radio gods who would deign to drop a scrap of wisdom for a scrawny
teenaged boy still playing with a ham radio, and clawing my way my
way up the ladder while kicking the undeserving down." He finishes
this with a mock-haughty pose.

"Ted!" Reyes huffs, half-exasperated and half-laughing. "Come on!"

"What, you think my life story's all that interesting? I'm just a
radio show host, you two are the ones with the guns and glory," he
says.

Doggett snorts. "Guns, yeah, glory, no. For glory, we'd have to do
your job."

Ringer grins. "Yeah, all the glory, but not all the pay.
Syndication's how I make most of my paycheck," he pats the
soundboard, "and folks paying online to download the shows. And the
random person here and there buying kitschy things from the online
store." He shrugs. "A guy's gotta make a living, but I honestly never
thought I'd be a radio man this long."

"Really?" Reyes wonders. "Why not?"

He shrugs again. "Back when I started, TV was just starting out, too,
but radio was king. I was better at the mechanics but fascinated by
the personalities, and radio had more fascinating personalities. As a
board op, I worked with the best, and watched how they worked,
listened to how they treated guests and staff alike. I was still in
high school, but I was able to get a late night show, thanks to
supportive parents," he pauses at Doggett's disbelieving look, "no,
really. My mom was pretty much my cheerleader, while my dad
appreciated the fact that I got paid. And after that small taste of
power, it was pretty hard to stop," he admits with an unapologetic 
grin.

"Power, huh?" Reyes raises an eyebrow.

He shrugs a little. "Well, I guess it's more of an addiction," he
admits. "Even after that station folded, I worked for another station
as an engineer and part-time board op. I did that for a couple more
stations until one of them gave me a shot, covering for a talk show
host on weekends and holidays. Eventually, I got another late-night
show, which grew into the monster you're going to be on in about," he
checks his watch, "twenty minutes, and thus ends our tale."

"Not quite," Doggett says. "What got you into the paranormal in the
first place?"

Ringer nods. "Ghost stories. You could say it was my gateway drug for
both radio and the paranormal. Both involve some kind of investment
from the audience, some curiosity, a little bit of knowledge, and a
lot of persistence. And my math teacher was the best ghost
storyteller ever."

"Your math teacher?" Doggett's eyebrows are way up.

Ringer chuckles. "Yeah. Mr. Riker, seventh and eighth grade math. He
was quite a character, strict when it came to formulas and writing
out the steps to the answers, and strict when it came to following
school rules as well. But on rainy days, which weren't often, he'd
close the windows and doors, turn on a flashlight, and tell the
scariest stories than would make your hair curl and your stomach
turn," he smiles with remembered relish.

"I was one of those kids who had to find out if they were true
stories or not. We didn't have the internet back then." He grins, 'so
I had to do it the old-fashioned way, by asking other adults and
looking them up in the library. I found some of those stories in
ghost story collections, but others, whoo, they came from newspaper
articles and thick World War II books. Later on, I even found out
that a few of those were from his own personal experience. You kind
of remind me of him, Agent Doggett."

Doggett's surprised. "I do?"

The talk show host nods. "Yep. A real no-nonsense kind of guy, but
you've seen all kinds of things on the job, haven't you? And I'm not
talking about just the X-Files, but also your time as a police
officer for NYPD and as a Marine." He smiles slightly at Doggett's
reaction before going on. "Believe it or not, Agent Doggett, I do
have a real respect for my guests, whether they come with crystals or
badges."

Then he checks his watch. "Okay, we've got about eleven minutes.
Now's the time to hit the bathrooms, which down the hallway to the
left, or the kitchen for a cup of coffee, which is down to the
right," he intones with well-practiced delivery as he shoves the
papers back in and closes his briefcase, "but as for me, I'm taking a
smoke break outside. Anyone care to join me?"

Reyes smiles. "I'll join you after I go to the ladies' room," she
says, then heads out the door, while Doggett shakes his head.

"I take it you don't smoke, Agent Doggett," Ringer says, and Doggett
shakes his head affirmatively. "Well, see you in ten." And he walks
out with briefcase in hand, already pulling out a cigarette carton as
he does so.

Now that everyone's gone, Doggett takes his time looking around the
studio. Along with the soundboard, there's a couple of computer
monitors, a keyboard with a wireless mouse and a couple of CPUs
beneath the counter, a phone bank with seven rows of three columns of
buttons (two columns with alternating orange and green lights) along
with the numerical buttons, a large digital clock with an hour:
minute: second counter, under which is a couple of shelves with CDs,
two CD players and a CD burner.

One of the computer monitors shows what's been playing in the
background, some show entitled "The Tom Torrent Show," which
Doggett's never heard of, and next in line is the "Late Nights with
Dead Ringer Show." Goody. To calm his nerves, he goes to the kitchen
and gets himself a cup of coffee, which, thankfully, smells freshly
made.

~*~*~

The first hour and a half, however, goes by more smoothly and quickly
than Doggett would've thought. In part because of Reyes' preparation,
and also in part because Ted Ringer is actually a good host, that his
nervousness is forgotten faster than he would've thought. In fact, he
finds himself telling the guy more than he would've expected, and at
one point, they're all cracking up at some crazy remark on cars, of
all things. "Maybe I should fear for my job," Ringer jokes, "with
Monica Reyes' smooth voice and John Doggett's mechanical know-how, I
think I know who my next replacements are."

"I don't know the first thing about running that soundboard of
yours," Doggett disagrees, "watching you hit all those buttons
reminds me of those science fiction movies with people hitting
flashing buttons to make the spaceships go."

"You actually watch science fiction?" Ringer teases him.

Doggett groans. "Don't all Americans watch some 'Star Trek' or 'Star
Wars' at some point?"

"You heard it, folks, as God-fearing, red-blooded Americans, you
should all go out and rent 'Star Trek' or 'Star Wars'," Ringer winks
at him while Doggett rolls his eyes, "at least, according to an
actual FBI division head."

"Thanks," Doggett shakes his head with a rueful look. "I'm sure
that'll make headlines."

"Wouldn't that be cool?" Reyes grins. "What?" she says to Doggett's
"hush, you" look.

"It's a lovely idea," Ringer agrees, shutting off their mics, "ladies
and gents, we'll be right back after this commercial break. You're
listening to Late Nights with Dead Ringer." Then he hits the music
outro from a mini-array on the touch screen monitor as he kills his
own mic, then slowly fades it out on the soundboard before hitting
the start button on the monitor for the commercials, their pots
already raised.

"Oops, we're back on in a minute, agents, I suggest you put on those
headsets so you can hear the callers." He hits the music bumper after
the last commercial plays, waits for them to adjust their headsets,
and then opens their mics. "And we're back," he says smoothly while
fading the music out. "I'm Ted Ringer, in the studio with Agents
Doggett and Reyes of the FBI's X-Files division. We're opening this
to callers now, the number is 1-800-555-RING, that's 1-800-555-7464.
We're looking forward to taking your questions and comments. Before
they flood you with questions, however, there's something I'm
wondering."

"What's that?" Reyes leans forward.

"Are you ready to go through the gauntlet?" When they make
affirmative noises, he grins. "Good, because we've got quite a few
callers," Ringer says, "the phone's all lit up like my Aunt Martha!
Hi, you're on the Dead Ringer Show," he hits the first phone line and
raises the phone pot, "who's this?"

"Hi," the caller says, and feedback assaults their ears, making the
agents wince.

Ringer merely lowers the phone pot and says, "You'll have to turn
your radio off, that goes for the rest of you callers as well, you
know the game rules." Then he slowly raises the phone pot, "Hello,
are you still there?"

"Whoops. Oh, yeah. Hello?" the caller says, his speech punctuated by
a quick, stop-start manner of speaking.

"Hello, who's this and where are you calling from?" Ringer says.

"Mitch. From Albany," the caller replies. "Just. Agent Doggett. Just
wanted to let you know. I like Mulder and Scully much better. Just
wanted to know why they never came on? And why you're here? Because
Mulder and Scully. They're more qualified. Neither of you really have
much experience. Mulder and Scully should be here."

Ringer's thick eyebrows are raised, but tilts his head at Doggett
expectantly for the answer. Doggett narrows his eyes, but his voice
is even as he answers, "If you've got a TV set, you can see Mulder
and Scully on the 'Jose Chung' show. As to your other questions, I
don't know why they've never been on Mr. Ringer's show, honestly. And
we're here because we were invited. You're entitled to your opinion,
but obviously I don't share it. That about do it for you?"

Reyes laughs when the caller hangs up abruptly. "It seems like we've
got a feisty caller," she says, "wonder who's next?"

Ringer grins, then hits the next phone button. The next five callers
are similarly "feisty", and Doggett's looking more and more like the
grim tight-lipped cop Reyes had teased him about being earlier, while
Reyes still looks unruffled, even after some personal attacks. Then
comes a call from left field, so to speak.

"Hi, you're on the Dead Ringer show, where are you calling from?"

"Um, Amy, I'm calling from Kent, Washington?" a mild voice says.

"Amy, honey, speak up a little," Ringer prompts her, while raising
the phone pot.

"Hi?" she says, a little louder. "I was wondering? Is the X-Files
just a guy-girl thing? Or can it be guy-guy or girl-girl?"

"What exactly do you mean?" Ringer asks, while Reyes miming a big "I
don't know" and Doggett's frowning.

"Well, it sounds like there's always a guy-girl pairing?" Amy says in
her curious way of raising the tone at the end of her sentence,
whether or not it's a question. "Because there was Mulder and Scully?
And at one time there was Fowley and Spender? Who was a girl and a
guy? And now there's Doggett and Reyes?"

"Hm, you've got a point," Ringer says, now looking at the pair. "Is
it part of the hiring process?"

Doggett wonders how this girl, or young lady who sounds like a girl,
got the information about Fowley and Spender. Jeez, it sounds like
there's more people out there like the Lone Gunmen, like Reyes said.
"No, that's kind of the way it turned out," he says, "it's always
been a rather small division. And as you might know, it was just
Agent Mulder at one time. At the most, there've been four people,
with equal representation of gender," he says, and wonders why he's
sounding like an FBI promo tonight. "Honestly, it could just as
easily have been two men or two women, or four women, for that
matter. We just try to make sure that it's the best person for the
job, whether it's a man or a woman."

"Oh, okay?" Amy says. "Thanks?" And hangs up.

"We'll be taking a break," Ringer says, "and we'll get back to the
calls when we come back. Remember, the number is 1-800-555-RING,
that's 1-800-555-7464." He hits the music bumper and slowly raises
the pot. "Once again, 1-800-555-7464. We'll be right back." Then he
kills all three mics, letting the music play a little before starting
the next commercial set. "There, that wasn't so bad, wasn't it?"
Ringer says, but looks at Doggett.

"Are you kidding? Any more vicious and I'd have to shoot them in
self-defense," Doggett says, only half-joking.

"Well, now that you've got a sample of what our audience thinks, are
you ready to handle the next hour?" Ringer asks.

Doggett makes a face, 'sure, I'll just make sure not to hold back
since they aren't," and grins when Reyes sighs. "In any case, that
Amy's given me an idea."

"What, make it official that we only hire one man and one woman for
our replacements, or turn the X-Files into a dating pool?" Reyes
jokes.

He shakes his head. "I'd like to stick around long enough to retire,
like Mulder and Scully, but I can't promise that'll happen. But if I
do, I'd like to train the next batch of replacements. Doesn't have to
be two, if the caseload gets bigger, maybe three agents," Doggett
says. "I can handle three kids, we can probably handle three new
recruits."

"John, why do you look like a drill sergeant ready to break some
fresh meat?" Reyes crosses her arms. "We've still got quite some time
before we need replacements."

Doggett's still got that mildly bloodthirsty grin on his face. "Let's
just say I've got a new plan for the future," he says, and Ringer
chuckles while Reyes sighs again.

The next hour goes by in quite the same way, with mostly Doggett and
Reyes bashers, a handful of supporters, and a quarter of really
random questions like Amy's. After the baptism by fire, so to speak,
Doggett held his own, and even won a couple of grudging admirers,
while Reyes managed to convince a couple of other callers that she
was on their side, but for the most part, the calling audience were
still very much Mulder and Scully supporters.

"Just a reminder to our listening audience, the reason why the
previous X-Files agents aren't on this show tonight is because they
have legal, contractual obligations preventing them from doing so,
thank you," Ted Ringer says, just barely stopping himself from
rolling his eyes. Honestly, he expected better from his audience.

"And that wraps up tonight's program with our guests, Special Agent
John Doggett and Special Agent Monica Reyes of the FBI's X-File
division. I'm Ted Ringer, of Late Nights with Dead Ringer, with you
every night because strange things happen every day." He hits the
music outro with a flourish, killing all their mics, and turns to his
guests with a pleasant smile.

They smile back, just as pleasantly. "Now tell us the real reason why
we're here, Mr. O'Neill," Doggett says.

~*~*~

Ted Ringer, that is, Ted O'Neill raises his eyebrows, but is still
smiling. "You really earn that government paycheck, don't you?" he
says.

"Don't forget I was a cop before being a fed," Doggett says. "Now
dish."

He doesn't answer at first, fading out the music before hitting the
computer command to switch the station to satellite and turning off
the website feed. When he turns back to them, the smile drops from
the talk show host's face to be replaced with a deep frown, adding
years to his already craggy features. "I have a really big favor to
ask of you two," he says.

"What is it?" Reyes asks.

"I need you to kill me," he says.

They stare at him. "What?" Doggett's the first to speak, after more
than a few moments of silence. "Are you serious?" he asks.

"As a heart attack," the heavyset man says. "What do you say?"

"No, of course not," Reyes' brow furrows. "Why would you want us to
do that? Why ask anyone?"

Ringer looks up at the ceiling. "Ever heard of the phrase 'taking
your work home with you'?" he says.

"Yeah," Doggett says, unsure of where this is going.

The talk show host says, "In my case, I don't have that problem.
Because I can't go home. The farthest I can get is maybe a few steps
away from my car, which, if you haven't noticed, is the beat-up piece
of crap Taurus sitting in the parking lot, and I find myself back in
the studio again. I haven't been able to go leave in three months.
Thankfully, there's a shower here and delivery, but still! I'm not
sure if it's a compulsion or a curse, but there's something
preventing me from getting away. None of my guests have that problem,
and I've asked more than a few psychics to help me with it. But they
find themselves leading me back here when they try."

Doggett gives him a look. "You're kidding, right? I mean, you've got
a home to go to and everything-"

"But I don't have a family," he says. "Well, I've got five of them,
but thanks to a handy thing called divorce, they're all living their
separate lives in different states and countries." He sighs. "Heck,
I've even called for cabs, but they either pass by or don't show up
at all. I tried asking my last couple of guests to take me home,
but," he shrugs, "one forgot I asked, and the other started to take
me, but then remembered there was only room for one on his bicycle."
He smiles wanly. "It's a pity I can't fit on the handlebars like I
used to."

'so this is like your Bermuda Triangle," Reyes says, "or some kind of
vortex you're trapped in."

"Pretty much," Ringer says. He looks at Doggett's skeptical face and
nods. "Okay, you try, then."

"Fine," the gruff agent says, and grabs the guy by the arm. "I swear,
if you're trying to pull one on us, I will shoot you."

The radio host shrugs with his free shoulder as he's being dragged to
the elevator. "Everyone at work thinks I'm just super-dedicated and I
really love my job. Well, I do love my job, but not this much." They
step into the elevator, and it's a quick flight down. "But this is
starting to drive me nuts."

"And you think the best way to solve it is by dying?" Doggett shakes
his head. "Come on." He marches the guy in front of him as if he's
guiding a prisoner.

'so far, so good," Ringer murmurs as they step outside.

"Duh," Doggett says from behind. "Keep walking."

They keep walking until they're almost by Ringer's car, which truly
looks like a wreck, and Doggett's not sure the car can move even if
they do make it there. Then, out of nowhere, some crazy biker gang
comes thundering down the road and nearly runs them over, hooting and
waving chains as they pass by. Ringer is pushed by one of the bikers,
and he falls on his back, while Doggett automatically throws himself
out of the way, rolling to a stop.

When the dust clears, Doggett gets to his feet and squints at the
breathing radio host. "You okay over there?" he asks, walking over.
Ringer nods, staring up at the night sky. "Good," he says, pulling
the man to his feet. "Come on, your car's just a foot away."

Ringer nods again, but as he walks, his breathing's heavy and his
steps are slow. 'sorry, I think I'm just a bit winded," he says, and
the agent, who's practically a couple of steps away from the car,
stops and starts to turn.

And then a biker, perhaps a last-minute straggler, knocks him off his
feet. If he'd seen the bastard coming, his arm stretched out like a
wrestling move and bolstered by a speed of over 40 miles an hour, he
would've gotten out of the way like any sane person. Instead, he goes
flying and hits the car, then bounces off the metal frame like a rag
doll, landing at Ringer's feet.

"Oh, shit, Agent, can you hear me?" the talk show host asks, going
down on his knees with a wheeze.

Doggett blinks, then rasps, "Get the hell over to your car." He
winces as breathing's hurting, and slowly puts a hand to his side.
Damn, a rib might be broken, but he's hoping it's just dented. "Move
it."

Ringer nods, walking backwards, as if on the lookout for any other
bikers. He's almost at his car when Reyes screams, "Freeze!"

Doggett groans as Ringer does so, his hands in the air. He watches as
Reyes questions the talk show host at gunpoint, then marches the guy
over to where he's lying. "Mon," he gasps, "let him go and get me an
ambulance."

She nods, then pulls out her cell phone. "Yes, federal agent down,"
she says, and rattles off the address.

However, Ringer hasn't moved, even when Doggett scowls at him. "You
got run over instead of me," he says, "don't worry, I'll get to my
car as soon as the ambulance gets here." And when the ambulance
comes, he gets out of the way, and is almost at the car when
Doggett's rolled inside the white vehicle with Reyes jumping in. Then
he finds himself slowly walking back into the building, as if he's
forgotten why he came out in the first place.

~*~*~

South Dallas General Hospital
February 3, 2003
9:01 a.m.

The next morning finds one agent with a stiff neck and the other with
enough meds to knock out a small animal. As he'd feared, he did have
a broken rib, but all they could do at this point was give him as
much painkillers as was allowable and have him under observation.
"Hey, Mon," he says, cracking open his eyes to see his partner slowly
rotate her head. "How's your neck?"

"Not as bad as your rib," she says, slowly smiling. "How are you
feeling?"

"Not bad if I don't breathe," he says, and she shakes her head. Then
his phone rings, startling them both. "Damn. Could you get that?"

She nods and roots around his clothes, then seeing the number,
answers, "Hey, how's things at home?"

"Monica? Where's Dad?" Luke's voice sounds surprised.

"In the hospital, because some biker ran him over," she replies.
"Here, let me pass this to him."

"Uh, Dad?" Luke's voice sounds a bit too casual, even over the phone.

"Yeah?" Doggett replies, shifting his phone to his other hand.

"How are you feeling?"

I could use all the curse words in the world and it still wouldn't
describe it, is what's on the tip of his tongue. But he says instead,
"Like hell. What's up?"

There's a long pause, and then a deep breath. "We, uh, kinda borrowed
the car," his eldest son starts off quickly, "and then-"

"I don't wanna hear it," Doggett cuts him off. "You can tell me the
graphic details when we get back home, but consider you and Gibson
grounded from now."

"Me, too?" Gibson yelps from the other house phone.

"Yeah, you," Doggett scowls, "you didn't exactly stop him, did you?"

"No, sir," the younger teen sighs.

"Other than that, anything else I should know about?" Doggett asks
his sons.

"No, sir," they chorus.

"Good," he sighs, "make sure it stays that way when we get back. See
ya."

'see ya," they chorus before hanging up.

Doggett sighs, then sags against the hospital bed, wincing. "Mon?"

Reyes smiles slightly as she takes the cell phone away. 'so, how's
everything back at the ranch?" she asks.

He groans. "Is my hair white? It feels like it should be," he
mutters, staring up at the ceiling.

She chuckles. "No, John, it's not. Come on, it can't be that bad,
whatever they said."

He gives her a look. "When teenaged boys start off a conversation
using the phrase 'kinda borrowed the car' and they're not legal yet,
it's never a good thing."

"Oh," she says, raising her eyebrows. 'so, how are we gonna kill
them?"

He grins suddenly. "God, I love you, woman," he says.

She grins back. "Duh," she retorts, 'so how did the rest of the
conversation go?"

"It didn't," Doggett says sheepishly, "I told them they were grounded
and I figure after Hannah spills, we can decide how we're gonna kill
them."

Reyes nods, 'sounds like a plan." Then she says, 'sorry, I have to
go. I told the doctor I'd notify him as soon as you woke up."

He blinks his assent, then closes his eyes when she leaves. There was
something important he had to do, he thinks, but for now, he can't
remember what it was.

~*~*~

The doctor, a stern-faced man with the improbable name of Happi,
accompanied by a nonverbal male nurse, checks out Doggett and is
satisfied that there have been no further negative developments
concerning the rib. He pulls out an X-ray and holds it up against the
light. "Lucky for you, it's a hairline fracture, so it hasn't pulled
away from the lung, nor has it punctured anything. Just make sure you
don't do anything strenuous, take some deep breaths every few minutes
and some ibuprofen, and it should heal by itself within a couple of
months."

"A couple of months?" Doggett asks, now sitting up, wondering how
long he can stay on the job while doing nothing.

Reyes smirks. "Looks like you'll be a desk jockey for a couple of
months, hm?" she says, folding her arms.

He gives her a look. "Ha, ha." He takes a deep breath, then winces.
"Damn."

"Yeah, it'll hurt," Dr. Happi says drily, his mouth turned down. "But
that should help your rib regain its former shape. Any questions?"

His forbidding look would discourage most, except he's dealing a
different kind of patient, namely, the impatient kind. "Yeah, when
you said strenuous, did that include stretches? Or how about driving?
Does shooting someone count as strenuous?"

Dr. Happi stares at the man in the bed, then checks the man's folder.
Oh, FBI. "Yes, that includes stretches, no, driving's safe, and I
wouldn't recommend shooting someone, but I suppose if you had some
kind of support or prop, you could do it."

"Good to know," Doggett says, smiling grimly. 'so I'm good to go?"

The doctor hands him a note. "You can pick up your ibuprofen at the
front desk," he says, "but for further medication, you'd have to get
it over-the-counter."

"Thanks," Doggett says, and after the doctor and nurse leaves, he
looks at Reyes. "I just remembered."

She frowns slightly. "What do you mean?"

'something important," he says, wincing as he stands, then gets his
cell phone. He dials, and then waits. "Yeah, this is Agent Doggett.
Are you home?" He ignores his partner's curious look, then scowls at
the answer. "What do you mean, you never left? You said as soon as
the ambulance got me, you'd leave, dammit!" There's some noise at the
other end, but he interrupts, saying, "We're gonna get you out of
there, got it? See you," and hangs up.

"Who were you talking to?" Reyes wonders.

He says, "Ted Ringer. Remember, the crazy guy who can't leave his job
and asked us to kill him?" When she looks at him blankly, he groans.
"Dammit. Come on, we've got a radio show host to rescue."

She shakes her head, but helps him into his clothes and follows his
lead.

~*~*~

It doesn't take the agents long to return to the two-story building,
and find the heavyset man behind the counter. "You are one determined
son of a gun," Ringer remarks when he sees the grim-faced agent along
with a slightly confused agent. "Honestly, I tried leaving, but I
found myself here."

"Don't give me that bullshit," Doggett says, his eyes narrowed like a
gunslinger's. "Agent, cuff him."

Reyes stares at her partner. "What?"

He looks at her. "We're not playing his game. Just cuff him and put
him in the back of the car," he says. "We're taking him home."

She shrugs, but does as he says. 'sorry," she says, then goes to the
car.

Ringer shakes his head. "No, I'm sorry," he says, turning around to
face Doggett, who's walking behind in pain, "I didn't realize it
would go as far as hurting you."

"Just walk," Doggett says, out of patience and breath.

The three go to the rental car, which is parked in front of the door,
and Reyes has to hold Ringer's head down so he won't bump his head.
She's about to get in the driver's seat, but Doggett's somehow beaten
her there, and she raises her eyebrows. "You're up to driving?" she
asks.

He nods. 'stay in the backseat and keep an eye on him," he says, "I
don't trust him not to do something crazy."

She shakes her head, but gets in the backseat with Ringer. "Jeez,
should I put a gun on him, too, while I'm at it?" she asks
sarcastically.

"Might be a good idea," Doggett says, and starts the car. When
they're about a few feet away from the radio station, the rental car
breaks down. "You've got to be kidding!" he exclaims, then hits the
steering wheel. "Ow!"

Reyes sighs, then says, "Pop the hood. Maybe it's just a small
thing." She gets out and walks to the front of the car.

He nods, wincing as he bends down and grabs the release. He watches
as she lifts the hood up and props it up. Slowly, he gets out of the
car and walks around to see if there's anything that can be fixed.
"You've gotta be kidding," he says again, but muttering it in disgust
this time. Somehow, some small mammal, maybe a rat or a squirrel, got
inside the car, chewed the water line and one of the cables, and got
itself fried on the battery. "Wonder if the FBI can cover the
rental."

She makes a face. "I doubt it." She sighs, pulling out her cell phone
and her wallet.

"Who're you calling?" he asks.

"Triple-A," she replies, "we need this towed and maybe the guy can
get Mr. Ringer home on the way. Yes, my name's Monica Reyes," she
says, apparently getting an operator. "That's M-O-N-I-C-A, no, N-I,
wait, let me spell it again," and rolls her eyes as Doggett goes to
the back passenger door of the car.

"Get out of the car," Doggett tells Ringer. "I need to get those
cuffs off."

"What now?" Ringer asks, but doesn't seem surprised at the turn of
events. When he steps out, Doggett motions him to turn around.

"We're getting a tow truck," he says, unlocking the cuffs and taking
them back, "it'd be pretty complicated if we had to explain to the
driver why you're locked up."

Ringer nods, then shakes his hands out. 'so we wait?"

Doggett nods. Reyes joins them and he asks, "How long?"

She sighs. "For some reason, today's a busy day for them, so it'll
take a couple of hours."

Doggett looks at the talk show host. "How far away is your house?"

"My trailer's about twenty miles away," Ringer answers.

"Figures," Doggett sighs, then winces. Then an idea comes to him.
"The nearest strip mall is less than a mile away. Go there."

"What?" Reyes and Ringer chorus.

Doggett looks at Ringer. "You said you couldn't go home. Or anywhere
else, for that matter. Well, try someplace close by. The strip mall's
not too far, it's in walking distance, practically."

"I haven't walked that far in ages," the heavyset man says.

"Maybe it's about time you start," Doggett says unsympathetically.
"Reyes, go with him."

She gives him a look. "He's a grown man, he can walk by himself."

He returns that look in spades. "If you don't remember, he's got this
crazy idea that he can't go farther than a few feet from the radio
station," and points at their current location. "If he decides to
turn around, tackle him. I'd do it, but the doctor would probably
classify that as strenuous exercise."

"Fine," she shakes her head, smiling a little, "here, take my card."
She hands the AAA card over, then takes Ringer's arm in hers. "Come
on, we should be there and back by the time the tow truck gets here."

The tall heavyset man takes a deep breath, then nods. "Okay, I'm
ready."

She grins up at him, takes a step forward, then stops. "I don't feel
so good," she says, then topples to the ground.

~*~*~

Doggett forces himself not to run as he makes his way over to Reyes'
prone body, Ringer kneeling beside her. "Monica," he says when he's
beside her, "what's wrong?" He feels her forehead, and it's rather
hot. He's not sure if she's had anything for breakfast, he knows he
sure hasn't. Shit. "Ringer, get inside and get some food and cold
water," he says, 'she's got a fever and I'm not sure when's the last
time she ate."

The talk show host nods, getting to his feet and lumbering as quickly
as he can inside the station. When he comes back, he finds the male
agent vainly fanning his partner with his wallet. "Here," he says,
handing over a muffin, a cup of water, and wadded-up damp paper
towels. He puts the soggy towels on the female agent's forehead,
while Doggett props Reyes' head up and tries to coax her to drink.

"Mon, Mon, drink up," Doggett says hoarsely, but the water spills out
of her mouth. "Dammit."

Ringer looks on helplessly as Doggett takes a gulp of water, then
puts his mouth over hers and empties the contents down her throat.
The FBI agent does this a few times, as it seems to have gone down
the right tube, but she doesn't seem to be waking up. He starts when
the agent barks at him. "What?"

"I said, carry her inside," Doggett snaps, his nerves frayed with
worry. "I can't do it, thanks to this damned broken rib. There's a
nice couch in the lobby, put her there." The heavyset man nods, then
gets to his knees as Doggett topples her onto his back, dislodging
the wet towels from her forehead. He pulls Reyes' arms around his
shoulders like a cape, then pulls her to her feet and half-drags her
to the lobby and gently lays her down on the couch.

After getting their overnight bags, Doggett follows behind, empty cup
and muffin in hand. He hates feeling so helpless, especially when it
concerns someone he loves. He leans against the wall, and says
tiredly, "Could you get a bigger cup of water with a straw? Thanks."
When the radio host leaves, he opens his bag and pulls out a t-shirt,
then dumps the bag on the floor. He hauls himself to the men's room
and soaks the t-shirt in cold water, wringing it out so it won't drip
all over the place, then returns to Reyes' unconscious body and puts
it on her forehead.

Seeing her sweat-soaked body lying on the couch reminds him of some
kind of painting, but he's not sure what, only that it was
depressing. And he promptly banishes that thought, frowning as he
does so. "Thanks," he says again when Ringer comes back with the
requested large cup of water and straw.

Ringer shakes his head. "This all happened because of me," he says.

"What, you gave her a fever?" Doggett says sarcastically, sitting
down on a nearby chair. "Look, we just had a run of bad luck."

The other man shakes his head again, sitting heavily on the chair
facing the agent's. "The secretary isn't here because she broke both
her legs trying to drive me out," he says, 'some asshole crashed into
her side. A freak hailstorm hit when I tried to catch a cab. And
Pizza Hut doesn't deliver here any more because three of their
drivers got into accidents."

"You could've told us that earlier," Doggett says as evenly as he
can. 'someone got a grudge against you or what?"

Ringer hangs his head miserably. "No," he says, "but whenever someone
comes even close to really getting me away from here, they get hurt.
And that's why I want you to kill me."

"Tempting as it sounds right now, there's gotta be another way,"
Doggett says. He looks down at Reyes, who he figures is more
acquainted with weird shit than he is. 'since my paranormal expert is
currently out of commission, give me some ideas of what you think
might be behind this."

Ringer shakes his head. 'some of my guests say that it's not a curse,
but a benevolent aura that surrounds me. Others say they sense no ill
will towards me, all they see is prosperity in my future. No matter
who I consult, even online, nobody knows who's behind it." He shrugs.
"Well, I don't tell the online folks who I am, but I've told them as
much as I've told you, and I've got nothing."

Doggett's scowl gets deeper. 'same here." He looks over at his
partner, who is sleeping soundly, then looks at the radio host, who
is looking guilty. Dammit. "Well, while we're here, might as well
tell me some stories," he says.

"What?" Ringer looks startled.

Doggett shrugs, then winces. Jeez, even a shrug set off that broken
rib? Anyways. "We got nothing better to do, and I wanna be here when
she wakes up," he says, tilting his head at Reyes. He knows there's a
TV in the kitchen and there's probably wireless availability for his
laptop, but he wants to be here for his partner and keep an eye on
Ringer. That way, when Reyes wakes up, he can tell her to strangle
the guy, and he grins at the thought. 'start off with those ghost
stories your math teacher used to tell."

Ringer's surprised and a little relieved. "Okay, but don't blame me
if I don't remember how some of them end. It's been years."

"Oh, I'm sure you remember," Doggett says. "Go on."

And for the rest of the day and most of the night, the men tell
tales, some taller than most.

~*~*~

"Geas!" Reyes shouts when she wakes up.

Doggett, who's lying on Ringer's sleeping bag on the floor, wakes up
with a start. "What the hell???" he yelps, then groans, his broken
rib reminding him not to move too quickly. 'son of a bitch," he
breathes, putting a hand to his right side. He slowly sits up to find
Reyes looking at him with her dark eyes wide. "What?"

"Ringer," she says, still lying down but clear-eyed. "He's got a geas
on him."

"What's that?" Doggett squints at her.

"According to Celtic mythology, it could be considered a curse," she
says, "but it's more like a rule or a powerful compulsion. If you
obey it, you're blessed and you live a long life. But there are
countless stories detailing how men disobeyed it and died."

"Oh, goody," he deadpans, then looks around. 'son of a bitch, where'd
he go," he murmurs, when he hears a toilet flush. "Never mind." Then
he looks at her. "Are you hungry?"

She nods, slowly sitting up, then puts a hand to the damp cloth on
her forehead. She smiles when she sees it's his t-shirt. "What do you
have?" she asks.

He looks around and holds up a half-empty pizza carton. "Pizza," he
says, "apparently, Papa John delivers."

"Apparently," she agrees, helping herself to a slice. She waves at
Ringer, because her mouth is full of pizza.

He waves back. "Good to see you're feeling better," he says.

She nods and swallows, then sees the big plastic cup of water and
takes a big gulp. "Definitely better," she says, "and you're under a
geas."

"What?" he says, echoing Doggett as he stares at her.

"I think I heard some of what you guys were talking about," she says,
"and while I was dreaming, I put it all together. Your work is your
geas."

"My," Ringer pauses, "my work is my geas?" He stands there for a
while, not saying anything.

"You've pretty much given up everything else in your life for your
work," Reyes says, "your kids, your wives, a decent home or a car, or
even an outside life. And your work has rewarded you by placing a
geas on you." She tilts her head a little. "In a way, it's a
compliment. You've been faithful to this job more than anything else,
and it's rewarding you by allowing you to be the best at what you do.
It's just that when you have the all-too-human urge to leave the
building, or work, as it were, you incur the geas' side effect."

He nods tiredly. "Well, when you put it that way, I suppose I can see
how that works out."

Doggett looks from one person to the other. "This still doesn't make
sense to me. So it's not a person doing it to you, but your work?"

Ringer shrugs. "Guess that's why all the psychics couldn't really
pinpoint anything when I asked them about it. We were in the studio
and it was pretty much all around us." He sighs. "Well, I could
always put on a happy face and do this for the rest of my life. Like
the lady said, I've been terrible at everything else, might as well
do this right."

"I didn't mean it like that!" Reyes says hurriedly.

The talk show host chuckles. "I know, but I guess getting wrapped up
in something, even as wide-ranging as this job, can give someone a
single-track mind. And really, as long as no one else gets hurt, I
don't mind having this kind of geas, now that I know what it is."

"In other words, you don't wanna leave," Doggett reiterates, making
sure the guy wants to stick with the new game plan of staying put.

"Who knows, it could kill me next, and that would pretty much suck,"
Ringer grins lopsidedly. Then a loud horn honks outside, and they all
look. It's the tow truck, finally arrived for their rental. He looks
at them both. "Are you two okay to leave?"

Doggett looks at Reyes. "I think after swallowing more pills, I
should be fine."

She nods. "Ditto." And after they down a couple of pills each,
finishing up their dinners, she says, "I think we've still got those
hotel and plane reservations, right?" Doggett nods, and as they both
get to their feet, she shakes Ringer's hand. "Take care."

He nods. "You, too. Hey, if you're ever in this neck of the woods
again, come in and say hi, no matter what my audience says."

She smiles, grabbing their overnight bags as Doggett shakes the man's
hand. "You try anything stupid and I'll shoot you myself," Doggett
says.

Ringer chuckles. "You really do sound like my math teacher. Too bad
Mr. Riker's dead, I think you two would've gotten along great."

"Yikes," Doggett shakes his head, but smiles anyway. 'see ya." He
waves as he and Reyes take their leave, and the talk show host waves
back. When they reach the tow truck, Ringer follows them as far as
the door, watching them from that vantage point as he pulls out a
carton and shakes out a cigarette. "You think he'll be okay?" he asks
Reyes once she's gotten her card back from Doggett and given the
truck driver her information.

She looks back, and the man in question is taking a long drag from
his cigarette. "Yeah," she says, and helps Doggett into the truck.

"How do you know?" he asks, after wincing from the pain.

She smiles slightly. 'smoker's intuition."

He snorts, and when the truck driver asks them their destination, he
says, "Airport. Return the car there, and we'll be staying at the
hotel nearby."

The driver nods, and they watch the smoking figure in front of the
radio station from the rear view mirror getting smaller and smaller
as they go farther and farther, until a turn and a few miles takes
Ted Ringer out of their sight.

~*~*~

The Doggett home
February 4th, 2003
12:23 p.m.

"Hello?" Doggett says when he and Reyes open the door. And what a
sight meets his eyes. The place is clean, his boys are sitting ramrod
straight on the couch and staring straight ahead, their bodies still
but their foreheads sweating. Only Hannah is playing normally at the
coffee table with her dolls and looks up when she sees her father and
Monica.

"Hi, Daddy!" Hannah says, jumping up.

"Whoa, whoa," Reyes says, running interference. "He broke one of his
ribs, so he can't pick you up, okay, Sweetie?"

The little girl looks surprised, but her father nods, so she wraps
herself around his legs. Doggett allows himself to smile before
looking at his sons. "I've seen the car," he says, and it was pretty
hard to miss in the garage, looking like something took a giant
baseball bat and hit the front passenger side. As he slowly makes his
way to a chair, hampered by a little girl-leg shackle, he says, 'so,
what happened?"

Luke and Gibson look at each other, then look down. "Well, I thought
I'd get some practice driving time while you two were gone," Luke
says quietly, "and just go around the block."

"And I wanted to take a turn when he was done," Gibson adds, in the
same quiet voice. 'so I didn't think anything would happen."

"We told Hannah to stay home and listen for the phone," Luke says,
"just in case you called."

"Well, we told her to cover for us," Gibson clarifies. "We didn't
think we'd be gone that long, but thought it would be a good idea
just in case."

'so I started to drive down the block," Luke says, "and everything
was okay. But then we saw some girls from school, and I just wanted
to show 'em what I got, and Gib said it was his turn to drive, and we
started arguing, and then I took my eyes off the road for a minute,
maybe longer, and we hit a tree."

"Thank goodness that's all we hit," Gibson says, "and the girls ended
up laughing at us. Well, they started screaming, but once they saw we
were okay, they laughed. And fortunately, one of them had a cell
phone, so she called her father, who was a tow truck driver, and he
towed it back to our place." He sighs. "And then we called you guys."
Then both boys look up at Doggett, eyeing him nervously.

After a long, tense silence, their father finally speaks. "Well, it's
a good thing I broke my rib," he says, his eyes narrow, "or I'd be
personally strangling you right now." He takes a deep breath, then
winces. "And it's a good thing Monica took my gun before we stepped
out of the taxi, or I'd shoot you where you sit."

Their eyes widen, and Hannah's grip on his leg tightens, and he
sighs. "Fortunately for you two, you're both gonna stay healthy and
grounded, which includes revoking your drivers' permits until next
year."

"What???" both teens chorus. "You can't-"

"I can and I will," Doggett interrupts, his blue eyes flashing
dangerously. "You're lucky you didn't get hurt, and you're also lucky
you didn't hurt anyone else while you were at it. But you've shown
that you're not ready for the responsibility of driving, by sneaking
out, by making your sister lie, and by using someone else's vehicle."

He smiles grimly, and both teens stiffen, since it's a very
unfriendly smile. "Guess my recuperation time won't be wasted, since
I'll be supervising the both of you. First off, we're gonna get that
girl's daddy's number and find out how much you owe." He nods at
their surprised expressions. "Oh yeah, you're gonna work that off,
sons. Then you're gonna work off the repair for the car, and if you
have to, you're gonna have to help repair it as well. Got it?" They
nod, their eyes on him. 'second thing, take out all the video games
and equipment from your rooms and bring them out here. Same goes for
the computer. If I have to, I will send Hannah in as clean-up, got
it?" They nod again. "And third..."

He stands up, gently prying Hannah's arms from his leg, and walks
over to his sons. Reyes starts to stop him, but he shakes his head,
and she subsides. They watch him nervously as he leans over without
saying a word. Then he knocks their heads together, and they yell,
"OW!!!" Rubbing their heads, they wince while their father smiles
briefly, and hugs them hard. "Ugh, Dad, can't breathe," Luke gasps.

But he doesn't release his grip. "Thank God you two are all right,"
Doggett says, meaning it. Then he releases them, just as suddenly.
Looking from one boy to the next, he says, their shoulders firmly in
his hands, "But if you ever do anything stupid like that again-"

"We're dead." Gibson nods. "Man, you're scary," he breathes.

"Damn straight," Doggett says, but part of his mouth goes up. "The
tow truck number?"

Gibson rattles it off, and Doggett nods at Reyes, who pulls out her
cell phone. "Guess we have to take out the computer and video stuff
now?" he asks.

Doggett says, "You got it." Then he stands up. "Up and at 'em, boys."

"Yes, sir," they chorus, look at each other glumly, and head to their
rooms.

"Wow," Hannah says when they're out of sight. "You busted 'em good,
Daddy."

He sighs, then sinks into the couch. "You're gonna be a good girl for
Daddy, right?" he asks his little girl who makes her way to her
father's lap. "When you get to be a teenager, you're gonna be sugar
and spice, right?"

"Right!" She smiles, about to throw her arms around him, but
remembers his injury and holds on to his arm instead.

He smiles at her, "You can lean on this side, Sweetie, it doesn't
hurt," he says, patting the left side of his chest. As his daughter
rests on his left side, he asks Reyes, who just hung up, 'so, what's
the damage?"

"Twenty," she says, 'since he's not with Triple-A." She shakes her
head, joining father and daughter on the couch. "Wow, considering all
the stupid things I did as a teen, I'm glad nobody got hurt, either."

"Best not to share that with the boys just yet." Doggett smiles
wanly, "judging by the exterior and axle damage to the car, it's
gonna take a while for them to pay me back."

She nods, smiling a little. "You're a good father, you know that?"
she says, ruffling his short hair.

He grimaces, brushing his hair, even though not a hair's out of
place. "I'm just thinking that, as bad as things might seem now, it's
not all that bad," he says, thinking of Ringer's predicament.

Reyes looks at him, then nods again. "Yeah, it's not," she agrees,
and leans against him.

And that's what the two grounded teens find when they come out with
the first trip from their room with the computer equipment. Luke and
Gibson look at them, then at each other, and make a face, making the
threesome on the couch laugh.

"Keep moving," Doggett tells them, and the boys groan before heading
back to their room for the video games. But he's still smiling,
holding his best girls and being in charge of his sons. Yeah, all
things considering, life's not all that bad.

~*~*~


 Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Two
"The Red Carpet"


Early February 2003

After the close of a rather spirited episode about chupacarbra, Wayne
runs up to Mulder and Scully as they try to head back to their
respective dressing rooms. "Hold up. I have something I need to talk
to you both about."

Mulder gives him a wary look. There's something excited about
Federman's expression. That worries him. "What's on your mind,
Wayne?"

If anything, Federman gets more keyed up. "I have just learned of a
fantastic opportunity for the two of you."

Now Scully looks apprehensive as well. "An opportunity? What sort of
opportunity?"

"The two of you being involved with the X-Files for all those years,
you must be science fiction fans as well, right?" he asks looking at
them expectantly.

"I guess," Mulder says, "We've seen some Star Trek episodes from most
of the series' incarnations, if that's what you're getting at."

"And a few of those terrible movies on the sci-fi channel," Scully
says, shaking her head at the memory of the cringe-worthy flicks
about killer fungus and bats run amuck.

"If you're been watching any sci-fi shows, you must've heard of the
Saturn awards." He gives them an even more expectant look.

They both return it with blank stares.

Federman immediately looks slightly deflated. "It's only the biggest
award show for science fiction films ever."

"Wayne, what are you getting at?" Mulder asks, hoping that they might
eventually get to a point.

"I was just called and asked if the two of you would be willing to be
the host for this year's award show," Wayne says enthusiastically.
"It's going to be in Roswell, New Mexico on March 13th. Roswell. They
couldn't pick a more fitting place, huh?"

Mulder and Scully exchange a look. He looks more intrigued by the
idea that she does, but her expression doesn't suggest that it's out
of the question.

"We're flattered, Wayne," Scully tells him. "But aren't the people
putting on the show more likely to want Reed to be the host? He is,
after all, far more involved in the science fiction realm than we
are."

Wayne shakes his head rapidly. "Oh no, they asked for 'Mulder and
Scully' specifically. You two have quite the reputation."

Mulder smiles on them. "No thanks to you."

"You're welcome," Wayne says without a trace of irony. 'say you'll do
it."

"Well..." Scully stammers.

Wayne gives her a sympathetic look. "I know when I asked you to do
the Jose Chung show I told you that there wouldn't be much traveling
involved, and I really did mean that. Being selected for TV awards
show hosting is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I know that your
kids will miss you, but think of how proud they will be to be able to
tell all their classmates that you presided over the awards for very
important event."

When he glances at his wife's face, Mulder knows that Federman has
just scored a direct hit. This is confirmed when she says, "I think
the kids could bear to be away from us for a few days, don't you,
Mulder?"

'sure. And I'm sure our mothers will stop by to keep them
entertained," Mulder says, thinking about how much more involved with
his children and Samantha's his mother has become over the past
several months.

Wayne practically levitates with excitement. "Does that mean that
you're going to do it?"

"Exactly how long are we talking about, though?" Mulder asks.

"Three days. Including travel."

They exchanged another quick look. "We're in."

"Yes!" Wayne pumps his fist in the air. "I've got to go call them
back."

Once Wayne runs off, Mulder puts his arm around Scully shoulder.
"Maybe this will be fun."

"Maybe it will be a complete disaster," she says, but she smiles.
"Either way, I think we'll have some stories to tell when we get
back."

"Maybe we can ask Wayne to let us stay an extra day," Mulder
suggests.

"Why would we do that?"

'scully, haven't you always wanted to investigate the original crash
site?"

"Oh brother."

When Mulder sees Wayne in the distance, he calls out to him. Wayne
returns immediately. "What's up?"

"Did Scully and I ever tell you that our ninth anniversary is on
Valentine's Day?"

"No. Congratulations. Are you doing anything special this year?"

"Well, we are shooting the show that day..." Mulder lets his voice
trailed off.

"Oh. Did you need the day off?" Wayne asks.

"That would be nice," Scully says, getting in on the act. "If having
the day off wouldn't be too disruptive."

"No, no. Make a long weekend of it."

Mulder gives him a good-natured thump to the shoulder. "You're the
best boss, Wayne."

Wayne beams. "I am, aren't I?" Before Wayne can expound on how cool
of a boss he actually is, he is called away by another voice in the
studio.

"Mulder, what did you have in mind for our anniversary?" Scully asked
as soon as Wayne wanders off to his next task.

He shrugs. "Nothing yet. It just seemed like too good an opportunity
to waste. We'll think of something fun."

She gives him a slow smile, and then leans her head in close. "I'm
glad it didn't take three months for your two samples to come back
clear."

"Me too, Scully. Me too."

~*~*~

Early That Evening

While they fold tiny baby clothes in Zoe and Brianna's room, Scully
and Michelle talk about the upcoming trip. The babies sleep
peacefully despite the conversation going on around them.

"...so, it's only supposed to be three days," Scully says, concluding
her explanation of the award show to Michelle.

"Wow, I didn't really expect the two of you to be traveling for
business again."

"We didn't either," Scully admits. "But, as Wayne says this is a
once-in-a-lifetime thing. I'm sure there can't be too many other
award shows that would be clamoring for our attention."

"You'd be surprised," Michelle says, startling Scully. "My friend
Marcos is into all that science fiction stuff big time. You had
better hope that your boss never finds out what a sci-fi convention
is, or you may end up doing other celebrity guest appearances."

Scully laughs. "Celebrity? I hardly think that Mulder and I are
celebrities."

Michelle looks at her askance but doesn't say anything.

"You're going away?" a small voice asks behind them. Scully turns and
sees April, who is giving her a concerned look.

"Just for three days, Sweetheart. Daddy and I are going to do a favor
for Wayne."

"What kind of favor?"

"Remember when we watched part of the Academy Awards?" Scully asks,
and April nods. "Well, Daddy and I are going to host an awards show
like that. But for crazy science fiction movies instead of good
ones."

"Oh. That sounds kind of fun," April says wistfully.

"I guess it's possible that it might be," Scully tells her just
before Brianna wakes up with a shriek.

~*~*~

9:30 p.m.

There's a timid knock at their bedroom door, and Mulder opens it to
find Page looking up at him.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Mulder asks reflexively.

"Can I talk to you and Mommy for a minute?"

"Of course you can, Page," Scully calls from the bed. She has a
sleepy Zoe in her arms, who has just finished nursing.

Page scampers in and climbs on the bed. Mulder shrugs and shuts the
bedroom door before joining them. "Well, what's on your mind?"

"I wanted to talk to you about how you're going away to be hosts for
the awards show."

"What about it?" Scully asks, sounding wary.

To Mulder's surprise, Page says, "April really wants to go with you."

'she told you that?" Mulder asks her.

"Not really," Page admits before looking earnestly at her mother.
"But I can tell. Mommy, can't you tell sometimes what Aunt Missy is
thinking about from what she says, but what she doesn't say too?"

'sometimes," Scully allows.

"Trust me, she wants to go with you," Page says firmly, and her
father has to hide his smile. "Can she?"

"That wouldn't be up to us, Page," Mulder explains. "Wayne is the one
who is making arrangements, so it would be up to him." He stands up,
and takes Zoe from Scully, preparing to bring the infant back to her
crib.

"But will you ask him?" Page persists.

"We'll think about it," Scully tells her. "How come you decided to
ask us for her?"

"It sounds like fun. I know Sammy and I can't miss school, but April
can. 'sides, sisters need to look out for each other. Right?"

"Right," Scully says before making Page giggle by suddenly swinging
her off the bed and putting her on her feet. "Bed, now."

"Okay!"

"What do you think, Mulder?" Scully asks once they're alone again.

"First we should ask April if she wants to go in the first place,"
Mulder points out. "Just in case Page's helpfulness is misdirected.
Then, if Page is right, we'll have to explain to April that we don't
have the final say in the situation."

"Okay, we'll talk to her tomorrow."

They paused when they hear the distant fussing. Mulder looks down at
Zoe. "Looks like it's time to swap babies."

"At least they don't wake up hungry at the same time," Scully says,
thinking about her one attempt to feed David and Jared at the same
time. It had not been pretty.

~*~*~

The Next Morning

Sammy and Page shove their breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, and
run upstairs to get their backpacks. April is about to join them,
when Mulder stops her. "One second, April."

She sits down and gives him an expectant look.

'so," Mulder says, looking back at her. "A little birdie told me that
you want to go with mom and me, if possible, when we do that awards
show. Is that true?"

April tilts her head. "A bird named Page," she mutters.

"That doesn't answer my question, Sweetie."

Mulder's lips twitch with the effort of not smiling with his daughter
heaves a sigh. "Yes, Daddy. I want to go with you and Mommy."

He ruffles her hair. "There. Telling the truth wasn't so hard, was
it?"

His daughter just stares at him.

"Mommy and I will ask Wayne if you can come too."

"Thanks."

"No problem." Mulder watches as his daughter scrambles to her feet.
"Where you going?"

"To punch Page for telling my secrets."

April is already out of the room before it occurs to him to tell her
not to hit her sister. At a loss, he just shakes his head.

~*~*~

Film Studio

"Wayne, I know this is probably too much to ask, but one of our
daughters is dying to go with us when we do the award show," Mulder
says early that morning. "Is there any way that Scully and I can
convince you to let us bring April with us?"

"April?" Wayne asks. "Forgive me, but I have to ask: which one is
that?"

"Our second daughter," Mulder tells him.

"Is that the little redhead?"

"Yes."

"Oh sure, go ahead and bring her. I like that one," Wayne says,
sounding genuine. 'she didn't give me a hard time and ate dinner with
you guys."

"You really don't mind?" Mulder asks, surprised.

Wayne shrugs his shoulders. "A kid's fare on the plane, couple of
extra meals, it won't cost me much. Besides, you'll be thinking about
this when it comes time to renew your contracts."

"Don't you think you're showing your hand a little bit there, Wayne?"
Scully asks, smiling.

"Am I wrong?"

They shake their heads.

"Exactly. I'll have somebody buy the ticket, and let the hotel know
you'll need a trundle bed."

"Thanks Wayne!" Mulder calls to his retreating back. Wayne doesn't
turn around to look. Instead he just waves his hand behind him.


Later that evening April looks both astonished and pleased when her
parents inform her that she is going to be able to go with them. To
their relief none of the other kids reacts with jealousy.

~*~*~

Mulder-Scully Home
February 14th, 2003 

It’s a glorious, albeit cold as hell, Friday morning with love in the
air and chocolate and cards in various children’s bags. On this
particular morning, however, one couple is sleeping in. "Morning,
honey," Mulder kisses his wife in bed.

 "Mm," Scully kisses him back without opening her eyes. "You brushed
your teeth."

 He chuckles. "I decided to be nice on our anniversary. Happy ninth,
Dana."

 She smiles, slowly opening her eyes. "Happy ninth, Mulder." Then she
pouts, "But you let me kiss you with morning breath."

 He shrugs, "Yeah, well, you let me make out with you with morning
wood, I’d say we’re even."

 She laughs, then swings her pillow at him. 'so much for romance,"
she giggles when he blocks her successfully.

 Mulder waggles his eyebrows. "Oh, baby," he leers at her in an
over-the-top fashion, "you ain’t seen nothin’ yet."

 Scully doesn’t trust the look in his eyes, humorous though the
delivery may be. "Where are the kids?" she asks, noting how
suspiciously quiet the house sounds.
 
He smiles and snuggles next to her. "The older ones are in school,"
he answers, brushing her hair out of her face, "my mom wanted to take
the younger ones to a museum to culturize them."
 
" 'Culturize’?" Scully raises an eyebrow at the word.
 
He nods. "In her words, she wants to 'develop an appreciation for the
finer things in life’, and when I told her we could take them
window-shopping at expensive shops, she looked like she could
cheerfully shoot my other shoulder."
 
"And she would’ve been within her rights," Scully retorts. 'so
they’re with your mom."
 
Mulder nods again. "And I’ve got breakfast downstairs. I would’ve
brought you breakfast in bed, but I wasn’t sure if you were up for
food or," he waggles his eyebrows again, "whatever else might come
up."
 
She rolls her eyes, but laughs. "Food first, Mr. Smarty Pants," she
says, pulling on a robe, "and we’ll get to, you know, whatever, after
that."
 
He smiles, then kisses the top of her head. "You’re so cute when you
get all modest, Scully."
 
She sticks her tongue out, then gets out of bed with as much dignity
as a just-woken up woman can muster. "I’ll be brushing my teeth," she
says, "and that food better be warm by the time I get downstairs."
 
"Yes, ma’am," Mulder salutes her, and rushes downstairs, making her
laugh.
 
~*~*~
 
3:11 p.m.
 
They’ve spent the day making love, watching chick movies (after
Mulder promised not to tease her), and making out some more, and now
they’re having a late lunch at the table. "You know, you’ve spent all
day spoiling me," Scully says, after he kisses her cheek, "I think I
should return the favor. After all, it’s OUR anniversary, not just
mine."
 
Mulder smiles. "Well, what do you have in mind, O Wife of Mine?"
 
The redhead smirks, then puts the cut of meat in her mouth in a very
suggestive manner. "I was thinking," she says after she (and Mulder)
swallows, "that we could take our anniversary outside."
 
"Doing what?" he asks, having to clear his throat when she goes down
on, er, downs another cut of steak.
 
She shrugs, but runs her socked foot up and down his leg, making him
raise his eyebrows. "Oh, nothing much, maybe walking past those
expensive shops and pretending like we’ll buy something, but we
won’t. And we’ll actually buy something so tacky and cheap, and walk
past those same expensive stores and flaunt it."
He does an exaggerated gasp. "You tease!" he says, in a mock-outraged
voice, a hand to his chest.
 
Scully rolls her eyes. "Please. You know you want to."
 
Mulder starts to protest, then grins. "You are definitely my one in a
million, aren’t you?" he says fondly.
 
"Duh." She smiles, "and it’s one in kajillion. Sammy said so."
 
He raises his eyebrows again. "Oh, now we’re using his word?
Kajillion? Pray tell," he says, walking over and lifting her up,
making her squeal in the process, 'scientifically, how much is a
kajillion?"
 
"Well," Scully attempts to be aloof and objective, which is difficult
when one’s husband is carrying one up the stairs, kissing her on
every other step, "a kajillion, ah, is certainly, mm, definitely more
than a billion."
 
"A lot of things are more than a billion." Mulder smiles at her, and
not for the first time in their partnership, she feels her stomach
drop, "can you be more specific?"
 
The redhead in his arms sees they’re back in the bedroom, and also
sees neither has any desire to leave it any time soon. When he gently
deposits her on the bed, she sighs, then undoes the robe. "I have a
feeling we’ll be here for a while," she says, patting the space
beside her once she gets under the covers.
 
He grins, jumping under the covers beside her. "If someone told me
I’d be spending our ninth anniversary totally making out with my
wife, I’d give them a high five," he says, then ducks as she swings
another pillow at him.
 
Scully pouts, then works on divesting him of his clothes. "I do know
that we’ll be out of here tonight," she says, "I’ve made
reservations."
 
"Where at?" Mulder asks, then gasps when her cold fingers wrap around
his manhood. "Whoa!"
 
"Whoa?" Scully repeats.
 
He nods, hating to take her hands off him, but knowing he’ll probably
freeze down there if she leaves them on. "Cold hands," he tells her.
 
She looks surprised, then smirks. "Then I’ll put on something warm,"
and when he’s about to ask, she dives under the covers, the answer
engulfing him with lips and tongue.
 
He moans, his eyes rolling upwards. "Oh, God," he groans, putting a
hand on her head, "that’s, uh, yeah, that’s warm." It isn’t long
before he’s completely unintelligible, and so is she.
 
~*~*~
 
6:50 p.m.
 
A petite redhead is leading a tall blindfolded man into a restaurant,
making more than a few people smile at the couple. "It was weird
enough while you were driving," Mulder complains, "but I know we’re
inside the place now. This is weirder than when we were on the
X-Files, and I hope there’s not going to be a gray alien sitting at
the table."
 
Scully smiles. "Don’t worry, there’s nothing like that here," she
says, guiding him to his chair. "You can take the blindfold off now."
 
He does so, blinking at the lights. Then he looks around, and sees
that the place is full of people sitting at simply-decorated tables,
with splashes of gold here and there, and a stage with a catwalk that
reaches into the audience. He gives her a questioning look, but gets
no answer, and when the lights dim, he’s even more curious.
 
An MC steps up to the lone mic, his smile as bright as Wayne
Federman’s on a crazy new idea. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,
and welcome to A Night of A Hundred Elvises! I guarantee that you’ll
never see the King like you will tonight, and see him in every phase
of his life! If you see your favorite Elvis, he or she will
personally serenade you for the rest of the night! Enjoy!"
 
Then bright music, sprinkled with a horn section, announces the first
several Elvises, and they all strut out, to the tune of the
original’s TV special, striking various poses. Mulder turns to his
wife, his eyes shining. "God, I love you," he says, clasping her
small hands in his.
 
She smiles, "I know." Then she nods her head at the stage. 'see any
one you want?"
 
Mulder pretends to put on a critical eye. "Well, the ones on the left
are cute," he says with an exaggerated lisp, "but oh my darling, that
one on the far right is a sweetie!"
 
Scully lightly socks her husband. "Never mind." She rolls her eyes,
"just make sure to tip whichever Elvis you choose, okay?"
 
"Okay!" he continues in his over-the-top gay impersonation. Then he
kisses his wife. "Thanks, Scully."
 
She smiles back. "I didn’t feel like going all the way to Vegas, so I
thought it was nice that it came here for tonight," she says.
 
"It is nice," he agrees, as more Elvises (Elvii?) pose up a storm,
doing something like karate kicks. "Hey, they weren’t kidding, there
are chick Elvises," he points to a couple.
 
Scully nods. "Yeah, they’re really good," she says, a little
surprised that they are.
 
Mulder smiles at her, then leans back. "I’m waiting for the big
guys," he tells her in a confidential whisper, "those usually tend to
be the best singers."
 
"Really?" his wife’s eyebrows go up.
 
He nods. "Call it an unofficial study, but I’ve noticed that Big
Elvis usually has to be, I guess to make up for the tummy."
 
She laughs until she snorts, and glares when he thumps her back
lightly. "I’m fine," she says, trying to have some dignity.
 
He shakes his head. "No, fine is when we get our Big Elvis," he says.
 
And to Scully’s delight and Mulder’s satisfaction, their Big Elvis
really is a good singer, white brightly sequined jumpsuit and all,
serenading them through their ninth anniversary with every request
Mulder throws at him.

~*~*~

Mulder-Scully Home
March 7th, 2003

Scully and Michelle have just come back from walking Sammy, Page, and
April to the bus stop when they hear Mulder in the living room.

"Hey, come watch this!" 

When they reach him, he's got the new Tivo paused. "What?"

"Just watch."

As he unpauses, a reporter on the morning show begins to talk about a
high profile murder case. Then a familiar figure appears in the
background.

"It's Amy!" Scully says, looking amazed.

"Who's Amy?" Michelle asks blankly.

"Our first nanny," she explains. 'she left for law school when Sammy
was a baby."

"Yup, we found out that we were expecting April that same month,"
Mulder remembers. "Looks like she's doing well."

"Doesn't she? She already looks completely at home in the courtroom,"
Scully comments fondly. "I wouldn't have minded her prosecuting a
case for us."

"Maybe she will, but for John and Monica instead of us."

'she looks happy," Michelle says wistfully, and then blushes when
they both turn to look at her. "Not that I'm not. I mean, we're not."

~*~*~

New Mexico
March 11th, 2003

The sunlight is dazzling when they step off the plane. Scully notices
that April is squinting, so she quickly pulls a child sized pair of
sunglasses out of her carry-on travel bag. April looks relieved when
she has them on her face.

She reaches up to tug on her father's shirt. "It's like the desert."

"I guess they don't have a gardener here at the airport," Mulder
says, smiling at her.

"There's the kiosk for the car rental place," Scully says, looking
over to the right. She rifles through her carry-on bag for a moment
and comes up with a handful of paper. "And here are the directions to
Roswell."

"We better go pick up our car then," Mulder replies, taking the
papers from her hand.

They leave the car rental place 15 minutes later, and Mulder has a
smile on his face. "A convertible! I was expecting a Ford Taurus or
something pedestrian like that." He turns to his wife. 'scully, do
you have something to tie back your hair?"

"Of course, Mulder."

"Good. We're going to ride with the top down."

Scully smiles at him, and fishes hair scrunchies for her and April
out of her bag.

He grins broadly when the top folds down at the push of a button.
"Ladies, this is the life."

They can't help but to agree with him.

~*~*~

Roswell, New Mexico

April spends most of the ride looking out at the scenery as it passes
them by. She seems fascinated that there is not the same sort of
plant life that she sees every day in Washington. When they stop at a
red light, she points her finger. "Daddy, what's that?"

Mulder turns, expecting to have to defer to Scully's more
comprehensive knowledge of flora, when he sees where she's pointing.
A small building decorated with garish cartoon aliens, occupies a
corner lot. A sign declaring it to be the Alien Tourist Bureau takes
up most of the front above the windows.

"April, I don't know what that is," Mulder admits, these are he
promised himself that they will go and see it before they leave.

"Mulder, right there," Scully says urgently, pointing at the opposite
side of the road. Down a side street he can see the building that
she's indicated. Much like the building where the film Jose Chung's
The Truth Is Out There, this one lacks impressiveness from the
outside. The name however, does indeed match the name but Wayne
Federman gave them before they left.

When the light turns green, Mulder takes a left, and pulls up in
front of The Karloff theater. Though the building certainly appears
to be spacious, and has a large parking lot, it also seems to be
built out of cinderblock.

April says what's on all three of their minds. "This isn't very
pretty."

"It doesn't need to be," Mulder tells her. "When it's full of people,
no one will notice what looks like anyway."

His daughter nods and slips her hand into his.

~*~*~

Mulder almost gasps in surprise when they open the door to the very
utilitarian style building. The inside looks nothing like one would
imagine from the exterior. For a second he feels as though he was
again transported through time, and has landed this time in a theater
from the turn of the last century. In the far distance, past rows and
rows of chairs, is a stage hung with thick blue velvet curtains.

"It's something isn't it?" A voice asks behind them. They all turned
to look.

The man looking back at them gives them a small smile. He is in his
early 30s, has very short dark hair, and wire rim glasses. After a
moment he holds out his hand to Mulder. "Hi, I'm, Josh Wentworth, the
building manager. What do you think?"

Scully shakes his hand as well before answering him. "I'm impressed."

"No, I'm the one that's impressed. We like to think that the Saturn
awards are a big deal, but it doesn't take a finely honed sense of
realism to know that they are not. I bet you never even heard of them
before you were asked to be the hosts." At this Mulder and Scully
exchange a look, but neither of them admits that the building manager
is right. "How someone managed to talk the two of you into doing
this, I'll never know."

"You say that like we're some sort of big deal," Mulder protests.

"Let me ask you a question. How often do you check on the ratings for
your show?"

"Um... never."

To their surprise the building manager begins to chuckle. "Do me a
favor. When it comes time for contract renewal, make sure you've
checked out the numbers by then. You'll easily be able to get more
money out of them."

"Wow," a soft voice says that the vicinity of everyone's waists.

Looking down, Wentworth asks, "And who is this?"

April's response is to immediately hide her face against Mulder's
hip. He places a calming hand on her shoulder. "This is our daughter
April."

"Kind of shy, huh? Is she your only child?"

This time it's Scully's turn to laugh. "Hardly. April is third of
nine. And before you ask, no, none of them are adopted. We've left
that to our friend John."

"Nine kids?? How do you people find time to work?" The building
manager asks with a good-natured grin.

"We've had a succession of wonderful nannies since this one's two
older siblings were babies," Mulder admits. "We've been lucky,
because none of our children have suffered any of that severe
separation anxiety you always hear about in parenting magazines. From
what the nanny says, even the four and a half month old twins don't
seem to notice that we're gone, and unlike during the infancies all
of their older siblings, we haven't traveled for work since they were
born."

"I guess you've really lucked out then."

"And you had better believe that we realize that," Scully says.

By this point April has lost some of her bashfulness. Looking up at,
she asks, "Is that where they're going to be when they're on TV?" One
of her small fingers points at the very center of the stage.

"Yup," Wentworth tells her. "And, if the three of you will follow
me-" he leads them down through the chairs to the right side of the
front row. Then he points at a chair which is set slightly apart with
just a five others. "And this is where you will be. One of the nice
people who works here will sit with you. You'll be able to see
everything, but this part of the row never appears on TV, so you
don't have to worry about strangers seeing you."

This is the exact right name to say to April. She immediately looks
relieved. "Good."

Mulder grins down at her. If it'd been Page or Sammy, either one
would have been put out to learn that they would not be on TV
themselves. April, however, has never shown any interest in being in
the spotlight. Which is just one of the reasons why having red hair
has been more difficult on her, than on Sammy. He has always greeted
comments about his pretty hair with enthusiasm, while his younger
sister has always seemed to wish that no one noticed her at all. It
is far too early to tell how William or Ryan will feel about being a
redhead.

~*~*~

They continue their tour of the theater, and Wentworth stops every
now and then to introduce them to some key member of the theater
staff. Everyone is professional and polite, and Mulder, at least,
feels a sense that things should go smoothly here. Everyone seems to
know what they are doing, and they're far more composed than most TV
or movie depictions of theaters. It's hard not to find that
reassuring

Eventually Wentworth taps a short, stout boy in his late teens on the
shoulder. When he turns to see what's going on, Mulder and Scully can
see that he has Downs syndrome. "This is Davey. He's in charge of
bringing people things they need. Right, Davey?"

"Yup," Davey agrees cheerfully. "It's my job."

"A pretty important one," Wentworth praises him. "This is Mulder and
Scully and their little girl, April. I bet that they haven't eaten
breakfast yet."

"We have, but April only picked at hers," Mulder tells them. He
hadn't been thrilled by their plane breakfast, either, but it had
more of an appetite for it. "I wouldn't be surprised if she's still
hungry."

"Do you like donuts?" Davey asks April, and she gives him a shy nod.
"What kind? I've got lots of kinds."

"I like honey dip."

"Okay! You stay right here, and I'll bring you one. Okay?"

"Okay."

"You'll stay right here?" Davey asks suspiciously.

'sure."

Davey rushes off, leaving April to stare up at her parents. 

"What a nice boy," Scully tells her, and April relaxes.

"Yeah."

Wentworth nods. "Davey is the son of one soundmen. He does a good job
for us now that he has graduated high school."

"It looks like it," Mulder agrees when he sees Davey returning with a
donut carefully centered on a small paper plate.

"Not everyone is thrilled about him being here," Wentworth admits
just before the boy reenters the range of overhearing. "We've had
some nasty remarks from entitled people."

"Well, you won't hear any from us," Scully assures the building
manager.

From the slightly sad look on her face, Mulder suspects that she's
thinking about the case that convinced her to leave the X-Files in
favor of doing the TV show. A small selfish part of him is glad to
have been spared meeting with the woman who'd lost her son.

As Wentworth tells him a little bit more about the theater operation,
April and Davey chatter to each other. Mulder had been slightly
worried that that there would be no children there for April to talk
to, but it seems as though she has found a kindred spirit in the
errand boy.

The building manager conducts them to a large, spacious dressing
room. It's much nicer than either of theirs at the studio back at
home. "This should give you a lot of room to get ready the night of
the awards show."

"It sure will."

The building manager looks down at April. 'see that empty corner over
there? We're having a small table and chair brought in tonight so you
can color there while your folks are changing."

"Thanks," April says shyly. She then studies that corner of the room
intently for no reason that Mulder can discern. He makes a mental
note to ask her what's so interesting, later.

"The night of the show we'll have people stationed in the hallway to
make sure there aren't any flow issues. That way we can all stick to
the time schedule."

"Good idea," Scully replies. "You sound like you've had a lot of
experience with shows. What goes on here when it's not the location
of an awards show?"

"The Karloff is used for a lot of plays and a few concerts. With the
balconies it's not the best place acoustically for electric
instruments, but a lot of bands do 'unplugged' sets here. There's
usually something going on here at least a couple of weeks a month."

"It sounds like the show was lucky to get this venue, then," Mulder
says.

"Well, the schedule is empty until International Kiss and Xanthic
have a show a week from tomorrow, so the Saturn awards are timed just
right."

They follow the building manager through The Karloff for another half
an hour, seeing more of a theater than most people ever get to. At
last, Wentworth says, "Well, that's it. We would like you to come in
tomorrow morning at nine for a dress reversal. I think that the rest
of the afternoon is yours."

This surprises Mulder. He is expected a much more arduous schedule.
Shaking the building manager's hand, he says "We'll see you then.
Nine sharp."

Davey calls goodbye to April as they leave, and the small redhead
looks over her shoulder and waves.

"Now what?" Mulder asks as they stand in the parking lot once more.

"I thought that the Alien Tourist Bureau looked interesting," Scully
says. "Why don't we go and check that out?"

Mulder stares at her. "Really?"

"Mulder, how long has it been since we've gone to cheesy tourist
attraction? Even I like them once in a while."

"I love you," he tells her, sounding very sincere.

"I know."

~*~*~

Alien Tourist Bureau

If the outside looks gaudy, Mulder doesn't have a word to describe
the interior of the small building. Every square inch of the place is
decorated with alien-themed memorabilia. It's more of a museum than a
store, however. A small gift shop counter is crammed into the front.

"Hi, can I help you folks?" A cheerful voice asks.

Mulder looks up to see a woman in a gypsy-like dress float into the
room. "Hi. We were wondering what this place is."

"Alien Tourist Bureau."

"Okay..." he says, trying to maintain his smile. "What's the function
of the business, though?"

"Oh, sorry. We're partly a museum as you've probably worked out for
yourself. We also conduct tours of the crash site." From the tone of
the woman's words, one can be certain that she believes that everyone
would know exactly which crash site she was referring to.

"Isn't that interesting," Scully murmurs.

The woman hands her a brochure. "We do nightly tours from ten p.m. to
four a.m. hourly."

Mulder smiles at her. "We may have to take you up on this."

"We may not," Scully hisses, but he pretends not to hear.

"Daddy, can I buy an alien?" April asks, pointing to the display
case.

"Only if you can find seven of the same thing."

"Okay," she agrees, ready for the challenge.

Mulder looks at his wife, wondering how much of a challenge he has
ahead of him when it comes to convincing her to take the tour.

~*~*~

The Next Morning

The impression of order and efficiency that Mulder had noted the day
before seems lacking when they arrive at The Karloff at exactly 9
o'clock the next morning. He can't make out any of the conversations
he hears throughout the theater, but there's a clear sense of
unhappiness to the tones of most people speaking.

When Wentworth appears before them, the younger man looks stressed.

"Good morning," Scully greets him.

"Morning, no doubt. Good on the other hand..."

"I take it that something has gone wrong," Mulder says.

Wentworth shakes his head. "You haven't noticed the stage yet, then."

When Mulder looks past the harried building manager, at first he has
trouble making sense of what he's seeing. The floor of the stage is
dappled with what seem to be pink and white splatters. At that
distance he can't tell what might be the cause, the pink ones look
sticky.

"What in the world?" Scully asks.

"Donuts," Wentworth sighs. "Four dozen jelly or cream filled donuts."

"Yikes," Mulder says. Now he understands what he seeing. Obviously
the pink is jelly, and the white is from powdered donuts and the
cream filling. "Who would do such a thing?"

"And that's the topic on everyone's mind. No one will confess to it.
The only one who said they saw anything was Davey..." The building
manager shakes his head.

"What did he say he saw?"

"Davey is a really good kid. Everyone has to understand that. But
he's... somewhat limited. That doesn't make him a terribly reliable
eyewitness."

"What did he say he saw?" Mulder repeats his wife's question.

Wentworth spreads his hands. "Davey told me that little gray men did
it. Obviously some people have been telling him about the Roswell
crash, and that influenced his imagination."

"I can see how you would think so," Scully says diplomatically, but
her eyes dart towards Mulder's. Her expression clearly says 'don't
even start'. He gives her a wounded look in return.

The building manager has apparently missed the silent exchange,
because the next thing he says is, "I tried to leave a message at
your hotel room, but they said you'd already left. We are going to
start the rehearsal in two hours. Hopefully by then I will have found
a way to clean the damn stage. Why don't you go and explore for a
little while."

Scully smiles down at April. "When we were driving here this morning
I saw the toy store. Why don't we go and pick out presents for your
brothers and sisters?"

"Okay, Mommy."

She snags the back of Mulder shirt. "Come on, Mulder."

'sure," Mulder says, but he's caught sight of Davey in the distance.
The boy looks distraught. Whatever happened, he doesn't think that
Davey believes that he was making up stories.

~*~*~

"Well, you might as well say it," Scully says as they get in the car.

'say what?" Mulder asked innocently.

"You believe Davey's story about little gray men."

'scully, we are in Roswell after all-"

"Which of course means that if there is such a thing as aliens they
will pepper stages with donuts. Mulder, how does that make any sense
to you?"

"Roswell, Scully. Roswell."

"Donuts, Mulder. Donuts." She sighs in exasperation. "Have you ever
heard of aliens playing practical jokes before?"

"Do cow mutilations count? Ouch," he complains, rubbing his it
suddenly sore arm.

April it's them that she has been paying attention, when she says,
"I'm worried that Davey is going to get in trouble."

"Why is that, Sweetheart?"

"Donuts are Davey's job. If somebody did something bad with the
donuts..."

Mulder frowns to himself. Unfortunately, April is probably right.
Suspicion probably will eventually fall on the boy if things continue
in the same vein.

~*~*~

11 a.m.

When they return to The Karloff things have settled down. The first
place that Mulder looks as the stage, and it is so clean that it
seems to gleam under the lights. Whatever they had found to clean up
the donuts it'd done an admirable job.

"Mulder!" Both Mulder and Scully turned to look to see Wentworth
waving frantically. He is accompanied by two people who look vaguely
familiar. A flawlessly dressed older woman in a stunning silver gown
stands to his left, and to his right is a gentleman and talks to
Mulder believes that he'd seen in at least one movie.

"Hi," Scully says as she, April, and Mulder join the other trio.

"You probably know who these two are but I'll introduce them anyway,"
Wentworth says, giving them all a smile. "Lana Carter and Stone
Roberts."

"Lana Carter!" Scully says, sounding surprised. "My brother Bill and
I watched all of your movies back during the 70s."

Lana gives Scully an indulgent smile. "During 70s? You must've been
quite young then."

Too polite to possibly insult the older woman, Scully does not tell
her how old she really was then.

"Mr. Roberts," Mulder says, "I know I've heard of you, but forgive
me-"

Stone laughs. "But you don't recognize me. No surprise there, I spent
most of my time in costume."

"You were... you were the robot!" Mulder feels proud of himself for
dredging that up from his memories. "On that show, The Distant Sun."

The other man nods, and looks pleased. Wentworth interrupts. 'stone
and Lana will be the first presenters tomorrow night. I thought we'd
start with a run through of the opening right now."

"What about me?" April asks, looking around.

"Davey!" Wentworth calls, and the boy jogs over.

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you sit with April?"

"Okay!"

Mulder and Scully go through the motions of introducing the show to
an audience that only consists of two people, and Lana and Stone
likewise present an award for best action sequence to the still
nonexistent audience.

Over the course of the next few hours, Mulder and Scully get to meet
several other celebrities. Most of them are either retired, or so new
to the scene that that they are still generously referred to as up
and coming.

Things go without a hitch right up until the best kiss goodbye award.
The young starlet who is supposed to be offering a list of nominees
shrieks when all of a sudden one of the curtains falls from above,
and lands on her. It seems as though everyone, except for Davey and
April, rush up on the stage and try to de-tangle the distraught
actress.

The girl's face has just cleared the curtain when Davey stands up and
points, "He's getting away!"

Wentworth and a few other people descended upon Davey, and start
asking him questions. He answers a few, but it's clear that he's a
more upset that they're ignoring the fact that the culprit is getting
away. He points again. "He was right there. You let him get away."

By the time Mulder and Scully clicked April, Davey looks like he's
near tears. It's clear that this does not escape their daughter's
notice, because as Mulder picks April up, she says, 'see. It wasn't
Davey. He stayed with me the whole time."

"We know wasn't Davey," Scully says.

The little girl shakes her head. "You didn't hear them, lots of
people said that Davey did it. But Davey didn't do it. He didn't even
move."

Mulder gives her confused look. "Who said he knocked down the
curtains?"

"Not the curtains, Daddy. The donuts."

"Oh."

In the distance they hear Wentworth shout, "Places in fifteen. We're
going to finish this rehearsal come hell or high water."

~*~*~

Dressing Room

Mulder sits April on the edge of the dresser. "Maybe you should stay
here and color."

"Why?"

'somebody's playing pranks. I hope nobody gets hurt."

"Can Davey stay with me?"

"I don't think that's such a good idea, April."

"Why not?"

"Davey's here to work, Honey," Scully says lightly, but Mulder can
tell from the look on her face that she's not sure that the boy will
be returning to his duties tonight. It probably depends on how wound
up he still is when they return to the stage in a few minutes.

'so I've got to stay here all alone?"

Before Mulder or Scully can answer that, Wentworth appears with an
elderly woman in tow. "This is Alice. She's going to sit with April
while we finish the rehearsal."

"Josh, you've read our minds."

April gives the older woman an apprehensive look, but settles at the
table with crayons and paper. Alice gives her an innocuous smile, and
opens the thick novel she's brought with her.

Before she leaves the room Scully goes to her daughter and kisses her
on the cheek. "I know I don't have to tell you to behave for Alice,
but..."

"I Will, Mommy," April promises.

~*~*~

As soon as April is settled, Mulder and Scully head back out towards
the stage. Wentworth looks ready to pull his short hair out by the
roots.

"Is Davey all right?" Scully asks.

He gives her a weak smile. "We sent him to one of the dressing rooms
to calm down."

"Do people still think he's responsible for what's been going on?"
Mulder wants to know.

Wentworth shakes his head. "I know it's not Davey. We've had issues
like this in the past. It's been months though, so I had hoped they
were just in the past tense," he concludes with a sigh.

"What, like Phantom of the Opera?" Mulder asks with a chuckle.

'something like that," Wentworth mutters, and does not look amused by
a Mulder's comment. "This place has had many strange incidents since
it opened five years ago."

"You have any disgruntled staff members?" Scully asks.

"No, people who work in the theater business usually thrive on
stress. The staff here has been no exception to that."

"You must suspect someone," Mulder insists, and Wentworth shakes his
head.

"No. Until Davey insisted he saw 'the little gray men' no one has
ever seen a damn thing."


The rest of the dress reversal goes off without a hitch, but there's
a sense of unease running through everyone in the entire building.
It's clear that everyone is anxiously awaiting the next disaster
strike.

~*~*~

When Mulder and Scully reenter their dressing room they discover that
Alice, the woman assigned to mind April, is sound asleep. When they
wake her up she looks embarrassed and says that April was an angel
before rushing off.

"Did you see any little gray men?" Mulder jokingly asks his daughter.

"A little gray man," April corrects him.

Mulder blinks. "Are you teasing me, or did you really see someone?"

"I really did see him!" April insists earnestly. "But Daddy, he's not
an alien. It's a real man."

"April, tell us what happened." Scully looks worried.

"I colored and Alice read her book. Then she fell asleep and began to
snore, which was kind of funny." April grins. "I kept coloring but I
heard a noise so I got up to look for it."

"Did you leave the room?" Mulder asks sternly.

"No. The noise came from over there." She points to far corner of the
room.

"What kind of noise?"

"Tap, tap, tap. Like somebody hitting metal. Then that metal thing-"
April pauses, looking frustrated.

"The grate?" Scully supplies.

"Yeah, that. It fell out. When I looked in, a little man looked out
at me! He made a little scream noise and pulled the grate back on."

Mulder gives the grate a doubtful look. "He would have to have been a
have very little man."

"He was," April agrees. "I think he was in Snow White And The Seven
Dwarfs."

"That's a cartoon, Sweetie," Scully points out gently.

"I know," April says, looking half exasperated. "But Michelle says
that some people on TV and in movies are based on real people, like
that movie about you and Daddy. I thought that maybe it was like
that."

"Why? Because he was little?" Mulder asks.

"Yup. And he had an axe like they did."

"And axe? For chopping wood?" Scully asked, confused and obviously
thinking of the woodcutter in the story.

"I think she means a pick axe."

"For diamond mines!" April exclaims.

'scully, do you have your phone?"

"Yes, why?"

"I want to call Monica."

~*~*~

Doggett's House

A good part of the home is filled with the scent of fresh paint, and
Reyes tries to hear Mulder over the grumbling of the reluctant
painters in the next room. Painting the kitchen is the latest of the
chores Luke and Gibson have been assigned to help work off their debt
to their father.

Reyes repeats what Mulder has told her. "Okay, so you said that April
heard knocking, swears that she saw one of the seven dwarves, and
there have been pranks played? Hold on. I want to look something up."

Laying aside the cell phone, she grabs a book of world mythology from
the shelf that she has claimed in Doggett's living room, and flips to
the index. A couple of minutes later she picks the phone back up.
'see if you can find out if there's ever been a quarry in the area."

"Why?" Mulder's voice comes back to her.

"Did you ever read that terrible Stephen King novel, The Tommy
Knockers? He got the tommy knockers all wrong. They aren't aliens,
but mine spirits."

"Mine spirits?"

"Yeah. You've heard The Elves and the Shoemaker story, right? Though
they were called elves, the description was more like brownies, which
are helpful spirits that live in homes."

"The thing in the theater doesn't seem too helpful to me."

"Unlike brownies, tommy knockers play pranks if they're not
pacified."

"How do you pacify them?"

"The book says miners used to leave them pastries."

"But they hated the donuts, apparently," Mulder protests.

"Not that kind of pastry, Mulder. More like a meat pie."

"Okay, thanks."

When she hangs up her phone, Reyes notices how bored Hannah looks.
The little girl offered to help paint the kitchen a couple of times,
but her father told her that it was the boys punishment, obviously
not realizing that she kept wanting to be included.

"Hey, do you feel like ice cream?" Reyes asks her.

"Why?"

"I was thinking, since your dad and your brothers are busy, you and I
could go and have some sundays by ourselves. Wanna?"

"I do! Thanks, Mom! Oops, I meant Monica." Hannah looks embarrassed
by her slip up.

Knowing that the girl has been practically motherless since the age
of three, Reyes cuts her slack and pretends not to have noticed. "Put
your shoes on, and I will let your dad know where we are going."

'sure!"

~*~*~

"Mulder, where are you going?" Scully asks when he starts to walk off
after finishing his conversation with Reyes.

"I need to grab my laptop out of the car. I'll be right back."

"I wonder what Monica said to him," Scully says, and her daughter
shrugs.

Mulder returns and sets the laptop on top of the vanity table. "Okay,
Reyes said that we should look to see if there was ever a quarry in
the area."

"A quarry?"

"Yes. Like that one-" He says, poking his finger at something on the
screen. "Roswell gravel quarry, still in operation. If there's one
open, there probably were others over the years."

"You think this theater was built on an old quarry?"

"Maybe."

"And that it's haunted?"

"No. Well, sort of, but not by ghosts. Reyes suspects that the place
might be infested with tommy knockers, which are a fae creature that
liked to hang out in mines."

"Like the dwarves," April says.

'sure," Mulder agrees.

"Did she say how to get rid of them?" Scully asks.

"We need to bring some meat pies with us tomorrow."

"You're kidding."

"I'm not," he protests. "It's a good thing that there's a microwave
in here."

~*~*~

The Karloff
March 13th, 2003
3:50 p.m.

Josh Wentworth looks surprised to see them when they arrive the next
afternoon laden down with bags from the local grocery store. "You
don't need to be here until five. There's been another incident, and
I want to get it cleaned up-" Looking around they can see that
someone has shredded what looks like a box of programs and strewn the
pieces through the seating area. "Luckily, I was able to get the
printers to agree to a rush job for the replacements."

"Josh, do you consider yourself an open-minded man?" Mulder asks him
quietly.

"I guess so..." Wentworth looks slightly doubtful.

"You know what we did before the TV show, right?" Scully asks. "We
investigated the paranormal."

"I've heard that. You really saw some stuff, huh?"

"We did. And we think we know what's been going on around here. We
need your permission, and your help setting things up before the
show," Mulder tells him.

"You're not performing an exorcism, are you?" The building manager
asks with a nervous laugh.

"No," Scully tells him before handing him a grocery bag. "But we're
going to need to use every microwave in the place."

Wentworth looks surprised, but doesn't object.

~*~*~

The four of them meet back near the stage with the heated meat pies
that Mulder was able to find in the frozen foods aisle. 'so, what
we're going to do is pull off some grates and leave the pies in the
ventilation shafts. We won't put them in any of the dressing rooms
but ours, though, because it would be too hard to explain to the
presenters. If they're still there tomorrow, you probably will want
to toss them out then."

"You don't think there will be any left, though, do you?"

"No, Josh, we don't. April told us what she saw, which collaborates
Davey's story, and all the details fit."

"This is some pretty weird stuff," the younger man mutters.

"Mulder!" Scully calls to him from a hallway near the stage.

"What?"

"This vent doesn't have any screws, just like the one in our dressing
room."

They soon discover that half of the grates in the building have no
screws, so they pick those vents to place the heated pies into.

~*~*~

That Night

"I'd like to thank the universe for allowing me to win this award.
And all you good people at home for..."

April cranes her neck, looking for the cameras that she's supposed to
be invisible to. They're behind her, and all the people in the
audience. The grown ups are all dressed up, but none of the women
look as pretty as her mother does in her green dress. Even though
she's not supposed to be seen, April is dressed up too, and her dress
looks a little bit like her Mommy's.

The awards show is kind of boring, and she wishes that Davey was
sitting with her instead of the nice old woman named Mabel, but he's
working. Her Daddy said that it's important that he do his job too.
The other reason the awards show is boring is because nothing bad has
happened. All those people are there which seems like it could be the
makings of really bad things, but nothing has gone wrong.

"And the award for Best Crash Landing goes to..."

A small sound makes April turn her head. It's the tap tapping again,
just like the first time she was in her parents' dressing room, and
just like after Alice fell asleep with her book on her knees.

The tapping get louder and closer before it stops. April looks at the
grate in the hallway, where she watched the adults put a pie before
the show started. While she watches a small hand darts out and pulls
the pie into the darkness of the ventilation shaft. April giggles and
turns back to the stage.

"Our next presenters are known for portraying Zanda and Quark on the
Scifi hit..."

~*~*~

After the show, the B and C list actors funnel out of the building,
and many of the crew members follow suit. Before long there are only
a handful of people left. No one seems to notice what Mulder and Josh
Wentworth are doing as they peer into the grates.

"They're all gone," Wentworth says, sounding dazed. "I'll be damned.
I can't thank you enough for figuring this out."

"Don't thank me. Stock up on O'Henry's meat pies before your next
show."

"Believe me, I will be doing that," Wentworth tells him.

"Davey!" Mulder turns when he hears his daughter. The teenage boy is
making his way to the child. While he watches, she gives him a hug.
"You did a good job, Davey."

"Thanks." The boy beams at her.

"Ready to go?" Scully asks a couple of minutes later.

"I think so," Mulder tells her before turning back to Wentworth.
"Thanks for having us."

Wentworth shakes Mulder's hand. "No, thank you both. Seriously."

They collect their daughter and proceed out to the parking lot.

"I told you this would be fun," April reminds her mother from
Mulder's shoulder.

"You sure did."

"Thank you for letting me come. This was so cool."

"I'm glad we all had fun," Mulder tells her.

He means it. For a short while it has felt like being back on the
X-Files, but without the high stakes and danger that he and Scully
were used to. It was nice to help out without anyone ending up in the
hospital.

'so, Scully. What about that crash site?" he asks, turning on his
puppy dog eyes.

She throws up her hands and laughs. 'sure, why not?"

~*~*~

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Three
"Isn't It Romantic?"


The underground den of love, um, the X-Files basement office
June 4, 2003

It's been a week since they started on their case, and they're in the
office, not to catch up on any paperwork, but for a respite from the
new clients. They'd go home, except their kids would be there, fully
energized from being on summer vacation, and they just wanted some
peace and quiet. So, here they are, bathed in the orange glow of
sunset, no closer to figuring out who exactly the suspects are.

The current head of the X-Files division looks rather weary, even
though it's barely 7:30 PM. "Why did we become bodyguards?" Doggett
grumbles, not for the first time, tugging at his tie and unbuttoning
his collar.

Reyes, simply clad in black top and slacks, smiles a little, 'since
you accepted the assignment. Remember, just because you prevent the
suspect from shooting the clients doesn't mean that you can."

Her partner sighs heavily. "I think I musta had a screw loose to take
this job to protect Those People," he mutters, his head in his hands.

The tall brunette nods. "It's not every day there's a
husband-and-wife team of romance writers who've had their lives
threatened. Then again, it's not every day we get a non-paranormal
request and you take it."

He looks up, his eyes weary. 'stupid me, doing a favor for an old
friend," he says. "Thanks to Agent Warburton, I get some crazy guy
who insists on narrating everything like it was a book. Wonder if
Mulder and Scully had to go through this when that Federman guy was
making that movie."

"It's not that bad." Reyes smiles, sitting on the desk that he's
leaning heavily on. "Janet's quite sweet, I just love those chocolate
chip cookies of hers."

Doggett gives her a look. "Mind if we switch?" he says. "Then you can
have the crazy talking guy and I get cookies."

She laughs, tossing her head back. "Fat chance," she says, then pats
his head consolingly. "The sooner we solve this, the sooner you get
to have a narrator-less life."

He narrows his eyes, looking much like his boys when an adult pats
their head in the same manner. "Next time I think about doing someone
a favor, hit me," he juts out his lower lip.

Reyes shakes her head, then hops off the desk. "Consider this a kind
of R&R rather than a test of patience, okay?" she says, heading for
the office door. She stops before stepping through the doorway and
looks over her shoulder. "And it wouldn't kill you to read their
stuff once in a while, at least as a diversion." A corner of her
mouth goes up and then she walks away, leaving him in the emptiness
of the basement office.

~*~*~

The Mulder-Scully household

Mulder's taken most of the kids over to his mother's house for the
day, along with Samantha's kids, for something between a mini-family
get-together and kids' playtime, leaving his wife with their infant
twins and the company of a dark-haired guest. Scully, however, isn't
complaining, because she's catching up on the gossip, er, excitement
of what's been happening for the basement crew with Reyes.

"I can't believe you get to bodyguard Devon and Janelle Letourmaine!"
Scully sighs enviously, holding Brianna to her breast. "Why couldn't
this have happened while I, I mean, Mulder and I were on the
X-Files?"

Reyes, holding Zoe on her shoulder, smiles. "Even though Fox is
open-minded, I think he'd probably be of the same mind as John when
it comes to romance novel writers," the brunette chuckles. "John's
there right now, most likely plotting of ways to get me back for
leaving him alone with Those People."

Scully raises an eyebrow. " 'Those People'?" she repeats.

"Their crazy fan already knows them as Dick and Janet Ackerman, which
is why we're at their home or with them as often as possible." Reyes
nods. "But John doesn't even bother to call them 'the Ackermans',
it's become 'Those People', although he's polite enough never to say
it to their faces," she sighs. "If he doesn't watch out, he'll grind
his teeth into powder trying not to say anything regrettable."

The two women give each other a long look after that statement, then
Scully breaks the impasse by sputtering, snorting, and finally giving
into laughter, joined quickly by Reyes. It's only when the twin baby
girls start fretting that the ladies' mirth is interrupted, and
Scully dabs at her eyes with her fingers. "Before I suggest he get
some dentures, isn't there some way to make it more palatable for
him?" the redhead wonders.

Her brunette friend shrugs. "I have no idea. I wanted to try rewards,
but when we get home, we're either too tired for sex or doing split
shifts. And when I'm talking with the Ackermans, he either leaves the
room or does the barest in conversation. You know, the male grunting
thing?" she says, and Scully nods, making a face. "Yeah, that."

"Oh, Monica, I'm so sorry," Scully says, patting her friend's arm
with her free hand. "I suppose the best thing would be to do the job
quickly, since I can't think of anything else right now." Then she
smiles wryly. "He really is a guy, isn't he?"

Reyes nods, and her smile returns, "I wouldn't have it any other
way." Then she pats Zoe's back when she starts fussing again. "I
think Zoe wants her turn," she says.

Scully notices how her friend's expression has gotten wistful.
"Monica? Have you ever wanted children of your own?"

Reyes blinks. "Where did that come from?" she laughs, startled.

Scully gives her a look. "Don't give me that," she says, "are you
still on the pill?"

Reyes' dark eyes go from "innocent" wide to a resigned but normal
size in a matter of seconds. "I haven't been for quite some time, but
John still uses condoms," she says, "and like I said, ever since
we've been on this assignment, neither of us have the energy or
timing for sex. Besides, he's got three kids already, why would he
want more?"

"You never know," Scully says consolingly. "And so what if he's got
three kids? If he's got enough love for you and Gibson, I'm sure
there's enough for one or," and she looks down at her baby girls,
"two more."

Reyes's smile is lopsided. "That's what I keep hoping," she admits,
"but what if I'm wrong?"

The redhead is silent for a few moments, which is starting to worry
her dark-haired friend, until a gleam in her blue eyes spark, which
worries her friend even more. "We could always take a cue from the
Letourmaines," she says with a devious smile.

"What are you talking about?" Reyes is starting to feel nervous,
which is a strange, since this feeling usually doesn't occur outside
of a casefile.

"I mean," Scully says, eagerly leaning forward, "we steal their idea
from 'You, Me, and Baby Makes Three'!"

Reyes stares at her, and then comprehension comes. "Wait, you're not
suggesting I borrow some random person's kid in order to gauge what
John thinks about me having babies, do you? That only worked because
millionaire playboy Tony Sardonis wanted to settle down with a nice,
down-to-earth girl, which school teacher Lana Shepherd was. I am not
a nice girl, and John is no millionaire playboy."

Scully shakes her head. "Minor details," she says, firmly resolute
now that she's got a plan in mind. "The main thing is, Brianna and
Zoe will give John a visual cue about your future together!"

And now Reyes looks at Scully like she's grown another head. "Are you
sure you want to entrust two new babies to my care while I'm on
assignment?" she asks.

"And that's where we enlist some inside help," Scully plows on, her
excitement undiminished. "You've got two teens and a little girl, we
can see how open they are to the idea. With Luke, Gibson and Hannah,
they'll get hands-on practice in caring for babies, and get used to
the idea of having them around. Besides, unlike Lana and Tony, I
figure a weekend is long enough, don't you think?"

"And if they say no?" Reyes says.

Scully shrugs. "Then we scuttle that plan and think of something
else," she says, "but they won't say no."

"They won't?" the brunette asks.

"They won't," the redhead says firmly. "They love you as part of
their family. I've even heard Hannah call you 'Mom' when she talks
with April."

"Yeah." Reyes smiles a little, "I've heard that, too. I kinda like
it."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Scully says, picking up Reyes' cell
phone from the coffee table. "Call them!"

~*~*~

When Doggett comes back from babysitting Those People, as he's
already put it in his mind, he's surprised to find his home a little
fuller and louder than expected. "Um, whose are those?" he asks when
he finds Reyes on the couch holding a couple of babies in her arms.
"I know they're not yours."

Reyes chuckles. "They're Brianna and Zoe, Mulder and Scully's
daughters. They want us to watch them for the weekend."

"They want us to what?" Doggett asks.

"It's just the weekend," Hannah says, her pouting face much stronger
than any puppy eyes either teen boy could ever hope to try for,
although they're both crossing their fingers. "Pretty please?"

The word 'no' is on the tip of his tongue, but when he sees how
excited everyone is, especially his little girl, his expression
softens. 'sure," he says, patting her head gently. "Although I have
no idea what they're thinking."

"Thanks, Daddy!" his dark-haired girl hugs him, then bounces over to
Reyes, who is holding a twin in each arm. "He said yes!"

Reyes smiles, a genuine one of relief and happiness. "I know," she
says, "would you like to hold one?"

'sure," Hannah beams, "can I hold her?" She points to the baby in
Reyes' left arm.

"This would be Zoe," she says, bending down. "Careful."

The little girl nods. "I've held Auntie Dana's babies before," she
says, reaching out over Reyes' knees.

"Okay," Reyes says, placing the baby on Hannah's shoulder rather than
in her arms, to allow Zoe's weight to fall more on the girl's torso
rather than her arms. "Got her?" she asks as Hannah, as she expected,
holds the baby to herself.

Hannah nods, her eyes bright, then turns her head and sniffs the
baby. 'she smells so good."

"You won't be saying that in a couple of hours." Luke grins, "you
were pretty stinky as a baby, Hannah."

His little sister glares up at him, holding little Zoe securely to
herself. "I was not!"

"Was too!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Not!"

"Too!"

Doggett groans, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. Before they can get
any louder, he puts his hands in the classic T-shape and says, "Time
out, guys. Those People are waiting outside because Monica has to
take over for me, so she can't watch over Brianna. Hope you big guys
up to handling a baby, 'cause I gotta take a nap," he says, heading
upstairs.

Luke and Gibson look at each other. "Rock, paper, scissors?" Luke
says.

Gibson shrugs. 'sure." They go at it, and Gibson's paper loses to
Luke's scissors. "Aw, man."

His slightly-older brother grins. "Have fun," he says, grabbing the
TV remote.

'switch off when Dad wakes up," Gibson says quickly while Reyes hands
over the small baby. "Right?"

Reyes nods, getting her car keys. 'switch off every three hours after
that until I get back."

"Okay," the boys chorus.

But Reyes still hears them bickering after she closes the door and
waves at the Ackermans. She really, really hopes Scully's idea works.
That, or it'll totally turn John off to the idea of babies AND his
own kids, she thinks, uncharacteristically negative.

~*~*~

Denny's

While she realizes they've got a deadline, in a way, so does Reyes,
as she asks them to break their routine and eat out. The Ackermans
chose Denny's, albeit with curiosity burning.

"Trouble in paradise?" Janet Ackerman asks when they're seated.

Reyes gives her a look. "Need you ask?"

Then the silver-haired woman elbows her husband in the side. "I told
you to stop narrating around that boy," she scolds him. "Even that
drives me nuts after a week!"

Dick Ackerman rubs his ribs, wisely choosing not to comment on his
wife's bony elbows. "But he's so inspiring," he pouts. "He's the
classic hero, tenacious in the face of great odds, loyal to friends
and family, and ruggedly handsome, to boot."

Reyes snorts, chuckling. "You sound just like Mulder when he's
teasing Doggett." She smiles. "No, it's not just that," she says.
"Usually, when people make threats, they step up their activities
when they see the object of their vitriol being protected. That makes
it easier for us to flush them out and find them, but so far, there
hasn't been any follow-up. I'm inclined to think we might have scared
him or her off, but the strong language in the threats seems to
indicate they wouldn't be that put off." She looks around
speculatively. "It's strange."

"Isn't that your specialty, investigating the strange?" the heavyset
old man asks.

She favors him with a half-smile. "Well, that might actually make
this case an X-File, wouldn't it?" Then she pauses. "I hope you don't
mind, but I'm borrowing something from a book of yours."

"What do you mean?" Janet wonders.

"I mean," Reyes says, and pauses, feeling embarrassed, "not for the
case, but for me. Actually, it was a friend of mine who suggested it,
and, well, I'm not sure it'll work, especially since my partner seems
so frazzled."

"You're killing me here," Dick says dramatically, putting a hand to
his chest, "what did you do?"

"Well, it's what I'm do-ing," Reyes clarifies, "with some help from
his, our family. Remember what Lana did to Tony in 'You, Me, and Baby
Make Three'? Well, my friend is lending me her twin baby girls and
his sons and daughter are helping me look after them." A rare blush
creeps across her cheeks, and she puts her hands on her face. "Wow,
saying that out loud makes it sound even crazier than it already is."

The Ackermans look at each other, then laugh. Janet reaches over and
pats the brunette's shoulders. "Don't worry, dear, you're not the
only one," she says, "in fact, we find many of our fans do the same.
We've gotten," now she looks a little embarrassed, "not-so-nice calls
to our publisher telling them they've gotten arrested for something
they copied out of one of our books. We try to stress, especially
with the more adventurous or risqué titles, that this sort of thing
shouldn't be attempted in real life, but I suppose with reality shows
and home videos being sillier than scripted comedies, nobody can tell
the difference any more."

Reyes puts her hands down and stares at them. 'so, I'm not the only
one?" she says incredulously.

Dick shakes his head, his face solemn but his eyes dancing behind his
bifocals. "I'm sure if they had our phone number, it would be ringing
off the hook with people doing foolish things for love."

"But love, or at least infatuation, makes you do crazy things." Janet
smiles.

She's about to say more, but the waiter comes with their orders of
two glasses of orange juice and a cup of coffee, the last for Reyes.
"I just hope Brianna and Zoe survive this okay, because I'm not sure
our house will," Reyes sighs before taking a sip of coffee.

The elderly couple looks at each other, then say nothing, taking a
gulp from their respective glasses.

~*~*~

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, er, Doggett's home, the three children
find that taking care of babies is a lot harder than expected,
especially when there's two of them. "I don't wanna change diapers
any more," Hannah declares, her eyes still watery from the pungent
experience.

"Tough," Luke says, "told you you were a stinky baby."

"I'm not a stinky baby any more!" the dark-haired girl puts her hands
on her hips. "Besides, you didn't change diapers, Gibson did."

"Thank goodness," the tow-headed teen sighs while his bespectacled
brother glares at him. "What?"

'switch off is when Dad wakes up," Gibson reminds him. "Don't make me
wake him up earlier and grumpier than he has to be."

"Fine," Luke mumbles, then his stomach grumbles. 'so, you guys want
pizza or tacos?"

"Pizza," they chorus, and Luke scrounges around in the freezer.

"Maybe we should feed the babies, too," Hannah says, then looks
around. "Um, where did you put the babies?"

"Where did I-?" Gibson stares at her, then at the space where Brianna
formerly occupied. "I'm sure I put her on the couch... Oh, no..."
They both rush into living room, but there are no baby girls to be
found.

"Zoe! Zoeeeeeeeee!" Hannah calls out, cupping her hands around her
mouth.

Gibson winces, putting his hands over his ears. "They're babies, not
dogs," he says, and then a thought comes to him, "wait, stop talking
for a min."

"Why?" Hannah's about to unleash a mountain of questions, but Luke
puts his hands over her mouth. She glares up at her oldest brother,
but stands still.

"Thanks." Gibson smiles at Luke, then narrows his eyes. He's never
tried to listen for infants before, since he's always tried to block
out regular voices. He can hear Doggett's dreaming, Hannah's bubbly
questions, and Luke mentally placing bets, but he can't hear anything
else. Whoa, wait, what's that weird noise? He walks down the hallway,
and the other two follow him, not saying a word. The noise is louder
on the left side, and then he runs, pulling open the bathroom door.
"Thank God!" he says, wrapping his arms around the babies, still
lying in the tub. "I'm so sorry!"

Luke stares, perplexed. "Why did you guys put them in the tub?" he
asks. He never really took care of Hannah as a kid, but he remembers
his parents, well, mostly Dad, changing her diapers on a flat surface
and the bathroom being really stinky.

"It was easy to clean them off that way," Gibson explains, relieved
that they're still fully diapered and clothed and out of reach of any
chemicals. "I've never changed a baby before, so once I got rid of
the diapers, I just hosed them down, then washed them and dried them
off, and put talcum on because I heard that's what you're supposed to
do." He pauses. "You're supposed to put it on their bottoms, right?"

Luke shrugs. 'sounds right."

"Wait, you've never done it before, either?" Gibson looks at him
incredulously. "Great."

"Well, I watched over her and stuff," Luke mumbles.

Gibson makes a face, but hands Zoe over to Brianna. "Man, I don't
know how grownups do it," he says. "We nearly lost them and they were
just sitting right here."

"I think they have radar," Luke says, unconsciously echoing his
father from a couple months ago. "Man, I don't know how many times
Dad would run right to the place where I was hiding after Mom would
take hours trying to find me. Hide and seek was pretty funny with a
cop for a dad." He grins.

'so why didn't he wake up when we couldn't find the babies?" Gibson
asks. "Is it because they're not his kids?"

Luke starts to answer flippantly, then stops when he sees Hannah
looking up at him, seriously and expectantly. "No," he answers after
a beat, "I think it's because they were safe where they were at. I'm
pretty sure that if they were in trouble, he'd wake up."

Hannah smiles, carrying Zoe out with her. "Nice save," Gibson says in
an undertone. "I think Hannah would've cried if you said he would've
only woken up if they took the car out for a spin and crashed it into
a tree."

Luke makes a face. "But it was still funny."

Gibson snorts, hefting Brianna on his shoulder. "Yeah, but I'm hoping
these girls have a short memory. I don't understand baby talk, but
they seemed pretty pissed at me and Hannah." He walks out of the
bathroom, telling himself he'll keep a paranoid eye on the girl.

"Hoo boy," Luke says, not looking forward to his turn. Maybe Dad will
take care of both of them, he hopes.

"Keep dreaming." Gibson grins, not looking back.

~*~*~

After a good meal in her stomach, along with a healthy dose of
caffeine in her system, Reyes is in a better frame of mind to think
about things. Okay, she and Dana may have been carried away with
their idea, but it was only for the weekend, right? And it wasn't
like it wasn't going to change things drastically, even though that
was kind of the original intent. John would still be happy with his
current kids, and she'll probably have to poke holes in his condoms
or something for an "accidental" baby. Bleagh. That still sounds like
it's in the realm of the Letourmaines, not real life.

Oh well, it's not like she'll be home to deal with the fireworks any
time soon, and for that, she breathes a silent prayer of relief.
Besides, she's currently better able to deal with the case at hand
rather than the craziness she started at home. "Do you have records
of the people who called your publisher from jail?" she asks.

"You think one of them might be writing those threats?" Dick says,
surprised.

Janet shakes her head, just barely stopping herself from rolling her
eyes. "I told you, but you said it was too far-fetched," she says,
then snorts. "Imagine, too far-fetched, and this coming from the man
who comes up with the crazy schemes for our stories!"

'somehow, I'm not surprised." Reyes smiles, getting out a pen and
paper. "Or do I have to contact your publisher?"

"Yes, you'll have to contact our publisher for those jail calls,"
Janet says, getting up, her husband following belatedly. "We'll give
Terry a heads up so she can get the information ready."

Reyes nods. "Thanks." She pulls out a credit card and hands it over
to the waiter when he comes over. "If we're lucky, there'll be a
death threat waiting for us at the house."

"You've got a strange idea of lucky," Janet gives her an odd look.

The brunette laughs. "I said, 'if'. There's no guarantee that the
threats will escalate, since they've been playing the opposite of
what we've been expecting."

"Let's hope they keep playing that way," Dick sighs, pulling his car
key out.

"Don't you want them to catch whoever's terrorizing us?" Janet asks.

"Well, yes, but I do like having them around," he admits.

Now the old woman rolls her eyes before getting in the car.

~*~*~

Unable to come to an agreement on what channels and shows to watch,
the kids decide to put the babies to sleep so they can go to sleep.
"Best way to do it is to read to them," Luke says, "Dad used to read
to Hannah and it knocked her right out."

"Are you sure?" Gibson asks, now doubtful of Luke's babysitting
experience.

"Hey, Dad did it, and it worked," his brother would put his hands up,
but he's got Zoe now that Hannah's distracted from her "older sister
duty". "That, or he'd drive around the block, but since we're still
grounded from driving forever, that's not an option," he shrugs.

That led to Gibson raiding the guest room, that is, Reyes' room, for
her stash of quote-unquote homework for her current case. They
decided to start off with Luke reading first, since, according to
Gibson, his voice is so dry Hannah wouldn't notice it was a 'sexy
book." As Luke started on the first chapter, Gibson heated up the
milk bottles for the twins, then got some iced tea for the rest of
them, since the night was getting somewhat stagnant and muggy rather
than cool. When he joins his brother on the couch, he notices Luke's
glass is barely a quarter full, and hands over a milk bottle.

Luke takes it, thankful for the break, and silently hopes it helps
put the mildly fussy baby to sleep. "Jeez, when do they get to the
good stuff?" Luke whines, albeit softly, when he notices Hannah's out
for the count. "Zoe's still awake, how's Brianna?"

Gibson shifts his head so he can see the baby on his shoulder. 'same
here. Man, romance writers must get paid by the word," he grumbles in
a similarly low voice.

"No, that's what Mrs. Johnson said about Charles Dickens," Luke
corrects him, and when his brother looks at him, surprised, he makes
a face. "What? I pay attention once in a while."

Gibson smirks, but takes a gulp of his iced tea. "Keep reading."

Luke sighs. "Good thing the chapter's almost over. This is almost as
boring as school books." Once he's got baby, book, and bottle
balanced, he goes on in his slight monotone. "Amelie wondered if
there would be anything exciting waiting for her once she reached the
New World." In an undertone, he mutters, "I'm wondering the same
thing."

Gibson chuckles, "Luke!"

"Okay, okay," the other teen sighs. 'she put a hand to her locket,
hoping against hope that her aunt and uncle would recognize her and
greet her at the dock. Brushing a lock of mahogany hair back, she set
her green eyes resolutely on the horizon, determined to make her way
and not be a burden on anyone." He makes a face. "Too late." He goes
on quickly, before Gibson can chide him, "The petite woman held on to
the railing, the salty sea wind blowing against her face and hair,
rendering her features similar to that of the brave figurehead born
on the ship's bow." Then he hands it over to Gibson. "Your turn."

"Goody," Gibson says dryly, trying not to shift Brianna's bottle as
he takes the book. "Chapter Two. A tall, brooding man watched as he
saw yet another British refugee rush to the ship's upper deck.
Captain Jameson Richards couldn't help but notice how the sea breeze
blew about her threadbare clothes, revealing her shapely body. He
felt his loins stirring, but told himself she'd be emptying her
stomach soon, and turned away." He pauses. "You know, it seems the
rest of the chapter's looking pretty boring. Or stalkery, I can't
tell."

"Great," Luke makes a face. "Talk about deceptive packaging, there's
some dark-haired movie-star guy holding on to a Jennifer Love Hewitt
girl on the cover, and on the back, it talks about sex and passion,"
He rolls his eyes. "What a rip-off!"

"Mind if I skip ahead?" Gibson asks.

Luke shrugs. "Go for it."

"Cool," the slightly-younger teen says, and flips through until he
finds what he's looking for. "Okay, here we go. Jameson Richards
stared at her with lust in his eyes. 'I need you,' he declared,
holding her tightly to him, pressing his lips firmly on hers before
she could brook an argument.

"The kiss, like their love, was as sudden and swift as a fire. Amelie
felt her knees go weak, the very thing she'd scoffed at earlier to
her aunt. But here she was, with the devastatingly handsome Captain
Richards, kissing him, and weak-kneed, to boot. When their lips
parted, she moaned, opening her eyes slowly, her bosom heaving with
passion. 'I need you, too,' she admitted softly, her lips feeling
lonely without his on them.

" 'Oh, Amelie!' he groaned, his fingers impatiently tugging at the
fastenings of her dress, and soon her perfect, lovely breasts were in
his hands.

" 'Jameson,' she gasped, then she felt something firm and hard come
up between them. 'Oh my!' " By this time, Luke's practically
shoulder-to-shoulder so he can see, too, but Gibson's too wrapped up
in the scene to notice. "When he lifted her up and hiked up her
skirt, she knew there was no going back. Wrapping her legs around his
waist, her bare breasts against his-"

"What the hell?" a gravelly voice startles them. The boys look up to
see a very dumbfounded man staring back at them. "Why are you reading
one of Monica's books?"

"Uh," Luke looks at Gibson, who shakes his head. There's no way he
can rationally explain this one, so he gives up.

"Gimme that," Doggett growls, snatching the book out of Gibson's
hand. "I put the basinets in my bedroom, so take the twins up there,"
he sighs. "I'm gonna put Hannah to bed."

"Yes, sir," both teens say, red-faced.

"And you'd better go to bed, too. It's late," he continues to
grumble, going over to pick up his little girl.

"Yes, sir," they sigh.

Doggett shakes his head, then carries Hannah to her bed. He kisses
her on the forehead, then pulls the sheet up. "'Night, sweetheart,"
he whispers. As his sons go to their beds, he shakes his head. Jeez.
Babysitting twins, reading trashy books, sleeping odd hours, his
family's going nuts. He sighs, pouring himself a glass of iced tea,
then notices the book still in his hand and tosses it to the side.
Everybody's going nuts, but he's determined not to be one of them.

~*~*~

The problem is, while he might not be nuts, things are definitely not
normal around here, Doggett sighs inwardly. The twins wake up three
hours later, right when he's starting to doze off again, and when he
went to pick them up, he realized quickly why. "Ugh," he grimaces at
the smell of stinky diapers. "Hang on a minute."

A few minutes later, he's back, clothespin holding a handkerchief on
his nose, and he takes them to the downstairs bathroom, since that's
where the babies' things are. "Zoe, you're first," he says, since
she's squalling louder, and changes her diapers as fast as he can. He
does the same for Brianna, although more efficiently than Zoe's,
having relearned from the first girl. "Okay, are you guys happy now?"
he asks rhetorically, since he knows better than to expect coherent
answers from them at this stage.

The twin girls blink at him, then start crying again. "Greaaaaaaaat,"
Doggett groans. 'shoulda known." He picks them up, one at a time, and
starts rocking them. 'so, what is it this time, back to sleep or
milk?" he murmurs, hoping for the former.

Of course, it's the latter. "I don't know why they thought it was a
good idea to let us take care of you guys," Doggett murmurs, holding
the babies in his arms. "I'm sure it's one of Mulder's crazy ideas."
Then he smiles. "You know your dad's crazy, don't you?" They stare up
at him, uncomprehending, and the smile stays on his face. "Yeah, you
do, don't you? But that must mean I'm almost as crazy, because me and
your Auntie Monica have taken over his job at the FBI. Don't tell
your dad I said that, though," he continues in his same low sing-song
voice.

And then he flashes to a mental picture of Reyes holding both babies
in her arms like he is. Instead of it seeming strange, like he would
have expected, it seems almost normal. "Mon as a mom, that sounds
nice," he says, and startles himself when he realizes he said it out
loud. "Don't tell your Auntie Monica I said that, okay?" he says to
the twin girls, who are still busy sucking away at their bottles.
"'Cause that's really selfish of me."

Still, he can't shake the picture of Reyes as a mother of a newborn,
and part of him doesn't want to.

~*~*~

Sitting at the Ackermans' living room table, the elder couple having
gone to bed a couple of hours ago,

Reyes is hoping there will be at least one hit on her computer. After
taking a gulp of now-lukewarm coffee, she squints from the
aftertaste, and makes a face. "Bleagh." Reyes glances at her laptop,
which is still running through various databases in several windows,
and gets up to nuke the coffee mug in the kitchen. She knows she
could probably call up some rookies at the FBI or even the Gunmen to
get the job done quicker, but so far, it seems like the letter writer
is taking their time now that she and Doggett are guarding the
Ackermans.

When she walks through the hallway, her coffee now nice and hot, she
notices something odd. "That wasn't there before," she murmurs to
herself, seeing an envelope on the floor near the front door. It's
likely Dick forgot to mail it, so she walks over to pick it up. It's
only when she's bent over it that she notices it doesn't have a
stamp, and she pulls out her cell phone and takes a picture. Then she
dials and waits for the other person to pick up. "Hi, this is Agent
Reyes, I need you to process a new piece of evidence for fingerprints
and what-have-you," she says. "I'll leave for you guys to take care
of it." Then she rolls her eyes. "No, I didn't see who delivered it,
it just got here in a five-minute window, probably shoved under the
door like the others." And, although she's tempted to open it, she
leaves it by the door, and goes back to her laptop.

Taking a swig of hot coffee, she smiles a little as she sits down.
The more evidence the letter writer gives them, the closer they are
to catching him or her. She hopes the criminal databases will come up
with a hit, or maybe two. And as one window after another stops
scrolling through various information, all she's getting is the
infamous three-word hope-killer, "NO MATCHES FOUND." "Hope the crime
lab has better luck," she murmurs to herself.

It doesn't take long for the professionals to come in and do their
job, promising to call as soon as they have some helpful information.
But if the letter writer keeps up their lack of evidence like they've
done so far, they'll have nothing. She knows she'll have to do a
little explaining to the Ackermans once they wake up so they can
explain to their neighbors about the midnight visit, but figures
it'll be no big deal.

And then the last of the windows stops scrolling, and Reyes holds her
breath, although she's sure it's going to read the same as the
others. But this one says "ONE MATCH."

Holy shit. Reyes calls Doggett, hoping he'll be awake by now. When he
picks up, she smiles. "Hi, John," she says.

"Hey," he answers, his voice less gravelly now that he's got a few
hours of being awake and a glass of iced tea down his throat. "How's
it going?"

"I think I made a breakthrough," Reyes says excitedly, "remember how
the Ackermans said they had no enemies they knew of?"

"Which is hard to believe, if they're getting death threats," Doggett
says sarcastically, 'so the bastard finally tipped his hand?"

"Looks like it," she replies, "we finally got a new letter. And after
talking with the Ackermans over dinner, they told me that they've had
some people blame them for their romantic failures." She decides to
edit how she came about that little revelation and continues, "After
getting in touch with their publisher, who kept a record of calls
made from jail from unsuccessful 'romantic' tries, I ran the names
against various criminal databases and got a match."

"Great," he says, surprised. "Got an address, too?"

Reyes smiles. "Yeah. Wanna come with?"

"Hell, yeah." He grins at the other end of the line. "Lemme wake up
the kids to take care of the twins before I go. See ya."

'see ya," she says back, and hangs up. Wow, who knew her embarrassing
story would get them this far? Then she sighs, picking up her keys.
Well, she'll tell Doggett about the other part once they finish the
case.

~*~*~

They pull up to a small apartment complex, one of those brownstone
types in the redeveloped neighborhoods. Walking down to the fifth
door on the left, Reyes raps smartly on the door. "Geraldine Van
Dusen?"

"You sure that's her real name?" Doggett squints at her.

Reyes shrugs. "It's the one that's on her driver's license, home
address, and overnight prison record."

"Goody," he grunts. "How long do we wait before breaking in?"

She gives him a look. "I know you want to break the case, but aside
from threats, she hasn't posed a viable threat just yet."

He jerks a thumb at the window. "Lights are on, but is anyone home?"

Then the door opens to a short, heavyset woman with ratty brown hair,
thick glasses, and frumpy clothes. "Hello?" she squints up at them.

"Geraldine Van Dusen?" Doggett asks.

She nods, nervously. "Yes?"

"Mind if we ask you a few questions?" he says, flipping out his
badge.

Her eyes widen noticeably behind her thick glasses, and she shrinks
back. "What? What did I do?"

The FBI agents walk in, irregardless of not exactly being invited in.
As they look around, they see the apartment is bare of any sort of
decoration other than paperback books and discarded food cartons
lying in all sorts of places. A shrill whistle sounds, and they both
turn to see it's a teapot, and she rushes over to turn down the
stove. It was a little disturbing to see how the woman was
practically a walking stereotype of a romance reader, minus the cats.
'so, it's just you living here?" Doggett asks, half-expecting several
dozen cats to materialize.

Geraldine nods. "Do I look like I have a boyfriend?" she says,
bitterly.

Reyes pulls out a copy of one of the death threats. "Did you write
this?" she asks.

The absurdly-plain woman looks at it, then at them. "What?" she
gasps.

The agents look at each other. It's hard for Doggett to believe that
this woman was ever arrested for anything just by looking at her, but
he knows looks can be deceiving. Besides, this woman was arrested for
not only breaking and entering, but also for disregarding the TRO
against her. According to her account, she was trying to imitate the
"romantic gestures" described in one of the Letourmaines' books, but
the man, who was already affianced at the time, considered it
harassment. "Don't give me that," Doggett makes a face. "You're
sneaky enough to break into someone's apartment, you're sneaky enough
to leave death threats on someone else's doorstep."

"No, I, I, I," Geraldine protests, but her eyes are darting left and
right, as if looking for an escape from her own home.

Reyes picks up a magazine and flips through it. "This has a lot of
holes in it," she notes, "I'll bet your other magazines are in the
same shape."

"No, that's not," the mousy woman tries to deny it, but tears leak
from her eyes. "It's not fair!"

The two agents stare at each other, baffled. "What, that we caught
you?" Doggett asks.

"NO!" Geraldine shouts. "You wouldn't know!" Then she glares at
Reyes. "You especially wouldn't know!"

"What are you talking about?" Reyes asks her, confused.

"You, with your perfect looks, and perfect boyfriend, and take-charge
job," the shorter woman sniffles, then wipes her nose with the back
of her sleeve. "You have no idea how I feel, or how those people
betrayed me!"

Doggett stares at the suspect, then at his partner. Forget trashy
novels, this was starting to sound like a soap opera. "What?" he
unconsciously echoes Geraldine.

"How do you think we found you?" Reyes shoots back. "I have a woman's
heart, too, no matter how perfect you might think I am! And don't
blame the Letourmaines, you knew what you were doing was wrong but
you did it anyway, and then went on to threaten them for your own
mess!"

"But they-!" Geraldine tries again.

"I don't give a rat's ass!" Reyes interrupts her angrily, surprising
Doggett. "You're going to confess and apologize to those nice people,
and then we're booking you, got it?"

And to Geraldine Van Dusen's surprise, that's exactly what they do.

~*~*~

Now that their case is wrapped up, tied with a bow, so to speak, the
FBI agents head back to Doggett's home, where they find it's
refreshingly quiet, for once. Mostly because the twins are sleeping
on the boys' laps, with Hannah curled next to them on the couch.

Reyes smiles, then yawns. "There's a pretty picture," she notes in a
quiet voice, then goes over and moves Hannah so the girl can sleep on
her lap. "Now I've got a Hannah blanket." She grins.

Doggett shakes his head, but smiles. 'say cheese," he says, taking a
picture of them with his cell phone.

She looks up at him, bemused. "What was that for?" she asks.

"Enjoying a quiet moment while I can," is all he says before he joins
her and everyone else on the couch. "Move over a little."

Reyes does so, and smiles. "What, you didn't want to be left out?"
she teases.

"Heck, no," he says, smiling back, and kisses her nose. "Besides, you
guys look good together."

"Babies included?" she asks, hopeful inside while her tone is light.

He nods. "Babies included," he murmurs, then yawns. "But if we ever
get twins, the boys are definitely on diaper-changing duty," he
mumbles, closing his eyes.

"Promise?" Reyes asks, but there's no answer, because he's out like a
light. Then she smiles, "Well, I'll try not to make it twins, but
there's no guarantee. 'Night, John." And she kisses his cheek before
closing her eyes. 'sweet dreams."

And for more than one of them sleeping on the couch, there is sweet
dreams.

~*~*~

June 30, 2003 

Reyes stares down at the readings in her hand. Just to be sure, she'd
peed on three tests, and all of them show that she's positive. "I'm
pregnant," she murmurs, then a huge smile lights up her face. "I'm
pregnant! Whoo!"

"Mon, you okay in there?" Doggett's muffled voice says from behind
the door.

Her eyes widen, and she hurriedly wipes up and flushes the toilet.
"I'm fine," she calls out, then washes her hands. Pregnant! She looks
in the mirror. Well, it's not like it'll show just yet, and she looks
down at her stomach. "Hot damn." She smiles, borrowing Doggett's
phrase. Then she looks nervously at the door. Oh yeah, let's see how
well he takes to the news, she thinks, and wipes her hands twice
before unlocking the door.

"What was the screaming about?" he looks at her curiously, standing
in his t-shirt and boxers.

"Um, John, I, uh," she stammers, trying to think of how to put it,
but simply blurts out, "I'm pregnant."

"What?" he stares at her in disbelief.

Reyes pats her tummy, which looks rather flat under her tank top.
"We're having a baby," she says.

"We're having a baby?" Doggett repeats numbly.

She nods, still unsure since she can't figure out if he thinks it's a
good thing or not. Tough. No matter what he thinks, she's still
having one. "Isn't it great?" she asks, putting a smile on her face,
hoping he'll smile back or do something positive.

He nods, and walks over to her, his face still the picture of shock.
"Wow," he says, putting a hand on her stomach. "Really?"

She nods again. "Really. If you don't believe me, there are three pee
sticks in there saying the same thing," she says, jerking a thumb at
the bathroom.

He looks up at her face, then snorts. "Three? Jeez, Mon, isn't that
overkill?"

She makes a face. "I had to be sure," she says, but inside she's
screaming like a little girl, Yay, he wants a baby, too!

Then he puts his hands on her shoulders, his face serious, making her
nervous all over again. "Monica, there's something I wanna ask you,"
he says.

"What?" Reyes breathes, her eyes huge.

"Will you marry me?"

She stares at him. "What?"

He sighs, but he looks as nervous as she feels. "Mon, I just wanna do
the right thing by you," Doggett says, "will you marry me?"

Reyes rolls her eyes. "I think this baby shows just how committed I
am," she replies, putting a hand on her stomach. "I think us being a
family is the right thing. We don't need to get married, all right?"
she says, smiling to show she doesn't mean ill will.

He looks at her, then sighs again. "Okay," he says, reluctantly
giving in. "What'll we tell the kids?"

She shrugs. "That we're having a baby, and they're all gonna take
turns changing diapers."

He chuckles. 'stick with the first part, they'll do the second part
soon enough," he says, happy to share the chores with his kids.

Reyes smiles, then kisses him. "I love you," she says.

"I love you, too," Doggett says back, smiling, "although I really
don't understand you at times."

She hugs him and laughs. 'same here." And they go downstairs to tell
everyone the good news.

~*~*~

July 12, 2003

Doggett and Reyes come home to find their sons cracking up, with
Hannah asking, "What? What's so funny? Why won't you tell me?"

"What's going on?" Reyes asks, a smile on her face.

Gibson and Luke look at them, then at each other, and start laughing
madly all over again. Hannah looks at them, then pouts at her
parents, "They've been doing that ever since we got the mail. I dunno
what's so funny!"

"The mail?" Doggett raises his eyebrows at Reyes, who shrugs. Then he
sees the teens are holding on to a small paperback book, and swipes
it from them. " 'Guarding Her Heart' by Devon and Janelle
Letourmaine," he reads the cover aloud, noticing that the couple
embracing looks somewhat familiar. Frowning, he reads the back, then
looks at Reyes. "I think this is supposed to be about us," he says,
then tosses it to her.

She catches it, reads the back, and grins. "Cool," she says.

"No, it's not cool," he corrects her, then glares at the two boys,
who are now trying to keep a straight face. "That what you've been
reading just now?" he demands.

Luke and Gibson look at each other, then at him and nod. "They wrote
a note for you at the beginning," Luke says, and Reyes flips to the
front. 'so, are you gonna read it?"

"Do I look like I read those kinds of books????" Doggett glares at
them.

In an undertone to his brother, Gibson mutters, "His piercing blue
eyes flashed with anger, although they couldn't help but notice her
heaving bosoms."

Luke snorts in spite of himself, and Doggett's jaw clenches. The two
teens straighten up under his steely gaze, but Luke's eyes are still
dancing.

He stares at them before speaking. "Go to your room," Doggett says,
"before I strangle you." And with that, Gibson and Luke practically
fly out of the living room to their safe haven.

"John, it's not that bad," Reyes says, putting a reassuring hand on
Hannah's head, since the little girl's eyes are practically huge with
fear. "It's just a book."

Doggett forces himself to relax, since it's not Hannah's fault that
her brothers and the Ackermans are idiots. Exhaling, he says, "Yeah,
just a book," then shakes his head. Squatting down, he says, "Hannah,
sweetie, sorry about that. Daddy's not mad at you, okay?"

His dark-haired little girl stares at him, then nods. "Okay," she
finally says. "Daddy?"

"Yeah, baby?" he says.

"How come that book makes Gib and Luke laugh, but it makes you mad?"
she asks.

He blinks, then looks at Reyes, who is unhelpfully reading said book.
"It's complicated," he says, "but it's something you shouldn't read
until you're older. Much older than Luke or Gibson," he adds.

"Oh, okay," she says, and goes to her room, presumably to play with
her dolls.

I hope she stays that innocent forever, he thinks, although he knows
she'll probably wind up reading those trashy books in her teens. He's
not looking forward to that time, that's for sure. Then he stands up
and looks at his partner, who is still absorbed in the troublesome
book. "Is it that good?" he asks.

She looks up, blinking, then smiles. "You should really read this,"
she says, handing it over, "especially the dedication."

"Why?" he says, and reads it, curious.

The dedication is handwritten, although one seems to have made the
effort to write somewhat legibly, while the other is in a neat
cursive style. The former reads, "Thank you for your courageous
efforts in protecting my wife and myself. You've inspired us, not
only as writers, but as a couple. Agent Reyes, you are a lovely woman
and thank you for your sunny smile. Agent Doggett, you are a good
man, but you should smile more often." Doggett growls to himself, not
noticing Reyes' smile as he does so, then reads Mrs. Ackerman's neat
dedication. "Thank you both for all that you've done. I hope you
learn from us as much as we've learned from you. Take care of your
children, and any ones to come along." Then he looks at her. "How did
she know?" he asks.

Reyes shrugs. "Women's intuition, I suppose." She smiles. If he
bothers to read the book, he'll find out soon enough.

It isn't until after the kids are asleep that Doggett finally musters
up the courage to read the trashy, er, romance novel. Reyes read it
while everyone was watching TV, and merely smiled when the teens
asked her how it ended. So, safely out of sight from his sons, John
Doggett goes past the dedication and title pages and into the story.

And Monica Reyes crawls into bed next to him with an earlier
Letourmaine book, reading hers until he's done with his. 'so, what do
you think?" she asks when he finally puts down the book.

"Are you sure we're the main characters?" he squints at his partner
in disbelief.

Reyes nods, smiling a little. "Yeah," she answers. "Why, don't you
think I look like a raven-haired beauty?" she asks, tossing her dark
hair.

He snorts, but smiles. "You're drop-dead gorgeous," he says, standing
and putting his arms around her. "But you knew that already."

She smirks. "Yeah, but it's nice to hear you say that," she says,
leaning against him.

He shakes his head. "It almost sounds like our case, except it reads
more like a screwball comedy," he says. "I mean, would you really do
something crazy like take an idea from a romance book?"

Reyes freezes, then sighs. "Um, yeah," she admits.

"What?"

She silences any further questions from him with a kiss. "I learned
that from romance books, too," she smiles, "and this..."

And they spend the rest of the night exploring what exactly she's
learned from "trashy books".

~*~*~

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Four
"Myths and Blood"


Samantha's Home
July 13th, 2003

"Fox, do you remember the vacations we took in the White Mountains?"
Samantha asks one night when she has his family over for a cookout.
Their kids have scattered through the house, and Scott and Scully
have wandered off too, so she and Mulder have been reminiscing about
their childhoods.

"I remember Dad getting us really lost," Mulder tells her, thinking
of how hard Bill fought to keep his temper when they took a wrong
turn on a hiking trail and got hopelessly lost for two hours.

"Besides that it was kind of fun, though, wasn't it?"

'sure. I loved the cabin. And fishing with Dad." Mulder feels wistful
as he thinks about how Bill had baited hooks for Samantha, but
insisted that his son was big enough to bait his own.

"You know, that place is still open."

"Is it?"

"Yes. Scott and I were thinking about bring the kids there for a week
in August. We haven't had a vacation since before Drew got sick, and
I think it would be good for us." Samantha's face looks pained as she
mentions her youngest child's illness, but the little boy's check ups
have been looking good, so everyone has been hopeful that he's cured.

"That sounds like fun."

"Does it?" She leans forward, and gives him a hopeful smile, "because
I was hoping to convince you to take your vacation there too."

"How did you know that we have our vacation in August?" Mulder asks,
curious. His wife and sister haven't talked much on their own that he
knows of, so he doubts that Scully told her that they were told by
the studio when they'll have a break from taping the show.

"Mom mentioned it."

"Oh." Mulder is surprised, but pleased to hear that they're talking.
"I'll ask Dana what she thinks, okay?"

"Great." Samantha stands and hugs him. "If anyone had told me a few
years ago that it was possible that I could go on a family vacation
where 'family' didn't just mean my husband and kids, I would have
thought that they were crazy."

"I know what you mean," he admits, reminded of how surprising his
father's offer to take the family on vacation had been. "Do you think
Mom would want to come with us?"

"No, actually. You vacation came up after I invited her and she said
that she didn't like 'roughing it.'"

"That's too bad. Though cabins with electricity and running water
aren't exactly roughing it."

"You know Mom." The look in her eyes silently adds 'better than I do'
but he pretends not to notice.

"You're right. She considered living in Massachusetts the boonies, so
I guess we shouldn't be surprised that she won't go 'camping' with
us."

Samantha's smile slips. "Do you think Dana will want to? I don't know
her very well..."

"If she has any objections, it won't be over camping. She's not the
city girl Mom is."

"Well, let me know," Samantha concludes as Sammy and Page wander back
into Samantha's living room talking about getting home before some TV
show their mother agreed to let them see, signaling that it's nearly
time for their family to go.

"I will," Mulder promises.

~*~*~

Baywood, North Dakota
August 4th, 2003
12:31 a.m.
 
The live rock show wrapped up over half an hour ago, but two people
are still high off the concert buzz and each other's pheromones. Both
came out of the stuffy warehouse wearing the usual black clothes, but
now they're naked in a nearby alley, clawing and kissing each other
hungrily, not caring about anything like having an audience (they
don't), or a clean place to screw (they don't). Their grunts of
pleasure are interspersed with the occasional swear word as
endearment or exclamation, and he's banging her as hard as the
drummer did on his kit less than forty minutes ago, the wall scraping
into her back like a bitch.
 
Braced against the wall, she kicks off, sending them both on the
ground, but they land so she's on top of him. 'Holy fuck,' she
laughs, since he's still inside her, 'are you okay?'
 
The skinny guy grins up at her, then sits up and thrusts his hips up
against her. 'Yeah,' he grunts, and her eyes widen with surprise as
he holds her to him.
 
'Shit!' she hisses when he licks her neck, finding that somehow
erotic combined with him thrusting madly into her. Then she runs out
of words, even swear words, when she comes, exploding with pleasure
on top and against him. His mouth clamps on to her neck, and she
groans when she feels the familiar suction of a hickey coming on. But
he doesn't stop with a mere neck bruise, puncturing her skin with two
strangely sharp teeth, and sucks hard. She starts to fight, but it's
too late, because her body's oddly numbed, as if the orgasm sapped
her strength, and all she can do is make incoherent moans as he
continues to drink her blood.
 
When she blacks out, he lifts his head, his eyes unrecognizable now
with an animal lust. And then he tears off her head, letting the
blood spurt up into his wide mouth like a geyser.

~*~*~

J. Edgar Hoover Building
August 10th, 2003
 
"Looks like we got a serial killer," Doggett sighs as Reyes walks in.
 
She blinks in surprise. "And a good morning to you," she says,
handing him a cup of coffee before sitting down at her desk. Holding
her own cup of tea, she asks, "What and where?"
 
"Guy's been under the radar because it was classified as wild animal
attacks at first by local police," Doggett says, opening the file but
reciting from memory. "I don't blame 'em, the vics were beheaded so
viciously, I'd probably come to the same conclusion."
 
'so what changed their mind?" Reyes asks.
 
He takes the photos from the file folder and passes them to her.
"Notice anything strange?" he says, once all twelve photos are in
front of her.
 
She smiles at his challenge, then places the photos next to each
other. The victims, male and female, are all beheaded, some with
their heads found and likewise photographed, others not. And then she
sees what he saw. "There's no blood," she says, 'strange for such a
vicious attack. Did they clean up after themselves?"
 
He shrugs. "That's why we got it," he says, "there's no trace of
cleaning agents of any kind. Could be that the kill was done on tarp
or something like that, but even so, there would have to be some kind
of residual trace on the bodies, which there isn't. It's like the guy
decapitated his vic after sex and somehow drained them of blood
without missing a drop."
 
"Wait, after sex?" Reyes says. "Does that include the men, too?"
 
Doggett nods, making a face. Yeah, he's more old-fashioned than most,
but he knows it's a different world than the one he grew up in. "All
the vics, including the ones mistaken as animal attacks, showed signs
of sexual activity. Unfortunately, the damn guy wore a condom, so
there's no DNA from him."
 
"Not even foreign DNA on the necks or the bottom of the heads?" she
asks, her eyes back on the photos.
 
He shakes his head. "They can't figure out the murder weapon,
either," he goes on. "Given the right amount of speed and force, I
could probably take a man's head off with my bare hands, but it would
still be pretty messy. The way the killer did it, it's like he used
some kind of weapon rather than just his hands."
 
"What kind of weapon?" Reyes asks.
 
"Damned if I know what it is," Doggett answers. "One other thing."
 
"What's that?" she says, handing the photos back.
 
"One of the cops thinks it's vampires," he says, his lips thinning.
"The main reason why we got this."
 
Reyes shrugs. "Well, he may be right," she says, smiling at her
partner's scowl. "Or it may be something completely different."
 
"Yeah, like a killer who gets off killing his vic after sleeping with
them," he says, "nothing new there."

~*~*~

Red Mills, North Dakota
August 11th, 2003
 
Doggett and Reyes are interviewing another of Kaylee Morrison's
friends, since her uptight parents have still disowned the
19-year-old, even after death. Doggett was surprised to find the
local police more helpful, until he found she was responsible for a
number of petty crimes. Reyes, however, isn't surprised at the turn
of events, and so far, she's been the one leading the interviews with
the victim's friends.

Currently, they're at a novelty shop, waiting after the last customer
leaves to talk to a girl who rather looks like a novelty herself with
bright blue hair, her ripped clothes liberally decorated with safety
pins, and far too much black makeup. Her real name is Amanda Short,
but the last friend they interviewed, "Kitty", said she went by
"Corona".
 
"People are saying that Kaylee got killed by a vampire," Corona says
disdainfully, as some unintelligible band plays on the overhead
speakers. "I think they've been watching too much 'Buffy'."
 
Doggett looks surprised. Kaylee's other friends seemed to buy into
that theory wholeheartedly. "You don't think so?"
 
She gives him a look, then rolls her eyes. "There's a lotta wannabes
in this town," she says, "just like in any small town. I'm just a
businesswoman who just likes to dress up. I don't believe all the
hype I sell," and waves a hand at the shop. "Honestly, I think it's
just some creep who gets off on killing groupies."
 
"What makes you think that?" Reyes says.
 
"I take it that I was introduced as one of Kaylee's friends, or you
wouldn't be talking to me," the blue-haired girl says, "but I guess
you could say I was more like her rock pusher. That's pretty much my
job here." She sighs and looks down. "Kaylee was a sweet kid, though,
no matter what her folks or the police thought. Yeah, she did stupid
stuff, but just because she wore too much black or not enough
clothes, that didn't mean she was bad."
 
Reyes nods, then smiles. "You sound like an older sister," she says,
"or her mom."
 
Corona smiles back. 'some days, I feel old enough to be their
grandma," and laughs. Then she sobers up. "Hey, you ever catch that
bastard that killed Kaylee, you let me know so I can kick him in the
nuts with my steel-toed boots."
 
"I don't think we can make that kind of promise." Reyes smiles.
 
The blue-haired girl shrugs. "Well, I didn't think you'd let me shoot
him, but it was a thought," she says, and Doggett raises his
eyebrows. "Hey, I might be a rock pusher, but we look after our own,
you know?"
 
The agents nod, then leave, not looking back to see that Amanda Short
looks more tired and older than she did when they first walked in.
 
~*~*~

Mulder-Scully Home
Meanwhile...

Four hundred and seventy three bags, at least that's Mulder's
estimation, litter the driveway as he studies the van and tries to
figure out how to cram all their gear into the back. He's
contemplating dashing to Sears for a luggage rack when Scully taps
him on the shoulder.

"Mulder, there's a problem. It's not our problem, but..." she trails
off.

"What sort of problem?" Mulder asks warily. 

"My mom has the flu."

'so, you want to stay home to take care of her?" Mulder guesses,
trying not to let his frustration show. He's already thinking about
the vacation that Scully ended up taking alone before David and Jared
were born.

'she'd kill me if I did that. No, the problem is that Brandon and
Mattie are supposed to be arriving for a week this today. Obviously
when she planned to have her grandsons over, she had no idea that she
was going to be sick as a dog."

"And, let me guess, it's a little late to call your brothers and tell
them to keep the boys home now." He heaves a bag into the back
experimentally while he waits for her reply.

"Considering that the boys are probably on planes already, yes."

He stares off into space for a moment. Then he shrugs. "They're
little boys. They probably like camping, right?"

"Probably," Scully agrees. "But 11 to 2 aren't exactly fair odds."

"I think it would be a little much to ask my sister to keep an eye on
them too," Mulder objects mildly.

"Actually, I was thinking of my sister. She kinda volunteered to
come, leaving Ryan and Addy with Alex."

"And Emily?"

"Missy thinks she would just love to see her cousins."

"Okay fine. It's supposed to be a big cabin, I'm sure there's room
for four more."

Scully reaches up and kisses his cheek. "Now I know why my mother
told me you were keeper."

He smiles at Maggie's compliment. "After nine years of marriage you
are only figuring this out now?"

~*~*~

Baywood, North Dakota

Half an hour later, Doggett and Reyes are in Baywood, a slightly
bigger town boasting three times the population of Red Mills, but
still having a small town feel. The FBI agents pull up to a warehouse
that's been converted to something like a performance center and get
out of the car. "Hope it looks better at night," Doggett mutters,
since the building looks every bit of its 106 years and then some.
 
Reyes smiles, but shakes her head as they make their way to the alley
where Kaylee Morrison's body was found. "It does seem like the
backdrop for a murder, doesn't it?" she remarks.
 
"Let me guess, this looks like makeout central?" Doggett jerks a
thumb at the alley, which is obligingly grimy and nasty-smelling,
remnants of crime scene tape hanging off the dumpster and the nearby
wall. "They must've been really horny to get it on here."
 
Reyes looks around, then looks back at him. "If it wasn't a crime
scene, I could probably get you to make out here."
 
He raises his eyebrows, but decides not to push it. There have been
times when he wanted to make out with her, but it was a completely
inappropriate time and place, but he's not about to bring that up
now. "Let's talk with the proprietor, shall we?" he says instead.
 
The proprietor, a Mr. Wilson Teagan, is a hefty, bearded middle-aged
man in a t-shirt and overalls, sweeping the cement floor with a push
broom. Initially, they'd mistaken him as the janitor, but when he
introduced himself, they shook hands with him. "Kids are supposed to
be coming in four hours for gymnastics class," he says, "I gotta get
this cleaned up."
 
Doggett and Reyes nod. 'so, you were there the night of August
fourth?" Doggett asks.
 
Teagan nods. "Yeah, this is my place, so I'm here whenever there's an
event, whether I like the music or not," and shrugs with a slight
grin.
 
"I understand it was one of your security guards that found Kaylee
Morrison," Reyes says, and Teagan nods again.
 
"Yeah, Marty Brewer," he answers. "Poor guy puked right there, and
this is the same guy who's seen all kinds of stuff as a bouncer at
the club," he shakes his head.
 
"He's a bouncer, too?" Doggett says, surprised. "That wasn't on his
file."
 
Teagan also looks surprised. "Really? Huh. 'Cause that's his main
job, he only works for me part-time whenever something comes up.
Weird."
 
Doggett opens the file, "According to this, he found Ms. Morrison
around 1:24 a.m. but the concert ended around midnight. You had
security help the roadies break down the band's equipment, as well as
herd everyone out of the building once the concert ended. Nobody saw
or heard anything between midnight and 1:24 a.m.?"
 
The older man looks at the agent. "Listen, if you saw some couple
making out when you were busy doing your job, would you pay
attention, or would you ignore them?" He smiles slightly at Doggett's
lips thinning. "I'm sure one of my guys might've seen that poor girl
making out with her killer Romeo, but nobody really saw the murder.
The police said she was killed a little after one, and that's when we
were packing up the last of the band's gear. We cracked open some
cold ones in the office once that was done, and Marty was the one we
picked to toss out the empties, so that's how he saw the body. And I
swear on my mother's grave none of us heard anything outside, or
could hear anything, especially since we were still yelling at each
other 'cause the music was so damn loud it made us deaf."
 
"Where's your office?" Doggett asks.
 
Teagan leads them to a room on the right side, whereas Kaylee's body
was found on the left alley. The walls are made of brick, and unless
someone had exceptional hearing, no normal human could've heard
Kaylee if she tried to scream for help. "I brought a cooler from home
to store the beer," he says, "one can for each man."
 
"Ten men, including yourself, correct?" Doggett says.
 
The older man nods. "I lock up the office once we finish, 'cause
sometimes the cops come by, no offense," he interrupts himself, and
they shake their heads, "and we have a celebration beer. It's kinda
my bonus to them on top of their paycheck," he explains, "and just
one, 'cause I don't want them too drunk to get home by themselves."
 
Neither argue the wisdom of a man who encourages his employees to get
mildly drunk before driving because they have bigger fish to fry.
'so, nobody left the room while you had your celebration beer?" Reyes
reiterates.
 
"Hell, no," Teagan says, "like I said, didn't want the cops to see."
Then he makes a face. "If I let them go home earlier, we might've
caught that killer."
 
"Maybe," Reyes says, outwardly agreeing, but inwardly doubting it,
since the killer managed to make out with and brutally kill his vic,
and somehow clean up all the blood in less than half an hour, and all
without being seen or heard. "Where can we find Marty?"
 
~*~*~

Margaret Scully's Home

::Maggie's porch looks almost like our driveway did:: Mulder thinks
to himself as he pulls into her driveway and sees the luggage waiting
to be put somewhere. Missy is standing nearby with Emily and her two
nephews, one of whom launches himself down the stairs as soon as the
passenger side door of the van opens.

"Auntie Dana!" Mattie crows, throwing himself at Scully, who
immediately returns the hug from the small dark-haired boy. "I've
missed you."

"I've missed you too, Sweetie," Scully is telling him as Mulder gets
out of the van. "How's your grandma?"

'sick." Mattie frowns. "Brandon said she looks like death warmed
over."

Mulder raises his eyebrows in the direction of the older boy, and he
can see a blush rising up on his swarthy skin. "I didn't mean it
literally," the eleven-year-old mutters.

Scully looks over her shoulder. "Mulder, you don't mind if I go check
on her, do you?"

"Of course not," he says mildly. She'll call her mother four times a
day, he predicts as she walks into the house.

"I think I will too," Missy announces before following her younger
sister into the house.

"How about we get some of this stuff into Missy's car?" Mulder asks
Brandon as the two younger kids climb into the van to talk to their
cousins. He'll leave to Missy to pull them back out.

"Okay."

They're half through cramming bags into Missy's undersized trunk when
Mulder decides to strike up a conversation with his seldom seen young
in-law. "I guess this isn't exactly what you had in mind for this
week, huh?"

"It's cool."

'sure, but I bet you think it's a drag that you're going to be the
oldest kid by a couple of years."

"Well..."

"My sister has four kids too," Mulder tells him. "One of them is
eleven."

This peaks Brandon's interest. "Boy or girl?"

"Girl. The three oldest are girls, and the little boy is Jared and
David's age."

"Oh. What's the one who is my age's name?"

Mulder fights a smile. He'd been the most interested in hanging out
with kids the same age when he was in middle school too. "Ariel."

"Huh. Like The Little Mermaid."

"My sister claims that she's named after the sprite in The Tempest,
but yeah."

"Does she fish?" Brandon asks as they slam the trunk to Missy's car.

"I guess we'll find out."

Brandon looks happier by the time Missy gets behind the wheel, so
Mulder considers his work done. At least the kid won't be miserable
on the entire several-hour drive there because he thinks there's no
one worth spending time with.

~*~*~ 

Meanwhile...

The X-files agents find Marty Mortenson in the alcohol section of the
H Mart on 12th and Vine. He's a big, hefty guy, like one would expect
from security, and the agents flash their badges before Doggett says,
"Teagan sent us."
 
"Teagan?" the bear-like man repeats, mildly confused. "This about the
body I saw?" They nod, and he puts the beer bottles away, sighing as
he does so. "What about it?"
 
"Aside from the body, do you remember seeing or hearing anything
unusual?" Reyes asks.
 
Marty shakes his head. "If you mean like a cape or something, no," he
says. "People are saying that maybe a vampire did it, but what I saw,
I haven't been sleeping too good since that night."
 
Doggett nods. "Hard to stomach," he comments.
 
The bouncer and part-time security guard nods. "Yeah, it looked more
like an animal kill until I saw the girl's head lying nearby. Like
she didn't even know what was coming or something. And that's when,"
he pauses, his eyes still haunted by that image, and the agents look
at each other.
 
"Yeah, Teagan told us," Doggett interjects kindly. "Not every day you
see something like that."
 
"Hope I never see that again," Marty says feelingly, glancing at the
beer behind the glass doors of the cooler. "For a while, one of the
cops even tried to pin it on me, then decided it was some vampire,
that bastard."
 
"Really?" the agents are curious. That wasn't in the report they'd
gotten, and aside from the vampire accusation, the detective seemed
like a straight shooter.
 
Marty nods again. "His uncle's chief of police, so that's why he
hasn't gotten kicked out yet," he confides, "but he's known for
trying to hog in on the big cases. The older cops put up with him,
but I dunno, I think after this vampire thing, they're tired of
babysitting Larry." 

"This is Det. Larry Whitehouse, correct?" Reyes says, just to make
sure.
 
"Yeah," Marty answers glumly, "that's him. Biggest kiss-up outside of
Boston."
 
"I see," Doggett says, "I take it there's some bad blood between you
two?"
 
Marty shrugs. "Aside from the fact that the twerp's been picking on
me ever since high school, not really."
 
Reyes looks at the big guy. "How on earth did he do that?"
 
Marty looks away, embarrassed. "I wasn't the brightest kid in
school," he says, "and looking like this as a freshman didn't help,
either."
 
"And his uncle's chief of police," Doggett adds, now understanding
why he got a bad feeling from the seemingly-upstanding detective. "By
the way, why did you list your security job as your primary?"
 
"Uh, well," and the big man looks down, shuffling his feet like an
elementary kid, "my mom thinks that's more respectable. If she found
out I was working the door at a club, where there's drinking and
stuff, she might have a heart attack."
 
"Ah," Doggett says, and looks at Reyes, who shrugs. "If we have any
more questions, we'll come find you."
 
"Okay," Marty says, 'see you." While leaving, Reyes notices, from an
overhead mirror in the H Mart, that he's putting a couple of beer
bottles into his cart.
 
~*~*~
 
"Well, small town drama," Reyes remarks, as they drive to their
hotel.
 
Doggett shrugs slightly. "Yeah, well, crimes always stir those up,"
he says, "I don't know about you, but I don't get any sense of the
killer here, do you?"
 
She shakes her head. "Marty's probably the only one physically
capable of pulling off the murder, but psychologically, not really.
We haven't even figured out how the killer decapitated his vics, or
how he manages to kill without spilling a drop," and then she pauses.
"Well, if it really is a vampire, he probably wouldn't want to waste
his meal, would he?"
 
"Oh, no," Doggett groans. "Don't tell me you're actually taking that
cockamamie theory seriously?"
 
"Well, Det. Whitehouse might've pulled it out of his ass." She grins,
"but that's no reason to say it's not valid."
 
"I'd say that was more than enough reason," he mutters. "Just like
saying I dreamed you turned into a tuna fish sandwich doesn't mean
you are one."
 
Reyes raises her eyebrows, smiling. "Well, we can get into all sorts
of fun Freudian and Jungian interpretations," she says, and proceeds
to do just that before they get a phone call informing them of a new
crime scene.

~*~*~ 

Woodstock, New Hampshire
That Night

"We're here," Mulder announces as he and Missy pull their vehicles
into the large driveway of their rental cabin twelve hours after
leaving DC. According to mapquest it was supposed to be a ten hour
drive, but with several small children in their party, there were
multiple rest stops along the way.

The older kids cheer, but Scully murmurs, "We're here, but where's
your sister?"

"I'm sure she'll be along soon." 

"Of course."

Everyone gets out and admires the cabin they've rented for the week.
The label "cabin" is misleading, because though it is made of logs,
it also is spacious enough for all of the campers. Five of the eight
large bedrooms each contain two sets of bunk beds, so even slightly
larger parties would have been accommodated in the building. In all
it's three times the size of the cabin Bill Mulder used to rent when
his kids were young.

As soon as everyone is inside and the lights are turned on, Scully
pulls a sheet of paper out of her pocket. "Listen up, Kids. There are
eight bedrooms, and I've assigned everyone their rooms.

Room one: Page, April, Emily, Alyssa
Room two: Adrianna, Ariel
Room three: Brandon, Sammy
Room four: Drew, David, Jared, Mattie
Room five: Christopher, William, Zoe, Brianna 
Room six: Missy
Room seven: Samantha, Scott
Room eight: me and Dad."

Mulder more than half expects the younger kids to whine about there
being more of them to each room than the oldest ones, but they seem
pleased by the idea of quadruple occupancy. However, he can tell
already that Christopher will spoil for a fight when bedtime comes
and he's separated from his older brothers and cousins. Sammy looks
slightly disappointed by the room assignments too.

Ninety minutes after all the bags are stowed away in the correct
bedrooms, and two portable cribs set up in one of the rooms, they are
still waiting for Samantha's family to arrive. "I should have
insisted that they meet us at our house before we left," Mulder says
worriedly. "They must have gotten lost."
	
"They'll be here soon, Fox," Missy says.

Though the comment was well intended, it makes Mulder snappish. "Are
you psychic now?"

"Forgive me for trying to be reassuring," she retorts.

Scully interrupts. "Uh guys? I hear somebody in driveway."

Mulder and Missy stop bickering and look out the windows. Scott and
Samantha are already getting out of the car. Though Mulder cannot
hear the conversation, he sees that Scott is arguing with Drew about
a bag, but in the end the little boy wears a triumphant grin and
drags the bag to the cabin himself. Mulder shakes his head. The "I
can do it myself" stage requires a lot of patience.

'sorry we're late," Samantha says as the six of them pile into the
cabin.

"You wouldn't believe what happened," Scott says. "I underestimated
how much gas it would take to get here, and we ran out of gas in
Derry-"

Brandon looks startled. "Derry, Maine?"

"No, New Hampshire," Samantha's oldest daughter, Adrianna says with a
roll of her eyes. "Derry, Maine is only real in Stephen King's
imagination."

"Oh."

"Besides, why the heck do you think we'd go to Maine? That's north of
here."

"You two-" Scully points at Brandon and Adrianna. "-have just gotten
the younger kids out of bringing everything else in. Go get it
yourselves. Now."

"Aww, man," Brandon moans as he follows Adrianna. "This isn't even my
stuff!"

"Why did you go through Derry?" Missy asks as soon as the kids are
through disrupting. "We didn't go through Derry."

"I wanted to see Beaver Lake," Scott explains. "One of my coworkers
found that we were going to New Hampshire for our vacation, he told
me all about his vacation near Beaver Lake. So, I want to see it for
myself."

"Oh. That's why you're late."

'scott shakes his head, "No, we never even found the lake. We're late
because I ran out of gas like I said."

Mulder thinks about arguing with his brother-in-law, but decides that
pointing out that he wouldn't have run out of gas in Derry if he
hadn't gone out of his way to get there in the first place wouldn't
serve any purpose.

"I told Samantha and the kids to stay in the car, and that I would
walk to the gas station to get some gas myself."

"Did you get lost on the way to the gas station?"

"No. What happened was that I found a bear."

"A bear?!"

"Yeah. Apparently, up here, unlike in DC, bear sightings are pretty
common occurrence. It must be trash night in Derry, because I
startled one molesting a trash can on the side of the road."

Mulder looks him up and down. "I don't see any scratches, so you
must've gotten away clean."

"It was the strangest thing. I tried to scare it away, because
everything I read back as kid said that they don't like loud noises,
but it just stared at me. I was contemplating my tree climbing skills
when she arrived."

Everyone looks at Samantha. She holds up her hands. "Not me."

"Who?" Scully asks.

"According to her, a queen," Scott says with a wry smile. "Queen
Tsienneto."

"You were rescued by a queen?" Mulder is delighted by the skeptical
look on his wife's face, but he doubts that Scott is.

"That's what she claimed. All I know is that she rode up on a horse
whose tack was covered in bells, and scared the bear away. I was so
grateful that I didn't question her pedigree."

"What happened after that?" Mulder asks.

'she told me that I wasn't far off from my destination, and rode off.
I think she might be the strangest woman I ever met, and that's
saying a lot. But at least the bear was terrified of her horse, so I
got the rest of the way to the gas station and back without ever
seeing it again." Scott yawns. "Anyway, sorry we're late. We stopped
to eat on the way since we didn't know if anyone would be up when we
got here."

"We ate too," Missy tells him, unapologetically. "We saved food for
you of course, but everyone's fed for the night."

The front door thumps open, and Brandon and Adrianna, both weighed
down with bags, are still arguing when they come in. Samantha and
Missy immediately set about lecturing the pair, while Mulder and
Scully show Scott the list of room assignments.

All in all, Mulder thinks it's a typical beginning to a family
vacation.

~*~*~
 
Four Springs, Montana
Gas Works Factory
11:41 p.m.
 
"Dammit," Doggett sighs as they reach the site. "Are we getting too
close, or are we getting farther behind?"
 
"Why do you say that?" Reyes says, after they both flash their badges
at the local PD and crime scene techs.
 
He waits as the technicians finish gathering their samples, stepping
aside as they carry evidence, including the body, away into their
vans and trucks. "Because there's no discernible pattern here, save
for the fact that the victims are killed the same way. And based on
the previous victims, there's no rhyme or reason to when he kills,
but it seems he's stepping up his timetable. I don't recall the
killer making two kills in the same month."
 
"Maybe it's that time of month," Reyes mutters, and he shakes his
head.
 
They talk to the teen couple who found the body, and who are clearly
still shaken by the encounter. "Hi, I'm Agent Doggett," he introduces
himself, "this is my partner Agent Reyes, okay if we ask a few
follow-up questions?" he says.
 
The girl shakes her head, even though she's still teary-eyed, while
her boyfriend holds her protectively. "N-no, go ahead," she says.
 
"Tracy Kendall, right?" Reyes says in a softer voice, and the girl
nods. "Tracy, you told the police that you and your boyfriend Rich
Petersen were walking from the store to his home when you found the
body. Which store was that?"
 
"The 24/7 Mart, down the street," Rich answers for her, pointing down
the road with his free hand. "Tracy was feeling light-headed after
the concert, so I wanted to get her something to drink, and maybe
something to eat, before we got home."
 
"Concert?" Doggett picks up on the word. "What concert?"
 
"Huh? Oh, Broken Crucifix, they're a local band," the boyfriend
replies. "Tracy's cousin is in it, otherwise, we probably wouldn't
have gone."
 
"Oh." Doggett nods. "What time did the concert end?"
 
"Um, around 10, something like that?" Rich says, then turns to his
girlfriend, who nods. "Most concerts wrap up around 10 'cause
everything, including the buses, stop running around 10:30 or so." He
tilts his head at the building they're standing in front of. "The Gas
Works has pretty good parking, but they know not everyone's got a
truck, so they usually cut encores pretty short."
 
"And it took you how long to get from here to the store?" Doggett
continues.
 
Rich blinks, then answers, "I dunno, maybe ten minutes. No, maybe
more, 'cause I was carrying Tracy on my back. Like I said, she wasn't
feeling too good."
 
"I guess I shoulda had more to eat," Tracy says, wiping her face of
tears, not for the first time that night. "But I was so excited to
see Tank and his band, I guess I didn't have enough of a dinner."
 
"Maybe it was a good thing," Rich says, "or you would've been puking
instead of fainting when we saw the body."
 
"Oh, yeah," Tracy says, turning a shaky smile to her boyfriend.
 
Doggett and Reyes look at each other. "The police say you called them
as soon as Tracy woke up. You must have a helluva constitution,"
Doggett comments.
 
The boy shakes his head. "I didn't stay here, if that's what you
mean," he says. "I wasn't sure if whoever killed that guy was
sticking around, so I picked her up and hauled ass as far as I could.
We only came back because the cops drove us here," he says, and now
the agents notice that the only person he's really focusing on is his
girlfriend, not simply because he's being protective, but because he
might get sick or faint if he looks anywhere else. "They said we
could go as soon as we answered your questions." But it's less of a
statement than a plea to go home.
 
Doggett nods. "Agent Reyes will take you home," he says, "I'm going
to stick around a bit longer."
 
Reyes looks a little surprised, but schools her face quickly, and
leads them to the rental car. "Call me," she says, and he nods.
 
He watches as his partner drives off, then walks over to where the
body had lain. Like the other crime scenes, this is eerily devoid of
blood, with no signs of a struggle. And like the other scenes, it's
in a quiet place, away from the parking lot, where the band and the
audience would've been hanging out, as well as far from the bus stop.
Forget quiet, it's in a perfect blind spot, Doggett realizes, and if
the couple hadn't been walking close by at night, this would've been
discovered the next morning, just like the one in North Dakota. And
thanks to his stellar memory, he realizes the killer's made a habit
of picking blind spots, mostly for night time, in spite of what time
the bodies have been discovered at. Okay, so the bastard's careful,
he thinks, doesn't spill a drop, and strong enough to kill quickly
without the victim making any struggle. Great, an anal-retentive
wrestler, he thinks suddenly, and an out-of-place smile works its way
halfway to his lips.
 
'something funny, agent?" one of the cops says sourly, and it's only
then Doggett wipes the half-grin off his face.
 
~*~*~

Woodstock, New Hampshire
Meanwhile...

While they'd waited for Samantha's family to arrive, Mulder had moved
one of the two rocking chairs in the cabin's living room into the
room where Zoe and Brianna would be sleeping. Scully now rocks the
fussier of her smallest daughters, and hopes that the baby will soon
fall asleep because it's all she can do to keep her own eyes open.

Actually, they aren't quite managing that, because a voice says
"Auntie Dana?" and she has to open them to see the speaker. Mattie
stands in the doorway, looking at her with an uncertain expression on
his face.

Glancing down, Scully realizes that the baby is sleeping, so she
stands and gently deposits the girl in her crib before taking Mattie
by the hand and leading him out of the room. She sits on the couch,
and isn't surprised when her nephew climbs onto her lap.

"You missing your mom and dad?" she asks as she ruffles his unruly
hair.

"Yeah..." he admits.

"I'm not surprised. You don't spend too much time away from them."

"I spend the night at Gramma Joyce and Grandpa Phil's," Mattie
explains, referring to Tara's parents. 'some times, but they live way
closer than here."

"How about we give them a call tomorrow morning? You might be less
homesick if you can talk to them," Scully suggests.

"Can you talk to them?"

"About what?" Scully is too sleepy to be overly curious, but her
young nephew's reply wakes her up some.

"Babies."

She gives him a wary look. "What about babies?" 

"You should tell them that it's fun to have more than one baby. I
mean, you and Uncle Mulder have nine kids, so you can explain it best
of anyone I know. Explain it so I can finally get a brother or
sister. I'm gonna be six after Christmas, and I don't know anyone as
old as me without one," Mattie says in a rush.

Uh oh, Scully thinks, wondering how to explain. "Mattie, I'm sorry,
but I can't do that."

His face crumples in disappointment. "Why not?"

"Deciding to have another baby is a really big deal, and me telling
them how much fun my kids were as babies isn't a good way to convince
them."

"Oh."

"Have you told them that you want a brother or sister?" Scully asks,
betting the answer is no. Her brother has never inspired anyone else
to give heartfelt confessions, and she doubts that he's any different
around his son.

"No."

"You should. If they don't know how you feel, they can't consider
your feelings too when thinking about if it's a good or bad idea to
add to your family, right?"

"I guess so."

Scully is tempted to ask him if he'd feel differently about an
adopted sibling than a blood one, but she doesn't think it's her
place to speculate on why Mattie is still an only child despite what
her mother once told her about Tara. "If I were you, when I got home
from this vacation, I'd tell them about how much fun you had with
your cousins, and say that I wished that there was another kid in our
family."

"Hmm."

Scully swings the little boy off her lap and stands up. "Try to get
some sleep. And try not to wake the other boys when you get into
bed."

"I'll try to be real quiet," Mattie promises before tiptoeing off.

~*~*~

Four Springs County Morgue 
Meanwhile... 

 
"Learn anything new from Rich and Tracy?" Doggett asks when Reyes
walks in.
 
She smiles, "Hi, Sexy." He blinks, and she laughs. "Relax, silly. No,
nothing new. Just your typical witnesses, unlucky enough to be in the
right place at the right time. How about you?"
 
He shrugs. "Our killer's been going from east to west along the
northern states."
 
She stares at him. "What?"
 
Doggett pulls out a piece of paper. "Killer started in Maine, going
on to Vermont, then New York, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Wisconsin,
Montana, and now North Dakota, like some damn cross-country killing
spree."
 
'so, there wasn't anything exciting in Ohio or Minnesota?" Reyes
wonders.
 
He shrugs. "Then again, he's hitting small towns for some reason, and
going from one podunk town to the next just to kill one person.
Nothing this guy does makes sense." He covers the face of the late
Paul Anderson, age eighteen, whose severed head has been place above
his body. The kid is just a year older than his boys, and, aside from
the black clothes and the excessive body piercings and tattoos, could
just as easily be his own. He sighs, depressed, remembering how
Paul's mother had come in screaming and crying, and after ID'ing the
body, left the same way. He's fairly sure she wasn't expecting to see
him like this after the concert, either.
 
She reaches into the evidence box and pulls out a plastic baggie with
a crumpled rectangular paper inside. "Hm," she murmurs.
 
"What's that?" Doggett asks, standing beside her.
 
She shrugs, then holds up the evidence. 'sad, isn't it, a kid goes to
a concert to have fun and winds up dead."
 
"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure everyone going to a rock concert doesn't
expect to get killed," he remarks as she puts it back into the box.
 
She smiles a little. "Well, I'm sure they do expect to get laid, or a
little lucky," she says, and smiles wider when he blushes. 'so, you
did go to live shows. Did you get lucky?"
 
He turns away from her grinning face. "Maybe a little," he mumbles,
thankful that, unlike Gibson, she can't really read his mind.
 
'such a gentleman," Reyes teases him, "most guys would be bragging up
and down the street."
 
"But you're my wife," he turns back to her, then makes a face. "Or
something like that," he adds quickly.
 
She nods. 'something like that." She pulls him to her and kisses him.
 
"Wow, what was that for?" he asks, getting his breath back.
 
Reyes smiles. "We don't need a concert to get lucky tonight," she
says, giggling when he blushes again. "Race you to the car."
 
~*~*~
 
In the end, they both win the race, because they make record time
going from the car to the hotel room, and out of their clothes onto
the bed. "Hot damn," Reyes breathes after coming for the third time.
 
Doggett chuckles and brushes her hair away from her face. "You sure
you're pregnant? 'Cause you just seem hornier than usual."
 
She wrinkles her nose, then lightly slugs him, making him laugh. "I
don't know why, but these days, I just want to take you in the oddest
places," she says, "the other day, I saw you bending over to pick up
a fork and I just wanted to screw you in the kitchen. Of course, I
waited until after we finished dinner and the kids went to bed, but
still," she sighs.
 
Doggett looks surprised. "That might explain Gibson rushing everyone
to bed," he says, then chuckles. "Poor guy, I was wondering what was
up with that."
 
'so you don't think I'm crazy?" Reyes says, looking up at him.
 
He shakes his head. "Pregnancy affects women differently," he says,
"I'm just glad you let me touch you. Barbara would get violent if I
even kissed her, much less tried to make love to her."
 
"Yikes," she widens her eyes. "I'm glad Hannah managed to come along,
then."
 
"Me, too." He smiles. "And the next time you feel like jumping me,
let me know. If it's not a bad time or place, I think I could help
you out with that."
 
"Really? Cool." Reyes smiles, and he smiles back. "Because I've been
holding back a lot."
 
"Oh my God," he groans as he falls next to her, but there's a smile
on his face anyways. "You're gonna be the death of me, you know
that?"
 
"Hey, I'm the one carrying a child, not you," she pouts, "I would say
it's the other way around."
 
"Ha ha," he says, but he's not complaining. "Okay, shower time,"
Doggett says, pushing himself out of the bed, pulling his boxers on.
 
"Already?" Reyes raises her eyebrows.
 
He nods. "Much as I'd like to spend the rest of the night like this,
there's a killer on the loose," he says regretfully. "We had our fun,
but we gotta get to work on this."
 
"Yeah," she says, and leaves the bed as well, but without bothering
to cover herself up. "If we have sex in the shower, can I consider
that a two-for-one deal?"
 
He blinks, then grins. "Hell, yeah," he says, and she laughs as they
make their way quickly to the bathroom.
 
~*~*~
 
About an hour later, they're both fully clothed and sitting at the
hotel desks, with laptops open and typing away. "Damn," Doggett
sighs, the furrows on his brow deepening as he frowns.
 
"What's the matter?" Reyes asks.
 
"Well, I was thinking if the perp was a vampire, or thought he was,
he might have a preference for his vics," he answers.
 
"But we determined that he doesn't really have a preference," she
rebuts him. "He goes for male and female, short and tall, skinny and
heavy, and any ethnic type."
 
"Yeah, well, there is a type that he picks," Doggett says, "it's AB."
 
Now she blinks at him. "You mean blood type?"
 
He nods. "Now normally, there's no way in hell that you can figure
someone's blood type just by looking at them. But somehow, this guy
manages to do that."
 
"Maybe he just asks," she shrugs.
 
"Uh-huh," he gives her a skeptical look. "The only reason I know I'm
Type O is because I donated blood once in high school, and the damn
blood bank won't stop calling me even now."
 
"Are you sure it's not because of your winning personality?" she
says, and he rolls his eyes. Reyes folds her arms and smiles. "Well,
that's what modern Japanese believe. Loosely borrowing the theory
from Western ethnic studies in the 1900s, they believe blood types
determine your personality, and from that, your job type and marriage
prospects. Type A means you're a stable, reliable person, Type B is
more creative and individualistic, Type AB is both rational and
sociable, while Type O is ambitious and passionate. Because of this
pop culture belief, the Japanese, and now a few other Asian cultures,
use this as a sort of horoscope for dating and job prospects, so they
know their blood types rather than, say, their Western astrological
sign. According to this theory, I should be a Type B, but I'm
actually a Type A," she shrugs. "There really is no scientific basis
for this theory, but it hasn't stopped them from marketing things
towards certain blood types."
 
"I thought regular astrology was bad," Doggett makes a face. "You
really think this monster or whatever subscribes to that sort of
thing? Maybe blood types are less personality and more different
types of flavor to our perp."
 
Reyes raises her eyebrows. "Flavors? Like chocolate or strawberry?"
 
Doggett shrugs. 'something like that. Maybe when it comes to picking
victims, it's less astrology than it is preference. Maybe for this
guy, it doesn't need to survive on just Type AB vics, because he
obviously has chosen other blood types, but it wants to. I've been
going over the vic profiles again, and the exsanguinations of the
Type ABs were more thorough than the others."
 
"Oh, goody," she makes a face. "Damn."
 
"Told ya," he shrugs. "Problem is, I'm not sure where he gets his
vics from."
 
"They all went to rock concerts."
 
He gives her a look. "You've gotta be kidding me," he says.
 
She shakes her head. "I figured since our latest vics went to
concerts, maybe the others did, too," she says reasonably. "Not all
the witnesses or friends could reliably say the vic went to a
concert, but there definitely was one nearby where the vics were
found. They're in the right age bracket, and the accessibility is
there." Then she grins. 'so, what do you wanna be, groupie or crowd
surfer?"
 
"Neither," he says, "we just gotta figure out which concert our
killer might strike next."
 
"That's easy." She smiles, making him blink. "The kinds of rock
concerts he's been picking have all been indie types, which means
there's not enough security and little to no checking to see if
minors are part of the crowd. Besides, you said he's making his way
west, along the northern side, which means his next stop should be,"
she pauses, "in Idaho. And there's a few concerts coming up in the
next few weeks, but only one that fits our criteria." She points to
her computer screen. "Djarum Black is performing at the L. Garden Pub
in Boise this Saturdays."
 
He raises his eyebrows. "You sure this is the next one?"
 
She nods. "The other groups are Pearl Jam, Blink 182 and Linkin Park.
They'd come with far too much security, although there's the nice
anonymity of being in the crowd once you're there. Still, I think
there'd be too many possible witnesses for an after-party for our
killer, so he'd want to stick to a somewhat smaller venue. That, or
maybe he's a music snob on top of being a blood-sucking killer."
 
"Great," Doggett's eyes search the ceiling, which, thankfully, isn't
chock-full of pencils. "Just what we need, another blood-sucking
music critic."
 
~*~*~

Benton, New Hampshire
August 12th, 2003

Earlier in the morning while Scully, Scott, and Missy cooked, Mulder
and Samantha pored over their hiking trail guide and settled on Mount
Moosilauke as the destination of their first day trip.

The pictures in the guide make the mountain look very serene, and it
is a class 1 hiking trail, which means that even the smallest
children should be able to cope with the easy terrain.

When they arrive at the foot of the mountain it takes them several
minutes to get ready. Not only do Mulder and Scully each take one of
their infant daughters in a babybjörn, every child and adult, right
down to Christopher, is outfitted with a lightweight backpack to
carry bottles of water. Mulder is the most weighed down of all,
considering that he also has William in a back carrier. Scully
carries Mulder's water for him because he has no place for backpack
of his own.

In the midst of a crowd of fidgeting children, Missy decides that a
preemptive lecture might curb some of the half-planned hijinks she
can see on the kids' faces. "No one is to leave the trail. If you
leave the trail you might get lost."

Sammy looks up at her with interest. "If David and Jared get lost,
will they get eaten by a bear?"

"Hey!" the older twins protest.

"No. Bears don't eat people."

"But I have a book from school that said that a polar bears eat
people," Page points out.

"Okay. Polar bears eat people. But black bears, which are the type of
bears like they have here, do not eat people. That is why your uncle
Scott was not eaten yesterday."

"What about panthers?" Sammy asks.

"It is very unlikely that anything in this forest will eat anyone,"
Missy says, but then adds when she sees that Sammy is about to say
something more, "unless of course, you died in the woods from
something else and they eat you later on."

"Then how come we have to stay on the trail?" Emily wants to know.

"If you get lost, and the forest rangers have to come and find you,
it will cost a lot of money. Some states don't charge you for rescue
missions, but New Hampshire is not one of those states, so you will
put your moms and dads in the poor house." Missy looks at every one
of the children. "No more vacations, no fancy clothes, no video
games, no car when you're 16..."

Sammy looks at all of the other kids. "We'll stay on the trail, Aunt
Missy."

"Good."

~*~*~

Though it clearly bothers Missy, the group ends up spread out. No one
goes off the trails, so technically she can't be angry at them for
failing to follow orders. At first she occasionally calls them back
and tells him to stay with the group, but this is as futile as
herding cats, so after a short time she gives up as long as they stay
within sight.

Missy herself trails the pack with her sister, letting Mulder and
Scott take responsibility for the older and faster kids. Samantha is
in the middle, chatting with Page, Alyssa, and Emily. The trail is so
gentle that eventually the adults begin to relax. The worst thing
that could happen to the kids is a skinned knee or elbow.

When Scully realizes that Brianna is asleep, she pulls out her
digital camera and begins to take pictures of beautiful surroundings.
Though it is only August, some of the trees have begun to change
color, lending to patches of orange and yellow mixed in with the
green. It reminds her of a quilt her grandmother once had on her bed.

Suddenly, Missy grabs her elbow. "Dana, look at that!"

When Scully follows her finger, she sees something quite unexpected.
Her assumption was that Missy had spotted a deer, or perhaps some
other wild creature, but her eyes are fixed on a strange figure. It
seems to be a man, though it is hard to tell given how bundled up the
person is. Far below them, a person wearing a black cape, and a hat
that cannot completely conceal long wild white locks, is moving
through the woods with a strange agility. The wild tangle of hair
suggests an elderly person, but the capering steps hint at a greater
vitality.

"Who on earth?" Missy whispers, not that Scully believes that the
person could hear them from such a distance.

"I have no idea."

Within a few seconds, the strange person has bolted from sight.

~*~*~

Eventually the family reunites and spreads out tablecloths so they
can have a picnic lunch. Once everyone has food, Missy's thoughts
apparently turn back to the strange sight, because she tells Mulder
about it.

Mulder smiles at his sister-in-law. "It sounds like you two are the
victim of a prank."

"A prank?" Missy frowns. "What makes you say that?"

"Obviously someone is keeping the Doctor Benton legend alive."

"What legend is that?" Scully asks.

'samantha, you remember the story Dad told us, right?" Mulder asks,
and his sister nods, her mouth too full of food to give a proper
reply. Turning back to his wife and sister-in-law, Mulder says,
"People have been seeing Doctor Benton in these woods for 200 years
now."

'so you're saying that people think he's a ghost," Scully surmises.

To her surprise, her husband shakes his head. "Not a ghost. They
think he's still alive."

"That's ridiculous."

"Ridiculous or not, there those who say the doctor Benton has
discovered the secret to eternal life. Back in during the early 1800s
the people of this town now called Benton sent young Thomas Benton to
Germany to study doctoring. To repay them, he returned to the town
and became their doctor. At least until 1816. After that, he
retreated to a shack in the woods, and turned away people even in
dire need of medical attention."

Missy looks annoyed. "They decided to fabricate lies about him, just
because they felt as though he wasn't honoring his commitment to
them?"

"Perhaps. But the town did have reasons to be concerned. Not long
after he became a hermit, mutilated animals began to dot the
hillside. And that was only the beginning. Eventually, they begin to
find human bodies."

"Mutilated?" Scully asks in a whisper.

"No. The human bodies weren't molested, beyond a mark found behind
the left ear. No one knew what to make of that, but they assumed it
be the cause of death. These doings were only connected to Doctor
Benton in 1825 when someone claimed to see him steal a child away
into the woods and hurl her to her death over a cliff while her
parents begged him to let her go."

"They were sure it was him?" Scott asks, indicating that he is been
paying attention to the story as well.

Mulder shrugs. 'so legend goes. Bodies continued to be found every
now and then, through the 1800s. In the 1970s a college student who
wandered off on his own was found dazed and incoherent. On
examination of the boy, they discovered that he had the same mark
behind his left ear as all of the bodies found on this mountain.
Locals still believe that Benton is seen is now and then, having
purchased for himself a horrible immortality."

Scott claps Mulder on the shoulder. "No wonder you're on TV. You are
an excellent storyteller. For a second there, you almost had me
believing that your wife and her sister had seen this legendary
figure."

"I never said it was Doctor Benton," Mulder protests. "But I think
they saw someone impersonating him."

Scully looks back over her shoulder. An impersonator, she hopes so.

~*~*~

The Doggett-Reyes home
August 13th, 2003
 
Doggett found himself talking to a wall when it came to asking for
backup at a rock concert, especially one practically in the middle of
nowhere (according to Agent Harrison's supervisor). Resigned, he and
Reyes went back home to keep their kids apprised of their work
schedule and found the reception to the news to be markedly
different.
 
"Wow, it's not every day your work takes you guys someplace fun."
Gibson grins when Reyes explains their case over lunch.
 
Doggett rolls his eyes. "It's not for fun, and believe me, I won't be
having fun trying to keep an earpiece and earplug in the same ear,"
he grumbles, helping himself to the mashed potatoes.
 
"Aw, why can't we go?" Luke whines. "Mulder and Scully took their
kids with them on cases."
 
Doggett gives his son a level look. "Not always," he says, "and I'm
not about to assign extra agents to watch over my kids when there's a
killer out there who can tear off a man's head with his bare hands."
 
"I don't wanna go," Hannah says, sinking in her seat.
 
"We're not making anyone go," Reyes reassures her, and gives Luke a
look. "In fact, we don't want any of you to go." Then she shrugs.
"That, and if this band is still indie after all this time, they
probably suck."
 
Luke gives her a look, not unlike his father's. "What do you mean?"
 
"I did a little research on them," she says, "just for fun. Although
they seem to have a winning combination of rock and rap aimed toward
the college crowd, along with some ethnically-diverse group members
like Linkin Park, they haven't been going anywhere near the billboard
charts since they formed five years ago." She shrugs again. "They're
a little too soft for me, but then again, I kinda lean more towards
Marilyn Manson than, say, Trent Reznor."
 
Luke turns to Gibson. "Remind me to burn my Manson CDs," he mutters,
and Gibson grins, more at Reyes' plotting than his brother's remark.
 
"Like I said, it's not gonna be fun," Doggett sighs, and his sons are
inclined to agree, finally. "Gib, mind passing the gravy?"
 
~*~*~

Conway, NH
Echo Lake 
That Afternoon

"What are those for?" David asks, pointing at a row of binoculars on
stands. His twin is spending a lot of time playing with Mattie and
Drew, so Mulder gets the idea that he's feeling a little left out,
which might be why he and April are playing together today.

"Oh, you used to be able to look through those and see a rock that
looked like a huge human face. It was called The Old Man of The
Mountain. People liked it so much that they put it on license plates
in this state a few years ago."

"Daddy, where's the old man now?" April wants to know.

Mulder gives her a sad smile. 'sorry, April, he's gone."

David looks puzzled. "How can he be gone? Things made rock last
forever. Don't they?"

"Apparently not. The Old Man of The Mountain fell apart in May,"
Mulder explains. "It made a lot of people very sad that the state
symbol is gone."

April shows an uncharacteristic display of temper by stamping her
foot. "But I wanted to see him!"

'sorry, Kiddo," Mulder tells her as he gives her a hug. "We're only
going to see him in pictures now."

"It's not fair!"

"I know." Mulder takes April and David's hands. "Come on, let's go
swim."

Mollified, both children accompany their father into the water, where
most of their siblings and cousins are already slashing each other.

~*~*~

The conversation between Mulder and the kids has not gone unheard.
Missy and Scully are lounging on the beach, encouraging William not
to taste the sand castle he's making. Zoe and Brianna are shaded
under a beach umbrella and goggling at what their more mobile family
members are doing.

Missy sighs. "I'm sorry that April is disappointed, but I'm damn glad
that things don't always stay the same."

"Like what?" Scully asks as she shakes her head when William moves a
fist full of sand towards his mouth. He grins at her and pats the
sand onto his castle instead.

"You know that I called home this morning, right?" Missy asks, and
Scully acknowledges that she does. "Ryan told me a long incoherent
story about grocery shopping with Daddy before handing the phone off
to Addy. She told me that she missed me, and about silly stuff that
had gone on in our absence."

"Hmm...William, no! Do you want me to take that shovel?"

"No. I gonna be good," The sandy-lipped toddler promises.

"Uh huh." Scully scoots across her towel to get closer to her
youngest son. Then she looks up at Missy. 'sorry."

"I was just thinking about that," Missy explains. "This time a year
ago Alex and I were scared that Addy would never fully recover from
her ordeal. But look at her now. She doesn't hide anymore, speaks
without looking like she's going to be hit for making noise, she
shows affection spontaneously, her melt downs are no more frequent
than any other four-year-old's, and she's looking forward to going to
preschool with Christopher next month.

"It feels like we were granted a miracle. So that's why I'm glad that
things change," Missy concludes.

"If you ask Mom, miracles still happen pretty often." Scully helps
William dig a moat around his sand castle while she talks. "But I
think a lot of the changes have to do with how you and Alex have
treated her. You've loved her, and she's bloomed."

"I don't know, Day. Maybe Mom's not wrong about those commonplace
miracles."

Zoe squeals in delight when a curious seagull hops a couple of yards
from her and Brianna. Scully smiles even as she's prepared to shoo it
off if it comes closer to their cooler. "Maybe she's not."

~*~*~

Woodstock, New Hampshire
August 14th, 2003

The next morning several people are grumpy, mostly due to having
slept poorly because of sunburns. Unfortunately, the supposedly
waterproof sunscreen that was slathered on everyone proved not to be
as good as advertised.

'so, is everyone ready to go to the Mount Washington Observatory?"
Mulder asks the crowd of pink people.

"No!" Scully and Missy exclaim at the same time.

"No? You realize that I had to call in favors to get us a tour,
right?" Mulder gives them a disappointed look.

"You should still go, Mulder," Scully encourages. "Just take the kids
who won't whine about sunburns with you." None of the twins or Mattie
are burned either, but David and Jared and their slightly older
cousin don't look interested in going, and no one is about to suggest
that the nine-month-olds would get anything out of a tour.

"Uh, okay. What will the rest of you do while we're gone?"

"Bathe in aloe," Missy groans.

"I was dreaming of a bathtub filled with ice," Scott says wistfully.
His skin is as fair as Scully and Missy's, but the two oldest of his
kids aren't nearly as fair.

"Okay..." Mulder turns to Brandon, Ariel, Emily, and Adrianna.
"Before we do anything else, how about we go to the store and buy out
their supply of ice?"

"I'll come too, Daddy," Sammy says, and Mulder looks at his oldest
son in surprise. Sammy is as pale as ever, without even the slightest
hint of sunburn.

"Why aren't you burned too?"

Sammy shrugs. "I was playing near shady rocks?"

"Uh huh." Mulder turns to his sister. "What do you say, Samantha, you
coming with us?"

"No. I think someone who isn't lobster red needs to stay behind."

"Well, okay." Mulder sighs in disappointment. "Everyone who is going,
go out to the car."

~*~*~

::I guess it could be worse:: Mulder reminds himself after they drop
off the ice at the cabin. ::There could be a lot more of the kids
with me.:: Though he's sure from past experience that he could
supervise his own brood solo, he's not sure how his nieces and
nephews would behave in a large group. Five seems manageable.

'so, what do they do at this observatory?" Ariel asks on the drive up
Mount Washington.

"It's a weather station," Mulder explains. "One of the oldest in the
world."

"Oh wow," Adrianna says, and he detects a note of sarcasm in his
oldest niece's voice.

The fourteen-year-old has made it abundantly clear over the course of
the vacation that she thinks family get-togethers are lame. Everyone
has been glad that the cabin gets cell reception, because she whines
less when able to call her friends and complain about how bored she
is. Mulder suspects the only reason she's come without a word of
protest is that she wanted to avoid helping her mother look after the
people left behind.

"The worst weather on earth has been recorded there," Mulder goes on,
not rising to the bait. "The winds are so bad there that they chain
some of the buildings to the mountain."

"How do you chain a building to the ground?" Brandon wants to know.

"I don't know. I guess we'll see."

"Uncle Mulder, why did you have to call in favors to get us a tour?"
Ariel asks. "Does that mean there aren't tours all the time?"

"There are tours for just a couple of groups on a regular basis.
We're lucky that I knew someone who added us to the schedule."

"Being famous helps, huh, Dad?" Sammy asks.

"I don't know if we're famous, Sammy..." Mulder trails off before
deciding that it probably did grease wheels for him. "Well, it
doesn't hurt."

"Hey, when does the next season of your show start?" Adrianna asks
without sounding snotty. "A bunch of my friends at school watch it."

'september twentieth."

"Cool."

~*~*~

Mount Washington Observatory

When they get out of the car, a young man in his mid-twenties waves
to them, indicating that they should come to him.

"Hey, nice to meet you," the man shakes hands with Mulder. "I'm Jason
King. I'll be giving you a tour of the observatory. I know who you
are, but do you mind introducing the rest of your party?"

"The youngest is my son Sammy, and these are my nieces Adrianna,
Ariel, and Emily, and my nephew Brandon. Unfortunately the better
part of the rest of our party managed to sunburn themselves pretty
badly."

"Went swimming, did you?" Jason asks.

Emily looks at the man like he's a psychic. "How did you know?" 

"People are forever being tricked into thinking that waterproof
sunscreen doesn't wash off. It does, not that the manufacturer wants
you to know that." King shakes his head. "Follow me."

Their tour guide offers them bits of trivia as he shows them the
equipment that is used to record weather observations. Mulder sticks
close to Sammy and Brandon, because he can see that both boys are
itching to touch things to get a better idea of how they might work.

"The first weather station on Mount Washington was established in
1870, making it the oldest permanent weather station in the entire
world."

"Uncle Mulder, you said it was one of the oldest," Emily reminds him.

"Being the oldest is part of being one of the oldest," Sammy says,
rushing to his father's defense.

Mulder holds up a hand to silence them. "We're here to learn new
stuff, and I've learned that there aren't any older weather
stations."

"There are other records held here too," Jason tells them. "Like wind
speed, for example. During the great depression we measured a wind
gust of 231 miles an hour. That makes this the windiest place on the
entire planet."

Adrianna shivers. "It's kind of windy today, too."

'sure," Jason agrees. "But not anywhere near as windy as that."

"I wasn't suggesting that it was!" The teenager protests, and her
sister and Brandon giggle.

Adrianna isn't wrong - the wind continues to gust even as Jason leads
them into the Summit Museum.

~*~*~

As they're exiting the museum, a middle-aged man approaches the
group.

"This is one of my good friends, Ranger Dan Cook," Jason introduces
the other man.

"What? Not Ranger Rick?" Adrianna asks with a smirk. Ariel swats her.

"Folks, there's a problem," Ranger Cook tells them. His face looks
grim.

"What?" Mulder asks warily. The fact that a mountain ranger has
stopped by to give them news of a problem can't be good.

'surely you've noticed the wind today." They all nod. "We'll, there
was an enormous ancient pine tree standing at the foot of the road to
the observatory."

"Was?" Jason asks, looking slightly ill.

"Was," Ranger Cook says firmly. "The wind knocked it over."

"Oh, then I should call for the tree removal-"

The ranger shakes his head. "They won't be up here until tomorrow,"
He looks at Mulder and the kids. "I don't suppose you've brought your
sleeping bags?"

"It's totally cool," Jason says with false cheer. "There aren't any
education groups or mountain climbers spending the night, so we'll
just use the bunk house. No sleeping bags necessary."

~*~*~

Although the adults back "home" in the cabin are not thrilled by the
turn of events, being stranded at the observatory turns out to be fun
for Mulder and the kids. The ranger gave them a conspiratory wink and
told them that he was going to break rules just this once, and allow
a bonfire. After that, everyone, which includes a woman named Laura
from the museum who is apparently dating Jason, settles down after
dark to listen to ranger Cook tell stories about the area. The
handful of other people from the observatory decline the invitation
to join the party.

Laura has managed to produce a bag of marshmallows from somewhere,
and everyone roasts them over the fire. Cook pauses his tales now and
them to pop a golden brown one into his mouth.

"You kids have heard of Bigfoot, and I'm sure that you've been told
that it mostly lives out in the pacific northwest. But I'll tell you
that almost every state in New England has reported sightings of them
too," Cook tells them, and the kids pay rapt attention. "Here in New
Hampshire people report seeing hairy beasts locals call Woods Devils.
And to the west, in Vermont, there have been reports for hundreds of
years of clever bearlike creatures that walk on two legs. The native
folks called 'em Wejuk. Some even claimed to have caught a baby one
back in 1855. But don't think that these are creatures just out of
long ago, there have been sightings of them in the past thirty
years..."

Mulder has to admit that Cook is a consummate story teller, and he's
trying to think of a way to slip the man one of Federman's business
cards when the ranger's tales take another turn. Cook looks at Jason
and Laura. "Do you suppose we should tell them about The Presence?"

Jason immediately looks uneasy. "I don't know, Dan..."

"What's the presence?" Brandon asks on cue.

"No one knows, exactly," Laura says. "It's not a ghost, but people
are frightened by it all the same."

"No, it's more like a feeling," Cook agrees.

Emily looks skeptical. "People are afraid of a feeling?"

"Jason must have told you that there have been people saying up at
the observatory for decades. Most of 'em have a run-in with The
Presence at least once."

"What exactly is it?" Mulder asks, hoping to move the story along.

"A feeling of terror and dread overtakes a body, and makes them want
to run away at all cost. We had someone freeze to death years ago
because he got so scared he ran out into a blizzard and didn't stop
running until he was too cold to move."

"You don't think that the mountain is haunted?" Ariel asks.

Cook shakes his head. 'some of the natives to the area thought it was
a manifestation of one of their gods. Who knows, maybe they're
right."

The ranger leaves them with this tale before declaring that it's time
for everyone to head to the bunk house. Mulder shepherds the kids
along, listening to them grumble about having to sleep in their
clothes. They, at least, seem to have already dismissed the ranger's
weird tale.

~*~*~ 

5 a.m.

For no discernable reason, Mulder finds himself jolted awake.
Everyone else in the bunk house is sound asleep, but he is gripped by
a sudden terror that something awful is about to happen. His heart
beats in his chest like an animal trying to escape a cage.

He has to leave, immediately. Throwing himself off his bunk, he runs
to the door, and is about to grip the door knob when it begins to
move on its own. Mulder jumps backwards with a strangled cry, and
feels for the gun he no longer carries on a daily basis.

The door opens, and a head pops into view. "Oh, you're awake. I just
wanted to let you know that the tree crew is here, and we'll be able
to get out of here in an hour or two," Ranger Cook tells him mildly.

Mulder stares at him, and gradually the feeling of intense dread
leaches from him. When his heart leaves his throat, he gives the
ranger a weak smile. "My wife will be happy to hear that."

"You felt it," Cook says grimly. "A lot of people do."

Mulder knows exactly what "it" the man refers to. A fright so great
that he was prepared to run off and leave the sleeping kids behind.
"Have you?"

"First week I rangered up here. And don't think it's the power of
suggestion - no one told me the story until after I had my run-in
with it. I try to tell people the story before it happens to them, so
they don't think that they're crazy like I did."

"Uh, thanks."

Just as the ranger promised, the fallen tree is cleared away an hour
later. Everyone is glad when they reach the cabin, but no one more so
than Mulder.

~*~*~

Boise, Idaho
August 16th, 2003

They're in the smoke-infested Hammer House, a former sugar plant
converted into a production venue. Like the regular security detail,
which consists of a couple of rent-a-cops, Doggett and Reyes are
dressed in black t-shirts, jeans, and windbreakers with the back
spray-painted 'sECURITY". Although this concert's supposed to be for
those 18 and over, according to both the paper flyers and the web
promos, you'd never know by the amount of teens obviously below that
age. Doggett's had to sit on his fatherly instincts and not bodily
shove the pre-teens out the door, while Reyes, standing at the
opposite exit, smiles at his efforts at self-control. Speaking of
self-control, she's had precious little of that the past few days,
jumping her partner's bones (or one in particular) every chance she
got. And every time afterward, she'd silently thanked her unborn
child for giving her a great excuse. While she's not entirely sure
it's due to her pregnancy, she's definitely enjoying the sexual
benefits.
 
And speaking of sexual, while Djarum Black ranks high on her
suck-meter in terms of talent, they're pretty good at selling their
lead vocalist's appeal. The highly-impressionable teens and pre-teens
in the audience are screaming wildly, as if witnessing the second
coming of Elvis. Or something like that, Reyes amends mentally,
wondering if any of them are even aware of the King of Rock'n'Roll.
Like her partner, she's scanning the crowd, but wondering what on
earth a vampire would actually look like. There are more than a few
goth-types out there, but she's discounting them. Hey, if the killer
wanted to get into the goth-vamp scene, he'd strike at places like
blood clubs, not at rock concerts.
 
Doggett, for his part, is finding it hard to think straight, and that
only makes him more irritable on top of everything else. First, he'd
had to nearly break Luke's leg to keep the boy at home, then deal
with Agent Harrison's well-intentioned (but poorly-executed) plan to
give him reinforcements, as well as the fallout from that fiasco, and
then they nearly missed their flight because of that. He's hoping
like hell that this pans out and that they catch the killer here,
because he knows he doesn't look with egg on his face. He sighs,
partly because the air's so thick with smoke breathing's become
almost hazardous, and partly because watching the crowd makes him
feel so damn old. He glances over at Reyes, and wonders how on earth
it seems like she's enjoying this mess.
 
Thank God for earplugs, he thinks, having given up on earpieces when
he realized it would be too conspicuous. He and Reyes had agreed to
just use their cell phones if they needed to get in contact with each
other, since the walkie-talkies were pretty much open to anyone with
the general frequency. So far, nobody, not the rent-a-cops nor his
partner, have noticed anything suspicious, other than the brief
scuffle caused by a jealous boyfriend he'd had to break up a few
minutes ago. He doesn't think too much of the band, since it sounds
like they're confused between trying to be a rock band,
grand-standing rappers or pretty-boy movie stars.
 
He finally smiles when it seems the concert's wrapping up after what
seems like ages (but only an hour and a half, according to his
watch). "Thank you, God," he murmurs in a low voice, as the band
leaves after doing their encore. It takes a while for the band to
pack up their equipment, since it appears they don't have roadies,
and Doggett, along with Reyes and the actual security guards have
their hands full making sure everyone leaves intact, if not
smoke-free.
 
~*~*~
 
'so, what'd you think?" Reyes asks her partner when they clear the
last of the stragglers, the band long gone.
 
Doggett makes a face, then pulls the earplugs from his ears. "What?"
 
She laughs. "You've had those in all this time? Figures."
 
He shrugs, then tosses them into the trash. "Hey, they're good for
blocking out crappy music and whiny teens."
 
Reyes shakes her head. "Anyways, I didn't catch any last-minute
couples, how about you?"
 
Doggett likewise shakes his head. "Neither did Tom and Jerry," he
jerks a thumb at the rent-a-cops clocking out.
 
She smiles, "I'd peg them more as a Bert and Ernie."
 
'sesame Street?" he raises an eyebrow.
 
She shakes her head and says in a lower voice, "Closet gay."
 
He sputters in surprise. "What?"
 
Reyes looks at her partner. "You didn't get that vibe?"
 
"Let's just say I'm glad neither of them hit on me," he mutters.
 
She laughs, then slings an arm around him. "Poor baby," she teases,
"not being able to be the meat in a man sandwich."
 
"Ewwww," he makes a face not unlike his firstborn, making her laugh
harder. Then he puts a hand on her shoulder, "Hey, notice anything
weird?"
 
She blinks, then looks around. "No, what?"
 
He looks at her. "We're the only ones here. Come on, let's canvas the
area."
 
She nods, but looks surprised when he pulls at her arm as she turns
away. "What?"
 
"You're with me," he says, "no way am I letting a pregnant woman go
out alone."
 
Reyes raises her eyebrows. "Even if she's got a gun?"
 
"Especially if she's got a gun," he retorts, and she shakes her head,
but goes with him.
 
~*~*~
 
They go through the bathrooms first, then they go outside, their
Maglights in one hand and gun in the other. Doggett knows Reyes is
humoring him, but he's just glad she didn't go off on her own. Yeah,
he's old-fashioned, but he knows he wouldn't be the only one feeling
guilty if she ever got hurt or killed on the job. They don't come
across anything or anyone suspicious, making Doggett feel depressed.
Maybe they're in the wrong place, he thinks, or maybe the suspect
already left. Before his doubts can become certainty, however, they
come across a couple in the throes of passion, so to speak, lying in
an otherwise unlit lawn not far from the Hammer House. Normally, he'd
let lovebirds like these alone, but his cop's instincts kick in and
his gun arm straightens, startling his partner with his sudden
action.
 
"Both of you, hands where I can see 'em!" Dogett yells. "On your
head, on your head!"
 
The girl shrieks, but yanks her shirt down in a belated sense of
modesty before putting her hands on her head. Her boyfriend, however,
merely turns his head slowly, as if irritated at being interrupted.
 
Then the boy glances at Reyes, whose gun doesn't waver. "Hands on
your head," she echoes, her face deadly serious. "Or we will shoot."
 
He looks at the girl, who is still staring at the agents rather than
him. "You wouldn't do that," he says, starting to lean over the girl
again.
 
Then Doggett shoots him in the leg, and the girl runs off, screaming.
'son of a bitch!" the kid screeches, his face a mask of pain as he
twists to the side, holding his leg.
 
"You'll live," Doggett says unsympathetically, not lowering his gun
or looking at Reyes. He doesn't bother telling her that he shot at
the kid's pants rather than his leg, it would be something if he did
more than graze the leg. "You must think I'm stupid or something."
 
"John," Reyes stares at him, since the kid is acting like a kid, not
some blood-sucking, head-decapitating serial killer. Besides, he
barely looks older than Luke or Gibson, and certainly weighs less,
judging by his skinny frame.
 
The teen continues to whimper, and Reyes lowers her weapon. Suddenly,
the kid lunges at Doggett, and the FBI agent goes down with a
"whoomf!" before he's struggling for his life. Far too late, Doggett
realizes why the victims never fought back - this kid's skinny body
and youthful appearance belies a strength and ferocity belonging to a
wild animal or a hardened criminal. In spite of his opponent's looks,
he can barely fight back offensively while keeping possession of his
gun, and he's still pinned down. He's so damn fast, Doggett thinks,
as blow after blow rains on him, it's like he's fight spinning
helicopter blades.
 
And as suddenly as he was attacked, he's free, a second gunshot
cracking in the night, and the kid topples off. Breathing heavily,
Doggett gets to his feet, and puts a hand up when Reyes starts to run
over. He doesn't want her anywhere near this thing, and he grabs his
flashlight to get a better look. Reyes shot the kid in the head, and
while he can see the hole, he can't see blood, either from the entry
or where the exit wound should be. Shit, he thinks, and starts firing
when the teen starts to move.
 
His blood runs cold when, rather than bleed and die like a normal
person, the skinny teen turns his head to look at him and smiles.
"That's not how you kill a vampire," he says.
 
"John!" Reyes screams.
 
Doggett turns and catches something that she throws at him, but drops
his gun doing so. 'shit," he says.
 
And that's the last thing he says before the freaky teen, his body
riddled with holes but far from dead, leaps on him again.
 
~*~*~
 
August 18th, 2003
8:09 a.m.
 
Doggett is lying under the white sheet, his still form almost as pale
as the sheet. His family is standing around him, and Gibson is
holding Hannah, who is scared. "It's okay," he tells his younger
sister, but she buries her face into his side, not looking at the
body.
 
His partner is dressed in formal black, her expression thoughtful.
"He looks so peaceful," Reyes sighs, folding her arms.
 
Luke looks up at her. "You know he's like this because of you," he
says seriously, and she nods.
 
"He saved my life," she acknowledges, her lower lip bumping up
slightly with the admission.
 
"In a way, you saved his, too," he says, "but he probably wouldn't
admit it."
 
Then Doggett groans, startling them all. "Can't a guy get some sleep
around here?" he grumbles, not opening his eyes.
 
"You have no broken bones, just flesh wounds," Reyes shakes her head.
"And I think we let you sleep in long enough. Time to get to work."
 
He turns his head, and groans again when he sees the clock. "You guys
let me sleep in this late?" he cries, sitting up, then winces as all
the aches and pains from his Saturday night fight come back to him.
"Ow."
 
"Which is why I let you sleep in, I thought half an hour more would
help." She smiles, then helps to get him to his feet. When he's
standing, she kisses his rough cheek. "Thank you."
 
He blinks. "For what?"
 
"For saving our lives," she says, looking down and putting a hand on
her stomach. When he puts his hand on hers, she looks up and smiles
slowly. "And for being so damn sexy."
 
"Ugh," both teen boys groan, and start to pull Hannah out of there.
"You guys are so gross," Gibson makes a face.
 
"What, what?" Hannah says, twisting around. "What's so gross?"
 
"We'll tell you when you get older," Luke says, and amends quickly
when he sees his father's expression, "much, much older."
 
Reyes giggles when the kids are gone. "Why don't I help you shower
and get ready?" she says, pulling off his boxers.
 
"But you're already dressed," he protests.
 
Then she pulls off her top, then her bra. "Not any more." She smiles.
 
"Okay," he says, and she laughs, pulling him into the bathroom.

~*~*~

Mulder-Scully home
August 21st, 2003

"Hey, thanks," Mulder says to the mail-carrier as he accepts his
package.

He rips the envelope open, and pulls out his prize: Passing Strange
by Joseph Citro. He flips to the index and looks for "Derry, New
Hampshire" and immediately finds an entry for it.

Sitting down, he reads the entry on Derry and begins to laugh.
Royalty indeed. According to the book, Scott was saved from a bear by
a fairy queen. He glances at the phone, wondering what his
brother-in-law would make of the information.

~*~*~


Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Five
'spooktacular Halloween Episode"


Mulder-Scully Home
Late September 2003 

A gust of wind rocks some of the smaller trees in the backyard, and a
few more of April's flowers shed their petals. Mulder looks toward
them for a moment, thinking about how remarkable it is that she has
any summer flowers left at all in the fall, before turning his eyes
back to the task at hand.

"Hands a little wider apart, Buddy."

William squints up at his father, and moves his fingers another inch
apart. His small windbreaker crinkles as he shifts.

"You've got it."

The toddler chortles with delight when the ball Mulder throws him
lands gently in his out-stretched hands. Mulder has been trying to
teach him to play catch for the past ten minutes, and it's the first
time his youngest son has managed to catch the ball.

Goodbyes float across the yard and car doors slam in their driveway,
indicating that Scully's guests are leaving; Mulder had said goodbye
himself fifteen minutes before, and he'd been sure they'd left
already. The back door opens soon after.

"Hey." Scully, with Zoe on her hip, stands on her toes to give Mulder
a kiss on the cheek.

"What did you and Monica talk about?" he asks while lobbing the ball
to William again.

'she and John are looking to buy a house. They want something with
enough bedrooms that none of the kids have to share."

"I catched it 'gain!" William crows.

"You sure did!" Mulder grins at his little boy before turning back to
Scully. "It's about time. Luke and Gibson would probably really
appreciate having their own rooms, being teenage boys and all."

"I'm going to pretend that I have no idea what you mean." Her cheeks
turn slightly pink, making it obvious that she knows exactly what he
was implying.

"Okay, you do that. We'll see how long that lasts once we've got five
teenage boys of our own."

"Are you sure we can't raise them Catholic? The religion has rules
against that sort of...thing."

"Don't make me call Charlie and ask him how effective a deterrent the
rules were."

"Mulder, you're terrible!" But she smiles at him. "I wish there was
something we could do to help John and Monica with their house
hunting."

"You know, it's too bad that I grew up as Bill Mulder's son. If I'd
grown up instead with..." Mulder trails off, looking at the
impressionable little boy waiting for his next toss. "...him, I might
know the right people."

Her brow furrows in confusion. "Who, realtors?"

"No, the type of people who could disappear a family with a five
bedroom house in this neighborhood."

"It would be nice to have them living nearby," Scully says wistfully,
"but I'm not sure they're thinking about DC."

"Doesn't having our closest friends slash former coworkers living
down the street strike you as a little sitcom-y?" Mulder asks.

She shrugs. 'so?"

"Aww, never mind."

~*~*~

Later

"Mom, can I ask you a question?" Page asks, coming into the room
while Scully changes Brianna into her pajamas. Zoe is already dozing
in her crib. "It's about having babies."

Oh boy, Scully thinks but doesn't say. 'sure, Sweetie. What's on your
mind?"

"Well... I was talking to Hannah, and she said that Monica and her
dad are gonna have a baby."

"They are," Scully agrees, wondering when the question will come into
the conversation.

"But they're not married. Don't people need to be married to have a
baby?" Page asks, looking confused. "I thought they did."

"Actually...no, people don't have to be married to have a baby. It's
often better for the baby if they are, but single people can have
babies too."

"Wait, single? Like Jamie's mom after her divorce?" Page looks
worried. "Does that mean that Monica and the baby aren't gonna live
with Hannah and Luke and Gibson?"

"Don't worry. John and Monica are buying a house. Hannah's little
brother or sister, and Monica, will live with her."

"Mom, if they're going to live together, why don't they just get
married?"

Scully snorts. "John wonders that too, Page, but Monica says she
doesn't believe in marriage."

"That's so weird."

"I think it's a little strange too," Scully admits. 

"Well, I believe in marriage," Page declares. "I'm gonna get
married."

"Oh, are you? To who?" Scully teases.

"Dunno, I haven't met him yet. Maybe I'll meet him at work, like you
did Daddy."

"Maybe you will."

"Can I ask another question about babies?"

Scully braces herself for the question she's been waiting for as the
kids get older: how come you and Daddy only got married seven months
before I was born? 'sure."

"Does it bother you that both of the babies said Dada way sooner than
Mama?"

"Um..." Scully is so surprised by this completely different line of
questioning that she can't think for a moment.

"Mom?" Page looks mildly concerned.

Three months after uttering their first words, Zoe and Brianna still
say Dada a lot more often than Mama. "No. Dada is easier for a baby
to say, so they often say it first."

"Was my first word Dada, too?"

Scully smiles. 'surely I've told you the story about your first
word."

"I don't remember."

"Let me tell you then. Daddy and I were on a case at a zoo..."

~*~*~ 

JCTTIOT Film Studio
October 7th, 2003

"That's a wrap!"

Mulder stands and walks off the stage, eager to remove his makeup. He
knows why the studio insists on putting him and Reed in makeup too,
but he's never quite felt comfortable with how it feels on his skin.

Just before he reaches his dressing room, he spots a familiar bald
head and makes a detour. As he gets closer, his eyes widen in
surprise: he wasn't mistaken. 'skinner? What are you doing here?"

"Mulder."

"Did Wayne get you in to watch the show tape?" Mulder asks, wondering
if Skinner was there earlier and just didn't get noticed.

"No, actually-"

'skinman!" Wayne calls across the studio. He makes his way to Skinner
quickly. "I was wondering where you went."

"I got lost after hitting the head," Skinner says gruffly.

This doesn't surprise Mulder because visitors to the studio often
find navigating away from the restrooms confusing. The first time the
kids visited the studio, it had taken fifteen minutes to find Jared.

Wayne seems to suddenly realize that Mulder is with Skinner. "Mulder,
why don't you call Dana, Mary, and Aldous? It was going to be a
surprise, but considering you've figured it out..."

"Figured what out?" Mulder asks, bewildered.

His boss makes a shooing motion with his hands, so Mulder returns to
the stage where his wife is chatting with the other doctor, and being
glared at by Reed for no discernible reason. "Hey, Wayne wants to
talk to us."

"What, now? Can't we change first?" Reed asks disdainfully.

"You'll have to ask Wayne," Mulder says, looping his arm through
Scully's. Even Mary Green is staring at Reed's childish behavior.

Reed continues to fume like a primadonna for a minute before joining
the rest of his cast-members in front of Wayne. Wayne beams at them,
and Mulder wonders if he's the only one who feels uneasy. Scully and
Mary don't seem to, and Reed looks so put out anyway that it's hard
to tell, so he assumes that he is.

"Mary, Aldous, I'd like to introduce you to Walter Skinner, assistant
director of the FBI," Wayne says, and Reed immediately interrupts.

"Don't tell me, he's the one who authorized these two-" Reed hooks
his thumb in Mulder and Scully's direction. "-wasting taxpayers'
money."

Like so many people before him, Wayne simply ignores Reed's
outbursts. "Like Dana and Mulder used to be, AD Skinner here is
involved in paranormal cases. He's graciously agreed to take part in
our Halloween episode."

"As a guest?" Scully asks hopefully.

Wayne shakes his head. "No. We're doing something really special for
Halloween this year. A live episode!"

For once the quartet is on the same page, and they exchange alarmed
looks. Wayne pretends not to notice, but Skinner clearly does.

"The network is going to call it the Spooktacular Halloween Episode,"
Wayne adds.

"Ridiculous!" Reed grumbles. Mulder can't find it within himself to
disagree.

"What's the, uh, theme of the episode?" Mary asks nervously.

Wayne puts his arm around Skinner's shoulder. "That's where AD
Skinner comes in. His agents have been asked to investigate a
haunting in Laurel Canyon."

"What, Houdini's ghost?" Mulder asks with a smirk. To his surprise,
Wayne nods.

"Exactly."

"But the Houdini mansion burned down before I was born," Mulder
protests. "You don't really mean to have us spend an hour on live TV
stumbling around a burned out building."

"Think of the atmosphere, Mulder!" Wayne enthuses. "Ruins have so
much more haunting cred than a boring intact house."

"Uh..."

"And the whole hour won't be taken up by the four of you, well six
actually when you count AD Skinner's agents, 'stumbling in the dark.'
Actually-" Wayne turns his head to look at Mary Green. "Mary won't be
joining you."

"I won't?"

"No. You'll be in Scranton, Pennsylvania during that hour."

"Oh good, I've always wanted to go to Scranton," Mary says faintly.
Scully gives her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"Why?" Reed demands to know. "What could possibly be of interest in
Scranton?"

Mulder wonders the same thing, but doesn't bother to ask as well.

"The Houdini Museum," Wayne tells them. "Houdini died on Halloween
night in 1926, and for ten years after his wife Bess conducted an
annual Halloween séance to try and contact him. After that a group of
magicians continued the practice for many years. These days the
annual séance is conducted in the museum. So, Mary will go there so
our viewers can observe that, too."

'so..." Scully says slowly, "You're expecting a 50% failure rate at
best, correct?"

"I don't follow," Wayne admits.

"We can't see a ghost in California and have it show up for a chat at
a séance in Pennsylvania at the same time," Scully points out. "Even
a ghost can't be in two places at once."

Wayne shrugs. "I don't think the producers are expecting either place
to really have a cameo by Harry Houdini."

"Then why do it?" Mulder asks.

"Word has it that a new show for the 2004 season is in development -
a team of ghost hunters will be investigating homes that the owners
claim are haunted."

"Why would anyone watch something like that?" Scully wonders.
"They're sure to see week after week of nothing. I'm pretty sure
that's the point of that family channel show Scariest Places on Earth
and nothing ever happens on that show."

"Nothing ever happens on any show on the Family Channel," Mulder
mutters.

Wayne ignores Mulder's interruption. "I don't know why, but the test
market suggests that viewers are eager for this sort of thing.
Producers thought we'd cash in early on that."

"Is that show, the ghost hunters one, going to be on the same network
as Jose Chung's, or a different one?" Reed asks.

"I don't think that's been fully hashed out, yet."

"Let's say it isn't," Reed says, "They wouldn't change this show to
parrot that one, would they?"

Wayne holds up his hand when they all start to protest. "That was one
of my first questions to the network execs. They said no, but they
are interested in making a similar show with a team of ghost hunters
of their own if the network doesn't get it. The ratings are too high
on this show to quote mess with what works end quote."

Mulder feels relief, and sees it mirrored on his costars' faces. 'say
Wayne, just how good are our ratings?"

"Um..."

~*~*~

Hoover Building
The Next Day

"Agents. Thank you for coming up here," Skinner says nervously.

Doggett is tempted to exchange a look with Reyes, but doesn't.
Something has obviously alarmed Skinner enough to be polite - Skinner
never thanks them for doing their job like this. He hopes that it is
nothing too awful.

"As of yesterday, there is a slight change of plans involving the
Laurel Canyon case," Skinner says, and both of his agents look at him
expectantly. "Um... it's going to be shelved until the end of the
month, at which time you will be accompanied by a film crew."

Reyes gives him a puzzled smile. "Our case is going to be filmed?"

Skinner shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "Yes."

She does not look less confused by his admission. "Why? Is it some
sort of internal audit to check that we are following procedures?"

"No."

"Then what?"

Skinner sighs. "You will also be accompanied by the cast of Jose
Chung's The Truth is Out There."

"We're what?" Doggett sputters in alarm. "Why on earth is this case
going to be televised? That is the intent, isn't it? There would be
no point to having them there, and filming it otherwise."

"I thought you would enjoy working with Mulder and Scully again,"
Skinner says evasively.

'sir? Is our case going to be the basis of an episode of the TV
show?" Reyes asks plaintively.

Eventually Skinner nods. "The Halloween episode. The live Halloween
episode."

"Oh for God's sake," Doggett mutters. "Back when they agreed to do
the show, Mulder told me that the show's producer is a college friend
of yours. Does he have some sort of dirt on you? Did you go through a
cross-dressing phase, maybe? Accidentally kill a hooker while on
spring break in Bangkok?"

Skinner gives Doggett a look that could burn holes into him.
"Remember yourself, Agent Doggett."

Doggett holds up a hand in a make-peace gesture. "I'm not trying to
be insulting, Sir, I'm just trying to figure out what on earth this
man has done to deserve letting him disrupt the FBI not once, but
twice."

"Don't make mountains out of molehills, Agent Doggett. Being filmed
is no great hardship. I expected both of you to do an exemplary job
anyway, so this should not put any additional pressure on you."

"Have you watched the show?" Reyes asks unexpectedly. "The other
doctor, Mary Green, seems like a reasonable person, but that writer
Aldous Reed..." she breaks off shaking her head.

Doggett jumped in. "Hardly an episode goes by when viewers aren't
left wondering who pissed in his cornflakes."

Reyes nods. "Frankly, Sir, Reed is a di...uh, jerk."

"Be that as many, I'm sure that to trained professionals such as
yourselves can handle one cranky TV personality," Skinner says
dismissively.

Frustrated, Doggett and Reyes admit defeat to themselves. Whatever
Federman has on Skinner must be damn good, is all that Doggett can
conclude.

"The FBI has nothing to hide," Skinner says firmly. "This episode
provides the Bureau an opportunity to display a transparency that the
public often complains is lacking."

'so it's a public relations ploy."

Skinner does not reply to this assertion. "Federman said that you are
welcome to bring your kids, and they can watch with the film crew."

Doggett is not sure that he should thank Skinner for that, but he
does anyway.

~*~*~

The Doggett-Reyes home

When they get back to Doggett's place, his eyes scan the living room,
and he notices just how much of Monica's stuff is already in his
house. Though she has kept up the lease on her apartment, she
practically lives with them anyway. And, the cramming of her
belongings into the space as well only serves to highlight how small
it is. It didn't feel overly spacious when it was just him, Luke, and
Hannah, and now with Gibson and Monica, and a new baby on the way,
his home is beginning to remind him a sardine can.

"We have to move."

"What?" Reyes asks, not privy monologue that has just run through his
mind.

"I was just thinkin' about how small this place is. Made me wonder
about how we're gonna fit buying a house into our schedule."

"We'll manage."

"I sure hope so."

'so are we going to tell them?"

"Tell us what?" Luke asks as he and his brother and sister wander
into the living room as well.

Gibson looks at him. 'she's thinking about Halloween, but that's all
I can figure out."

'stop that!" Reyes looks exasperated. "Am I going to have to think
about brick walls around you?"

Gibson gives her a blank look.

She sighs. "You've never seen Village of the Damned."

"Nope."

Doggett whistles sharply, and everyone looks at him. 'skinner is
making us let the Jose Chung show tape the case we have in
California."

Luke looks impressed. 'so you're gonna be on TV?"

"Yes," Doggett says morosely. 

"You should be psyched. Not everyone gets to be on TV," Luke
admonishes. "And you don't even have to eat bugs to do it."

"That's it. Nobody in this house is watching Fear Factor anymore."

"Aww!" All three of the kids groan, though only Hannah thinks he is
serious.

"When? When are you going to be on TV?" Doggett's daughter asks.

"Halloween night," Reyes tells her.

"And you are coming with us," Doggett tells them. "The producer said
that you guys can watch with the tech people."

"Cool!" Gibson exclaims with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

"Well, at least somebody's happy about this." Doggett looks sour
still, so Reyes gives his arm a squeeze.

~*~*~

Mulder-Scully Home
October 31st, 2003
7 a.m.

Sammy follows Mulder from room to room as Mulder raids both the
laundry room and his closet for clothes. His oldest son has kept up a
steady stream of objections about his parents leaving.

"But what about trick-or-treating?" 

"What about it? Michelle and grandma Teena are going to take you."
Mulder is still surprised by his mother's offer, but grateful. "Just
because Mom and I aren't going to be here doesn't mean that you won't
have fun. You had fun last year, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but that was different," Sammy insists. "Won't Zoe and Brianna
be sad that you're not here for their birthday?"

'sammy, your sisters are a year old. They have no idea of that
today's their birthday. It's not going to bother them at all that
were not going to celebrate their birthday until this weekend,"
Mulder does not add that it does bother Scully. That's no way to win
an argument with a determined eight-year-old. "In fact, they will
have more fun this weekend when mom and I have the whole day home,
unlike just at night we would have had if we'd gone to work as usual
today."

"But Dad!"

"Look, Kiddo. You are old enough to understand now that we have
certain obligations for work. We don't work for fun, we work because
we like to have things like heat, and food. I think you and your
siblings enjoy those sorts of things too."

"Yeah..." Sammy admits.

Mulder gives him a hug. "We should be home before you wake up
tomorrow. Your grandmother said she will check your candy for you, so
you can have some before bed. And, you can all stay up until the show
is over."

"Even William?"

"Even William. I doubt he'll care about the show, but he can stay up
too."

"And can we call our aunts' houses to see if our cousins can stay up
and watch too?" Sammy wheedles.

"If you do it right after school. I don't want you calling while
Missy or Samantha's families are having dinner."

"Good," Sammy gives his father a sidelong look. "Can you wake me up
when you get home? So I know your flight went good?"

Mulder stares at him for a second, comprehension dawning on him. He
and Scully have to break themselves up the habit of watching the news
when the kids are around. Sammy and April had been pretty broken up
after seeing a report about the plane crash a few weeks earlier.

"I will wake you up," Mulder promises.

"Okay."

Sammy doesn't look relieved, but at least he allows Mulder to finish
packing and gets off to the bus stop with his sisters.

~*~*~

Laurel Canyon, California
6:40 p.m. PST/ 9:40 p.m. EST

Although the producers of the Jose Chung show offered to provide the
technical support team a trailer, the man in charge, Dave Holt,
insisted that it would be better to just set up on the grounds, where
they would have more room than in a cramped vehicle.

It is in Dave's care that Doggett's children are left. Dave likes
children, so he has enjoyed showing the three of them the monitors.
He jabs a thick finger at another one of the monitors. "And that is
the Houdini Museum in Scranton. We have a live feed from there, so we
will be able to check in on the séance periodically."

'so there's another film crew there too, right?" Luke asks with
interest.

"Yup, but I'm the man who gets their feed onto the air too."

"Neat," Hannah says, though she is not actually paying attention to
the conversation. Instead her eyes are fixed on the shiny equipment
in front of them. Gibson keeps putting his hand out to keep her from
touching things.

"The nice thing about the séance is that they agreed to hold it at
ten this year," Dave tells them. "I don't know what time they usually
have it, but I'm pretty sure it's not at ten."

"Maybe they hold it at twelve," Hannah suggests. "'cause that's the
witching hour. But Luke do they have a ghosting hour?"

"Not that I know of."

Gibson looks at the burly tech supervisor. "Our dad thinks that Wayne
Federman has a lot of dirt on people, and that's why he gets them to
do what he wants. Is that true?"

Dave gives a surprise guffaw of laughter. "If it was, do you think
I'd be admitting it?"

"Just so you know, he reads minds," Hannah tells the tech supervisor.


"Okay..." Dave replies, obviously humoring her. "Let's see if we can
figure out where your folks are. We're going to begin airing in 20
minutes, so I am sure they are just about in place."

 ~*~*~

Scranton, PA
The Houdini Museum
6:59 PM PST/9:59 PM EST
 
In two time zones, the floor director in Pennsylvania, after briefly
relaying Dave's last-minute orders, gives the countdown in everyone's
earphones, 'And we're live in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five,
four, three,' and abruptly cuts off. Mulder, Scully, and Dr. Mary
Green give each other a brief look before Wayne Federman smiles
broadly for the camera as he stands on the relatively small stage,
red curtain and all behind him. 'Welcome to the Spooktacular
Halloween edition of 'Jose Chung's The Truth is Out There'. I'm Wayne
Federman, your host. Tonight, we're spotlighting a very special
guest, one we hope will give us the pleasure of his presence.

"To ensure the sighting of our elusive guest, we're even having a
live broadcast in two locations, in fact. And if you haven't been
paying attention to the TV ads these past couple of weeks, allow me
to enlighten you as to our guest: Mr. Harry Houdini!'

There's a smattering of applause, mainly from the regular séance
attendees.

'And in case you've been living under a rock, or aren't familiar with
American pop history, Harry Houdini was the greatest magician and
escape artist who ever lived, as you can see by the various displays
here that he escaped from,' he waves a hand around the room, which
has been lit up like a Christmas tree for this exact purpose.
 
Wayne pauses in front of a framed portrait of Harry Houdini, and the
scene switches to a second camera focused on the enlarged black and
white photograph. 'Like many entertainers, Harry Houdini wasn't his
real name, it was Ehrich Weiss, and because of his admiration for the
great magician Jean Eugene Robert-Houdin, whom he named himself
after, one could say he escaped living the life a relatively normal
man.' He smiles, and the main camera's back on him. 'The thing is,
after his mother passed away, he, like so many others during his time
and ours, sought to contact her. But he found the mediums to be using
the same types of tricks he used for his shows, so he made another
career out of debunking them. Still, Houdini figured that, out of
anyone, he would be the one to escape the silence of the afterlife
and pass a message on to his wife Bess.
 
'Thanks to Bess, we all know Houdini's last message, a code, really,
from their stage days: 'Rosabelle- answer- tell- pray, answer- look-
tell- answer, answer- tell'. Basically, what he meant to say was,
'Believe', which is what we are asking you to do, with the help of
our friends at The Houdini Museum in Scranton, Pennsylvania.' He
turns to a middle-aged blonde woman, 'Thank you for allowing us to be
a part of this, Dorothy Dietrich.' Dietrich nods, murmuring her
thanks and shaking his hand.

'And you in the television audience are already familiar with our
panel, Fox Mulder, Dr. Dana Scully, and Dr. Mary Green.' The three
regulars nod at the camera with the large '3' on it.
 
'We won't be hosting the séance, or test, as Houdini's wife would
call it, in this room. Instead, we will be holding it in a more,
shall we say, cosy room?' Wayne looks at Dorothy, who smiles a little
and nods. 'In fact, we'll be holding it where The Houdini Museum
always hosts their séances, in a room full of Houdini's memorabilia
and posters, is that correct?' he turns to the blonde woman, who nods
again. 'And if you're not familiar with the lovely Ms. Dietrich,
she's quite a formidable magician in her own right, performing stunts
even Houdini hadn't attempted.'
 
Dorothy tilts her head, which doesn't dislodge the long blonde
ponytail from her left shoulder. 'Well, just a couple, really,' she
says modestly, 'but after starting out doing magic tricks with
animals, most people know me as the woman who escapes from
straitjackets, catches bullets or saws men in half.'
 
'Whoa, remind me to be on your good side,' Wayne jokes, while Mulder
smiles unrepentantly. 'And you've been doing these séances on
Halloween?'
 
She nods. 'Well, this was the day Houdini died, and Bess Houdini
thought it only fitting. Of course, when the tenth séance failed, she
declared, 'Ten years is long enough to wait for any man!' and stopped
them. But she did ask her friend and magician William Gibson to
continue the tradition, and before Will died, he asked me to carry
on. It used to be held in New York over at the Magic Towne House
where Houdini used to perform, but I figured that location shouldn't
affect where one could summon the great escape artist, so I moved it
here. But I also hear that Houdini's ghost has made an appearance at
his old California mansion?' she raises an eyebrow.
 
Wayne nods, smiling. 'And that's why we're hosting the Halloween
edition of the Jose Chung show in two locations tonight. It's
possible that the clever escape artist could make himself known here
or,' he pauses, and the camera zooms in, 'in the very home where he
used to reside, and the ruins in which people claim to have sighted
the great Houdini. Find out along with us tonight if he should appear
here, or there.' His smile grows wider. 'In fact, I think we should
have a look at what actual FBI agents are investigating over in
Laurel Canyon, California.' He puts his hand to his ear. 'Agent
Reyes, can you hear me?'
 
~*~*~

Houdini's Mansion
Laurel Canyon, CA
7:15 PM PST/10:15 PM EST
 
There's a slight delay, but the brunette agent, almost blending in
with the background, replies. 'Loud and clear,' Reyes says, and the
camera goes from a close-up to a wide pan of the area. It appears
she's accompanied by a couple of camera men and a couple of scowling
men, one who somewhat resembles the second Terminator in a suit and
tie, while the other is dressed like a stereotypical professor. From
the artificial lights of the road and the camera crew, the ruins of
the Houdini mansion look less like the remains of a house and more
like a giant abandoned play set, with the servant's quarters standing
in solitary gloom.
 
'Seen anything unusual yet?' Wayne says to a small TV monitor with
the California feed, although the audience only sees Agent Reyes.
 
The brunette woman smiles and shrugs. 'I wish,' she says, 'so far,
just curious people wanting to know why the cameras are out here and
if they can be on TV, too.'
 
'Whoa-ho-ho oh-no, sorry, no can do, Miss FBI, legal stuff and all
that,' the host says, lapsing into his usual Wayne-speak for a
moment. 'So tell me, how exactly is it that the FBI is investigating
the case of a man who's supposed to be decades dead?'
 
'Yes, perhaps you'd like to enlighten us taxpayers as to which drain
our money goes,' Aldous Reed says snidely.
 
To both Aldous' and Reyes' surprise, it's Doggett who answers.
'There've been so-called sightings around here for quite some time,
in spite of the place being deserted for decades. But recently, there
have been reports of would-be poltergeist activity around the area.
If it turns out to be some drunk teens, that's fine with me.' He
sighs, his eyes constantly scanning the premises, a carry-over from
both the Gulf War and being a beat cop in New York. 'But people have
gotten injured, especially since it's been bricks from the ruins.
It's possible with all the lights and cameras that we've scared off
the perpetrators, but if not,' and he slides his eyes over at Reed,
'you can deal with the consequences, can't you? After all, I don't
wanna waste taxpayers' money trying to evict a something like a
ghost.' And he turns away abruptly and walks off, not wanting to
waste either time or breath on the show's resident skeptic.
 
Reyes blinks, then smiles at the camera. 'What he said,' she says.
'It seems someone or something chooses his targets indiscriminately,
whether its locals or tourists, male or female, young or old, makes
no difference. The latest victim was a twenty-something tourist
couple driving by in a convertible, top down, of course.' She shakes
her head. 'We've set traps to try and catch the perpetrator in the
act, but so far, no luck.' Now she looks around. 'Like Agent Doggett
said, it's possible that our presence, with or without the cameras,
has spooked the spook, so to speak.'
 
'Agent Reyes, if I may,' Wayne interjects, and the scene goes back to
the Pennsylvania location, 'are you a believer? In the supernatural,
I mean?'
 
The director switches the feed back to California for her reply. She
smiles warmly. 'I believe in keeping an open mind, don't you?' she
says. 'After all, Houdini himself said, 'Magic is the sole science
not accepted by scientists, because they can't understand it.' And if
science can't explain everything, what can?'
 
'Not another loony-tunes believer,' Aldous groans. 'No wonder they
put me out here in the middle of nowhere.'
 
The camera crew roll their eyes but keep their cameras steady, so
well accustomed to the skeptic's theatrics. 'You're not in the middle
of nowhere, you're in California, and a somewhat well-traveled part
of it, judging by the constant traffic,' Reyes corrects him. 'And you
know, you're a believer, too.'
 
The skeptic looks positively scandalized by her accusation. 'I most
certainly am not,' he hisses.
 
She shakes her head, trying not to smile too widely when she realizes
that, even though he's not looking, Doggett's paying attention to the
conversation. 'I can definitively prove that you take something very
important on faith, rather than on your five senses.'
 
Reed lifts his chin, such as it is. 'Oh?'
 
'Your safety,' she says, her tone deceptively even.
 
'My safety?' Aldous repeats after a beat, a trifle higher than he
would've liked.
 
And now she smiles. 'You assume that because you're on national
television, that nothing would happen to you, correct? Yet you take
it on faith,' she emphasizes the word, 'that these camera men would
drop their equipment to help you, or that Agent Doggett and I would
protect you. But that could just be an assumption, based on the fact
that we are professionals in our respective fields, and not, say,
people who simply like to waste taxpayer money.' And she shrugs.
'Like I said, it's something you have to take on faith, since you've
never met Agent Doggett or me before, and you don't know how the
camera crew will react in a life-threatening situation. But don't
worry, we'd never let anything happen to you. Well, we'd /try/ not
to,' and out of Reed's sight, she winks at the camera.
 
It's at this point that Dave switches over to the commercial break
before the other FBI agent can join in taunting the skeptic on a
live, nationally-televised broadcast, no matter how entertaining that
would be. After all, it's the commercials that pay the bills, not the
verbal take-down of a pompous jerk.
 
~*~*~
 
The Mulder and Scully home
7:26 PM PST/10:26 PM EST
 
Most of the kids are miraculously asleep by this time, in spite of
all the Halloween goodies they've amassed. Perhaps it's because Teena
Mulder insisted they pick their 'most favorite candy' and save the
rest until their parents come back, and asked them to drink the warm
cider she made especially for them while they told her their scariest
stories and favorite costumes they wore.

Michelle, for her part, thought the woman was rather canny, in spite
of her rare visitations. "Okay, David and Jared are tucked in," she
tells the grandmother, who smiles and nods.
 
"Gramma Teena, how come Mommy and Daddy aren't with Uncle John and
Aunty Monica? Wouldn't that make more sense?" Page asks.
 
"Maybe," the white-haired woman answers, "but you'll notice that
there's quite a lot of people with your parents' friends. I'm sure
too many would scare off whoever they're trying to catch." She
doesn't mention Mulder telling her that Wayne decided at the last
moment that most of them ought to go to the museum instead to avoid
Reed's inevitable temper tantrums.
 
"Yeah, but they're stuck with that meanie," the little blonde girl
scowls. "If Mommy and Daddy were there, they'd catch the bad guys in
no time."
 
Teena Mulder smiles in the faith her granddaughter has in her
parents. "Well, I think your 'aunt' and 'uncle' want to catch the bad
guy by themselves, and they should be allowed to do that, right?"
 
Page opens her mouth to protest, then nods. "Yeah, I guess." Then she
says, 'sammy, do you-" But her question dies when she sees her
younger brother asleep on the floor, facing the TV. "I can't believe
he's sleeping, he's the one who wanted to watch Mommy and Daddy the
most," she declares.
 
"Then perhaps it's a good thing we're recording this program," Teena
says, looking at the nanny, who nods. It's a good thing the nanny had
the foresight to set up the machine, even after all this time and
Fox's repeated efforts, she still hadn't quite gotten the hang of it.
"He can watch it with your parents when they come home."
 
"That's okay, because this part's boring," April says, the only other
sibling awake. "They're just patting them down like they do on cop
shows."
 
Now Page turns back to the TV. "Why? They're not the bad guys!'
 
~*~*~
 
The Houdini Museum
7:31 PM PST/10:31 PM EST
 
Before going into the room where the séance is to be held, the host,
panelists and even the camera crew, undergo a rather thorough search
that's only mildly less invasive than a full-body strip and cavity
search (they are on national TV, after all). "Thorough, aren't you?"
Wayne cracks as Mulder rolls his eyes.

After that, they are squished into a room that can only be described
as a trophy room, and when they see how cramped it is, what with some
former escape devices and personal items filling up nearly every
space but the middle, they realize that's why the "live audience
members" can only watch from the monitors in the stage room. There
are no windows, but there are countless framed posters of Houdini and
his previous performances.
 
The lenient skeptic looks up at one of the posters which declares,
"Do Spirits Return? Houdini says NO - and Proves It!" Mary asks
Dorothy, "I understand you debunk mediums yourself, especially when
they concern Houdini. So why hold a séance? Isn't that like a
contradiction?"
 
Mulder and Scully are also curious about Dorothy's answer. The blonde
woman smiles. "Actually, no. In fact, when Houdini was starting out
as a magician, he'd hold séances as entertainment. It was only after
finding the mediums were doing the same kinds of tricks he was that
he became disillusioned with contacting the afterlife. However, as a
magician and performer, it's quite satisfying to host a séance
regardless of your personal beliefs. Besides, you never know if
Houdini might actually show up, right?"
 
Wayne nods. "Which is why I wanted all of us to experience this test
with Dorothy Dietrich, since she'll be bringing both a magician's and
a skeptic's perspective to this."
 
'so have you never experienced the supernatural?" Mulder asks,
curious.
 
The blonde gives him a weary but understanding smile. "I guess,
having seen every trick in the book, I'm just waiting for someone or
something to surprise me one day. So far, I haven't been surprised."
 
"Trust me, sooner or later, you'll probably run into something
that'll surprise you. God knows being around this man certainly did,"
Scully says, heartfelt.
 
'scully, are you trying to change this show's rating from a TV PG to
a TV MA in one night? You saucy girl, you," he chuckles, while Scully
rolls her eyes and Mary sighs.
 
"Anyone ever tell you what a cute couple you are?" Dorothy grins.
 
Mulder hugs his wife to his side, while she's got a miffed-cat look
on her face. "Not enough." He smiles.
 
"Kids, kids, behave yourselves," Wayne says, in his usual, somewhat
vaudeville barker-like delivery, "we"re in front of ladies."
 
"Darn tootin"," Dorothy agrees. "Any more questions, Mary?"
 
"How on earth can you hold séances in here?" Mary says, half-smiling.
"There's barely enough room for us here, I can't imagine what it's
like with your regular crowds."
 
"Ah, well, that's the beauty of this place." The blonde woman nods.
"It forces you to have a more intimate venue, and in a way, it makes
the séance much more effective than if we had it in someplace like
the stage room. I suppose it's like what people performing at
coffeehouses rather than stadiums have, there's more of a connection
with the audience."
 
"You"re not spilling any trade secrets, are you, Dorothy?" Wayne
jokes.
 
"Of course not," Dorothy replies, smiling. "I'm sure with your
background, you would"ve noticed the difference immediately."
 
While Wayne puffs up with pride, the camera crew have finished their
preparations, one camera man constantly filming the conversation
while the other two have set up the infrared cameras. "We"re ready,"
the man on camera one says.
 
"Thanks, Jerry." Wayne nods. "Ready?" he asks Dorothy.
 
The middle-aged blonde nods, then looks at each of the participants.
"Okay, a few ground rules before we start. I want you to stand in
more of a circle and hold hands with the person next to you. And
Jerry, could you turn off all the lights except for the light above
and dim that?" The camera man nods, shutting off the portable lights,
leaving only the simple chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and the
other camera men turn on the infrared cameras. "As much as possible,
I want you all to be silent. And don't let go of the other person, no
matter what." Mary raises her eyebrows at this, but says nothing.
 
As they stand, since there's no room for chairs, Mary's holding
Dorothy's right hand, while Mulder is to Dorothy's left, and Scully
is on his left, with Wayne on her left, and Mary on his left.
 
"All right," Dorothy looks to her left, then to her right, then
closes her eyes. With that nonverbal cue, everyone pays attention. In
a clear, strong voice, she calls out, "Mr. Harry Houdini, this is
Dorothy Dietrich! I call upon you to give us a sign, a message, even
an appearance, if you"re able!"
 
Mary shakes her head, while Scully is simply observing the procedure,
and Mulder is enjoying himself. Wayne, for his part, is looking
around, as if expecting something to happen.
 
Dorothy, however, simply nods. "Harry," she says in her carrying
voice, and it's obvious she's had years of performing on stage rather
than on camera because there's really no need to project in such a
small space, "I know you"re there. I know you"re listening. I know
you can't help but be curious, on this night of all nights. And I
know that, consummate showman that you are, you want to appear. Give
us a sign, Harry, give us a sign." And she bends her head slightly
downward, as if listening from someone higher than herself. And
everyone starts to strain their eyes and ears for something, even a
whisper or a moving shadow.
 
Then the magician's eyes fly open, startling Mary. "Harry!" Dorothy
barks, making some audience members jump, her command a surprise
after the seemingly-endless silence. "You think I don't know who I'm
talking to? Fine!" And with that, the panelists begin to levitate,
making them, including Wayne, squeak with surprise and a little fear.

Both Mulder and Scully find themselves double-checking that both Mary
and Mulder are holding Dorothy's hands, and that there's nothing from
the ceiling or floor pulling strings on them, but as per orders,
they"re all holding each other's hands tightly. As Scully looks
around for the source of the upward motion, the panelists settle back
down on the floor, to their relief.

"Come on, Harry, this ought to be duck soup considering where you are
now," Dorothy says, her eyes staring up at the ceiling. "Give us a
sign."
 
Wayne, however, is simply thrilled with the séance, wondering what
will happen next.
 
~*~*~
 
Houdini's Mansion
Laurel Canyon, CA
7:39 PM PST/10:39 PM EST
 
Dave Holt readjusts his headset, then grins. "And we"re live!" he
says, raising a finger, then points at the agents and Gibson turns to
his sister, putting a finger to his lips. And the television audience
comes in the middle of a patented Aldous Reed rant.
 
'shut up," Doggett growls at Aldous, who's going on and on about
poltergeists being an excuse for psychologically immature people.
 
"If you can't make a decent argument, don't tell me to shut up," the
prudish man replies.
 
It's clear the FBI agent has truly lost his patience with this man
and puts his hand over the other man's mouth. "I mean, shut up so I
can hear what's going on, unless you wanna get hit with a brick.
Capiche?" He stares until Aldous nods. "Good." But he waits a few
seconds before removing his hand, then signals Reyes to move to his
side. She nods, and they pull out flashlights and guns in a
well-practiced move, making Aldous considerably more nervous than
before.
 
The boys look at each other and grin. This is pretty much the closest
Luke's been on a case with his father, and being able to watch it
live and on TV is rather surreal, like a videogame. And not unlike a
videogame, Dave's hand-eye coordination is pretty intense, since he
has to keep track of which camera has the best shot to present to the
audience, giving directions every once in a while.

They"ve switched over to infrared quite some time ago, so onscreen,
the agents and panelist look like they glow green in the dark. Still,
in spite of the darkness, Doggett somehow manages to keep tabs on his
partner, the annoying tag-along, and the three camera men and steers
them all where he wants them. Even through the tinny speakers, it's
clear he's in charge, and Dave turns up the volume with a free hand.
 
Then the director pulls off the left side of his headset. "Okay,
they"re far enough so they can't pick us up," Dave says, his eyes
still on the monitors. "Feel free to talk now."
 
"You sure?" Hannah says.
 
"Oh yeah," he says, "otherwise, I'd hear us in the speakers." He taps
the jerry-rigged speakers on the table.
 
'so, are they on the right track?" Luke asks Gibson.
 
Gibson frowns. "I'm not sure, but I think there's something out
there," he mutters.
 
"Where? I don't see anything," Dave says, squinting at the monitors.
"You boys aren't planning a prank on national TV, are you?"
 
"No, no prank," Gibson answers, not wanting to confuse the guy any
more than he has to be tonight. After all, he's got his hands full
with them, plus his regular job, which is catching the action and
putting it onscreen. "What if they can't find the guy and it goes on
longer than an hour?"
 
"Huh? Well, then I guess we'll put an update for next week's show,"
Dave answers, his eyes still on the screens. "But Wayne said your
folks were about ready to wrap up the case, so it shouldn't take
long."
 
"Famous last words," Luke intones, making Hannah giggle.
 
"Ha, ha," Dave says, "kid, don't jinx us."
 
"Oh, the mean man fell down!" Hannah exclaims.
 
Her brothers look at the main monitor, which shows Aldous Reed
looking around, wide-eyed, as if trying to find the person that
tripped him. "Who did that?" he snaps, although his voice is rather
thin.
 
"Just a tree," one of the camera men says, using a penlight to show
the exposed root without killing the infrared.
 
"I knew that," Aldous says, but the kids roll their eyes, and Dave's
fairly sure the audience isn't buying it, either.
 
"Hey, you guys, get a move on," Doggett calls out, and the skeptic
scrambles to his feet and starts running. "No, this way," the agent
corrects him, "just follow our lights."
 
"John, I think I saw something," Reyes says, and the camera guy on
her detail pans around, trying to get a glimpse of what she's talking
about.
 
"I need you to zoom in," Dave says through his headset, and the
camera does so. "I can't see anything, can you?"
 
"No," the camera guy mutters softly.
 
"Okay, zoom out, and put Monica back in a medium shot. Yeah, that's
great." Dave nods, even though the camera man can't see it.
 
"I don't see anything," Hannah frowns. "Can you?"
 
"Nope, but I think Monica's kinda like Gib," Luke says, making his
slightly younger brother roll his eyes.
 
"No, they both have been on the X-Files long enough to know when
they"re not alone," Gibson corrects him. "Even you would, if you were
thrown into a life-endangering situation long and often enough."
 
Luke scowls, then frowns, an odd feeling that isn't quite déjà vu
coming over him. Weird. But brushes it off because Aldous Reed
distracts them by running into a tree and making them laugh.
 
"Hey, do any of you have a spare flashlight Reed can use? Otherwise
people will think we"re filming a comedy," Dave says, but
double-checking the computer to ensure this is all being recorded.
 
"You mean it's not?" Luke grins.
 
"Quiet in the peanut gallery," Dave grumbles, and the teens shrug at
each other. Peanut gallery?
 
But a shriek from the other monitor gets their attention, and Dave
throws the feed to the Scranton location.
 
~*~*~
 
The Houdini Museum.
7:46 PM PST/10:46 PM EST
 
"Mary, are you okay?" Wayne asks, concerned, as the lone chandelier
light comes back on.
 
The woman is pale, but nods, and smiles weakly. "I guess I just got
caught up, is all," she says, after clearing her throat. 'sorry."
 
The blonde woman nods, as if it's to be expected. 'should I try
again?" she asks.
 
Mary nods, more firmly this time. "Yes, please."
 
Dorothy smiles briefly, "All right." And she closes her eyes. "Harry,
I asked politely before, and I'll try it again. Can you give us proof
that it's you? And this time, can you keep the light on?"
 
Mary looks around nervously, Wayne keeps an eye on her, and Scully
keeps her eyes on Dorothy suspiciously, while Mulder looks like he's
having the time of his life. There's a long silence, and then the
light flickers. Dorothy clears her throat meaningfully, and the light
stays on.

Unfortunately, the cameras go wonky, and the audience (and Dave with
the kids) can hear the camera crew yelling as their tiny mounted
monitors wink out, the connection to the sound cuts off temporarily,
and the image flickers. Then the walls shake, and then so does the
floor, like a major earthquake just hit.
 
"Dorothy!" Wayne yells.
 
"It's not me!" she yells back as the chandelier and portable lights
start to flicker. "Well, not this time!"
 
Wayne blinks, then lets go of Scully's hand to put both hands on
Mary's shoulders as she covers her eyes. Scully is getting more
concerned. "Has this ever happened before?" she asks.
 
"No," Dorothy shakes her head, her eyes scanning the area, not unlike
what Doggett was doing half an hour ago in Laurel Canyon. Then she
looks suspiciously at the others, the circle disintegrated now that
Scully's trying to console Mary away from the still-wonky cameras,
Mulder going over to the camera crew and Wayne yelling into his
earpiece at Dave. "First time we"ve ever had an earthquake, but I
guess there's a first time for everything."
 
"That wasn't an earthquake," Wayne says, taking a brief respite from
yelling at his director as Scully escorts Mary out before she has a
complete breakdown on national TV.
 
"What?" she stares at him.
 
The host, who looks frazzled, shrugs wide-eyed. "Dave says there
wasn't an earthquake recorded in that area, only the Houdini Museum
was shaking." Then he goes back to yelling at Dave.
 
The magician, who's simply watching everything go to hell in the
space of a few minutes, sighs. "This is weird," she frowns.
 
Mulder perks up. "What do you mean?"
 
She shakes her head, still frowning. "None of my séances have every
fallen apart like this. But there's gotta be a logical explanation
behind this, I'm sure."
 
"What makes you so sure of that?" he asks.
 
"Because minor flubs are normal, but anything this chaotic," she
waves at the cameras, Wayne yelling, Mary and Scully out in the
hallway, and the camera crew desperately trying to regain control of
their equipment under the flickering lights, 'this is insane."
 
Mulder smiles lopsided. "Well, you asked for a sign," he says.
 
She gives him a no-nonsense look that he'd expect from Scully, not a
magician. "Ha, ha," she says flatly. "In spite of what Wayne said,
I'm pretty sure it was some kind of tremor. And seismic activity has
been known to play havoc with electronics."
 
He blinks. "Wow, guess we didn't need either Scully or Mary, you"re
doing a pretty good job of being a skeptic."
 
Dorothy shrugs as the lights slowly get back to normal, and so do the
cameras. "Like I said, I"ve seen pretty much every trick in the book.
It's a pity we'll probably find the explanation long after this show
stops airing, but I guess that's to be expected when Mother Nature
upsets filming."
 
"For natural causes, it caused quite a ruckus, don't you think?"
Mulder comments as Wayne and the crew tries to reset everything.
 
She chuckles. "You have no idea how often rain or high wind have
cancelled magic shows, Mr. Mulder," she says, "but this is the first
time I"ve gotten interrupted by an earthquake."
 
Mulder shrugs. "I'll let my wife and Mary know what's going on," he
says, and the magician nods.
 
~*~*~
 
Houdini's Mansion
Laurel Canyon, CA
7:52 PM PST/10:52 PM EST
 
"Dammit, dammit, dammit," Dave mutters, between manning the phone,
getting yelled at by Wayne, and trying to operate the switchboard at
the same time. When he sees that camera two's getting a decent wide
shot of the two agents, he says, 'switching to camera two," then
tears off his headset and grabs a cell phone and a ratty sheet of
paper with numbers and names scrawled on it.

Dialing quickly, he gets a local TV news editor over in Scranton and
asks them about earthquakes. When he gets a negative response, he
asks for the weather man (just barely not calling him a "weather
bunny"), who confirms it with scientific backup. After hanging up, he
mutters, 'shit," and pulls the headset back on.

"Wayne, Wayne, dammit, there's no earthquake," he says, "got
confirmation from the local news. Yeah, and Penn State scientists,
you happy?" Then he groans and yells while switching, "Camera one,
you"re on!" Then he sighs, "Fuck."
 
The kids have pretty much figured out, since the cameras went wonky
at the Houdini Museum, that Dave has pretty much forgotten about
them, or he'd watch his language. So the audience has seen, after the
sudden commercial break, the continuing chase scene in Laurel Canyon,
with nary an explanation about the technical malfunction in Scranton.
And so far, the kids doubt the audience will get an explanation at
this rate. "I thought they were getting close," Luke murmurs at one
point.
 
"Yeah," Hannah says, but quietly, because Angry Dave doesn't seem too
safe right now.
 
"Camera three, watch it! Fuck, Steve, get your ass in gear!" the tech
director shouts.
 
Steve mutters, but it's thankfully indistinct to both the audience
and the children. Luke and Gibson look at each other, then at Hannah.
"Come on," Gibson says, taking the little dark-haired girl's hand,
"let's give Dave some breathing room." Hannah nods, and they walk
towards the large van they came in.
 
"You think this is enough breathing room for him?" Luke says, when
they"re out of sight and sound. "Because I'd like to be out of range
when he breathes fire."
 
"He breathes fire, too?" Hannah asks.
 
"Not literally," Gibson groans as Luke chuckles.
 
Then Luke frowns. "It seems they"re going all over the place," he
says, "you sure you can't pick up anything definite out there?"
 
Gibson gives his slightly older brother a look. "You try and pick out
one unfamiliar voice from fifteen," he grumbles, "all chattering at
the same time, some louder than others, and determine if it's the
right voice. I mean, I'm glad the cops are out there sealing off the
area, but their thoughts, along with those who have been trying to
sneak on, are distracting."
 
'sorry," the taller teen shrugs, "I forget sometimes what you get
isn't like one radio station but several at the same time."
 
The bespectacled boy nods, then sighs tiredly. "But I have been
trying. Someone's throwing those bricks, and someone's been hassling
our parents. It just bugs me that I can't figure out where he's
coming from."
 
And then they hear Dave shout, and run back to the table. "What's
happening?" Luke asks.
 
"Holy hell," the director says, awed, but his hands are still moving
from one camera to the next to get the best shot.
 
Then the kids see what he, and the rest of America's looking at. It
looks like a plain, middle-aged woman, in conservative dress,
standing behind the ruins with a disapproving look on her face. A
woman who is glowing without the aid of infrared cameras or any sort
of technological help, thank you. A woman who looks exactly like the
last Bess Houdini. "Who are you?" they hear Doggett call out.
 
The woman gives him a look. "Please leave," she says, in the voice of
one accustomed to speaking on stage, loudly and clearly. And bricks,
rocks and small, loose objects around her start floating. "You are on
private property."
 
"No, ma'am," Doggett corrects her, lowering his gun as he approaches
slowly, but his flashlight's still on her, 'this hasn't been private
property for decades. And I'm afraid you'll have to cease and desist,
or you'll be charged with aggravated assault and petty misdemeanor."
 
The glowing woman raises her eyebrows, then looks at Reyes, who looks
just as determined and armed, as well as the camera crew still
filming away, and at the intellectual who is struck dumb in one of
the few moments of his life. She sighs, then puts her hands up
gracefully, and the various objects drop with audible thuds. "Very
well, but you should tell those hoodlums to stop making a mess of
things. I don't think Harry would appreciate it," she says, sadly
looking at the ruins behind them.
 
"We'll make sure this place is looked after, ma'am," he says
politely, as if he were talking to a flesh-and-blood woman and not
something glowing in the dark. "But you'll have to let us do our jobs
without getting hurt, all right?"
 
"All right," she says, "promise?"
 
Doggett looks at Reyes, who nods. "Promise," he says firmly.
 
The woman gives him a long look, and then a brief nod, as if she
believes him. And in front of two FBI agents, one certified skeptic,
three camera men, one director, two teenaged boys and one girl, and
the rest of America, the ghost of Bess Houdini disappears from view,
and, presumably, from this plane of existence. And then Doggett feels
a yank on his left earlobe. "Don't forget, then, young man," he hears
in his ear, and his eyes widen slightly.
 
He turns his head slowly, looking to his left to see, of course,
nothing. Well, the curious looks from the others, who saw him react
to something, but not really seeing or hearing what it was. Great.
"Guess that wraps it up, then," he says nonchalantly, as if chasing
down ghosts and promising what amounted to a deal with the California
Tourism Bureau and Department of Natural Resources happened all the
time. "Come on, Agent, we"ve got agencies to call and a report to
write." And he turns abruptly away from the cameras and the skeptic,
with Reyes looking mildly amused.
 
"Well, guess it's your show again," the brunette agent says, giving
the still-slightly dumbfounded man a wave before joining her partner
and their kids in the car.
 
"Well, uh," Aldous Reed says, looking at Dave, who smirks and gives
him a thumbs up, 'that's, um, that's it for "Jose Chung's The Truth
is Out There"." He pauses, and Dave makes a rolling motion with his
hands to get him to continue. "Uh, thanks for joining us," he says,
as it's obvious that he's still gathering himself from the shock,
"have a good night. And, uh, Halloween." And he stops, since it seems
he's run out of words to say.
 
Dave grins as he fades out from camera one and plays the outtro video
to the show. He's so going to remix this into the best bloopers reel
for their Christmas party.
 
~*~*~
 
The X-Files Office
November 2, 2003
 
All the calls have been made, all the paperwork signed, the case is
finally finished, and the Houdini Museum is now on the California
State Parks and Recreation list for upkeep and security. Another good
note: Wayne Federman was only too happy to have a ghost on one
segment of the show (even if it wasn't Harry's) and decided not to
either bug the FBI agents further or sue the Penn State scientists
for screwing up their initial findings. "It's too bad that it was
just a seismic event," Reyes says regretfully, pushing the file
drawer closed. "It would"ve made such a great story for the Houdini
Museum."
 
Doggett shakes his head, but he's smiling. "I think there was more
than enough weirdness for that show," he says, "but I'm sure that
magician will make the most of that séance."
 
Reyes looks at the wrinkled five dollar bill in her hand. "I can't
believe the boys were betting on our case," she says, "although I
have to say I was relieved when even Gibson couldn't figure it out
before we did."
 
"I can't believe we had to figure it out on TV," he says, "but it was
also the drunk teens" fault, so part of that five's mine."
 
She sticks her tongue out. "No, this is going to the down payment for
our new house," she says, waving the dollar bill.
 
He rolls his eyes. "In which case, we'd better get a crooked real
estate agent, if that's all we have to work with," he jokes.
 
"John!" Reyes tries to scold him, but she's smiling, ruining the
effect. "You know, maybe we should take a cue from Mulder and the
Houdinis when we get a new house."
 
"What do you mean?" Doggett says, confused.
 
She smiles and sits on the desk. "I mean, getting a haunted house.
Ghosts are rather effective intruder repellents, more so than most
security systems."
 
He groans. "Usually, most people look for enough bedrooms and
bathrooms for their homes, decent wiring and plumbing," he sighs.
"Not ghosts."
 
Reyes" smile doesn't dim. "Well, maybe we could have a brownie
instead, they could help with the housework," she teases him, "or
perhaps set up a geis to protect the children--"
 
Doggett grabs her for a quick kiss before she makes any more
suggestions. "Let's start with the necessary stuff first," he says
when they break their kiss, 'don't worry about anything else."
 
"Okay." Reyes nods, "but if we get a brownie, I call dibs."
 
He gives her a look. "Then the kids would be too spoiled to move out
of the house, and then how are we gonna kick "em out?" he says,
straight-faced.
 
'see? I knew there was a reason why I love you," she says, pulling
him in for another kiss.

~*~*~

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Six
"The Last Case"


Sunday Park
November 12, 2003
12:09 PM

It's a gorgeous day in Webber, Georgia, with lovers scattered about
the park. It's not surprising, because it's a beautiful, pristine
park on the edge of a sprawling southern metropolis, and it's the
closest place for a mid-day break for most everyone with a car. Young
families are picnicking, college kids are playing Frisbee and hooky,
and everyone pretends that spring is in the air in the middle of
fall.

One couple in particular are standing on a bridge spanning the lake
in the middle of the park. "It's hard to believe such a depressing
rumor when we're in such a lovely place," the young woman says, her
hands on the white-painted metal railing as she stares out at the
scenery.

Her paramour smiles, his hand next to hers, his dark eyes likewise on
the scenery. "I think it's reverse psychology," he says, "to
encourage more daring couples to break the so-called curse."

The young woman looks up at her lover, who is more than twice her
age. "Perhaps we could be that couple," she says.

"Perhaps," he agrees, turning to her when he sees her head movement,
"after all, statistically, couples are bound to break up sooner or
later, no matter where their second date is."

 

"Perhaps." She smiles, her eyes on the lilies floating gracefully on
the surface of the lake. "It's not like there's any proof that
couples don't survive their second date here."
 
They smile at each other, and drink warm coffee from their covered
paper cups. Neither are holding hands, nor are they obviously
intimate, but being able to be in such a public place and ignored is
a forbidden luxury they feel they can afford, especially if they're
flaunting the so-called Second Date Curse of Sunday Park

~*~*~
 
Arlington, VA.
1:27 p.m. 

"Your family changes every time I see you," Helen Kosaki, the elderly
but energetic real estate agent comments. "Is there something I
should know?"

Reyes smiles weakly. She's on vacation, enforced partly by Skinner
but mostly by her family because she was driving them nuts with the
constant house-shopping. "I know women like shopping, but this is
ridiculous," Doggett had grumbled a couple of nights ago, "please,
for your kids' sake and mine, I think you should take some vacation
time and find the house yourself."

Reyes had made a face at him. "You know I don't like shopping that
much, I just want what's best for us."

He'd given her a look. "Okay, gender stereotypes aside, you're still
pretty picky. I mean, we could live in any of those houses we've
seen, I just don't get what's wrong with them, but you do. So you
pick out our next house, okay?"

"But--," Reyes had protested. 

"No buts," Doggett had interrupted before she could fully form an
argument, holding her arms gently. "I'll consider this prep time for
when you're actually on maternity leave in two or three months and
you can consider this, I dunno, whatever you want to. I don't think
this family can handle looking through twenty houses each week after
school and work, is all I'm saying."

And when she saw Hannah softly snoring on the couch and the boys
looking like they've gone through the Trail of Tears, she reluctantly
agreed with her partner. "Okay, but if will you still feel the same
if I get a haunted house?"

He'd rolled his eyes before kissing her. "I love you, Mon," he'd
grinned, "you're officially on vacation."

And that's how she ended up looking for a new family home by herself.
Well, mostly, if one's not counting Scully, William, Zoe and Brianna
along for the ride. "These are my friends," she shrugs, giving Helen
the short answer. "I'm on vacation."

The short Asian lady with dyed red hair nods. "Yeah, that's what I
figured," she says with no ill will. "Come on, I've got about five
houses on the list today."

"Bring them on." Reyes smiles as Scully raises her eyebrows. 

"Five?" Scully repeats in an undertone as the real estate agent
unlocks the door. "I know this is a buyer's market, but this is
crazy."

Her brunette friend smiles again. "Well, they all look so good, but
none of them really jump out at me, you know? In a way, you and
Mulder are lucky, because not only get you get a great house with no
mortgage, but it's got ghosts as well."

The short redhead sighs. "That wasn't exactly what I was looking for,
but it did turn out okay." She smiles in spite of herself.

 

"And that's what I'm looking for," Reyes says. "Okay, maybe not a
haunted house, although that would be cool, but something out of the
ordinary." She tilts her head at the open door. "Maybe this could be
the one."
 
"Maybe." Scully nods agreeably, and they walk inside. 

~*~*~ 

November 13, 20038:17 a.m.

 "Look, Agent Doggett!" the replacement agent says brightly, holding
up a 402. "An X-File!"

Doggett blinks, then takes a long, slow sip of coffee before
answering. "Morning, Agent Harrison," he says to the blonde woman.
Maybe he should've pressured Krycek harder to accept the job, but
when the former agent/former double agent/sometime good guy told him
with a crooked smile, "I won't leave you any bad guys to catch," he'd
taken the hint. Even Mulder had told him they'd barely survived each
other's company while tracking down his father's killers because of
their shared fear for their families and hatred for the Syndicate.
Anything less, and the former X-File head said that Krycek would
likely go rogue. "What's it this time?"

 
"Director Skinner said this was top priority," she says, "he told me
to tell you first thing."
 
Doggett blinks again, then takes the file from her. Guess the early
bird does get the worm, he thinks to himself, or something nasty in
its mouth. Skimming the contents, his forehead creases, then sighs.
"This is gonna get ugly," he tells her, "just do what I tell you, and
no theorizing out loud, got it?"

Now Agent Harrison blinks. "What do you mean?" 

He opens the folder. "Did you read this?" he says. 

She nods, her blue eyes wide. "Yeah, it says that there's someone
or," she pauses dramatically, 'some-THING at the park killing off
couples."

"Did you happen to notice the latest couple killed off was a married
mayor and his secretary?" he asks, and isn't surprised by her shocked
reaction. Figures. "Like I said, this is gonna get ugly, especially
since it's political. I'm just surprised Skinner wants us on the case
and not someone in Georgia."

She moves the ghastly photos aside and points to a paragraph. "Did
you notice there was a curse on the park?" she says.

The head of the X-Files Division gives the rookie agent a level look,
and moves the pictures back in front of her face. "Did you notice all
these victims have something in common?" he says.

She stares at them, then at him and nods. "They all drowned," she
says.

"Wrong," he corrects her, "they were pulled from the water, but they
were all killed beforehand. It's no curse killing off these people,
it's a sicko."

Her wide-eyed gaze is still on him. "But that sicko could be working
with the curse," she says.

Oh, brother, Doggett thinks. "Like I said, keep your theories to
yourself. Once we're in the field, it's likely the media will try to
spin whatever crazy stories they can without thinking about the
consequences, especially for our investigation. Do not, I repeat, do
NOT say anything to them regarding this case, got it?" He waits until
she nods. "Because the local media's already rabid over the story of
a mayor killed with his secret lover, we at the FBI do NOT want to
give them any more tabloid filler. Even if it's local law
enforcement, do NOT say anything unless it goes by me first, got it?"
 
She nods again. "But Agent Doggett, what if--?" 

He holds his hand up. "Agent, when I tell you to do something,
please, just do it," he says. "Would it kill you to listen to your
supervisor?" he says, unconsciously echoing something Skinner's said
to Mulder countless times.
 
She opens her mouth, then shuts it. And when he thinks he's gotten
through to her, she says, "Only if it follows the curse."

And now he groans. 

~*~*~ 

Doggett's current home.
7:41 PM
 
The kids are already digging in at the dinner table when the grownups
join them. "That sounds like fun," Reyes remarks, since Doggett
briefed her on the new case in the kitchen.

He sighs, sitting down and helping himself to the gravy. "I know
field agents get different training than, say, accountants, but I
thought the FBI only hired the best," he grumbles. "There's nothing
fun about trying to solve a case while babysitting your partner at
the same time."

"Babies work at your job?" Hannah asks innocently. 

"They might as well," Doggett mutters darkly, then makes a face when
Reyes nudges him. "Uh, no, sweetie, they don't. It's just that
Daddy's new partner doesn't have…" he pauses, trying to think of
something politic, then gives up, "common sense."

"Oh, okay," his little girl says, easily mollified.
 
Gibson glances up at his father, then swallows his bite of chicken.
"It can't be all that bad," he says. "I mean, she can't be a complete
airhead if she's an accountant."
 
"Hey, no fair," Luke makes a face, "you're cheating." 

"It's not cheating, it's mental harassment," his brother sighs, "he's
practically screaming in my head."

'sorry, Gib," Doggett says. 

The bespectacled boy makes a face. "That's not helping," he says,
"you can stop thinking country music now."

"But it's so much fun." Doggett grins, and Luke grins back, while
Reyes rolls her eyes.

Without warning, Gibson jumps up from his seat and grabs Doggett's
head, giving it a good noogie. "No more country music!" he yells,
making his siblings laugh.

Doggett's face is scrunched up as he takes the noogie. "You do
realize I was a Navy Seal," he says, "you might wanna watch out."

Gibson starts to move behind the chair, making sure to have a good
grasp of his father's head. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Doggett says, and with surprising speed and strength, grabs
the boy and starts tickling him.

"Aw, come on!" Gibson howls, laughing in spite of himself. 

Luke goggles at the scene. "Wow, Dad got him," he shakes his head,
then races around the table to try and tickle his father to free his
brother.

"I got the hide of a gator." Doggett grins, tickling both Gibson and
Luke now, "I ain't ticklish."

"Oh, yeah?" Reyes says, and wiggles her fingers to join Luke's
now-thwarted efforts. "Let's see about that."

"Ah, help, come on!" Gibson gasps in between laughter, making Hannah
laugh hard.

"Will do." Reyes grins, and grabs Doggett's inner thigh under her
wriggling son. "Gotcha!"

Doggett yelps, practically throwing off Gibson. "Hey!" he glares at
the audacity of his wife, er, partner. "Monica!"

She smiles as the boys recover. "Oh, I'm not supposed to use my
powers for good?" she asks innocently.

"That wasn't good," Doggett mutters, studiously not looking at his
sons' smirks as they go back to their seats.

"Yeah-huh, it was," Hannah disagrees. "You got Gib an' Luke, and she
got you back."

'see?" Reyes smiles, tilting her head at her daughter. "Even Hannah
knows better than to mess with Mommy powers."

Doggett starts to dig into his meal again as a diversion. "There's no
such thing as Mommy powers," he says, trying to protect his pride and
what's left of his dignity, "you just got lucky."

She shrugs a little, saying nothing as she butters her roll. 'so you
say, but you might not get so lucky tonight," she says before popping
the roll into her mouth.

"Oh, sweetie, you're right, it was Mommy powers," Doggett says
quickly, taking the fork off her plate and filling it with potatoes
and peas, throwing pride and dignity out the window. "You're
absolutely right."

Reyes swallows what he offers, but doesn't look mollified. "You
seemed pretty sure of yourself before," she argues.

"Oh, no, I was totally wrong," Doggett says, giving her water, then
proffering the drumstick. Only his sons notice that his right hand's
above the table, while his left hand is… they don't want to think
about it, as she takes bite after bite from the drumstick.

To Hannah's confusion, Luke and Gibson finish their supper in record
time, excusing themselves to do homework after that. "You better
finish your veggies, too," Luke tells Hannah.

"Why?" the little girl asks. 

"Because I said so," Reyes answers, but is smiling as she does so, so
Hannah finishes her vegetables as she's told. "Why don't you help
your brothers with their homework?"

"Okay!" she says, and jumps from her seat. 

When the bedroom door closes, Doggett looks at his partner with
admiration. "How did you do that?" he asks, his voice husky since her
hand starts wandering on his thigh.

"Mommy powers." Reyes smiles, 'should I give you a better
demonstration upstairs?"

"Hell, yeah." Doggett grins, and they leave their mostly-finished
dinner behind.

~*~*~ 

Webber Police Station.
November 14, 2003
10:01 PM 

"Just follow my lead," is Doggett's strict instruction once they're
inside the station and away from the nosy press outside, and Leyla,
that is, Agent Harrison, nods eagerly. Doggett stifles the groan. He
knows he should be more patient with her, as he was once a rookie,
but he's fairly sure he'd never been that freakin' green in his life.
Hell, even in basic training, he'd gotten some measure of respect
from his fellow inductees, if not from his drill sergeant. He's been
pretty good about resisting the temptation to give her commands like
his drill sergeants, but since he's sure she'd crumple into tears,
he's refrained from doing so.

Leyla, for her part, is dawdling slightly behind him, her blue eyes
wide, as if she'd never been in a police station before. Well, she
seems like a fairly decent girl, so outside of the FBI, she probably
wouldn't have. "Agent Doggett," she hisses in her high, girlish
voice, "the bodies are already autopsied, right? So why do we have to
look at them?"

He turns around. 'sometimes, the pictures don't capture everything,"
he says, "if it's too much for you, you can wait outside."

She shakes her head, pursing her lips shut, her eyes still wide. No,
wait, that's her normal eye size, never mind.

Doggett nods briskly, then faces front and they reach the end of the
hallway. He pulls out his badge, "Agents Doggett and Harrison with
the FBI, we're here to see the bodies."

The uniform, that is, the cop whose tag reads 'sondheim", says in a
bored voice, "Yeah, they're in there," and unlocks the door behind
him.

They walk in, and while Doggett's back is ramrod straight, Leyla's
posture is a parody of a teenager in a horror movie, until she sees
her supervisor's expression and straightens up. Again, Doggett takes
out his badge, "Agent John Doggett, this is my partner, Agent
Harrison, we're here to see the bodies."

The coroner lifts the right corner of his lip in a half-smile. "Yeah,
yeah, they wouldn't let you in otherwise," he says in a lazy drawl,
"I swear, this has gotta be the biggest thing in Webber since Burt
Reynolds crashed his car in the lightpost next to Bart's Tavern."
Doggett smothers a smirk as Leyla looks confused, but the coroner
ignores them both as he walks over to two tables with covered bodies.
In a well-practiced move, he pulls the sheets off both bodies,
revealing the head and shoulders of a very deceased couple. "Mrs.
Yvonne Jules wanted him cremated immediately, quick burial and
everything, so you can imagine the pressure we're under. Dot's family
pretty much disowned her, so there's no rush on her."

"That's pretty sad," Leyla comments. 

The coroner shrugs. "That's life," he says. 'so, wanna get a better
look at the former mayor?"

Doggett nods before Leyla can say anything, and the two agents are
treated to a full view of the late George Jules, who would look
distinguished in a suit and tie, but now looks like a Halloween
corpse with the Y-incision on his torso sewn up. His gray hair looks
garish under the sparse autopsy room lights, and his skin, bloated
after its soak in the pond, doesn't fare much better. Leyla covers
her mouth and nose with her hands, because the stench from both
bodies is pretty rank. Doggett tries to inhale as little as possible,
but it's still a fairly nasty smell. He points at the head, 'so he
was bludgeoned, strangled, then drowned like the others. The perp
doesn't know the meaning of overkill, does he?"

The coroner does his half-smile again. "The mayor, uh, former mayor,
was pretty lucky. The same happened to Dot Seurat, but since it seems
she put up a bit of a fight, judging by the multiple blunt head
trauma, her skull's more pliable." And he pokes at it to demonstrate,
making the already-nauseous Leyla turn a couple shades more green.

"I'm surprised she wasn't sexually assaulted," Doggett says, "usually
in cases like this, the male gets the brunt of the physical violence,
but the female gets raped. Uh, pardon me," he says to Leyla, who
manages to give him a narrow-eyed look in spite of her queasiness.

"Yeah, well, none of the females were raped. That's something else
that's weird about this," the coroner says.

"What else is weird?" Leyla drops her hands, her eyes wide. 

Oh no, Doggett thinks, please, please don't say ghosts or monsters or
anything. The coroner shakes his head. "Aside from the fact that,
like Mr. Doggett said, they all suffered a case of overkill, nothing
else happened. None of the women got raped, there were no signs of
anything taken, it's like the energy of the kill only went into the
method, which is pretty strenuous. But there's nothing else, no sign
of passion or anything involved." He shrugs again. "The detectives
say if there was some sign of passion involved, it'd be easier to
catch the guy, but I wouldn't know anything about that."

"Oh, that's all," Leyla says, obviously disappointed there's nothing
screaming "freaky" about the case other than the fact that people are
dead. "I thought there'd be something about the curse."

The coroner raises his eyebrows. "You heard about that, too? God,
that's depressing. If Webber was known for anything, I'd hate it to
be a nice little park that people think couples break up at after
their second date."

"But it looks like these couples died after their second date, so
someone must be taking it seriously," Doggett says, surprising his
temporary partner.

"Like I said, it's you and the detectives that have to worry about
that sort of thing. I just try to figure out how they died," the
coroner says.

"Thanks for your help," Doggett shakes the man's hand, and Leyla does
the same. "Hope this is the last of the couples."

The coroner nods as they leave the autopsy room, and the door is
locked behind them.

~*~*~
 
Webber, GA.
November 15, 2003
9:06am 

"Agent Harrison, what the hell are you wearing?" Doggett asks when
they step out of their motel rooms. Breaking time-honored X-Files
tradition (or so it seems), the two agents have separate rooms,
mainly because Leyla knows how to work the budget in her favor.

The agent in question looks at her supervisor questioningly. "What's
wrong with this?" she asks.

Normally, her pink blouse and jeans wouldn't look out of place, but
on the job, it's unprofessional. Doggett gives her a long, level
look. "Do you have anything else in your overnight bag?" he asks.

"Overnight bag?" she repeats. 

Oh, no. Doggett smacks his head, literally. "Yes, overnight bag," he
says between gritted teeth. "I was hoping that huge purse of yours
had more than that for a change of clothes."

"No," she says, 'since we don't know exactly what we're dealing with,
I brought everything I could think of, a crucifix, a wooden stake, a
garland of garlic, silver bullets (they were pricey), holy water,
blessed salt, a gris-gris bag, an axe to cut off heads if it's
zombies--"

"Put that away!" Doggett roars, pushing her and her "weapons" back
into her room. "Good Lord, woman, there's no vampires or zombies or
whatever! Why can't I have a normal partner, for God's sake?"

"Why, don't you carry an all-purpose weapons bag?" Leyla asks
innocently.

Doggett puts a fist to his forehead and rubs it hard, as if to rub
out the insanity that is Leyla Harrison. "No," he answers, "I find
federally-approved bullets to take care of most of the bad guys we
encounter."

"Oh," the young blonde says, surprised, dropping her heavy purse.
"Well, I didn't bring anything else, since I figured we'd solve the
case in a day. That seems to be the usual pace of case solvency."

"Which is nice for the accounting department, but not practical in
real life," Doggett says, still rubbing his forehead, his eyes
tightly closed. "That's why most agents bring an overnight bag with a
few changes of clothes, a laptop, a copy of the case file, and
sometimes extra ammunition." He opens his eyes slowly. "Please tell
me you've got a regular gun in there."

She nods, pulling out her standard-issue Glock. "For the silver
bullets," she says.

He groans. "I'll talk to the friends and family of the deceased,
while you case the park," he says. "Do NOT let them know you're FBI."

"Cool, I get to be undercover!" she smiles brightly. 

"You're not undercover, it's because I don't want the media to know
that we have unprepared agents out in the field," he says bluntly.
"God knows we're still reeling from the aftermath of 9-11, we don't
need to give them any more ammo, even if it's a small city. So no
flashing badges, no identification, got it?"

She sighs, clearly disappointed. "Got it," she says. 

He sighs again, then shakes his head. "Look, is there someone you can
call to bring you some extra clothes?" he asks.

She nods. "My boyfriend Gabe," she says. 

"Good. Call Gabe, and tell him to drive over as fast as he can. And
Agent?"

She pauses, her cell phone out but hasn't dialed yet. "Yes?" 

"Thanks for your enthusiasm, but next time," Doggett sighs. 

She nods. "Overnight bag, got it," and she salutes him smartly and
correctly, which surprises him.

He smiles a little, saluting back. "At ease. And even though it's
daylight, be careful. Okay?"

Leyla smiles briefly. "Okay. Thanks." 

Doggett waves, then leaves as she speed dials her boyfriend. 

~*~*~ 

Doggett finds the rest of the day to be as frustrating as his new
partner, if not more so. From family and friends who can't see past
the tragedy to give anything helpful, which is understandable for
people in general but still maddening for investigators, to others
who revel in the macabre, to yet others who wish to distance
themselves from the whole thing, he finds his job is no easier than
it was than when they first accepted the case. So he finds himself
going back to the Webber Police Station to have a chat with the local
PD and get their feel. After all, it's their town, and they should
know the situation better than he does.

"Oh, it's you," the cop called Lloyd says unenthusiastically. 

"Yeah, it's me," Doggett says, his face devoid of expression as he
checks the others for a read on them. After all, he knows that it's
not fun to have a case yanked out of your hands and have to cooperate
with the new investigators. "What's been happening since the former
mayor died?" He's read the local papers, but he knows that doesn't
always express the local sentiment.

And he would be right. "What do you think?" a bald black man says,
his eyes narrowed. His face is unlined, but his style and gut show
him to be in his mid- to late-forties. "The deputy mayor had to be
sworn in, and it seems she knew even less than the secretary did." He
shakes his head. "Maybe because she wouldn't sleep with him like the
secretary did," and there are some chuckles in the office, even among
the women. "And it's not like we've been sitting on our asses,
either. Ever since Billy Webster and that Elaine woman kicked it,
we've done everything from stakeout to undercover, but we got
nothing. And that the mayor and the secretary died on our watch,
everyone's blaming us." He stares hard at Doggett, as if daring him
to say otherwise.

'sir," Doggett pauses. 

"Lieutenant Redmond, Charles Redmond," the black man says. 

"Lieutenant Redmond," Doggett says, "no one at the FBI is blaming
anyone. We just wanna catch the guy as bad as you. Who's on stakeout
detail?"

Four hands go up. "Officers Morales, Russell, Evans and Daniels,"
Lieutenant Redmond says. "They've been pulled since the deputy mayor
took over."

"And undercover?" Doggett asks. 

The short-haired brunette identified as Officer Daniels says,
"Officers Franz and Frieda Cooke. We figured it would be best to have
a real couple go to the park, but the perp hasn't been biting. But
they aren't giving up, even though they're not on the payroll for
doing so." There's a mix of admiration and incredulity at their
daring, and Doggett decides to push it.
 
'so, is it true that it was really their second date that the unsub
decided to strike?" Doggett asks. "How would he know that?"

~*~*~ 

Meanwhile, in Sunday Park, Leyla Harrison feels out of place. She
knows she shouldn't, since the very clothes that got her yelled at
this morning blends in perfectly with the crowd here. But that she's
here on a job that she can't officially work on for the time being is
more than a little humiliating, even she's got the brains to realize
that. That, and she's pretty much the only single person around here.
There are couples, families, even college groups hanging out here,
and since she's sans a boyfriend or a pet pretty much makes her feel
more alone than ever.

"Hey, are you waiting for someone?" one half of a couple approaching
her asks.

 "Huh? Oh, yeah," Leyla's startled into the truth before she realizes
she could've said something else. After all, it wouldn't do to have
the general populace think she's scoping them out for a possible
serial killer ghost or zombie among them. She's already discounted
vampires, since it's broad daylight right now, but she can wait for
night fall.

The girl nods, then smiles at her boyfriend, who hugs her. "Well, if
he makes you wait too long, you can make the next date your first
one," she says. "This one won't count."

"Oh, is that how it works?" Leyla blinks. 

The boyfriend laughs. "I can't believe you two actually believe that
stuff," he says.

"Hey, it happened to the mayor and his secretary," the girlfriend
scowls, crossing her arms.

And it's obviously early in their relationship, because the boyfriend
tries to smooth things over quickly. "Hey, baby, I don't think it's
that simple," he says, "besides, if they were caught here, it's
obvious it wasn't their first or second date."

"What do you mean?" Leyla wonders, curious. 

"I mean, think about it," the boyfriend says, more willing to press
common sense on a stranger than his girlfriend, "those two were
working together like all the time. I'm guessing the guy, after being
married forever, decided to press his luck and the secretary said
yes, and things just kinda happened from there. And if it started at
work, I'm pretty sure they had secret dates first, especially if the
guy's married."

"But if they're secret dates, those don't count," his girlfriend
argues. "Not for the curse."

The boyfriend sighs. "Okay, but the curse only happens here, right?
And here's where all those people were killed. Why would the mayor
and the secretary come here if they knew about that?"

"Why do you come here?" Leyla asks. 

The girlfriend smiles impishly at her. "Because it's our fourth date
here, and we were here even before the park got popular and they put
in all that new stuff like the bridge," she says, wrapping her arms
around her boyfriend's waist. "I think we're gonna break the curse."

"Wow," the blonde doesn't hide her admiration of the couple, who
smile at each other, as those who are newly in love do. 'so you've
been here even after the first couple got killed here?"

And like a young couple in love, they nod, full of confidence in
their youth. "Like she said, I think we're gonna break the curse, if
there ever was one," the boyfriend says cockily. "Besides, if someone
tells you not to do something, don't you feel like doing it more?"

"Well, yeah, but I usually get in trouble," Leyla admits and the
couple laugh. "I'm not like you guys."
 
"Hey, good luck with your boyfriend," the girlfriend says. "Although
if he keeps you waiting, he might not be the one."

Agent Leyla Harrison pastes a smile on her face. "Probably not," she
says, as she waves the couple off.

As she leans on the bridge where the mayor and the secretary once
stood, she doesn't notice a pair of eyes focus on her intently.
 
~*~*~

 
"How would he know?" The police at the Webber Station look at each
other as the blonde Officer Russell repeats the question. 'same way
as anyone else, I guess," he shrugs. 'see if there's someone you
recognize from once or twice before. There's enough regulars showing
up at the park to spot newbies, like any place. I'm just surprised
the mayor, I mean, former mayor, and his secretary got caught, is
all. I mean, really, if you were a married man and a well-known guy,
wouldn't you keep that on the down-low?"
 
"Did he strike you as a man who thought he was above the law?"
Doggett asks, deliberately keeping his face and tone neutral.
 
Again, the police look at each other, but the unspoken message this
time is clear. "Yeah," Lieutenant Redmond admits. "Even when he was
caught speeding and driving under the influence, he thought he could
mayor his way out of it."

"Interesting way of putting it," Doggett remarks. 

"It's true," Officer Russel says. "He might've been mayor of Webber,
but he acted like he was the president."

"I think 'king' is the word you're looking for," Officer Daniels
smirks. Then she shrugs at Doggett's questioning look. "Hey, you can
only not speak ill of the dead before reality hits."

True, Doggett thinks, but doesn't say it aloud. Instead, he says,
'so, the other couples, they were fairly law-abiding citizens, right?
I mean, nobody wanted either of 'em dead or anything, from what I got
from their friends and family."

"No, they were good kids," Lieutenant Redmond agrees. "That's why the
park closed for a while. But it reopened after public pressure to
enforce security and limit access times from sunrise to sunset. And
that's why we were all surprised by the last two couples, since they
were killed after the reopening."

"Alex and Betty Lapine, as well as the mayor and secretary." Doggett
nods. "You figure it was a copycat killer, since the Lapines were
married, and the mayor was, too?"

The black detective sighs, putting a hand to the back of his neck,
and most of the others look discouraged as well. "Our city is small,
and it came from smalltown roots, so even if the press didn't mention
the details, the witnesses who first found the bodies surely
mentioned them to their friends, families, whoever," Redmond admits.

Now Doggett sighs. Damn. Not just the official press, but the local
grapevine as well. 'so everyone knows the details of the murders?" he
says, less of a question and more of a statement. But they nod
anyway. "Okay. So it's possible there's a copycat, although for now,
we assume it's the same person that started the killings. Why pick
couples in the first place? I mean, it's hard enough to take down
victims in a public area anyways, but he seems to be making it harder
for himself by deliberately killing a couple. And he doesn't bother
with raping the female, which is what usually happens with couple
killings, the perp wants domination over the female victim. So why
bother killing them off in the first place?"

"What if it has nothing to do with the curse?" Officer Evans, a solid
man who looks like he played football for most of his life, asks. "I
mean, if someone wanted to kill couples, second date or not, that's
the best place to look, pretty much."

'so the park is just a convenient place for the perp to pick his
victims? Well, that might make sense if we could figure out why the
guy's killing off his vics in the first place," Doggett says, taking
Evans' suggestion into account.

~*~*~ 

Sunday Park
 
That pair of eyes belong to a young man with shaggy dark-ish hair,
more than a fair share of facial hair and scruffy clothes, pulling
along a large suitcase on wheels, and everyone, out of politeness,
ignores him. He reveals no expression as he makes his way closer and
closer to the young blonde agent, approaching her from behind. Once
he's about a foot away, he hefts the suitcase onto his back and
closes the distance between them until he's right behind her. Then he
carefully sits the suitcase on the ground without making a sound, and
lunges for her.
 
Somehow, the usually-oblivious female agent senses someone behind
her, and she spins around, her heartbeat racing and her eyes wide.
"Oh, thank goodness!" Leyla Harrison wraps her arms around her
boyfriend. "You're a lifesaver!"
 
Gabe Rotter smiles and hugs her back. "Jeez, Leyla, I know you're
flaky sometimes, but I'm surprised you haven't gotten fired yet," he
chuckles.
 
She makes a face. "Hey, don't jinx it!" she pouts. 

He puts his hands up. 'sorry, babe. You know I was happy to hear from
you, didn't you?" he asks, trying to get on her good side.

"Maybe," she twists around, still pouting. 'so, did you get
everything I asked?" she asks.

Gabe nods quickly. "Yeah, every boring suit and skirt you got in your
closet," he says.

She leans closer and lowers her voice . "And underwear?" she
whispers.

"That was the best part." He grins, and laughs even when she swats
him.

"Hey, since I'm not officially working right now, how about we have a
date?" Leyla says excitedly, grabbing onto his arm.

It's her boyfriend, however, that looks around, concerned. "Are you
sure?" he asks. "I mean, your boss yelled at you this morning, and
you were all crying and everything, don't you need to get to work?"

Her lower lip trembles. 'so you don't want to spend time with me?"
she asks, looking down.

"No, no, I do!" he says, taking her in his arms. "You just kinda
surprised me."

She smiles up at him, and he's effectively blinded. "Thank you!" she
says, and kisses him. "I promise not to ask you to do anything else
for me!"

"Even if something else in the apartment breaks down?" he leans in,
their foreheads touching.

She opens her mouth, then closes it. "I mean for work," she says
finally.

"Cool," Gabe says, "at least I didn't have to dig up a dead cat." And
they chuckle, walking along the park, with him hauling the suitcase
behind them.

~*~*~ 

Silver Springs, MD. 

It's the third house of the day, and the real estate agent is pulling
up to the crowded driveway, escorting Reyes, Scully and Mulder, along
with the three youngest children and April, who demanded to be taken
along. Mulder had simply shrugged at his wife and taken her along.
"Hey, how much are you guys willing to put for down payment?" Mulder
asks in a low tone. "Because Helen's been taking you to these really
nice homes."

Reyes smiles, and Mulder can see how she'd drive Doggett nuts.
"Enough," she says, "you don't have to worry about that."

"I'm not worried," Mulder says, as they skirt other families going
through this open house. "I'm jealous. I mean seriously, if Uncle
Saul hadn't given us a big house, we'd be in some cramped apartment."

Scully rolls her eyes. "Don't exaggerate, Mulder. We would've been
fine."

 

Mulder puts on a "oops, caught" face, but when his wife turns around,
he mouths, "Not really."
 
Reyes laughs at her friends' antics, shaking her head when April
looks up questioningly. "Come on, April, let's see if there's
anything cool about this house."

The little girl shakes her head. "This is nice, but it's normal," she
says, and flattens herself against her "aunt" when another family
passes them by.

"Normal, huh?" Reyes looks a little bummed. "Well, normal's okay for
some people," she hems.

The little girl smiles, knowing Reyes better. "But it's not for
everyone," she agrees. "Come on, let's tell Mommy and Daddy."

"Okay," the tall woman agrees, and they go to get her former
coworkers and their youngest kids away from the buffet table.

~*~*~ 

Webber, GA
6:59 p.m. 

They're camped in Agent Harrison's room, "they" being the woman in
question, plus her boyfriend and her boss. Gabe is making supper in
the small kitchen, while Doggett's on the phone with his partner, and
Leyla is deciding which outfit she'll wear tomorrow.
 
'so, how's your wi--, uh, Agent Reyes?" Leyla asks when he hangs up. 

Doggett shakes his head. 'she hasn't found anything yet, and it's
been ten houses so far," he answers.

'seriously?" Gabe goggles, carrying in a pan of tuna and pasta.
"Where was she looking?"
 
"All over the place," Doggett replies. "I'm not sure if she'll find
anything once her vacation wraps up, but at least she'll have fifty
less houses to worry about."

"Fifty?" Leyla repeats. "Wow." 

"Well, she's actually been house-hunting before starting on vacation,
but I doubt that finding a house meeting her expectations is easy to
come by," her boss says wryly. "Nice job, Gabe," he says, since the
food smells better than the description.

"Thanks." The younger man grins, 'someone has to cook something
other than mac and cheese."

"But it's so easy," Leyla says, "and as long as I watch it, it
doesn't burn."

"Uh-huh." Doggett smiles at the couple. He waits until they've gotten
some food in their system, then he briefs Agent Harrison on the
situation with the police, and she tells him what little she's
learned at the park. "Look, this sounds like it's gonna be longer
than a day," he says, "and we haven't gotten any leads. Hell, if the
local PD can't get a read on a suspect, it's probably somebody from
the outside."

"Darn, and I thought the boogeyman was an inside job," Gabe jokes.

Doggett sighs while Leyla jumps on the suggestion. "Oh my gosh, I
didn't even think of that! What if it's someone like Tommy Conlon? Or
a malevolent poltergeist brought on by the excessive foot traffic in
the park?" Her eyes are shining, and Doggett's reminded of the
cartoons his little girl watches.

"Or what if it's your garden variety psycho?" Doggett bluntly shoots
down her suggestions. "You know we have to look at what the evidence
shows us, and so far, there ain't nothing supernatural about this,
except for the fact we're out here in the first place."

"I think Mr. Skinner said something about a 'sanity check'," Leyla
says, "I'm not sure what he meant by that."

The two men look at each other, and both wisely refrain from
commenting. Instead, they dig into their food.

And for the second time that night Doggett gets a call on his cell.
"Doggett," he answers.

"Agent Doggett, that sonofabitch killed Franz and Frieda," Lieutenant
Redmond's voice comes over the phone.

"Dammit," Doggett sighs, but is already putting his plate and fork
away. "We'll be right there."

"What's going on?" Leyla asks.

"The perp killed the undercover couple," Doggett says grimly, "grab
your weapon, Agent."

She nods, and he shakes Gabe's hand. "Good seeing you," he says,
"I'll be sure to bring her back safe and sound."

"Good," Gabe says faintly, watching his girlfriend's boss check his
weapon before putting it into a shoulder holster, then pull on a
windbreaker bearing the letters "FBI". Then he turns to see his
girlfriend come out of the bathroom wearing dark business slacks and
jacket along with her pink blouse. He kisses her, 'see ya."

She smiles, 'see ya."

And with that, the two FBI agents walk out, leaving Gabe Rotter
holding the pan.

~*~*~

The Doggett-Reyes home

That night, Reyes is reading to her youngest (for now) child in bed.
She and Hannah have been going through various fairy tales since the
romance novel thing happened and she wanted to show Doggett she read
some "good" books, too. Tonight, they've read "The Frog Prince" and
Reyes made Hannah laugh with her frog impressions. "Mommy, aren't you
glad Daddy's a prince and not a frog?" the brunette little girl says.

Reyes' smile deepens. She knows she could never adequately express
how happy it makes her feel every time Hannah calls her that name,
and she hugs her. "I'm very glad," she says. "I'm just sorry I had to
go through so many frogs to get to him."

"But the frog prince was already a prince," Hannah argues, "and there
weren't other frogs."

"True," Reyes nods, "but sometimes, when you kiss a frog, all you get
are warts, not a prince." Then she holds the little girl's face in
her hands. "Promise me, before you kiss a boy, make sure we meet him
first, because sometimes parents are better at seeing frogs in
disguise."

"But boys are yucky," Hannah sticks her tongue out.

Reyes laughs. "Yeah, but where do you think princes come from? They
were little boys once, too. So when you grow up and they grow up,
bring your prince over and we'll see if he really is a prince - or if
he's a frog," she makes her froggy face.

"Okay," Hannah laughs.

The brunette woman kisses the little girl before leaving the bed.
'sweet dreams, Hannah."

'sweet dreams, Mommy." Hannah smiles, and snuggles under the covers.

~*~*~

Sweet dreams are not to be had in Georgia, however, as the dogs are
let loose in Sunday Park, trying to get the scent of the man who
would dare attack and kill two of Webber's finest. "It was bad
before," Lieutenant Redmond says, his face set in a scowl, "but this
is worse."

Doggett nods. The killer struck at the very people who put their jobs
and lives on the line to protect others, and they got killed for it.
"We will find him," he says, unknowingly mirroring the darker man's
expression, "and he will pay."

"Damn straight," Redmond says, then pulls out a cigarette. "Excuse
me, I better do this away from the crime scene."

The FBI agent nods, and then turns to his junior agent. "Get
anything?" he asks.

She shakes her head as the body bags are carted away, thankful she
can't smell them any more. "Forensics are still going through
evidence, but there's no clue as to how the killer got to them. And
there was no sign of a struggle, either."

"That's bad," Doggett says, "if he got the jump on two detectives,
undercover at that."

The blonde agent looks around, then shivers. "It was so romantic
earlier this afternoon," she says, "but this is just awful."

Doggett sighs, but doesn't disagree with the latter sentiment. "Local
PD are notifying next of kin, the dogs and detectives are tracking
down the killer's presence," he says, "you take a ride with one of
the forensic trucks."

"What about you?" she asks.

He exhales, and in the cold night air, it looks like a plume of
smoke. "Gonna take a walk in the park," he says, pulling out his
heavy-duty flashlight.

"Oh, okay," Harrison blinks, then runs after one of the trucks
closing its doors.

~*~*~

Agent Harrison's room
11:51 p.m.

Gabe Rotter looks up from his air guitar session when the door opens.
"Hey, babe," he says to girlfriend, who looks wiped. "How'd it go?"

She sighs. "I fainted when the coroner started cutting up Franz'
body," she confesses, "I didn't come to until half an hour ago, and
then I had to have a power drink before I could get here."

"Aw, man," he says, and hugs her. "Want I should make you a snack?"

"Anything but meat," Leyla says with a faint smile, and he nods. She
pulls off her jacket, then her shoes. "Mm, that smells good," she
says when she smells toast bread.

"Good thing we went shopping, huh?" He grins, and his grin gets wider
when she kisses his cheek. "Nothing says magic like PB and J on
toast."

Leyla smiles, then takes a bite. "Wow, it is magic," she says, "I
feel better already."

He chuckles, "That's my girl. So, where's your scary boss?"

"He's not scary," she protests, then giggles, "okay, he is, but not
all the time. I don't know, he was gonna hang out at the park or
something."

He looks at her. "Where those cops were killed? Is he nuts?"

"That's what he told me, along with 'ride in the forensic truck',"
she tries to lower her voice, but it doesn't quite work. "Good thing
the coroner showed me the results and stuff once I had my sports
drink. It would've been so embarrassing to get nothing after
fainting."

"But it's normal," Gabe says, trying to reassure her.

But she groans instead. "But I'm supposed to be an FBI agent!" she
wails. "I'm not supposed to faint like a little girl seeing a dead
body cut up! And I'm on the X-Files! How am I gonna catch a bad guy
if I'm fainting or screaming?"

"You were screaming, too?" he asks.

Leyla blushes. "Well, that was for the other case," she mutters.
'some of that stuff that kid thought up was really scary."

"Oh," he says, putting his arms around her reassuringly. "Hey,
listen, if you--"

"Just who I was looking for," Doggett comes in, interrupting Gabe's
almost-smooth move. "I need your help."

~*~*~

"Okay," Leyla says, while Gabe says, "What?"

Doggett looks at the young couple and wishes he didn't have to do
this. But they've got even less time to catch the guy than he
thought, since gossip's flaring around Webber quicker than it did in
his hometown. Thanks, internet, you suck, he growls inwardly. "The
chief of police says they're not risking anymore undercover
operations on this case, and that we're free to move," he says,
"which basically means we're the ones that have to risk our necks.
Lieutenant Redmond says to meet them for a debriefing at the station,
and they'll be happy to provide us with backup and surveillance, but
since they're not authorized to make the first move--"

"They're not willing to kill themselves if they're not on payroll,
got it," Leyla finishes, looking as weary and jaded as Doggett does.
"I know how much control budget has, especially if it's orders from
top down."

'so, what does that mean?" Gabe asks.

Doggett sighs. "That means that I have to pretend to be her boyfriend
and lure out the perp," he says.

"No ways, she's my girl!" the younger man protests, holding Leyla
tight like a prize. "You're not touching her!"

"It's nothing personal, it's for the job," Doggett tries to explain
to the Romeo, but he isn't buying it.

"No, if someone's gonna go out there with her, it's gonna be me," he
says. "Besides, you said all those cops are gonna protect us, right?
No creep can sneak past an entire horde of cops and get to us." And
he looks at Leyla, whose eyes are shining.

Oh, no, Doggett thinks, I'm not gonna have civilian collateral on top
of everything else. "You are NOT going," he says, scolding Gabe like
he's one of his kids. "You are a civilian, you are unarmed,
untrained, and unqualified to be part of the operation!"

"And you're old enough to be her dad!" Gabe yells back. "I don't care
if you're her boss, there's no way you're gonna put the moves on my
woman!"

"I've already got a woman, I don't want to make moves on yours!"
Doggett shoots back oh-so-intelligently. "There are two dead cops in
the morgue, along with ten other corpses. Would you like to join them
because of your ego, mister?"

Gabe glares at Doggett. "Mr. Doggett, we were out there earlier," he
declares, "the bad guy's gonna know you two are faking it if suddenly
Leyla shows up with another guy, right? Especially one with the
letters 'FBI' on his jacket." And he points to Doggett's windbreaker.

Doggett sighs. Great, true love gets logical once in a while. "Fine."
He rolls his eyes, "just so you know, we're putting wires on you, so
don't get too enthusiastic in your acting."

Leyla, however, is looking at her boyfriend, her blue eyes shining.
"Gabe," she says happily.

"I know I'm talking to the wall now," Doggett grumbles, "but you two
will be under guard from the moment you step foot on the park 'til
the moment you get home. And Agent Harrison?" he taps her on the
shoulder.

"Hm?" the blonde blinks at the seemingly-sudden interruption between
herself and her boyfriend.

Her boss glares at her until she's paying full attention, and then
she blushes. "He's under your protection. Got that?"

"Hey, I can take care of myself and my girl," Gabe tells him.

It only takes Doggett a few moments to bend the man's arm behind his
back and have him yelping in pain. "Like I said, Agent Harrison, this
civilian is under your protection. We may have eyes and ears on you
two, but you are the only one facing the danger head on. Do you
understand?"

She nods soberly, and Doggett releases his grip. "Come on, Gabe, we
have to go to the police station," she says, standing up. Gabe tries
to rub his arm in a casual way, but can't, and winces as he follows
her to the car.

Doggett simply shakes his head and follows them out, hoping they're
not making a big mistake.

~*~*~

Washington, DC
November 16th, 2003
9:19am

"This neighborhood looks familiar." Reyes smiles, as she and Helen
pass by Mulder and Scully's home, and Scully smiles back from the
back seat with her twin girls in their safety seats. It's hard to
believe there are any empty homes around here, since most of them are
occupied by families who've inherited them (like Mulder) or newly
rich and political types. "Are you sure there's an open house here?
This is kind of a well-populated area."

"Oh, you know this neighborhood?" Helen asks, her eyes on the road.

"We live a few houses back," Scully answers as they pull up to a
modest two-story home.

The elderly real estate agent smiles. "Then you know that there are a
couple of houses around here that have foreclosed, through no fault
of the previous owner, of course."

"Of course," the women chorus, while looking at each other in the
rear view mirror.

'so, here we are," Helen says brightly. "Take a look around."

Reyes blinks at the brevity of the introduction. Usually, the real
estate agent gets more flowery in her praises of a house, and now
she's suspicious. "What's wrong, Helen," she says, "it's not like I
won't turn this down any faster."

The elderly Asian woman blinks, then nods, smiling a little. "All
right. For some reason, this lovely home has a high turnover rate, in
spite of its location. It seems the previous owners, all of them, in
fact, have gone crazy. There, that's it."

"Okay," Scully's nonplussed. "I take it they've checked the plumbing,
any mold or paint, that sort of thing."

"Every time with every owner." Helen nods. "But they all leave raving
lunatics."

"Oh," Reyes says. "Anything in particular that they all have in
common, or do they just go crazy once they walk in here?"

"Oh, no, it takes a while," Helen says quickly, "I mean, maybe a week
or so, and then they all start talking about things disappearing,
brand new things breaking, and then they're talking about little
people. Like leprechauns or something crazy like that."

The two women look at each other. "We'll take it," Reyes says happily.

"What?" Helen stares at her, then at Scully. "Is she serious?"

"As a heart attack," Scully says. "I think you've just described her
perfect home."

Now the real estate agent gives the tall brunette a good long look.
"This isn't weirding you out or anything?"

Reyes' smile is from ear to ear. "You should see me on the job," she
says, "this is nothing."

"Well, not nothing," Scully corrects her, "I think this might take a
little more work than a haunted house."

"But this is perfect for me and the kids!" Reyes tells her friend.
"And I get to tell John we've got hobgoblins!"

"We don't know that for sure," the redhead cautions her, "after all,
there could be logical explanations for-"

"Hobgoblin-like behavior?" the brunette interjects, while losing the
real estate agent altogether. "Come on, the kids will love it, John
will love it, and we get to have something better than brownies,
we've got hobgoblins!"

Scully, seeing the same look on her friend's face as her husband's
when he first told her about the ghosts in their home, sighs, but
smiles back anyways. "All right. But you tell John everything, okay?"

"Okay!" Reyes beams, practically skipping through all the rooms in
her cursory "inspection". "This is gonna be great!"

Helen looks like Reyes has already lost her mind. "I know she's
energetic, but is she always like this?" she asks Scully in an
undertone.

Scully smiles, hefting her twin daughters in the baby bjorns. "You
really should see her on the job," she replies, "this is nothing."

"Uh-huh," the elderly Asian woman says, shaking her head, but a smile
peeking at the corners of her mouth.

~*~*~

Meanwhile, back in Sunday Park, a young couple, one among many, is
taking midday stroll. Leyla and Gabe are holding hands tightly, but
not because they're feeling romantic. 'squeeze your hands any tighter
and they'll fall off," Doggett says in Leyla's earpiece. "Ease off a
bit, would ya? And stop a minute and breath, okay?"

"Okay," Leyla bites her lower lip.

"Huh?" Gabe blinks.

She grins up at her boyfriend, laughing nervously. 'sorry, my boss
was just talking in my ear. He says to breathe and not hold hands so
tightly."

"Oh, yeah, that's a good idea, sure, okay," he babbles.

In the surveillance van, Doggett hits his head against the heel of
his hand. "Ugh," he groans while Lieutenant Redmond chuckles. "If
this is what I have to look forward to with my sons, I hope they
never date."

"Could be worse, they could be real players," the black lieutenant
consoles him. Sort of.

"Thanks." Doggett rolls his eyes. "Officers, anyone suspicious yet?"

They all shake their heads, keeping their eyes and ears on the
monitors.

Gabe, not having an earpiece, is thankfully oblivious to what Leyla's
hearing. He picks a flower from an overhanging tree branch, then
says, "Leyla."

She jumps as if startled, and they both laugh nervously. "Uh, yeah?"

"Here," her boyfriend says, brushing her hair back from her left ear
and tucking the pale flower there. "Even if we are doing this for
your job, it's nice to be able to hang out with you like this."

Leyla's smile deepens, and he smiles back. "Gabe, even if we don't
get the guy today, I just want to thank you again," she says, and
hugs him.

"Awwwwww," the crew in the surveillance truck chorus.

"Oh, shut up," she mutters, then shakes her head at Gabe's
questioning look. "It's nothing."

As they stand on the bridge, they're unaware of a mist that surrounds
them, an unseasonable mist that hides the lake from the park regulars
and the surveillance team, rendering them as a light grey on the
black-and-white monitors. The surveillance team can still hear them,
and mistake other park-goers as their targets.

Suddenly, they hear Gabe yell, "Ow!" and Leyla's panicked voice
saying, "Gabe, where are you? Gabe?"

And then there's the odd silence among the noise of families playing
and the occasional dog barking.

The officers on surveillance look at each other. "Where are they?"
they babble amongst themselves, trying to get confirmation from
either Agent Leyla Harrison or Gabe Rotter. Doggett wastes no time
getting out of the surveillance van and doesn't bother about the
slight mist that surrounds the lake. Hitting the bridge, his blue
eyes look for the couple and finds only one body lying there.

"Get an ambulance," he says into his earpiece, "we've got an agent
down!"

~*~*~

Leyla wakes up in a hospital bed, her head aching like she's had a
bad hangover, but no buzz. "What happened?" she asks.

"I was hoping you could tell me," Doggett says, "the police closed
the park down and are looking for your boyfriend."

"They got Gabe?" Leyla sits up, then groans, holding her head.
"Owwwww…"

"Yeah," her boss says, now regretfully. "Dammit. I can't get how he'd
get past us!" And he glares at the wall, as if it could tell him the
answers.

Leyla, still holding her head, suddenly sits up straight again, her
eyes wide. "Lancelot," she breathes.

"What?" the steel-eyed agent asks, turning to her.

"Lancelot," the blonde agent repeats. "You know, one of the knights
of the Round Table?" She sighs, seeing his patented
she's-talking-crazy-talk look on his face. "When I was a kid, I was
hooked on King Arthur, so much so that I even learned the coat of
arms of each knight, in all variations. And the last thing I saw in
that mist was a huge shield coming at me, bearing Lancelot's coat of
arms."

Now he's just staring at her, wondering if he's hearing the head
trauma. "Leyla," he starts.

"Listen," she says, her eyes focused and intense in spite of the
blaring pain in her head, "find out why that lake's called Lancelot
Lake, and when they got all those lilies and the bridge built.
Because that bridge wasn't always there, and I've got a feeling the
timeline matches up with our perp."

"Do you know what you're saying?" Doggett asks, a little impatiently.
"You're saying that a knight of the Round Table is killing couples
off in Georgia since six months ago, not in England hundreds of years
ago."

Leyla gives him a level look. "He managed to take down King Arthur's
enemies as well as Camelot itself," she says, "what's a few civilians
to him?"

He shakes his head, then pats her shoulder. "Get some rest," he says,
"call me when you feel better."

She nods, then winces. "Find out when the bridge was built," she
whimpers, sinking back onto the bed, "find Gabe, please."

He nods, and waits until she's asleep before he leaves. Then he
sighs, "Dammit. What mist was she talking about? And why was she left
alive?"

~*~*~

To Doggett's consternation, it seems Leyla's hunch is proven correct
in some respect. The bridge, along with the lilies and some of the
surrounding flora, were bought from some down-and-out British
landowner in a deal made a couple of years ago with the former mayor.
The lake was renamed "Lancelot" to give it some class or something,
and it wasn't long after that couples started dying. And after
reviewing the surveillance tapes, there was a mist that nobody really
noticed. He slams the table. "Why the hell didn't we notice earlier?"
he growls at the monitors.

"Agent Doggett, ease up on the cheap table," Redmond says, "it can't
hit back. And nobody really came back from the dead to let us know
about that mist thing, either."

Doggett turns with a scowl, but exhales slowly. 'sorry. You're right.
But I refuse to believe some mythical guy is killing off lovers here
in America."

"You and me both," Redmond agrees. "Your agent's got some pretty
interesting ideas, though. Somebody's obviously riding on that crazy
train, though, thinking he's some kind of anti-knight in shining
armor." Then he frowns. "Thing is, though, if he thinks he's a
knight, why doesn't he just kill them with a sword or something? I
mean, wouldn't that make sense? Why go through the trouble of
knocking them out, then strangling them, then drowning them? That
kind of overkill doesn't make sense, even if we're talking crazy guy
acting like a knight."

Doggett grins a little. "Yeah, you're right. If Ley-, er, Agent
Harrison's right, why would someone carry around a shield but not
bother using their sword?" he wonders, then answers his own question.
"Unless he doesn't have a sword."

The black lieutenant gives him a look. "What kind of crazy person who
thinks he's a knight carries around a shield but not a sword? A
crazy, crazy person?"

The two men laugh, then shake their heads. And then Doggett gets a
call from Reyes. "Oh, you found a house already?" he says, with some
irony. Then his eyebrows go up. "Hob-what? Really? Oh, boy," he
groans. "Okay, we'll go over the paperwork together when I get back.
Oh, speaking of strange things, hard to believe, but Leyla was right
about some things. Yeah, the bridge, plants, park decorations brought
over from England coincide with the couple killings. I think a
hitchhiker came along, some kinda King Arthur nut got here, but Leyla
thinks it's Lancelot. Yeah, the original guy from the stories. Yeah,
yeah." He rolls his eyes. "Love you." He smiles, then hangs up.

"I take it that's the wife?" Redmond asks. "You usually discuss cases
with her?"

Doggett smiles. "Well, she's normally my partner, but since she's on
vacation to get us a new house," he shrugs. "Fortunately, she got
one, so she's starting up the paperwork process while I'm here."

The black lieutenant gives him a look. "Wow, I thought the FBI
frowned against couples working together."

Doggett blinks, then shakes his head. "Not really," he says, "in
fact, she's helped me out more times than I can recall. But since
she's getting along in her pregnancy, I don't want to bring her in
now that the suspect is stepping up his game. After all, he's not
only capable of killing multiple people, but knocking out an agent
and taking a civilian in plain sight." Then he corrects himself.
"Well, not plain sight, but taking advantage of weather conditions,"
he sighs. "What the hell is going on?"

Redmond looks at him, then at the replay of the mist rolling back to
reveal the lone Agent Harrison lying on the bridge. "You tell me," he
says.

~*~*~

'something's not right," Leyla frowns as Doggett drives her out of
the hospital. She's got a lovely gauze bandage wrapped around her
head, which he uses to excuse her interesting thinking past and
present. "All I saw was the shield coming at me - why didn't he kill
me?"

"Who knows what crazies think?" Doggett says rhetorically. "Why did
he take your boyfriend?"

"Exactly!" Leyla turns to him, but his eyes are on the road. "Why
/would/ he take my boyfriend? So far, all he's done is kill couples,
why suddenly spare me and take Gabe? It doesn't make sense?"

"Neither does using a shield as an offensive weapon without using a
better offensive weapon, a sword - and how the hell did he get it
past the cops and the public?" Doggett continues to wonder aloud.

The blonde agent pulls out a book she got from the hospital store.
"Hopefully this should give us some answers," she says.

Doggett slides his eyes over for a brief moment. "Are you serious?"
he asks.

She nods. "It's a good idea to check out the source material, isn't
it?" she says, holding onto her paperback of "Arthurian Legends".

Her boss groans, then shakes his head. "Nobody's found any trace of
Gabe yet," he says, "we put out a missing persons on him, and
forensics are still going through everything with a fine tooth comb."

Leyla looks somber for a moment. "Actually, one would think /I'd/ be
the one taken, not Gabe," she says after a while. "Lancelot had a
habit of attracting blondes."

"Maybe he wanted to take out the competition?" Doggett suggests.

She shakes her head. "Then he would've just killed off couple number
two's boyfriend," she says, 'since the girlfriend was blonde. No,
this is definitely strange," she frowns, opening the book.

And when Doggett drops her off at her hotel room, she's still
engrossed in the book of fairytales.

~*~*~

Webber, GA
12:36 p.m.

"This is depressing," Doggett tells his partner, who was happily
babbling about the new house and its currently-unseen inhabitants.

"What? What's depressing?" Reyes breaks out of her happy
house-bubble. "That you haven't found Leyla's boyfriend yet?"

"Partly," he says, "and partly that we haven't found any trace of him
or his abductor. I mean, for God's sake, he's a grown man, one
shouldn't be able to take a grown man and not leave any trace! I
mean, even deadbeat dads leave some kind of trail." And he huffs,
scowling. "Jeez, I'm tempted to rip off the bridge and start digging
if that's what it takes!"

"Wow, you don't take losing lightly, do you?" Reyes says, her tone
light but admiration in her voice. "John, what about what Leyla
said?"

"What do you mean?" Doggett says, his tone less hostile than it would
be to anyone else.

Reyes smiles as she practically sees him trying to hold his natural
skepticism back. "What I mean is," she says, "have you tried to
divine the supernatural from the park? The lake, specifically. After
all, Lancelot's full name was Lancelot du Lac, that is, Lancelot of
the Lake, adopted by the Lady of the Lake who gave Arthur his new
sword."

"We've been dragging the lake and come up with nothing but lily pads
and trash," Doggett retorts. "No knights in soggy armor there, or a
guy in t-shirt and jeans for that matter."

There's a pause, and then Reyes says, "I'm not saying that they're in
the physical lake. If you're dealing with the supernatural, and a
legend at that, there must be some way Lancelot survived living under
water, and hopefully, he's allowing Gabe to live the same way, too.
Oh, and does Gabe have a link to the supernatural? I mean, is he
sensitive to the occult, had a curse placed on him, seen ghosts, that
sort of thing?"

"Not that I know of," Doggett admits, "I'll ask Leyla. You think that
might've marked him out to be taken?"

"Perhaps," Reyes says, "but it's just a theory. Besides, I'm still
not sure why Lancelot would be killing couples. Do you know if the
area the bridge and everything came from had murders? Perhaps that's
why the British landowner decided to sell it to some random American
politician."

"I'll check it out," Doggett says, "you get some rest, now."

"I've got plenty of rest," his lovely partner on vacation retorts,
"it's you that sounds like you've got gravel in your throat, mister."

"Maybe I'll find a place that sells that nasty tea you like to drink
and I'll sound as gorgeous as you look." Doggett grins.

"Oh, brother." Reyes rolls her eyes, but laughs. "My tea is awesome
and it's called Darjeeling." She spells it out for him, and adds,
"Good luck, John."

His grin fades. "Wish Leyla and Gabe luck. They need it more than I
do."

"Then I wish them the best," Reyes says in the same tone. "I love
you."

"Love you, too," Doggett says, and after hanging up, opens his
laptop.

His cell rings when his internet connection finally comes up, and he
answers, "Doggett," to the now-familiar number.

"We found a shield," Lieutenant Redmond says, with no little wonder
in his voice.

~*~*~

Webber Police Station
1:52 p.m.

Leyla is sitting in the morgue, looking eerily like a corpse herself
with her pale skin and lifeless eyes. "It's an honest-to-God
battle-tested British shield," she says in a monotone when Doggett
walks in, "carbon dating came back to 500 B.C. It shouldn't even be
in this condition, it should be rotting in pieces somewhere in a
museum."

"But it's not Lancelot's, is it?" Doggett asks.

"According to the books, it's the same design," the blonde agent says
in that same dull voice. "Unless this is a really good fake, this is
the shield of Lancelot du Lac."

"I'm sorry, we didn't find anything of Gabe's," Doggett starts off.

"You won't," Leyla says, and now there's a snap in her tone, life in
her eyes. "That bitch has him."

"Who?" Doggett stares at her. "That Lady of the Lake chick?" he says,
recalling what Reyes told him.

"No," Leyla says, pulling on a sweater that looks more like Gabe's
style than her own, "Elaine of Astolat."

"Who?" Doggett repeats, really lost now.

The thin blonde agent looks up at him. "I've been doing research,"
she says. "And the overblown method of execution, the fact that
couples were killed in the first place, and the fact that this
happened in a small town called Shalott, where the bridge and the
plants came from." Her large blue eyes narrow. "And if you've read
English literature, Tennyson wrote a couple of poems about Elaine."

"I managed to forget most of that," Doggett admits, but not trusting
the look in his junior partner's eyes, adds, "but why don't you
enlighten me as to why this is our suspect?"

She glares at a point on the wall. 'she fell in love with Lancelot,
but he was in love with Guinevere. So she killed herself and sent
herself down the river to Camelot, according to Tennyson. But legend
has it that with the help of her maid, she disguised herself as
Guinevere and Lancelot slept with her, and the child she bore,
Galahad, was the one to find the Holy Grail."

"Like I said, why would she be our suspect?" Doggett prods her again,
although he's wondering why he's entertaining the idea of mythical
(and long-dead) characters being serial killers in the first place.

Now the blonde agent whips her gaze at him, and he finds a steely
fanaticism in them. "Because she's an overwrought teeny-bopper that
had to disguise herself as someone else to get her first crush to
sleep with her, and some delicate poet had to kill her off rather
than describe her as the sick, desperate slut she was!"

Her supervisor blinks. Okay, maybe it was a good thing he never hung
out with the Lit majors in college. "Um, you do realize we're talking
about a fictional character here, right?" he asks as gently as he
can.

Now she looks at him like he's the crazy one to be pitied, which
drives him nuts, and points to the shield. "That's not fictional, is
it? Nor are the bodies in this room," she waves at the wall filled
with the couple-killer's corpses. "And according to legend, Elaine
kept Lancelot's shield until he could return."

"Like you said, LEGEND," Doggett stresses the word. "And there's no
proof that a woman did it."

"There's no proof that there isn't," Leyla counters. "Look, even I
can lift this shield," she says, and does it easily. "It's just
reinforced wood with leather bands, someone like me could swing it
around and hit someone."

"Please don't," Doggett says, getting her to put down the shield.
"Okay, so a woman could lift this shield. But when women resort to
violence, they usually have a more effective weapon to kill someone,
rather than strangulation and drowning."

'she never got his sword," Leyla says, as if reminding him, "and if
she's as overemotional as legend has it, she's killing couples out of
jealousy. She'd use the shield as a weapon because it was Lancelot's,
but the strangling and drowning, those are such medieval chick
things."

"Uh-huh," Doggett says, wondering if she's truly gone off the deep
end, now that Gabe's gone.

"And Gabe's still alive," she says, answering his unsaid comment,
"because she thinks he's Lancelot."

"What?" Now he's pretty damn sure she's lost it.

"He's tall, dark and handsome, just like Lancelot's described," Leyla
says in earnest, "and that bitch probably wanted me out of the way so
she could have her way with him! Dammit!" And she grabs her huge bag.
"Let's go!"

"Wait, we're just hypothesizing, right?" Doggett says, getting
dragged by this little wisp of an agent.

She turns around and gives him a look that he usually gives to
others. "Hell, no," she says, and hauls him out of there.

~*~*~

Sunday Park

The park has been closed ever since Gabe Rotter disappeared, but the
police have still had to chase off would-be lovers, oblivious
families, and curious reporters in the meantime. So it's up to
Doggett to flash his badge, because the slender blonde has somehow
managed to push past the blockade like a veteran linebacker, and it
takes him a few steps farther back from her than he'd like.

A strange mist, like a temporary fog, hangs over the lake, slowly
rising to the foot of the bridge. "Give him back!" Leyla shouts once
she hits the bridge. "That's MY man, you bitch, and you know it!"

"Age- Leyla!" Doggett hollers, not wanting to identify her publicly
as an FBI agent. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What I should've done as soon as I knew who it was!" she yells back,
and jumps off the bridge into the lake, the mist dissipating as soon
as she hits the water.

"Oh, shit," Doggett sighs, then yanks off his windbreaker and tie and
dives in after her, followed by the lake-dragging team. But to his
consternation, none of them found Leyla Harrison, even after half an
hour. 'shit!"

'sorry, Agent," Lieutenant Redmond says, looking every bit of his
years and then some, handing Doggett a towel. "But if we got that
shield, we'll get bodies somehow."

Doggett doesn't answer him, wiping himself off. Of all the ways to
lose an agent and a civilian, this pretty much tops the suck list, to
quote his sons. He exhales heavily, then raises his weary eyes to the
lake, which looks damnably placid after the divers and the nets went
through. "I can't believe this," he mutters. Common sense dictates
that he files a report as soon as possible to cover his ass for this
tremendous snafu that just exploded in his face, but there's a
horrible emptiness inside, sapping him of any will to bother.
Besides, if he can't look after his own agents and civilians under
his care, what right does he have to even explain away his disturbing
lack of judgment? Putting his head in his hands, he sighs again,
'shit."

The black lieutenant knows better than to try to comfort this man,
but merely nods. "That about covers it," he says, his hands in his
pockets.

And the two men stay there, as the search team tries again with sonar
as well as nets, for another couple of hours. And as before, they
come up with no bodies. The senior female officer gets out of the
boat and makes her way to where the two men are, looking like grim
gargoyles. "I'm sorry," Officer Daniels says, looking dejected as she
takes off her lifevest. "I'm really sorry."

"Yeah," Doggett says, sounding as terrible as he feels. He finally
stands, and it seems that he's been sitting there for years instead
of hours, he feels that old and horrible. "Me, too."

~*~*~

And something breaks through the still waters, a gasp, a splash,
where there should be none. To the incredulous eyes of the police
force and lone FBI agent, arms flail in the lake, and a high-pitched
"Fuck!" splits the calm air.

"Get the boat back out!" Doggett shouts, and he beats Officer Daniels
and the others back to said boat. "Come on!" And it took his
impatient hands very little time to start the motor, but it was still
too slow for him.

"Doggett!" Leyla flails with her free hand, her unconscious boyfriend
firmly gripped with her other arm. "Help!"

"Coming!" he hollers back, although they're making good time. And the
seconds before they reached the couple seems like forever to him, but
he and Officer Daniels hauls them into the boat, and speed off just
as quickly to shore.

There are towels and an ambulance waiting, but Doggett gives his
subordinate a quick shake before hugging her. "You scared me half to
death," he says, not realizing that tears are falling from his eyes.
"I thought I lost the both of you."

And, improbably, she smiles, but her attention is on the emergency
team attends to Gabe. "I took it too personally," she says, "I was
afraid of losing him forever."

"What the hell happened?" Doggett says. "We couldn't find either of
you for a couple of hours."

Now her eyes shift to her boss, and her smile becomes lopsided. "You
wouldn't believe me even if I told you," she replies.

He sighs. Yep, she's still Leyla, he thinks. "Just tell me, I'll make
my own decisions about belief or not. Besides, you still have to turn
in a report."

"Oh, yeah," she says weakly. "Um, would you believe I kicked a
princess-looking teenage girl's ass?"

He stares at her for a moment. "You're kidding, right?"

She shakes her head, looking at the lake. "You can see everything
from where she is," she says, "it seems like the bottom of the lake,
but it isn't. Well, the best view is of the bridge overhead, and I
guess she was sick of looking at happy couples being all lovey-dovey
above her. She tried to deny it but," she folds her arms, "I knew
better. Besides, it was hard to miss as she had my poor Gabe all tied
up like a Thanksgiving turkey, looking all drugged and everything."
One of the EMTs look up at the "drug" remark, then sticks a syringe
into the sleeping man's arm. 'so I had to pound some sense into her."

Doggett raises his eyebrows. "You're serious? You beat up some girl
at the bottom of the lake?" he juts his thumb out to the lake in
question.

Leyla shakes her head again. 'see, you don't believe me! But so what!
I found my boyfriend and the bad guy's dead, that's what counts,
right?"

Man, I hope Hannah doesn't grow up to be this crazy, he thinks, I
should spend more time with my little girl. 'she's really dead? She
won't hurt anyone else?"

The blonde agent nods. 'she killed herself," she says
matter-of-factly, "after I told her Gabe really wasn't Lancelot, who
had really died hundreds of years ago in a monastery after repenting
for his lust for Guinevere."

"How the hell do you know this stuff - don't answer that," he says
quickly. 'so, she just killed herself after you told her that?"

"Well, she did a lot of screaming and crying, but essentially, yeah,"
Leyla agrees. "And whatever force or magic she used to keep the air
down there started to weaken, so I got my knife out of my bag and
freed Gabe as fast as I could, and by the time I figured out how to
carry him, the water came rushing in." She shudders, reliving the
memory. "I took as much breath as I could, but it's still pretty
deep," she says, and when the EMTs start wheeling Gabe into the
ambulance, she adds, "I'd better go with them. I'll call you."

Doggett nods, giving her shoulder a squeeze before letting her join
her boyfriend in the ambulance. The whole thing was too unbelievable,
even if it was the X-Files. Some legendary girl living underwater
with an unrequited crush killing people, then kidnapping some guy?
That'll never make sense, no matter which way you slice it, he
thinks. And Leyla of all people getting to the bottom of it,
literally, and getting her boyfriend back. 'sure hope he's worth it,"
he mutters softly as the ambulance disappears out of view.

~*~*~

Doggett and Reyes' current home
November 17, 2003
11:11 p.m.

To his sons' surprise and his daughter's glee, Doggett was hugging
everyone when he came home. And it didn't take long for him to get
from signing papers in the living room to carrying her to the
bedroom, to his partner's glee. "Well, I guess it was the happiest
ending one could hope for," Reyes says once he debriefs her on the
case. "After all, nobody should have to live that long with that much
of a crush."

Doggett shakes his head, pulling off his jacket and tie. "And I can't
believe you're taking her side. Is Hannah safe with you?"

His partner sticks her tongue out, bounding into bed. "I'll have you
know she's learning all the right stuff from fairy tales," she tells
him.

"Oh?" he raises his eyebrows. "Like what?"

Reyes smiles. "Like if she ever thinks she's got a prince charming,
she should bring him home so her wise parents can see if that's
true."

"Okay, yeah," he grudgingly concedes her point. "Did you tell her the
boy would have to go through her brothers and father if he wants to
come near to my little princess?"

"I'll wait until the time comes to spring it on her," Reyes' smile
turns impish, "that way, we can surprise him, too."

"Damn, I love you, woman," he growls, and she whoops as he takes her
in his arms and kisses her, and she kisses him right back. "I'm so
glad to be with a real woman who takes care of business when I'm out
and isn't a complete flake."

Now Reyes raises her eyebrows. "Oh, so you think my ideas have merit,
then?" she challenges him.

"Mm, sometimes," he buries his answer in her shoulder, and she
laughs.

"You do realize what this means, don't you?" she asks, and he looks
at her. "It means we're gonna have some great sex tonight." And she
winks before taking off her top.

"Hot damn," Doggett breathes, then practically tears his FBI-approved
shirt off. "I love you, Monica," he says, kissing her again.

"I know." She smiles, taking off his belt before moving on to his
pants, "but it's nice to hear that." And she didn't say anything more
for a while, since her mouth and hands were busy between his legs.
He, on the other hand, had quite a bit to say, including more "I love
you's.

~*~*~

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Seven
"All Done. Bye Bye"


Down the Street from Mulder and Scully's
November 29th, 2003

Though the process to close on the house feels like it takes forever,
it actually goes pretty quickly. Contracts are signed, the old family
has already moved out so they don't have to wait for that, and
Doggett and Reyes box everything up in both of their apartments -
though by that point most of her possessions are already in his. On
the Saturday after Thanksgiving, the five of them have been
green-lighted to move in, and they waste no time doing so.

To Doggett's relief, half an hour after they arrive in the moving
truck Mulder shows up with Page, Sammy, and April, all eager to help
out. They give the four kids the lighter boxes to tote in, and there
are a lot of them considering that Reyes packed all their clothes in
smaller boxes. They put Hannah "in charge" and she nearly puffs up
with pride as she shows her young friends where to put things.

"Thanks a lot for coming over," Doggett tells Mulder as they each
take an end of a dresser that needs to come off the moving truck.

"No problem. If you'd lived in DC back when we inherited our house,
I'm sure you would have helped us move."

'sure. And if you move-"

Mulder shakes his head. "Don't even say it. Scully doesn't want to
move again, ever. And I feel pretty much the same way."

"Right, I won't jinx you by talking about it."

They wrestle the dresser inside, dodging around Luke and Gibson who
are struggling with a coffee table before either says anything else.
"Is it true you let Monica go out with agent Harrison yesterday? I
wouldn't want Scully facing those Black Friday crowds five months
pregnant."

"Let?" Doggett snorts with disbelief. "Have you met Monica? Or your
wife for that matter? There's no letting when it comes to either of
them."

"You're right. It's more in the nature of suggesting-"

"And being ignored."

"Well, maybe. But not always."

Doggett gives Mulder a pointed look. 

"No really. I think my suggestions have been followed at least five
times."

"And you've been married how long?"

"Nine years. Ten in February, actually."

"Uh huh." Doggett smirks at him.

'so, with that defeatist attitude, does that mean you're not going to
even bother making suggestions about what to name the baby?"

"I actually have a devious plan about that."

"Oh?"

"Now that she's showing, I've gotten the kids to refer to the baby as
something she hates. That'll put my suggestions in a better light by
comparison."

"I didn't think you had it in you. What have you got the kids calling
little whatzit?"

"Lump."

Mulder winces. "Tell me that she doesn't know you put them up to it."

"Nope."

"You better hope she doesn't find out... or that one of them doesn't
try to blackmail you over it."

"Blackmail? You don't think-"

"Aren't the boys grounded for a few more months?"

This stops Doggett in his tracks. "Maybe I'll relent and give them
back their video games at Christmas."

Mulder shrugs. "If you want to take the chance. Personally, I'd be
thinking about driver's ed. They're seniors, you want them to be able
to drive before they go to college, don't you?"

"And let them damage someone else's property some more?"

"They'll never improve if you don't give them a shot at learning,"
Mulder tells him. "But what do I know? My oldest is nine."

"Page will be sixteen before you can believe it. They grow up so
fast."

Just as Doggett says that, Hannah and Page run by wearing all of
Reyes' scarves. They dangle down to the girls' feet, and they giggle
and try not to trip over them.

"Maybe not that fast," Mulder corrects him.

"Yeah. You up for the mattress next?"

"Bring it on."

~*~*~

Mulder-Scully Home
The Next Day

"...so Sammy insisted that Mulder bring William with him. He did the
same thing the night the twins were born too, and we can't quite
figure out why he's so concerned with Will missing out on anything,"
Scully tells her mother while pouring coffee.

"It's probably because he's the last boy. Bill could get that way
about Charlie sometimes too."

"Really? I don't remember that." Scully scoops up a fussing Brianna
who has tired of playing in the baby jumper that has been a permanent
fixture of the panty doorway for years. Now that both of the babies
are walking, though unsteadily, they find the jumper less fun.

"You just didn't notice," Maggie says as she dandles Zoe on her lap.
The kitchen isn't overrun by children for a change because Mulder
took most of them to pick out a Christmas tree. "Dana, you won't
believe who I ran into."

"Who?" 

"Ethan," Maggie tells her over a pointed look. 

"Really."

"Yes. I'll admit I was a bit nervous to speak to him."

"Why?" Scully asks as she pulls her mug away from Brianna's questing
fingers and hands the baby a teething biscuit instead.

"Well...You know that I think you and Fox are perfect together, but
it didn't take very long before you moved on from Ethan to him."

Her mother's comment leaves her feeling a bit defensive, "A year
isn't long enough?"

"A year?" Maggie looks puzzled. "Was it really that long?"

"The first time Mulder and I had..." Scully pauses just long enough
to make a quick mental substitution, "a date was a year and a couple
of weeks after I decided it wasn't going to work out with Ethan."

"Oh. It didn't seem that long to me. Anyway, he asked me how you
were, if you married, and if you had kids. The usual stuff. I
wondered at first if he was fishing, but he smiled and pulled out his
billfold to show me pictures of his two children."

"Boys or girls?"

"Girls." Maggie smiles, making Scully wonder why. "His oldest is a
couple of months older than Page."

"It figures. I'm glad that he found someone to settle down with
quickly."

"He was a nice boy. But unlike your father, I knew when you brought
him to see us that December that the relationship was coming to a
swift end."

"Why? Did you feel like he was pressuring me?" Scully asks, thinking
about how she'd felt like Ethan wanted to make things permanent by
that point.

Maggie shakes her head. "I could tell from the way you talked about
him, and about how you talked about Fox, which one you were going to
be happy with. Settling down with Ethan would have been settling. You
aren't the type to pick what's easy over what's right."

"Thanks?"

Her mother pats her hand. "When you brought Ethan home that time, he
started to talk to me about Fox."

"You're kidding."

"I'm not. We were grabbing the plates for lunch from the kitchen, and
he took the opportunity to ask me if he ought to be worried about
Fox. I hedged a bit, asking him instead why he thought he might need
to. He wouldn't say, and I didn't have the heart to tell him that if
he had to ask me that, he'd already lost you. So, as you can imagine,
it came as no surprise to me that you broke up with him after that."

Scully tilts her head. "This is where Missy gets the 'ESP run in the
family' stuff."

"I'm not psychic, Dear. I just read people well. I think it's fair to
say it's a trait that I passed along to both of my girls."

"And April."

"But not Charlie or Bill. Speaking of Bill, have you talked to him
lately?"

"I gave him a call at Thanksgiving."

Maggie looks slightly frustrated. "I think you should call him
again."

"Why?"

Maggie's lips compress into a thin line. "It's not my place to say."

"Mom!"

Maggie refuses to explain her comment, leaving Scully to stew.

~*~*~

That Afternoon

Mulder wanders into the room while Scully is on the phone, and only
hears her side of the conversation. "You're kidding. Seriously? ...
Well, how do you feel about that? ... No, I don't blame you. It'll be
rough. But it's good, though, right? ... Give my love to Tara."

It's only the final comment that clues him in. "Your brother?" he
asks as she hangs up.

"Yes. My mother insisted I call him, and refused to tell me why."

"Well?"

"Apparently Mattie wasn't the only one who thought that there should
be more kids in their family, because they've been undergoing
treatment with fertility drugs for several months, and they learned a
couple months ago that the treatment finally took."

"Is there something wrong with the baby? I could only hear your end
of the conversation, but it didn't sound as overjoyed as I'd expect
news of a baby would."

"Turns out that they did an ultrasound yesterday, and there's more
than one baby."

"Twins?"

Scully shakes her head. "More than two." 

"Triplets?"

"I don't know. He won't tell me how many more than two."

Mulder's eyes widen in surprise. "He won't tell you?"

"They want to see how things go before they tell people how many
babies they're expecting." She left the obvious implication that they
wanted to see how many were likely to survive to birth unsaid, but he
read between the lines.

"I guess I can understand that. Triplets, or more God forbid, are
high risk."

"Especially at Tara's age - she just turned forty." Scully frowns. "I
know I shouldn't feel upset that they want to keep any losses to
themselves, but he's my brother. Shouldn't he feel safe telling me?"

Mulder pulls her to him. "He should, but this is your brother we're
talking about. He has more trust issues than I do, and that's saying
a lot."

She smiles, apparently slightly mollified. "'Trust No One' hasn't
been your motto for quite a long time now."

"You've made me go soft, Scully."

"Have I?" she asks with a naughty smile that she accompanies with
roaming fingers.

He looks down at the space between them. "You know I mean
figuratively, right?"

"Uh huh," she murmurs, distracted. He doesn't mind being used to keep
her mind off what's troubling her. No, he doesn't mind at all.

~*~*~

Doggett-Reyes Home
December 5th, 2003

What starts out a typical boring Friday afternoon turns strange for
Gibson when he hears Luke up in his room just after they get off the
bus.

"What happened?!" 

Gibson can't understand the rush of images he's getting from his
brother, so he runs up the stairs. "What the hell?" Gibson wonders
aloud.

Both boys have been enjoying having their own rooms, but there
something wrong with Luke's: what used to be half a dozen pairs of
socks have been cut into ribbons.

Gibson takes one look at the former socks, and backs out of the room.
"Hannah! Hannah, what did you do to Luke's socks?"

Luke follows him out. "Gib, she's still at school, remember?"

"What?"

'she won't be home for half an hour," Luke reminds him.

"Then what happened?"

"I don't know. Did you check your room?"

"What?" Gibson pushes past him. There's a loud groan, and then,
"we'll have to tell Dad that we need socks and underwear."

"Crap," Luke whispers. Then, louder, 'should we check the other
bedrooms first?"

"Guess so."

John and Monica's room looks untouched, but Hannah's laundry has
suffered causalities too. 'since when did she have this many pairs of
tights?"

"Not since now, anyway."

"Who did this?" Gibson wonders. 'somebody has a real grudge against
clean laundry."

"Or what did it?"

"Don't tell me that you believe Monica's hobgoblins stuff."

"Do you have a better theory?"

Gibson shrugs.

Predictably, the first thing they hear when Hannah gets home is a
dismayed wail, "My tights!"

Luke goes to comfort his sister. "Don't worry, I called Monica and
told her what happened. She said she'd stop at the store on her way
home."

"I need to use the phone," Hannah says as she bolts from the room.

 "Who do you know to call?"

She ignores him and head to the kitchen phone.

Luke shrugs, and goes back to his room to start his homework. He
doesn't get very far before Hannah runs in. "I need you to bring me
to the store."

"I told you, Monica's going replace the stuff that got ruined."

"That's not why I need to go to the store."

"Hannah, I need to do my homework!"

"But I need to go now!"

"Maybe Gibson can take you." 

She storms out of the room before the words are all the way out of
his mouth.

~*~*~

An hour later 

"Hey, look, want to play Tony Hawk's 3? I still can't believe that
dad said moving means we're ungrounded."

"Me neither. What did Hannah wanna buy anyway?"

"Dunno."

"You wouldn't take her either? Where is she, sulking in her room?"

When they check her room, the lights are off, and then room is
completely empty.

"Hannah?!"

~*~*~

Kit's Konvenience 
Several Minutes Later

A bell tinkles as Mulder enters, and the counter person Gary, smiles.
"Let me guess, diapers?"

"You called it."

"How many you got in diapers still?"

"Dana's got our youngest boy in pull ups now, so just the last two
girls."

"Bet you're looking forward to only seeing my ugly face when you need
milk."

Mulder laughs and grabs the diapers.

He only gets a couple of feet out of the store when he hears a voice
shout, "Mr. Mulder!"
 Luke is nearly out of breath when he reaches him.

"Where's the fire?"

"There is no fire," Luke says, obviously anxious, and now confused as
well. "Have you seen my sister?"

"Hannah's missing?"

'she wanted to go to the store but we had homework. When we checked
on her once we were done she was gone. Gibson stayed at home, waiting
to see if she comes back on her own." Luke cranes his neck to look
into the windows. "Is she in there?"

"I don't see her. But let's ask the clerk if he's seen her."

Mulder drags Luke into the store, and Gary tells him that she was
there... 15 minutes earlier.

"Where is she?" Luke cries in exasperation when they exit the store.
Looking up and down the road does not reveal a dark-haired
eight-year-old.

'should we call the police? Do you have your phone with you?" Luke
gives him a hopeful look.

"Actually, no. It's recharging. Let's go to my house and call your
dad from there. It's closer."

"Okay." Luke sounds more than a little wobbly.


"Thanks-" Luke starts to say as they pull into the driveway of
Mulder's home. "Hannah?!"

There, sitting on the front stoop, is Hannah. She looks worried, and
is clutching a bag from Kit's.

Luke nearly trips in his rush to get to his sister. "What are you
doing here?"

"I tried to go back home, but I got lost. I found here instead."

"Why don't you knock on the door?" Mulder asked gently. "Dana or
Michelle would have let you in."

"I wasn't invited, and Daddy says it's not polite to invite yourself
to someone's to home."

Mulder can't argue against her training in manners, so he merely
shrugs internally. "Well, let me give both you a ride home."

"Thanks!" they chorus.

~*~*~

Gibson looks both relieved and angry when Mulder drops his siblings
off. "Why did you wander off like that?" he practically shouts at
Hannah.

Instead of cringing as one might expect Hannah sets her chin
defiantly. "You wouldn't take me, and April said we need this stuff.
I wouldn't have gone on my own if it wasn't important."

"April?" Luke asks. "That's who you called? Why??"

"Didn't you listen when she told us 'bout the tommy knockers and how
they got them to be nice?"

"Not really. How did they tame them?"

"Fed 'em stuff they liked." Hannah rattles the bag from Kit's. "I got
them food I think they'd like."

"You spent your allowance?"

Hannah nods, and then hands her brothers packages of Twinkies.

"Thanks," Luke says, giving her a hug. "If this works will pay you
back." Gibson glares at him. "Fine, even if it doesn't work, we'll
pay you back our share."

"If it doesn't work, we get a snack." Gibson grins at the two of
them.

~*~*~

Though he's only been gone for twenty minutes, no one is where he
left them when he went out for diapers. The kids greet him cheerfully
but Scully almost seems to be hiding.

When he finds her in their bedroom, she is giving a card he doesn't
recognize a pensive look. "What's up?" he asks.

"I got an invitation to a Christmas party at my friend Ellen's."

"You don't want to go?"

"I don't know. We've kept in touch through cards and sporadic e-mails
since you and I got married, but I haven't seen her in years."

"Why not?" He's always been curious as to why she didn't keep up her
friendships.

She shrugs. "We were always so busy with the X-Files that there never
seem to be the time for seeing her or Cathy."

"Maybe now's the time to reconnect," he suggests. "Besides that award
show back during the spring, we haven't been traveling since joining
the show."

"Maybe..."

"I know that look. If Ellen was angry at you, she wouldn't have
invited you."

"You wouldn't mind going?"

"No, not at all," he fibs cheerfully. Meeting a bunch of strangers
smacks of tedium, but he'd do it to make her happy.

"All right. I'll let her know will be there."

"Great."

~*~*~

Film Studio
December 12th, 2003

"And that's a rap!"

No sooner are the words out of the director's mouth does Mary Green
break into a grin. "Finally. I can't be the only one who is looking
forward to some time off."

Like most TV shows, Jose Chung's The Truth is Out There goes on
hiatus in December, though on their network it's replaced by seasonal
programming like Santa Claus Conquers the Martians rather than
Charlie Brown's Christmas.

"We are," Mulder admits.

Reed sneers at them all. "I suppose you're all looking forward to
spending time with family and friends."

"Why yes, we are, Aldous," Scully tells him with a bright smile but
an edge in her voice. "Most people who have either are looking
forward to that." Her tone indicates that she knows that he doesn't
have the former, and doubts that anyone actually enjoys spending time
with him, so friends are unlikely.

If he picks up on that, he does a skilled job at ignoring it. "You'll
be spending time running to your children's functions, no doubt."

"I will be," Green says, also playing the ignore-the-tone game. "Chet
has a football game, and I'm finally going to be able to see him
play." She and her husband aren't much older than Mulder and Scully,
but they were college sweethearts and got family making underway
sooner, so their son is a freshman in high school.

"As a matter of fact, Dana and I are going to see our son
Christopher's class play at his preschool," Mulder tells his
irritating co-host.

"How precious."

"Considering you feel that spending time with loved ones is beneath
you I take it you'll be hanging out with Johnny, Jack, and Old
Grandad?"

It takes Reed a moment to realize that these are all references to
liquor, but when he does, he gives Mulder a look that could kill. He
then stomps off without saying anything.

Scully pokes him in the arm. "That was mean."

Mulder juts out his chin defiantly. "He deserved it."

"No one's disputing that," Green chimes in. "But think of how
miserable it must be to be him."

"Isn't that the mental equivalent of getting coal in my stocking?" 

"Come on, let's say goodbye to Wayne," Scully suggests as she loops
her arm through his.

~*~*~

Missy and Ryan are already waiting for them by the time they arrive
at the preschool, mostly because they swung by the house to pick up
William before heading there. It was Missy's theory that the two
little boys would entertain each other quietly, and while that's not
working out quite as well as she hoped, at least they're not running
around.

Mulder tries to pay attention to Christopher as he stands on the
makeshift stage, but he keeps looking Missy and Alex's kids instead.
The passing months have transformed Ryan from a cranky baby to a
good-natured toddler, and he now has more in common with his cousin
William, much to Missy's relief. But it's Addy who has gone through a
real metamorphous. This is no longer the traumatized child who spent
the first several weeks in her new home sleeping under her bed. Now
she's on stage too, having started preschool in September, shy but
willing to participate with the other kids. The change in her is
nothing short of a miracle, as far as Mulder is concerned.

Glancing at his sister-in-law, he notices that she's relaxed, not
stressed out like he'd seen her so often over the past two and a half
years. She looks at peace, and he decides that because all is mostly
well with her family. Emily still needs to get her shot every month,
but she's healthy otherwise, which rounds out the kids nicely. Even
Krycek lets his guard down sometimes these days.

Mulder refocuses just in time for Christopher's speaking part, and he
cheers for all the kids as their simple play comes to an end. As soon
as they're allowed to, Christopher and Addy come running to them,
hand in hand.

"Did you see us?" Christopher is literally jumping up and down.

"We did," Mulder tells him, before giving the boy and his cousin a
quick hug. "You both did great!"

"Thanks Uncle Mulder," Addy says shyly, and Mulder beams at Missy,
though she has no idea that it's in gratitude that she taught her two
younger kids to call him Mulder instead of Fox.

"You're welcome, Sweetheart. Is everyone ready for a late lunch?"

"Yeah! Can we get cake?" Christopher asks winsomely. Page and Sammy's
love of cake isn't shared by April or either set of twins, but
Christopher and William are both fiends for it too.

"I think that can be arranged."

"Oh boy!" Christopher exchanges triumphant looks with his brother and
cousins.

Scully's expression is slightly exasperated, but he leans down and
whispers in her ear, "Could you say no to those excited little
faces?"

"No. But let's try to work on that before any of them is old enough
to beg for a cell phone."

Laughing, Mulder agrees as they walk out to the parking lot.

~*~*~

Mid-December 2003

After muttering something about getting the wrapping done early,
Scully has banished everyone from the master bedroom, Mulder
included. The older kids seem capable of entertaining themselves, so
Mulder is hanging out with William and the babies in the girls' room.

"Let's see if we can annoy Mommy," Mulder tells the youngest of his
offspring in a cheerful voice. He's slightly irritated that she's
felt the need to drop everything to wrap presents.

The twins just stare at him, but William asks, "How?"

"Let's sing Christmas songs!"

"Okay!"

He begins teaching William the words to Rudolph, and the toddler
picks them up quickly, but his younger sisters mostly laugh and
repeat the word "deer" at irregular intervals.

William is gustily singing about Frostly the No Man when Mulder
notices April walk by the open door and head to Page's room. Two
minutes later David passes and goes to Sammy's room.

"Buddy, it's snow man," Mulder points out as William finishes his
version of the song. "You know, like how we made snowmen last
winter."

"We did?"

'sure, don't you remember?"

William shakes his head. "Nope."

"Well, you were pretty little."

"But I big now!" William declares.

"Oh yeah? How big are you?"

"Dis big!" William stretches his arms wide, and giggles when his
father takes advantage of that by swooping him up in the air.
"Again!"

"Me! Me!" Zoe demands, and Brianna gives them an uncertain look,
trying to decide if her brother is having fun.

Mulder sets William down, promising him another turn in a minute.
He's still got Zoe in his hands when he sees April leave Page's room
and Christopher run into it. He's still puzzling that out when
Brianna decides to join in on the fun, so he almost misses Jared
hurrying into Sammy's room.

"What do you think they're up to?" Mulder asks.

William puts his hands on his hips and says, "No good!"

"Who told you that?" Mulder asks, laughing.

"The TV."

"Okay."

After a short time the girls shut down, which still surprises Mulder.
How can they be at full speed one minute, and sleepily rubbing their
eyes the next? He puts the girls in their cribs, and sets William on
his hip, planning to see what the rest of the kids are up to.

'shhh," he whispers to William as they sneak up to Page's room.

He knocks quickly and throws the door open. Page is sitting at her
desk, and she looks up at him, startled. "What's going on? I've seen
a lot of running back and forth."

Christopher smiles at him. "Page is writtin' letters to Santa for
us!"

'sammy too," Page declares as she pokes the stack of letters on her
desk. 'so I wouldn't have to do them all."

"Oh, that's really nice of you," Mulder tells her. 

"I know. We thought you and Mommy might be busy, and we can write
real good now, so we wanted to help."

"Yeah," Sammy says behind them, making Mulder turn. 'santa's watching
all of the time, right?" he asks in such a pointed way that it almost
makes his father laugh out loud. He can't tell what's motivating
Page, but Sammy is obviously hoping to score points with the big guy.

"That's what I've been told. He sees you when you're sleeping, and
when you're awake."

"But Daddy, why does he care if you're sleeping?" Page asks
logically. "We don't do anything when we're sleeping."

"When I slept over Hunter's house, he wet his bed," Sammy informs
them. "I bet Santa saw."

'santa knows that wetting the bed is usually an accident, not
something naughty," Mulder declares, hoping that Sammy won't tease
the other boy. 'so it's not going to be held against Hunter. Mommy
could tell you all about the medical stuff that makes it hard for
some kids to control their bladders when they're sleeping."

"Does she have to?" Sammy asks plaintively. Page often finds Scully's
medical expertise interesting, but Sammy finds it less so.

"I won't mention it to her, but if you bring up Hunter's bedwetting
she'll probably tell you about it."

"Yeah."

Mulder reaches out with the hand not holding onto William and plucks
the letters from Sammy's fingers. "Do you mind if I read these before
I drop them off at the post office for you?"

"You can," Page tells him, giving him the rest of the letters. "You
want to so you don't get the same stuff as Santa, right?"

"Exactly." 

Page beams at him, and Mulder wonders how much longer she'll believe
in Santa. She's a smart little kid, but she's always been fiercely
loyal to the idea of Santa Claus, so he's hoping she'll hang onto the
belief for just a little longer.

~*~*~

Later that night Mulder and Scully go over the lists. They're pretty
much what they expected. "David and Jared both asked for sleds,"
Scully remarks. "Do you think they mean the plastic kind, or the ones
with runners?"

"Plastic. I hated the ones with runners when I was a kid. They just
sank into the snow."

"There's a trick to it."

"One that Samantha and I never learned, apparently." Mulder doesn't
look bothered by this, and Scully thinks that it's nice to see him
casually mention his sister without any pain on his face. "There's
something that's not on any of the lists, and I'm glad to see that."

"What's that?" Scully asks.

"There's no 'dear Santa, please bring me a baby brother or sister for
Christmas' on anyone's lists."

"Good. Mulder, do you think that they understand that there won't be
any more babies? I tried to explain to Sammy, April, and Page but it
went over their heads."

"What? They didn't immediately understand the concept of a vasectomy?
I thought we were raising smart kids."

She sticks out her tongue at him. "Must you mock me over the futility
of trying to explain that to little kids?"

"If I don't, who will?"

~*~*~

December 19th, 2003

As they walk up the steps in front of Ellen's house, Mulder feels a
sense of déjà vu. Ellen and her husband had moved to a gated
community a few years earlier, and that, coupled with the natty
holiday sweater, ties and slacks that he is wearing, serve to remind
him of their long-ago undercover case. Apparently he is alone in
this, because his comment about hoping there isn't an ubermenscher
lurking about is met by a bemused look from Scully.

They're only halfway up the stairs when the door flies open and a
well-dressed woman rushes out crying "Dana!" and immediately engulfs
her in a hug. After a fleeting look of surprise, Scully hugged her
old friend back.

After a moment, Ellen steps back and looks up at Mulder. "This must
be the infamous Fox Mulder who stole Dana away from us."

"That's me," he says, deadpan.

"Well, after giving her such a hard time about not allowing herself
the time to find someone to settle down with, we could hardly hold it
against her for doing just that." He watches his wife relax as a
friend says it. Ellen gestures towards the door. "Come on, Kathy's
already here and she can't wait to see you."

Inside, the ritual of exclamation and hugs is repeated, but he is
more interested in the husbands' reactions to Scully that her
friends'. Both Kathy and Ellen's husbands eye her appreciatively, and
one whispers overly loud to the other, 'she can't be the friend with
nine kids. Look at her."

Scully clearly overhears this exchange as well because she turns a
faint pink. She weighs ten or fifteen pounds more than she had the
year after giving up William before, and he's glad of it even if
she's not. Her being that bone thin before had it only served to
worry him.

It must be Kathy's husband who has misspoke, because she's quick to
change the subject. "Ellen, where is Pete tonight?"

Ellen's expression becomes fond, as parents' often do when they're
about to speak of their offspring with pride. "His school is having a
winter formal. You should see how cute he and his date looked..."
this leads to a flurry of photo sharing that continues as other
guests arrive. Mulder joins in, pulling out his billfold to show off
their kids too, and everyone declares that April and William look
like Scully, David and Jared like him, and they argue about who the
rest resemble more closely.

After twenty minutes or so of socializing and threats by the host to
pull out a game, one of the other guests, whom Mulder thinks was
introduced as a college roommate of Ellen's husband, squints at him
and asks, "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

Ellen chuckles. "Think about the Halloween special Pete and Brian
made you watch," she says, referring to the other man's son as well
as her own.

He looks startled. "Oh. You're on that TV show!"

"I've seen that show," more than one of the guest comments.

"You ever investigate a succubus?" One of the unmarried male guests
wants to know. He expresses his disappointment when they say no. "Too
bad. Of all the supernatural things out there, that was one I was
hoping was real."

"Why? So you can finally get a date?" Kathy's husband ribs him
good-naturedly.

~*~*~

December 21st, 2003

The Sunday before Christmas, Mulder finds himself in his mother's
kitchen with April, Page, Samantha and all three of her girls. Teena
has asked them over so she can share a family holiday shortbread
cookie recipe that has been passed down to women in their family for
generations.

"I wish had been able to teach it to Samantha sooner, but she'd shown
no interest in baking as a child," Teena had told him when she'd
asked him to bring Page and April over.

His sister's lack of childhood enthusiasm for baking was not passed
along to her daughters - Ariel and Alyssa are just as enthusiastic
about the task as their cousins, and even Adrianna has forgotten to
be a sullen teenager long enough to enjoy herself too.

Teena waits until Samantha and the children are up to their elbows in
flour before asking Mulder to help her in another room. He expects to
be toting heavy boxes, but she just wants to talk to him in her
seldom used dining room.

"I'd never thought I'd live to see this," she says wistfully after
shutting the door between the dining room and kitchen. "I just wish
your father had."

"Me too, Mom." The sacrifice his father made for William and Ryan's
safety weighs the most heavily on him during the holidays.

"You don't understand. I literally didn't think I'd live to see this.
All that time you spent looking for her, I wanted to shake you and
tell you to grow up and face reality. We were never going to get her
back, I was so sure of it. And I hated your father for it too."

"Mom..."

She shakes her head. "I was really sick a couple of years ago, Fox.
And I didn't tell you about it, though I'm not exactly sure why now.
But right around the time I realized I might die, you seemed to
finally come to terms with our loss. And that gave me some peace,
because I thought perhaps if you were over losing your sister, I
could go to my grave without feeling guilty anymore. I don't know
which is more unexpected, the fact that I got better, or that you
finally found her."

Giving her a quizzical look, Mulder finally asks what he's been
wanting to for over two years. "Is it a chip? Is that what made you
better?"

Teena looks startled. "How did you know?"

He can't tell her the truth, of course. "I've met other people who
have had illnesses like yours, or cancer, cured by chips implanted in
the back of their necks."

"I didn't want to take it from him, but he insisted." She doesn't
identify who he is, but Mulder knows that she's talking about the
smoking man. "At the time I was worried what he might want in return,
but he didn't live long enough to extract anything from me. And I'm
so glad now that I took the risk, because this past year of having
your sister back in our lives..."

Mulder nods. "I know exactly what you mean."

She smiles at him, and he startled by how serene she looks when she
does. There is no doubt in his mind that his mother is being
completely truthful when she tells him that she cherishes the time
she's had with Samantha. The burden has definitely been lifted from
her, and it makes her look younger. 'so, how many besides us are you
expecting for Christmas this year?"

"It'll be a smaller crew than last year," Mulder informs her. He
doesn't explain why it's inadvisable for Tara to travel, but he does
tell her, "Dana's older brother Bill and his wife and son won't be
able to join us this year. And our friends John and Monica will be
visiting with John's brother's family. He promised them that they
would visit before their baby is born, and the holidays seemed like
the most convenient time for that. So we plan to get together with
them on Christmas Eve instead."

"It's nice that you're so close to them despite no longer working
with them."

"It is. I think it's because of anyone who knows what our lives were
like, it's them. But I'm wandering off topic now. Dana's mother, and
her sister Missy's family will be there Christmas day. I think that
it's possible that her brother Charlie and his wife and son might be
able to make it too, though that depends on how cooperative the
weather is with them getting a flight there."

"It was nice last year, but I think it will be even better this
year."

"You do?"

"You have to admit, Fox, that things were a little bit awkward
because we were just getting to know Samantha again. Now we know her
and her family."

"That's true." Mulder looks around. "Do you have something heavy for
me to carry? I'm sure that they'll want to know what you had me doing
out here."

She looks around, and her eyes settle on a rocking chair. "How about
you bring that chair into the living room for me? I've been meaning
to move it for quite a while, but I've never gotten around to it."

'sure, Mom."

~*~*~

December 22nd, 2003

"I'm taller, right Daddy?" Jared asks out of the blue.

Mulder looks up from tying William's shoe. He's about to bring the
boys to the park, where they can play on the snow free equipment.
It's easier than keeping the backyard toys clear of snow all winter.
"Taller than who?"

"David."

"Um, no. You're both the same height."

"Oh." He looks disappointed. "Mommy said that identical twins could
be different heights."

"Well, they could be, if one wasn't as healthy as the other, for
example. The last time I measured you, you were the same height,
though."

Jared thinks about this. "Can I spike my hair?"

Mulder almost asks him where that idea came from when it suddenly
dawns on him that it's not a non sequitur: Jared wants to be more of
an individual. 'sure, Kiddo. I'll ask Mom what we should get you so
you can do that. No mohawks, though, okay?"

"Thank you!"

He's about to bring the kids out to the car when Scully stops him.
"We got a Christmas card from Rachel and Sean."

"Did we? Any kids yet?"

Scully smirks at him. "That's what the very first line was about. She
and Sean are thinking about starting a family next year."

"They're doing good, though?"

"It seems like it. And Mulder, you'll never believe it – they ran
into the Ks!"

"Wow, I guess that it's a smaller island than it seemed when we saw
the Ks during our vacation. You know this means that they can trade
war stories about looking after our kids."

"Aww, it couldn't have been so bad, or she'd tell me that they were
happily childfree."

"I was kidding. Our kids are great. I'm surprised they haven't had
two or three of their own by now."

"Guess they're taking things at their own pace." Scully hugs him
before whispering, "I hope Michelle fines a nice guy to settle down
with too, but not until the kids are a little older."

"Maybe we should give her a raise next year," Mulder suggests, and
she rolls her eyes.

~*~*~

Mulder-Scully Home
December 24th, 2003

"I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas," Michelle tells them as
she finishes hugging the kids goodbye.

"You too!" most of them reply. Scully carefully reminded them that
Michelle would be back in a few days, so there were no upset feelings
as they saw her off.

Mulder picks up one of her bags and brings it out to her car. After
putting it in the car he says, "Drive careful, Michelle."

"Always," the nanny tells him with a smile. "I'll see you in five
days."

"Tell your folks that Dana and I told them to spoil you. You deserve
it."

"I will. They're love that. Bye!"

Michelle's car is still within sight when Doggett pulls up. He pops
the trunk and sends his sons to get the presents.

Noticing that both boys look insanely cheerful as they go about their
task, he leans over to ask Doggett, "What's with them?"

"Why don't you ask them?" He looks cheerful too.

"Let me help you with that," Mulder tells them as he meets them at
the rear of their father's car. "You both look like you're in good
moods. Any particular reason why?"

Luke and Gibson exchange a look. "No, you tell him," Gibson says, and
Mulder has the disquieting sense that Gibson is responding to
something his brother didn't say. At least not out loud.

"Okay. We got a special gift today," Luke starts to explain, but
Mulder interrupts him with a guess.

"Driving lessons?"

"No, better," Gibson says firmly.

"Better?" There's only one thing he can think of that would have
struck him as better when he was seventeen, but he's not about to
guess that when their impressionable little sister is standing six
feet away. "What's better than that?"

Luke practically puffs up with pride. "We got our early acceptance
letters to college!"

"Yeah, we're both hoping to design computer games once we graduate,"
Gibson adds.

"We wanted to request being roommates, but Dad and Monica told us not
to. That's okay, though. After sharing a room for a couple of years,
maybe it's time for someone else to deal with his dirty socks." Luke
hooks a thumb in his brother's direction.

"My socks?!" Gibson yelps.

"Congratulations. Now let's get this inside before we freeze."

Luke nods, but doesn't move. "We are going to get a driving lesson,
though. Dad said it would be our reward for keeping the kids
entertained tonight. Was that Michelle leaving? I was hoping she'd be
here."

"Yeah, cause you think she's hot."

"I- I do not!" Luke sputters.

'she's not bad for someone who is in her late twenties," Gibson tells
him. 'so don't feel bad. You'd never have a shot, anyway, so what
does it matter?"

"Who said I want a shot," Luke mutters and rushes into the house
ahead of them.

There's yet another delay for Gibson and Mulder as they try to get
into the house – Hannah and April are chatting just inside the door.
Hannah looks thrilled as she tells her young friend, "You were right!
The goblins love junk food and they haven't ruined nothing else."

'squirt, move," Gibson says, surprising everyone. "We're half frozen
here!"

"Oops." April pulls Hannah out of the way.

~*~*~

'so," Mulder says as he settles on the couch after setting the kids
up with a movie in the playroom, "are you ready for both boys to be
off at college in less than a year?"

"God no," Reyes says, squeezing Doggett's hand. "We'll have to adjust
our thinking, though, since they obviously aren't going to be able to
commute."

"Maybe they'll come home a lot. You know, to see their little
sisters." Doggett places his hand on Reyes' belly as he says it.

Scully looks delighted. "You found out that it's a girl?"

"Yep. We can't wait to meet her."

"Don't say that, John," Scully scolds him. "You don't want her to try
and join us before she's ready."

"Not like David and Jared," Mulder adds. "Though their being early
wasn't their fault at all."

"Okay, I'll amend that to being eager to have her with us, but
willin' to wait until she's fully baked."

"Besides, if the baby comes early, that'll mean having Leyla Harrison
in the X-Files with you earlier."

Doggett gives a good-natured groan. "Don't remind me. But I have to
tell you, that the whole going after a supernatural kidnapper thing
aside, it wasn't so bad working with her. If things go okay, I might
ask her to join the office permanently."

Mulder turns to his wife. "Where did you leave the ear thermometer
for the twins? I'm afraid that John has a dangerous fever. He's
speaking gibberish."

"Ha ha."

~*~*~

"Here, Mulder." Scully puts Zoe into his arms. Though the kids did a
good job, at least as far as Mulder or Scully heard, when they
borrowed the babies, Scully insisted that they had their hands full
enough without adding the younger twins to the mix in the playroom.
'someone needs to be changed."

"And yet you shot my idea of getting diapers with 'well, it's not
going to change itself' printed on them," he complains as he hefts up
the baby.

"Don't even go there. We don't want little girls who think it's
appropriate to have words emblazoned across their bottoms."

"Did you check Brianna?" he asks, and she quickly does. 

In the end he's got both babies in his arms, and he talks nonsense to
them as they head up to their room. It doesn't take him long to
change them both, because after years of practice he and Scully are
champion diaper changers. They're back downstairs in five minutes
flat.

As soon as he's put the girls down on the rug, he notices that it's
strangely quiet. "What?"

"I went to check on the snacks in the oven, and Mulder, there's a
strange woman in our kitchen," Scully tells him, and he's surprised
by how calm she seems. 'she asked to speak to you."

A sinking feeling forms in the pit of his stomach, and he isn't
surprised to see Elsbeth standing by the kitchen table, spearing a
pig in a blanket with a fancy toothpick. She's wearing the same scarf
as the day he met her. In fact, nothing about her has seemed to have
changed at all. ::Well, that was 2003 too,:: he finds himself
thinking in confusion.

"Elsbeth?" he says, his voice near a whisper.

"Don't look so surprised! Surely you knew we'd be seeing each other
again today," the short blonde admonishes him, waving her snack.

"No…" He really hasn't given much thought to the idea of what would
happen when the date rolled around again. His mind has always shied
away from considering the possibilities.

"There might have been something that I forgot to mention when I gave
you the chance to put things right." Elsbeth gives him an apologetic
smile.

"What?" he asks, deeply afraid that she's going to tell him that he's
failed somehow, and tomorrow morning will find him as alone as the
first December 24th, 2003 should have.

"In order for this reality to stick, Dana and John need to know that
it's not the natural order of things. If they like this reality
better, than everything stays the same. If they don't…" she trails
off meaningfully.

He swallows hard. "Then we go back to the way things were?"

"Exactly!" Elsbeth beams at him, apparently deciding that he's clever
for figure it out so quickly. "Are Dana and John in the other room?"

"Yes, but I don't think they'll believe you-"

"Oh, don't worry about that. They'll believe me. Both of them have
occasionally gotten the idea that there's something not quite right.
That will be enough to sway them. Not to mention my appearance simply
makes people predisposed to believe me, anyway."

"What are you?" Mulder asks, though he knows that she's right. He'd
almost instantly believed in her himself. "Are you an angel?"

"That's one word for it," Elsbeth agrees.

~*~*~

Everyone looks up when Mulder and Elsbeth enter the living room.

"Who are you?" Reyes asks in a semi-friendly tone. "A friend of Dana
and Mulder's?"

"I've never seen her before, but she knows Mulder."

"That's right," Elsbeth tells them. "I've known Mulder for a long
time, haven't I?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Let's get down to business. I'm here to tell you something very
important."

"What's that?" Scully asks warily.

"The sense of deja vu that you and John have suffered off and on over
the past eleven years means something."

"What?" Doggett echoes Scully's question.

"It's your connection to the other timeline."

"What other timeline?"

"The one that Mulder escaped from to keep terrible things from
happening to people he loves." Elsbeth goes to perch on the arm of
the sofa, making Doggett move closer to his lover. "Just today, or a
version of today, that is, he went back in time to nineteen
ninety-two to try and keep those bad things from happening. He
accomplished that and has lived over the years since then again."

Mulder expects all three of them to dismiss Elsbeth as crazy, but
Reyes is the only one who seems to be skeptical. On both his wife and
Doggett's faces, he can see sort of horrified and bewildered
acceptance, as if they were both just waiting for someone to tell
them something just like this. ::Just how bad was the deja vu she's
talking about?:: he wonders.

"What happened before?" Doggett demands to know. "What was so awful
that Mulder agreed to go back and live eleven years of his life over
again?"

"You died," Elsbeth says softly. "You and Dana both died."

Scully is wide-eyed. "How?"

"That's a long story, but I'll tell it if you want me to," Elsbeth
offers.

"Of course!"

"All right. I'll tell you what happened to John first. It all begins
in August of 1993. A little boy named Luke Doggett is kidnapped, and
later found murdered." Elsbeth gives Doggett a pointed look, and it's
clear that he's horrified. "While looking for the boy, John and
Monica meet, but then drift out of contact for a number of years. His
marriage is soon over, and he and his wife never have a daughter."

"You're saying the last time I lost both of my kids by Barbara?"
Doggett asks, aghast.

"I guess it would be splitting hairs to say that Hannah didn't exist
then to be lost, so yes. You stayed a police officer for a number of
years before eventually becoming an FBI agent. When agent Mulder was
abducted in 2000 you transferred to DC and headed a task force to
find him. You stayed on after he was recovered, as did agent Reyes,
whom you called in to help agent Scully in May of 2001. The following
year you solved your son's case, and had a brief relationship with
Monica before you were killed by a semi driver who smashed into your
car."

"When did I die?" Doggett asks. "In this other reality, I mean."

"Last week," Elsbeth announces. 

Doggett looks a little green, and Mulder wishes there was something
he could do to make him feel better. His first impulse is to offer
him pigs in a blanket, but decides that it's not the best of ideas.

Elsbeth turns to Mulder's wife. "Dana. Yours is a longer story, but
I'll give you the salient points. In your other life, you only had
two children. A sickly little girl named Emily who died shortly after
her third birthday, and a son named William."

The look on Scully's face is of complete shock, but this doesn't slow
Elsbeth down. "You began working with Mulder in 1992. In August of
1994, you were abducted. Three months later you were found, comatose.
What you didn't know then was that all of your ova had been harvested
as part of an experiment, leaving you unable to have children. In
1997 you were diagnosed with cancer. It was a long battle, but you
were able to recover when a chip was implanted in your neck. Not long
after that you discovered that you were barren. The week before
Christmas that year you also found out that a three-year-old girl
named Emily was your biological child, created from your stolen ova.
She died just after New Years."

Scully looks bewildered. "Emily was mine? What about the rest of our
kids?"

"There were no kids, plural. None but William," Elsbeth says gently.
"The rest were never born because you couldn't have them. You only
had William because Mulder was able to recover a small amount of your
stolen ova."

"We only had William?" Scully is obviously still dazed.

"Yes. But not for long. William wasn't the little boy you know now,
at least not exactly, but special because of the DNA you gave him -
yours was altered during your abduction. Everyone knew he was
special, and he was nearly taken from you at birth by a group of
alien abductees who were controlled by aliens. Another attempt to
take him from you happened when he was nine months old. You recovered
him, but it was the breaking point for you. Mulder had gone into
hiding, to protect you both, and there was no way for you to reach
him. A final incident involving Mulder's half-brother prompted you to
give the boy up."

"How could I give away my only child?" Scully demands to know.

"You thought it would keep him safe," Elsbeth says soothingly. "It
was your belief that giving him up was in his best interest,
considering you had no idea if you would ever see Mulder again. You
did, however, reunited in May of 2002. Months later you began a long
drawn out court battle to get your son back. A few days ago you
learned that you wouldn't be given custody of him. So you went to a
bridge…"

"And?"

"And...you didn't exactly jump, but when you started to lose your
balance, you did nothing to save yourself, either. Your body washed
ashore the following day. Yesterday."

Doggett and Scully look at each other, horror-stricken.

"On December 24th of that year, I met Mulder. He'd just lost his
beloved and a good friend, mere days apart. I offered him the
opportunity to go back and try to fix the things that would lead up
to your deaths. And he has."

"What happens now?" Doggett wants to know.

"If you both agree, this is your life to keep, now with the knowledge
that it wasn't the one you originally led. If either or both of you
disagrees, the old timeline will snap back into place. Mulder and
Monica will carry on with their lives without you, and the two of you
will rest until judgment day."

"What about me?" Reyes asks, a protective hand on her belly. "From
what you've said, it seems like I get a pretty raw deal in the other
reality. John's dead, two of my step-kids either are dead or don't
exist, and neither does my baby."

"I'm sorry dear, but officially only they have a say about what
happens next. You and Mulder will have to live with their decision."
Elsbeth gives her a sympathetic smile. "But maybe if we discuss the
other things that Mister Mulder has done with his second chance,
it'll help sway them to the choice you'd obviously prefer."

"Oh. Okay, I guess." 

Elsbeth swings her head in Mulder's direction. "You've been a very
busy boy since you went back, haven't you?"

"I'm sorry?" Mulder says, wondering if an apology is what she wanted
to hear.

She ignores him, and turns back to the others. "Dana, John, Mulder
was supposed to come back and save you both, but you know him. What
does he do best?"

'stick his nose into things," Scully says promptly.

"Hey!"

"In that other when, Mulder's parents are both gone now, and his
father died shortly before Mulder ended up in New Mexico rather than
just recently."

"But that was years ago!" Scully protests. 'sammy wasn't even born
yet."

"I know. His father wasn't the only one to die then..." Elsbeth looks
up at Scully. "Your sister was shot in your apartment, when men
looking for you after you came into possession of a tape they wanted
mistook her for you. She died from her injuries a few days later."

"Oh my God!" Scully's hand goes to her mouth. "You said that Emily
died too. So-"

"Emily died, Addy and Ryan were never born, and Alex died the night
that William was born."

"And my mom died of a disease that she had treated this time," Mulder
adds quietly.

"Then there's the matter of his sister-"

"Jesus!" Doggett exclaims, startling them all. "Her too? We all
died?"

Elsbeth shook her head. 'samantha didn't die in that other reality,
but-"

Mulder offers them a pained smile. "But I never found her. Never. I
believed the lie I was feed about her dying as a teenager, and
stopped looking for her. I never knew that she was alive with a
family of her own. And there never was a TV show for Samantha to see
me on, so she believed I was dead too, just as she'd been told as a
child."

"Oh, Mulder," Scully hugs him. "You've done so much for people."

He gently pushes her away. "Don't start proceedings to saint me just
yet. I was rather ruthless when it came to achieving my objectives of
keeping you and Doggett safe."

"Ruthless how?" Doggett asks. He's moved closer to Reyes.

"Well...remember how I accidentally broke Luke's leg?"

"Yeah, of course."

"It wasn't an accident."

"What do you mean it wasn't an accident?" Doggett growls.

Mulder gives him a helpless look. 'short of kidnapping Luke myself, I
couldn't think of a way to keep him off of that damn bike when his
kidnapper was going to see him."

"Who was a child molester," Elsbeth helpfully adds. "Don't forget
that detail."

"Right. It seemed kinder to break a limb and keep him off a child
molester's radar than to let things happen the same way twice."

Doggett still looks mildly affronted. "You didn't think you could
tell me and work something else out?"

Before Mulder can reply, Elsbeth stares at him. "As if you would have
believed him. If someone came to you and told you how you needed to
keep your kid off his bike so he wasn't molested and then murdered,
your first instinct would be to think he was talking about himself as
a potential suspect, and your second would have been to try to have
him committed once you realized he meant it as a warning rather than
a threat."

'she's got you pegged, John," Reyes tells him.

"Yeah, you're right. I guess maybe that was the best course of action
you could have taken."

Reyes squeezes his right hand. "At least his plan worked."

"That's not so bad, Mulder," his wife says bravely.

His smile is sickly. "That's not all, and maybe not the worst of it.
What I did to you..."

"Tell me."

"I ruined the condoms we used the first few times we made love," he
says guiltily. "My theory was that Duane Barry wouldn't give you to
his abductors if you were pregnant, and..."

Scully flushes red, which isn't what Mulder expects. "Um..."

"What?" 

"Do you recall what I said when I told you that I was pregnant?" she
asks, practically squirming in her seat.

"You said something about understanding if I wasn't ready to be a
father." He looks puzzled. "What does that have to do with anything?"

If anything, she turns a deeper shade of red. "The first time we made
love, I put the condom on you."

"God, I didn't need to know that," Doggett mutters, and Reyes elbows
him to get him to be quiet.

'so?"

'so I knew that there was something wrong with the condom when I
unwrapped it. There was a rough part inside the wrapper that caught
against my finger, like someone had pushed something through it."

"It was a sewing needle," Mulder admits, still confused.

Scully looks exasperated. "Mulder, I didn't know you'd ruined them
yourself, but I did know there was something wrong with the condom. I
let us use it anyway," she says carefully. "And all the rest that had
the same issue."

"Wait, are you saying you wanted to get pregnant?" he asks in
disbelief.

"Wanted to might be putting it a bit strongly, but I didn't mind the
possibility. No, maybe wanted is the right word." She's still
blushing deeply. "I wanted a family. And you. 'Accidentally' getting
pregnant seemed like a means to that end."

'so what you're saying is that we manipulated each other."

"Basically."

"That's so romantic," Reyes sighs.

"What the hell?" Doggett looks at her like she's crazy.

"You're a guy, you wouldn't understand."

He rolls his eyes.

'so," Scully says abruptly, causing them to all focus again. "Is that
the end of your transgressions?"

Mulder shakes his head. "I...I screwed Krycek over bigtime."

"How?"

"I gave his address to Duane Barry, which led to him being adducted
instead of you. And him getting cancer instead of you."

"Oh boy."

"But on the other hand, if it wasn't for me doing everything I did,
he'd be single and childless. And dead. I think that what he gained
evens out things in the end."

Elsbeth laughs, surprising them. "Aren't you glad that you only
needed to confess to John and Dana, and not everyone else you
impacted?"

"Uh, yeah."

"While I think he might forgive you, you might be better off never
telling him," Scully suggests.

"Right."

'so, what do you say?" Elsbeth gives Scully and Doggett an interested
look. "Is this the life you'd keep, or do you want things to be
undone."

"Gee, I don't know," Doggett drawls. "I might have to think about
whether or not I'd rather be dead."

"John!"

"We want to live this life," Scully tells her. "Please."

Elsbeth glances at Doggett. "That was sarcasm, right?"

"Right," he says quickly. "Of course this is the life we want to
live."

She hops off the arm of the couch. "Okay."

"Okay? That's it?" Mulder asks, worried.

"That's it," she says firmly. "As soon as they said it, their fates
were carved in stone. No going back, no more do overs. For better or
worse, this reality is yours to do with what you will."

"Wow."

They all look relieved, at least until she says, "Before I go, there
is one more thing."

"What?" Mulder practically screams.

"These pigs in a blanket are really good. Would it be rude if I asked
to take a couple with me?"

"Take them. You can have them all."

"That's not necessary, but I appreciate the offer." She smiles at
Mulder as she plucks three of them off the tray. "Remember, there are
no more second chances. Take care of them."

"I will!" he promises fervently.

To his surprise, she pats him on the cheek. "I know. You are the nice
boy I thought you were." And with that, she walks out the front door.

Doggett rushes to the window and look out. "Where did she go?"

The front stoop is empty.

"What was she?" Reyes asks, going to stand next to Doggett. He
automatically winds an arm around what remains of her waist.

"Our second chance," Mulder whispers. No one corrects him.

~*~*~

"I wanted to tell you," Mulder admits as he and Scully get undressed
that night. "There were so many times I wanted to tell you how things
would turn out, but I couldn't. And after a while, things twisted so
far from what they'd been like the first time, that I often had no
idea what was going to happen next, either."

"Was it tedious?" Scully asks as she pulls up the bottoms to the red
silk pajamas Mulder gave her an hour earlier. Everyone got to open
new pajamas and a toy before bed, and unlike the kids', their toys
were safely stored in a special box in the closet away from the eyes
of impressionable children.

"Was what tedious?"

"Living the past eleven years all over again."

His eyes widen in surprise. "Of course not! My life has been so much
better, so much fuller, this time that it was a joy to relieve most
of it. I could have done without a second round as the aliens'
pincushion, but other than that it's been almost perfect." ::except
for losing Angel and losing my father again, that is:: he adds
silently. ::I guess that there always has to be some sorrow for
everyone.::

"Good." She kisses the underside of his jaw. "And thank you."

"No, thank you," he corrects her. "All the things that made this life
a joy came from you."

"I think you're better versed in biology than that, Mulder."

"I didn't just mean the kids, but they're a big part of that, of
course. This life, this love we share…" he trails off, and knows that
it's okay that he can't put the rest of the thought into words. She
understands, because she's her.

"Mulder, let's go to bed," she suggests, and begins to strip off the
silk pajamas they've just put on. In the end, it's turns out that the
kids aren't the only ones eager to play with their new toys before
bed.

~*~*~

When Mulder wakes up hours later, it's not quite light out. For half
a second his heart pounds, and he worries that he'll look over to
Scully's side of the bed, and find it empty, but then she shifts on
the bed and bumps into him.

The door to their bedroom inches open, and he sees a mess of blond
hair and a happily expectant face looking in at him. "Are you awake?
Page said it’s too early, but she and me is already awake-"

Mulder holds open his arms, and Christopher runs into them. "Merry
Christmas, Christopher."

"You too, Daddy!" his son says too loudly, and nearly wakes Scully. 

Mulder carries him out into the hallway, and looking down over the
banister he can see Page has already plugged in the tree. The tiny
lights twinkle merrily, and paint her face. He can almost feel her
itching to open her stocking.

"I hope Santa brought me something cool," Christopher says from his
arms. "It's too bad he don't bring presents to grown ups, or you
could get what you really want too."

Doors open up along the hallway, and a fussing coming from the
nursery indicates that the babies are now awake too. He watches as
Scully wanders in to change the girls, and Sammy carries William down
the stairs with April, David, and Jared hot on his heels.

Mulder hugs Christopher tightly. "I've already gotten everything I
wanted, I really have."

                   The End


~*~*~
Authors' Endnotes:

Neoxphile: 
The idea for this story came from being annoyed with the episode
"William" and a statement shortly after the series finale when the
writers said something to the effect of "Mulder and Scully can't fend
off an alien invasion with a baby in tow." (Not, of course, that the
movie franchise ultimately when in a direction where this would have
actually posed a plot problem!) I personally was filled with
indignation about this casual dismissal because the Mulder and Scully
I loved could *so* fend off an invasion with a baby strapped to their
backs. They just could...and probably always could have, actually.
That realization made me wonder: what would the show been like if
they *always* had a baby to look after? Nine seasons, nine kids...

Thus the embryo of a plot formed, and I arrived at the plan to write
a fic, hopefully with some help, where they had lots of kids so
they'd be saddled with that trying-to-be-feds-with-a-family thing
through the entire series. So after writing an outline that mostly
included how we'd put kids into the timeline of the show, I brought
the idea to one of my favorite fic writers, Felinefemme. Fortunately
she liked the idea and we got to writing. And writing and writing
and... In our defense, I have to confess that we thought it was going
to be a short story at the very beginning. Within a week or two we
knew it wouldn't be, but no, we had no idea that it would take six
whole years to complete this project. Nor did we know that it would
so often stray from its original conception, which was to be a parody
(self-parody in my case) of the family fic genre. Things got more
serious at times than we anticipated, but that's what happens when
you try to follow the changes we made through to their mostly logical
conclusions.

I'd like to offer a heartfelt thank you both to readers who spent six
years following along with the strange adventures of Mulder, Scully,
and all the little Mulderlings, and also to people who were undaunted
by its length and dove in later. We wouldn't have finished without
readers prodding us on.

Oh, and one last thing: if the fact that neither of us has kids shows
worse than we think, please forgive us =)

NeoX

Felinefemme:
Yes, ladies and gents, it's all NeoX's fault:D  Kidding,
I was a willing accomplice, and I always did like a good joke.  The
fact that we kept it up as long as we did is more a testament to her
insane creativity & attention to detail than anything I've done - and
perhaps it helped that we're not only on opposite ends of this great
country of ours, but also an ocean between us, so she couldn't easily
strangle me when my muse went comatose for weeks on endXD 

But seriously, I do like the idea of second & third chances in life
and love, not just for the X-Files crew, but for everyone, and this
epic fanfic of ours was out to do just that!  Of course, if I'd known
how truly epic it would become... you know what?  I think some
things, like helping NeoX put this fic together, is something I
wouldn't regret, no matter how many do-overs I get:D  Besides, how
often do you get to re-do the X-Files with a mastermind who uses her
powers for good rather than evil?  So, thanks, Neoxphile!

And thanks
to all of you readers!  It's so nice to see that our folie a deux has
turned into a folie a pleusieurs!  It's like reliving the X-Files
again, only better, heh heh heh!  Kidding, kidding, I looooove you,
Chris Carter and all you XF writers, oh yes, I do, you guys gave us
so much to work with...! XD  <runs>

Felinefemme